You called?

To those who celebrate the holiday: Happy Valentine's! To those who don't: have a one-shot my fellow stay-at-homers!

xoxox

America knew it was stupid to challenge Russia to a drinking contest. He knew all too well how much the tall nation could take. Yet, when those violet eyes had turned to him with a mocking mien, those thin lips stuck on a condescending smirk, America couldn't help but defend his pride and accept the challenge. The results were… well…

"Gosh darrrnit Wussia, your hai's too sssssoft!"

Russia hummed in acknowledgment as the sunny blond let his fingers slide through those platinum locks. America had the goofiest expression possible on his face, with his grin so wide it showed all of his teeth and one eyelid drooping down due to his exhaustion.

America had spent the last ten minutes or so trying to go to the kitchen for more whiskey, but each time Russia had pushed him back down, insisting he'd had enough. By the end America didn't even need Russia's prohibition anymore, as his legs were trembling too hard to keep supporting his weight. Afterwards he'd sprawled the upper half of his body over the table, and began petting Russia's head as if it were a puppy. Good thing the Russian had a high resistance to pain, as America's movements were a bit rougher now that he didn't keep them under his full control.

Russia was quite amused by the turn of events. America usually lived on sugar-filled shakes and sodas, which often resulted in the younger nation having a sudden sugar-rush. This was a nice change of pace.

"You are a happy drunk, da?" Russia questioned, capturing the hand on his head when it began gripping a bit too tightly at his hair.

America let out an obnoxiously loud giggle, only proving the other's point.

"Damn right I am! Not like Engwand, he'sh always whiiiiiiiiiiining an' cussing an'…" America trailed off, eyes focussing and un-focussing at something that wasn't there. "Wha' were we talken' 'bout again?"

Russia smiled gently. "Time for bed Fedya."

America protested loudly as the ashen blond scooped him up in his arms. Russia mentally winced when the other tried grabbing onto his chair and splintered the wood in his grip.

"Bedtime for Alfredya~" he said in a sing-song voice, rocking his boyfriend soothingly as he carried him up the stairs.

America quickly grew tired of protesting and simply relaxed in Russia's hold, resting his head against the soft fabric of his scarf.

"Not tired…" he mumbled, even though his eyes were already closing.

Russia chuckled as he used his hip to push against the door to their shared bedroom. He murmured softly under his breath as he helped the other change (there was no way America could change into his pyjamas in this state), and tucked him in. He kissed his loved-one on the forehead and made to exit again.

"You… Yo're ain' comin'?" the younger slurred.

"I will be up in a moment, dorogoy. Sleep," Russia reassured him.

The nation made his way downstairs to do some cleaning. He tossed away the now empty bottles (one bottle of whiskey, four bottles of vodka) and tried to get rid of an old stain before giving up.

For the last hour or so, he'd been having the strangest feeling that someone was trying to call him.

Someone…

But who?

xoxox

England frantically paced around as he chanted. His cape was flowing behind him, and the circle he'd drawn was already glowing.

This time, he would definitely succeed! Or his name wasn't the United bloody Kingdom!

"Santo Rita Mita Meada Ringo Jonah Tito Marlon Jack La Toya Janet Michael Dumbledora The Explorer… Now show yourself!"

Yes! The glowing was intensifying! It was really working this time!

England crept closer to the summoning circle. Oh, he couldn't wait to show this to Norway…

A tall figure became visible. Light hair, broad chest, rather large nose, scarf, violet eyes-

Oh for God's sake, it was Russia!

The Russian giggled as he dusted off his jacket.

"Privet, Angliya. You called?"

The British nation cursed plentifully whilst Russia giggled in delight. But he was cut short as he realized he wasn't fully present… When Russia glanced down, he noticed that his feet were still standing in America's living room. It was a very odd sensation. He tried pulling up, but his feet refused to join his legs in England's basement.

"You're stuck," England commented.

Russia shot him a strained smile as he continued his attempts at bringing his feet here.

"Need help with that?" the Englishman asked after a full minute of vain pulling went by.

Russia looked at him knowingly.

"Does that mean you are inviting me into your house?"

England crossed his arms.

"I don't trust you, and you don't trust me."

"I do not trust anyone," Russia replied with a childish smile.

England rolled his eyes and continued.

"Then why would I let you into my house?"

"Because you are a gentleman, and I am a fellow nation," Russia replied smugly and without missing a beat.

They stared at each other long and hard, before the Brit finally gave an exasperated sigh.

"Fine then. I suppose since you're here, I could give you a cup of tea. Now hold still, I'll see what I can do to help."

