Chapter 9: One crazy night
Chapter 9 everybody!
xoxox
America's little group was gathered at the Piazza del Duomo. America and England had been catching up, while a sour (and still slightly nervous) France and a depressed Russia followed them around. The weather was nice, and the big square was crowded.
While America laughed with one of his own jokes, he glanced over his shoulder. Even the mostly oblivious-to-the-atmosphere American had noticed something being wrong with their Russian companion. He wanted to talk to him, but didn't know if Russia would open up with England and France being there as well.
France saw him looking and raised an eyebrow. America gestured at Russia. France got the hint.
"Angleterre, I want to go to the top of the Duomo! Come with me!" France grabbed England's arm and began dragging him towards the enormous building in front of them.
"Hey, not so fast you bloody frog!" England looked back at America.
"Don't worry dude, we'll be waiting right here!" America waved at him.
England sighed and stopped struggling.
America watched the two leave before looking back up at Russia. The nation hadn't even noticed they had stopped walking. Something was definitely bothering him.
America lightly bumped his elbow against Russia's arm. The Russian jumped at the sudden touch, and looked around. He only now saw where they were, and that they were by themselves. He looked at the younger nation, eyes full of questions.
"Come on big guy. Let's go eat some ice cream. Gelato is the best!"
xoxox
They were seated at a table at one of the Gelateria. America studied the Russian, wondering how best to start a conversation. He'd never seen Russia like this before. He knew Russia as being happy, creepy, annoying, and there was this one time during the Cold War where he'd gotten all-out pissed. But sad? America had never encountered a sad Russia.
"…What's on your mind?" He had to get the guy talking somehow.
Russia looked at him, and it suddenly struck America how much older the other was. He wasn't even sure if he could begin to comprehend Russia's feelings, but he had to try. His heart hurt too much seeing the guy like this.
When Russia stayed quiet, America put a hand under his chin to force his gaze up. The Russian reluctantly looked him in the eyes.
"Just tell me. You'll feel better afterwards."
After a short staring contest, the Slavic nation closed his eyes and sighed. "It is nothing much, really," he finally spoke.
"Nothing much my ass. If it was you wouldn't be all down like this."
When Russia tried to free his head from the American's grasp, America made use of the strongest weapon in his arsenal: the puppy eyes.
"Please tell me? Pretty please with sugar on top?" he asked, trying to sound as soothing and not-pushy as possible.
Russia felt an unknown emotion travelling through his body at the sight of it. America was unbearably cute at that moment.
He pushed those thoughts away and smiled at his friend, the tension disappearing from his features.
"Thank you, Fedya."
America curiously tilted his head. "Fedya?"
Russia chuckled. "A nickname. It is cute, da?"
America puffed his cheeks. "I'm not cute, dammit!"
Russia's giggling increased as the other crossed his arms and started pouting. The tall nation gave him a light pinch in his left cheek.
"Ow!" America yelped, acting as if he'd just gotten his arm broken. America bent over the table to return the favour, but Russia was feeling playful now and started tickling the younger nation. His bad mood was already long forgotten.
America tried to slap Russia's hands away while he kept laughing uncontrollably.
"S-stop i-it!" he tittered.
Russia was laughing as well. A real good kind of laughing. He was truly having fun.
They were interrupted by a "Ohonhonhonhon!"
Russia stopped his assault and America re-adjusted Texas and his jacket. France was smirking at the scene, but England looked beyond irritated.
"Sorry for interrupting." His voice was dripping with disapproval.
"No prob, Iggy! So how was the view?"
Russia had gone back to his usual smiling self while France described the magnificent sight of Florence from the top of the tower. The ashen blond saw that England was glaring daggers at him. He wondered why? France noticed as well, and quickly tried to distract him.
"Angleterre, let us go see le David!"
On one hand he didn't want England to know he was jealous, that would make it harder for France to try and conquer him. But on the other hand, if England thought he had to be jealous of Russia, then maybe he would give up on America?
