Sorry for the late update! My extern hard drive crashed and that caused some delay.. Anyways, here's the new chapter, and I hope you guys will like it!
Thank you, SirenAlpha, for betareading!
Enjoy~ !
England sat on the couch, a cup of tea in her hand. She watched the news, but nothing worrying or interesting was happening. Russia came down. She ignored him as he walked in, her attention directed on the weather forecast. Only when he sat down next to her, her attention faltered. Slightly tensed, she wanted to sip some more tea from her cup, but realised it was already empty.
"Did anything interesting happen?" Russia asked casually.
She slowly turned her head to meet his violet eyes, "Um, not really."
Shortly, she wondered whether she was the only one who felt weird with him sitting so close. It wasn't something bad, but she felt a little strange with him so close. He seemed relaxed, watching the television with mild interest. She took a deep breath, and sighed. He sat less than half a meter away, and she had the feeling the temperature was rising. It was as if she could feel the heat his body emitted, or was that just her imagination?
He looked at her with a little smile, "It's going to get cold this week."
She nodded slowly, and didn't really know what to say. She hadn't paid attention to the weather forecast at all, barely noticing it had already finished. "You're used to it, aren't you?"
He shrugged, "I guess so, but I don't really like it. Does that make sense to you?"
Russia leaned slightly towards her, still smiling innocently. She searched for words, but she couldn't think of anything that would make sense. She shrugged, and tried to continue the conversation somehow.
"Um, I don't really know. You don't like it? Then what do you do when it's cold?"
For a moment he averted his eyes downwards, "Make some warm drink, and sit in front of the fireplace."
It was hard for her to figure out the emotion behind his words. Was he remembering it as good times, or did he feel sad about it? Briefly, she glanced at her fireplace. She hadn't used it since last winter and figured it wouldn't hurt to make a fire again.
"Do you like doing that?" she asked.
For some reason, she found everything she said not good enough. She felt like her brain had temporarily limited her thinking, and that she had trouble with sorting out her thoughts properly. It was as if Russia was a jammer, drawing her attention and making her fumble a little over her words.
"It's," he seemed to think about how to put it in words, "not unpleasant."
His eyes met hers. When he spoke, her thoughts died away for a moment, and her head was filled with his voice. It felt strange, and she didn't understand why it was happening. She listened to his answer, repeated it in her head. Instead of trying to find something useful to say, she caught herself just thinking about his words.
"Not unpleasant?" she mumbled, and looked away.
Great, now she felt like she was his echo.
"It's warm, but, also cold."
She looked up to him, with questioning eyes. It seemed like he had a little trouble with saying his thoughts the way he wanted to. He sighed softly, she felt like she had caught a glimpse of his emotions behind his violet eyes. It wasn't like before, she wasn't just staring at his face, she was looking into his eyes. He was allowing her to peek into the emotions hidden behind the violet.
"The fire is warm, but, it's cold when you're alone."
They looked in each other's eyes, and she could see what he felt behind his words. It wasn't just being alone, he was lonely. She felt like she was carefully entering his mind, gently touching his thoughts with her fingertips. No matter how hot the flames might've been, they couldn't warm the cold inside. They couldn't reach in his chest and change the icy feeling, like chains around a lonely heart. She knew what loneliness was. She knew what it meant to feel all alone. It didn't matter if there were plenty of people that knew you and wouldn't mind spending time with you. She knew what he felt, what he had felt. Could he see something in her emerald eyes as well?
She didn't feel uncomfortable anymore, because of his calm and friendly expression. Seeing the emotions she could catch behind his purple eyes was like looking into a whole new world.
He blinked and looked down, a very light blush colouring his cheeks. She suddenly felt her cheeks heat as well, and looked back at the playing television. There had been something in his eyes, soft and vulnerable, and he had let her see it. There was more, there was so much more behind his eyes. What she had experienced now was just a spark of the whole world of feelings and thoughts that he was made of.
She looked back at him from the corner of her eye, and saw him doing the same. Feeling slightly weird, she stood up, and felt his eyes follow her. She felt like she was escaping the strange mood they had created for a moment.
"I'm going to get myself more tea", she mumbled, "Do you want some too?"
He nodded, the smile on his face was merely polite. As soon as she had left the room, she felt like she could breathe again, though she couldn't deny the urge to go back. She wanted to be there, for a reason she hadn't figured out yet.
