America rushed out of Canada's house. He ran to the nearest airport and quickly booked the soonest flight to Russia. The actual physical country, not the personification, although America considered that a technicality considered that he was going there to talk to Russia. Ah, the things one would think of to keep from bawling. America was almost surprised at how close to full out sobbing he was. He was usually so much more put together than this. But this hurt. It hurt so much.
How is it that when someone you care about is in pain it feels like you're the one who's hurt? But America was determined to fix this. He had to.
He was in a daze through the entire flight. He was pretty sure they had a layover at some point but he couldn't be sure. He tried to focus on what to say. But what should he say? What could he say? How could words fully convey how he- how all of them- felt about Russia. America felt so much more than just romantic love for Russia. Russia was a part of his family. Sure, he loved Russia, but that stemmed from his overwhelming love for Russia as his best friend. As someone who saw America fully. As someone who wasn't disgusted or afraid by what he saw. And to America it was the world.
America finally managed to focus when he landed. He hurriedly took a cab to Russia's house. When he arrived, he started at the familiar building. Then he shook himself and walked up to the door. He took a deep breath before knocking.
America could hear footsteps. Russia opened the door. He started in shock at America. What America didn't know was that Russia was more surprised at America's forgetfulness than his appearance. America had come without even putting on a coat!
"Hey," America said.
"Hello, America," Russia spoke in a bewildered tone.
"Can I come in?" America half smiled.
"Yes, of course," Russia quickly stepped aside to give America room to walk inside. The nice toasty warm inside. Not that America was fully aware of how cold his skin felt to the touch, or that his skin had the slightest blue hue to it.
"Sorry to come over so late. I-I just really need to talk to you."
Russia frowned, "It is no issue. You know you are always welcome here." He looked at the smaller nation, "Come."
Russia led America to his living room couch. He pulled out a heavy blanket and wrapped it around America.
"You should have at least worn proper clothing. You might have froze to death!" Russia scolded.
America looked down at himself, indeed, he was wearing only jeans and a t-shirt. Hardly an appropriate clothing choice for Russia's bitter weather. It normally would have been a wonder that he wasn't aware of the chill, given the drastic climate difference yet he had had too much on his mind to care. "Sorry, I came in a rush. Canada finally talked some sense into me."
America looked at his companion. He noticed Russia's confusion, "Like I said, I need to talk to you. I'd prefer it if you'd let me talk all the way through before you get angry or anything, alright?"
Russia nodded, "Go ahead then."
America took a breath, "So I want you to know that this is me talking. Not anyone else. Oh, where to start? Just, Russia, you know we care about you right? 'Cause we do. We really, really do. And I swear that I'm not making this up. No matter what other people say, I will care about you. Especially because it's someone else and not me that's saying that stuff. You'd trust what I say over them, right?" America looked at Russia's downcast form, "Please tell me that you believe me."
"I know I should trust you. I want to believe every word that you say, but am I just to dismiss what others say? Even when I know what they say to be true?" Russia's voice was barely audible.
"How can they be saying the truth when I know they're lying?" America's voice broke. He wiped his eyes furiously. "France and Canada agree with me even. I know they've tried to talk to you about this."
"But I know I'm a monster. Everyone has always said so. That I was too big, too scary. That I was bloodthirsty," Russia refused to look up.
A resounding smack sounded through the air. "Don't you dare talk about yourself like that. I can't stand to hear it! Can't you hear me? I'm saying that they're wrong. Do you think I'm a liar?" America demanded.
Russia didn't flinch. He could have easily avoided the strike, and both of them knew it. He shook his head. "No."
"Then why don't you believe me? They. Are. Wrong."
Russia finally turned his head up. He gazed at America, no that wasn't right. He was looking right through America. "How can you be so sure?" Russia whispered.
"Because I know you. And the you I know could never be those things. The you I know is sweet and gentle and protective. The Russia I know is the best person I could ever hope to know. Trust me."
"I do."
America leaned over and threw his arms around Russia, "I'm glad."
Russia slowly sat down on the couch, not letting go of America. "Thank you."
"There's nothing for you to thank me for," America stubbornly stated. "I only knocked some sense into you."
"Yes," Russia weakly smiled, "but I am thankful anyway." Russia suddenly leaned away, "America, if I asked you a question would you promise to answer honestly?"
"As well as I can," America replied.
"Do you, that is, am I repulsive?"
"Huh?" America stared at Russia. "What do you mean?"
Russia blushed. He became flustered, "Often, if I touch you, you are embarrassed. You tend to go to great lengths to keep it from happening."
America flushed, "No, I swear that's not it at all," America could tell that Russia didn't quite believe him so he continued, "it's the opposite actually." America could feel Russia's quizzical eyes on him, "The truth is that I find you attractive."
Russia turned red. He stuttered protests. There was no way that America could really like him. It must be a joke, not a funny one but he couldn't be serious.
"It's true, you know," America weakly grinned. "I suppose I should get going." America stood, "Thank you for the blanket." He made his way to the door.
"Wait," Russia called. He grabbed America's arm. "Please." Russia searched America's eyes, "I don't want you to go."
"Why?" America was shocked. Surely Russia should be wanting anything but that right now. Everything they had talked about was a lot to take in for anyone.
Russia averted his gaze, "Because you did not give me time to say anything. I," Russia breathed deeply, "I find you attractive too."
America froze. His mind shorted out.
"America?" Russia asked nervously.
America obtained a serious look in his face. "Russia, look at me please." He only continued when Russia did so, "Do you like me?"
"I believe so."
"Why?"
Russia became even more flustered. He opened and closed his mouth as he thought of what to say, "I like you because it's you. You're you. I do not know how to explain it."
"I just don't want to do something you'll regret. If you would rather stay friends then that's what I want. Nothing you say right now will change the fact that you are a part of our family. Like it or not."
"America, if you would agree, I would very much enjoy being more than friends."
America teared up. He wiped his eyes furiously, yet he was thankful it was for a different reason than it had been just a few moments ago. Russia rushed to him, "What is wrong?"
"Nothing," America grinned, "I'm just really happy." He winced, "And the feeling in my body is coming back."
Russia cringed sympathetically, "Better to be able to feel the pain than for it to be numb."
"I know that in my head but it's not fun in practice," America laughed and Russia joined in.
"We need to warm you up," Russia pulled America back into the living room. Russia sat America into the couch and turned to the hearth. He piled a few fresh logs into it. "A nice fire always helps."
America wrapped the blanket around himself once again, "You're right." He had a silly grin covering his face.
Once he got the fire going, Russia stepped back. He sat on the couch with America. They sat and talked. And talked. At some point Russia took America's hands into his, saying it would warm them better. America agreed, saying that now he could and would take full advantage of Russia's natural warmth. They talked until America finally fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning. Russia fell asleep not long after, his head resting on America's.
"Never regret anything that made you smile." - Mark Twain
A/N: Haha! Got this one out much faster! I already knew what was gonna happen in this chapter so it was pretty easy to write.
I'm pretty ecstatic over the response this story has gotten. Thank you, everyone!