It still was a gamble, one France wasn't willing to take. He simply wanted the Englishman all to himself. His patience was running out.
xoxox
France was in a foul mood. They had been kicked out of the Galleria dell'Accademia because America had not been able to resist touching one of the statues. England was lecturing him, and Russia was smiling away as if nothing could bring him down today. France still felt rather uncomfortable around the Russian, but since he hadn't done anything yet the Frenchman tried to relax.
He focussed his thoughts on the Brit walking next to him. He studied his cat-like green eyes, followed the curve of his nose to his thick eyebrows and messy blond hair. He couldn't get enough of him.
France remembered how hard last night had been. How tantalizingly close to his loved one, yet unable to reach out and touch. He couldn't decide whether sharing a room with him was heaven or hell.
Yes, he and England had done it before. But they had made a silent pact only to go there when England was drunk, so he could at least pretend he didn't remember the next morning. But to England those encounters meant nothing. It was only France who wanted to be loved.
France let his eyes slide over the Brit's body, mentally undressing him. Oh, what he wouldn't give to rip his clothes off right now, to roughly push him down and spread his legs, thrusting into him again and again-
"What are you looking at?"
France snapped out of his fantasies, and noticed the Englishman staring at him. He quickly wiped away a small trail of drool that had spilled from his mouth.
"I was only thinking about that cute blond girl who threw us out of the museum, Ohonhonhon~"
England rolled his eyes and returned his attention to America. France felt like he had missed his chance, but he knew he couldn't just say those things out loud. It was one thing being a pervert, but something completely different being a pervert in love. For the country of love he was pretty bad at confessing his feelings.
So far, his tactics of taking up all of England's time hadn't worked at all. He had to think of something else.
xoxox
After a day of sight-seeing and another delicious buffet, the nations had decided to have a bit of a party in the dining room. The music was turned up, they found someone to act as a bartender, the lights were turned low and the mood was just about right.
Spain and a drunk Romano were singing karaoke, Northern Italy was dancing with a blushing Germany, someone had found Turkey and the Netherlands making out in a closet somewhere, Poland was eating pocky with everyone he encountered… All in all, the nations were partying like there was no tomorrow.
America was sitting at the bar, downing a glass of whiskey. He scanned the dance floor. Maybe he'd go stretch his legs as well…
"Privet, Fedya."
"Don't call me that," America said, not even bothering to look over his shoulder. However, he failed to hide a smile. That nickname did have a nice ring to it.
"Enjoying yourself?" America asked.
"Da, very much."
At that moment, the music changed into something slower. America's eyes went wide as he recognized the tune. He had to dance to that song, asap. But he could not do it alone.
America spun around and grabbed Russia's arm.
"Come. Dance. Now."
Russia stammered as he was pulled to the dance floor.
"N-Nyet, I do not want to-"
"You and me are going to dance right now," America cut him off. His tone left no room for objections.
Russia planted his feet to the ground, refusing to move a muscle. America looked around impatiently, wondering why they weren't moving to the music yet. His body was craving for it, his mind would explode if he didn't dance to this song!
"Please?" he asked, pulling out his puppy eyes again.
Russia was blushing a dark red, not knowing what to do.
'Cute,' a small part of America's mind thought. He paid no attention to it. He was focussed on dancing.
Russia hid his face and gave a small nod. America grinned and pulled the tall nation close.
"Just enjoy yourself!" he shouted, as he began moving to the rhythm of the music. Russia reluctantly followed his lead, feeling incredibly embarrassed. He prayed nobody was looking at them.
America tried to spin him around, but failed completely, being shorter and Russia not wanting to perform the act.
"Come on, dude! You have to feel the music!" America whined.
Russia wanted to retaliate, but suddenly the younger got incredibly close.
"You have to feel it in your heart," he whispered, putting a hand on Russia's chest.
Russia's heart skipped a beat.
Literally.
He froze as he heard a wet thud. He didn't have to look down to know what had happened. The horror on America's face said it all.
"D-Dude, your…"
Russia hummed, face as red as a tomato. This was utterly horrifying.
His heart had fallen out once again.
He didn't really know why it happened, and therefore could never see it coming.
America had to be disgusted by him. He just knew it.