When she returned to the living room, she saw him staring at the TV. He was not looking at the program though; it was easy to tell he was deep in thought. He looked up when she sat down next to him, seemingly not even having noticed her entering the room. She handed him his tea, and he carefully took it from her. Their hands touched, but she pretended it hadn't happened.
"You have cold hands," he said, putting his cup down.
Russia gently took her hand, and she noticed how big his hands were compared to hers. Her skin was healthy but a little dry, and her nails painted with glossy, transparent polish. His skin was rough, but the warmth of his hands embraced hers. He reached out for her other hand, and she willingly gave it to him. He looked at her, happiness playing on his face. A little smile tugged her lips, and she knew she was blushing. She looked down, and couldn't think of anything to say. There was a certain tension in her belly, a special kind of energy snaking through her body. They were both silent for a moment. When she peeked at Russia from the corner of her eyes, she could see the light blush on his cheeks. She had the impression he wasn't planning to let her go soon. This didn't really bothering her, but the unusual feeling she had, and the almost intimate atmosphere made her a little insecure and nervous. She didn't understand why he did this, and why it affected her this way.
"The tea will get cold," she said, barely audible.
His hands released hers, and he seemed to take all warmth with him. For a brief moment she wanted him to forget about the tea and return to her.
The peaceful atmosphere between them was disturbed by a few loud knocks on the door. England didn't even need to open the door to know who was behind them, but she hoped it was someone else anyway. Russia looked alarmed, but she could read from his face that he also knew who was there. Swiftly she got up, and, for a moment she could feel his eyes following her, he stood up as well. He didn't follow her, but instead went up.
"I'll be in my room," he mumbled.
His words were just loud enough for her to hear before he disappeared. She had heard the annoyance in his voice. She wondered whether he was more annoyed by who was behind the door, or that this person had disturbed the moment. Slowly, she opened the door, and briefly doubted which one bothered her most.
"Yes?" she said with a frown.
Her eyes stared in the blue ones of her former colony. He smiled brightly, but she could catch a hint of nervousness as he fumbled with the edge of his sleeves.
"Hey, England, yeah, so, I actually had a question," he scratched the back of his head as he spoke.
Impatiently, she raised her eyebrow, "Yes?"
"Could I stay over for a night?"
She was slightly taken aback by his sudden question, and she felt like her mind was now completely returning to normal, "I'm sorry?"
He shrugged, "Yeah, you see, I left a little earlier from Germany and I only have a flight tomorrow evening, and I kind of had hoped I could stay at your place till then."
England sighed. Of course the American wanted to invite himself in again. On the other hand, if Russia hadn't been here, she wouldn't have had such a problem with letting her friend stay over. He used to crash at her place every once in a while when he had to stay in Europe, though this would be a little difficult. She really didn't want another fight or more trouble, but she couldn't really say no either. She knew he would immediately assume Russia was more important than he was, and that would make things even worse. She bit her lip for a moment, deciding.
"Please?" he said, leaning forward.
"Well," she inhaled deeply, "Only under my conditions."
"Yay!" he shouted.
He already wanted to shove her aside, enter her house and find some food and a couch.
"No! Wait," she said.
She held her hand defensively in front of her, and blocked the way in.
He frowned, "What?"
"Maybe you should actually agree to my conditions first, hm?"
America shrugged, "I agree."
" You haven't even heard them!" she barked, getting frustrated with his carelessness.
"Okay, what is it?"
" You won't make a mess, you won't eat everything you find in my kitchen, you will clean your room before you leave, and," she gave him a stern look, "You will behave politely towards Russia."
He stiffened a little when the other nation was mentioned. He looked at her with rebellion shimmering in his bright eyes. He had never really cleaned his messes, and it wouldn't be the first time he emptied her fridge. She had never really minded it anyway. It was her last condition that made him clench his jaw.
"Why is he still here?"
England shrugged, "That doesn't matter. He is my guest, and if you want to stay for the night you better act decently. I'm serious, America."
He sighed loudly, "Fine. Whatever!"
Before he could attempt to enter her house, she crossed her arms stubbornly, still blocking the way in, and glared at the younger nation. He rolled his eyes dramatically.
" I will be a good boy and clean after myself and be polite and yada yada yada."
She nodded and unwillingly stepped aside. He finally was allowed to come in. She quickly closed the door behind him.
"I mean it, America, I won't hesitate to kick you out."
He stopped, and turned to her with the smile of an angel, "Yes, mommy."