Russia tensed only for a short moment when the Englishman carefully laid his arms around his waist, but then he told himself not to act so foolish and helped the other pull his legs out of the ground. With their combined efforts they succeeded.

"Spasiba," Russia muttered softly, eyes glinting dangerously to hide the true levels of his gratitude. It did feel awfully uncomfortable to have your legs stuck in another place.

"No problem. It's this way to the kitchen."

England grumbled sourly as he guided the unexpected guest to the ground floor of his humble abode. Russia's eyes drank in all the sights he was provided with, a habit that stuck from when he went spying- no, stalking- no… following and watching the other nations in a completely friendly manner, without any hidden purposes. Russia made himself comfortable on the couch as England went to make them some tea.

"How come you always show up when I'm summoning?" the Brit's voice sounded from the kitchen.

Russia placed his elbows on his knees and let his chin rest on his folded hands.

"I do not know, Arthur. It simply happens. Maybe you are using the wrong spell…?"

"Nonsense!" England seethed, making Russia chuckle.

The green-eyed nation returned with some Earl Grey. He handed one cup to his visitor and sat down in his favourite chair with another cup for himself. They drank for a few seconds, neither knowing what to talk about.

"Ah, I still had to thank you for that wooden soldier you made. Alfred was happy with it."

England's features softened at the recollection, before he shot a glare at Russia.

"I'm surprised he still has the damned things. Wouldn't think he kept those after…"

The Brit took a quick sip of tea to hide his unsteady voice. Russia drummed his fingers against his cheek.

"He is no longer a child, you know."

England looked up in confusion before his eyes widened.

"You can talk to him now, without getting yelled at. As men, not nations. That is, if you can drag his attention away from his videogames or hamburgers… Da, he might act like a stubborn teenager at times. But he has lived for hundreds of years, just like you and me."

"You're wrong."

Russia smiled as he waited for England to elaborate.

"Not about the part of him growing up… I know bloody well he's no longer the little colony we found in the wilderness. But it's… painful, trying to talk about it. In the beginning, neither of us wanted to. I was too stubborn to admit I missed him, and he had his hands full with the founding of his own country. After that… It took us a long time before we could talk again. And even then, that topic was always carefully avoided. It took even longer for us to talk outside of meetings, to become something akin to friends. And, well… There were a couple of times, I really regret this ever happened, but… I got a bit drunk – all right, really drunk – and showed up at his house. Crying for him to come back to me, to call me Engwand again like he used to, to be mine once more. Not very becoming of a gentleman at all. I was so stupid. It only made the topic even more awkward."

Russia remained silent, even when tears started forming in the corners of England's eyes.

"I still don't know if we can ever be like that again. He was so trusting back then, always came to me when he needed something or found something new. I was amazing in his eyes, and he was my little angel. God, how I miss those days…"

England's voice died, the nation lost in the forest of reminiscence. He seemed to have completely forgotten the presence of his guest. The tea was going cold as salty tears leaked into his cup.

The island nation was startled out of his sad thoughts when his cup was gently taken from his hands. He snapped his head back, eyes widening when he realized he'd told all this to Russia.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry, you didn't have to listen to all that-" England stopped talking when Russia pulled him out of the chair and into his arms.

The blond stiffened as he felt those big arms wrap themselves around his body. It felt like being hugged by a bear, soft and safe but with the danger of getting your bones crushed. And Russia wasn't exactly the warmest nation on earth.

"I know how you feel, Angliya," the Russian whispered into his ear. England remained completely still, not daring to breathe. "The past can be a painful thing, especially for us nations. That is why we have to live in the present." He briefly pulled his head back to smile at the Englishman, a real smile this time. "Alfred reminded me of that."

They stayed in that awkward position for quite a while. England was too afraid to push the other off, but he did calm down from his previous distress. Who would have thought that Russia had the empathic capabilities to comfort someone like this?

After some time, Russia let go.

"I mean it Arthur. You can talk with him. Just try it. I will take my leave now."

And with that the Slavic nation finished his tea, waved sheepishly at his host, and left for the basement. England stared after him, dumbstruck.

As soon as he regained the ability to move his muscles, England shot towards his cellphone. He dialled the first number that was on the list and waited for it to go over.

"Bonjour, c'est France!"

"Francis!" England hissed, feverishly checking if his guest was really gone. "You won't believe it, but Russia just hugged me! HE HUGGED ME!"

France chuckled mysteriously.

"Ah, Angleterre. Why are you so surprised? Is it not you who always said- what was it again…"

England just knew he could hear the other smirk.

"Miracles do happen."

Somewhere at the other end of the earth, a certain Russian smiled to himself as he patted his boyfriend's back, while the other was vomiting furiously into the toilet.

Night well spent~