She glared at him, but he turned around again and walked off to the living room. Her eyes followed him as he sat down in the couch. The couch where she had sat with Russia, merely minutes ago. As she sat down in the armchair, she saw how his eyes seemed to search for the Russian for a moment. There was a little silence, and he smiled brightly again. Coast clear, for now.
"Do you want something to eat or drink?"
He nodded eagerly, "Yeah! I'm starving!"
She stood up again, and left him alone in the room. She entered the kitchen, and thought about what she'd serve him. While she looked through the cupboards and in the fridge, she noted how Russia had been using the kitchen lately. There were a few products of which she was sure he had gotten them because she had never used them. She grabbed the plate with the pancakes they hadn't eaten. She made herself some tea, and found a single can of coke that was always around somewhere, in case someone like America visited.
[America's point of view]
England had disappeared, and he was alone in the room. It didn't take him long to sense something different about the house. It didn't smell like it usually did. The faint smell of old, dusty books, the wet outdoors, tea and mint had made place for the smell of decent food and the kind of smell that reminded him of a certain nation he wasn't fond of. Russia had been here for a few days already, he could tell easily. His scent, though America would rather call it stench, had already taken its place in her house.
He had noticed another thing. When he had sat down on the couch, it had been warm. Someone, whomever it may have bene, had sat here not long ago. As soon as England had gone to the kitchen, he had laid his hand on the place next to him. His hand rested on the cushion. It was warm. Two people had sat here; they had sat here, together.
Of course, he didn't mind people sitting in couches, but it worried the American. Why would England and Russia sit so close to each other? England didn't like being near to people; she could be so asocial. Why would she want to sit right next to that creep when she had enough space elsewhere? He started to imagine all kinds of dramatic scenes where he threatened her or intimidated her.
On the other hand, he knew that England was a strong and clever woman, and she would find a way to distance Russia if she really wanted to. So, there had to be a reason why she allowed him to be close...
Before he could think any further, England entered the living room with tea, soda, and pancakes. She put them down in front of him and he happily started eating.
"What hour is your flight tomorrow?" she asked, sipping her tea slowly.
He shrugged, "7pm or something."
She nodded, and put her cup down. She was sitting in the armchair. He didn't understand why she would sit next to Russia in the sofa, while she was sitting in the armchair when he was there. How could she possibly be more comfortable with the Russian? Another question popped up in his head, one he would ask her.
"So, um, what are those weird ear things on his head exactly?"
England looked up, "What?"
"Russia, what's wrong with him?"
"Oh, that," an emotion he couldn't really place crossed her face, "Those are dog-ears."
"And why does he have them?" America asked.
She rolled her eyes, "Magic."
"So, what exactly did you mess up?"
She glared at him, "It wasn't my fault."
"You mean it was his fault?" he said, frowning.
He could see she wanted to say 'no', but she changed her mind and didn't say anything for a moment.
"Doesn't matter. You've seen it. He has dog ears and a tail and such."
He raised an eyebrow, "And such?"
She clearly was a little frustrated by his interrogation, but he ignored it. "None of your business, really."
"So where is he? You put him in a giant dog crate or something?"
"Of course not. He'll come down later for dinner," she gave him a warning look, "You know you have to-"
"Be calm and polite and kiss his ass. You don't have to repeat it every five minutes."
She huffed, "You better remember."
He narrowed his eyes slightly, "Why is he suddenly so important?"
"For goodness' sake! America, you're behaving as if every nation I see is going to attempt to destroy me! You don't need to know everything about my private life!"
He ignored the first half of what she had said, but frowned at the last part. "So he's part of your private life?"
England clenched her fists and glared at him. He leaned back into the couch. He had pissed her off, and he knew it.
"America, if you're going to make me say it one more time, I swear, you're going to regret it."
He held his hands up, "Okay, okay, chill."
The American watched the older nation carefully, which was exactly what he would be doing for a while. Of course he could've caught a flight that day, but he wanted to make sure everything was fine here. When he'd leave tomorrow, he wanted to do that, knowing England was safe. If she was not safe with Russia, he'd remove the threat.
How was the kind of fluffy beginning? And what do you guys think of good old America? I'll probably update begin April, since I'll have two weeks of vacation.
THIS MIGHT BE INTERESTING: I'm also updating another story called "Paw Prints on His Heart", it's about female England turning into a cat, and Russia will be taking care of her (and he doesn't know the cat is England). It's cute and a little funny, and the chapters are shorter, but I update it about every weekend. Interested for more RusUK? Check out SirenAlpha's stories!
Review~