What he didn't expect was the younger nation quickly scooping up his heart, holding it close to his chest, and pulling him away from the dance floor. America exited the room and skidded into the bathroom, followed by a slightly dazed Russian. Once he had made sure nobody was there, he turned towards the taller nation.
"So, um… How do we… You know, p-put it back in?"
Russia was still ashamed, but also relieved the American hadn't run away from him.
"D-da… Let me do it…"
Russia began taking off his coat and shirt. America waited for him to finish undressing, not quite sure if he should put down the still beating heart or keep holding onto it. If his heart had fallen out, he would most likely be dead as dust. He faintly remembered this happening before at one of their meetings, but the memory was vague and blurry.
He slightly jumped when Russia put out his hand, but soon got the idea and gave the heart back to its owner. After that he looked down, trying to avoid the display in front of him. But his curiosity was bigger than his disgust.
America looked up just in time to see Russia move his heart towards a gaping hole in his chest. America had to do his best not to run into the nearest stall and puke out his stomach's contents. But something kept him rooted to the spot, unable to look away. Probably pure fascination.
As soon as the heart was placed back in its rightful place, the skin around it closed up. America still couldn't look away, but now for a different reason. As he was standing there, he couldn't help but notice the rest of Russia's naked torso. Wow. The countries had always made jokes of the Russian being fat, but now he could see that was not true in the slightest. The guy had some muscles! Not the kind one gets from working out, but natural ones you gained through manual labour. His pale skin only accented the curves of his sturdy and very hot body.
America felt his face heating up. What. The. Hell. Was he thinking about. He was too shocked by the visual images his mind was bombarding him with to notice the Russian dressing up again. Was his unconsciousness still affected by the events of last night?
America was confused, and Russia was embarrassed. Both of their faces were coloured a crimson red. This was going to be a long night.
xoxox
France had successfully brought England to his bed. The Englishman had begun downing drinks rapidly after he saw his America dancing together with the Russian. After listening to his whining, France had finally been able to cut the man off and drag him to their room.
France couldn't keep his eyes off the nearly unconscious nation. His mind was working overtime.
He desperately wanted to take advantage of the situation.
Surely a little wouldn't hurt, right?
xoxox
Canada was dragging a very drunk Prussia back to their shared room. He had seen more than he wanted tonight. Romano and Spain grinding against each other, Lithuania declaring his love to a potted fern, Denmark streaking, Romania beating someone to a pulp because the guy had asked him if vampires really did sparkle… Canada sighed, feeling exhausted.
It didn't help that Prussia was giggling like a demented snake.
"Kesesesesesesesesesesese! Wererwe goin', Birrrrrrrrrrrrdie?"
"I'm bringing you to bed, Gil."
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeh, but'm not sleeeeeeeeeepy yet!"
Canada hushed him and unlocked the door. He dropped Prussia on the bed and turned around to close the door. However, he felt two arms being wrapped around his middle.
"Let go, I have to close the door," Canada mumbled, trying to dislodge the albino. Prussia only clung to him harder, eventually causing the Canadian to topple over. He yelped as he fell to the floor.
"Dammit, Gilbert!" he yelled, which still sounded more like a loud whisper.
Canada rolled onto his back and tried to get up, but was suddenly pinned down. He looked up into two blood red eyes.
"G-Gilbert?" he asked, voice shaky.
Prussia didn't say a word as he lowered his face and passionately captured Canada's lips.
At first, Canada tried to get the man off of him, but soon he felt his resistance weaken. The kiss just felt sooooooooo good. The way he forced his tongue in his mouth, ravishing the inside. How he moved his lips, forceful yet surprisingly gentle. He tasted of beer and, for some reason, anchovies.
Canada soon lost himself in the kiss, eyes fluttering close. He hadn't felt like this in a long, long time. It didn't last nearly as long as he would've liked it to.
But when Prussia broke away, and he gasped for breath, he felt the other's body grow heavier. Canada opened his eyes and found the Prussian already fast asleep.
Now what was he going to do with this predicament?
xoxox
Just to be clear, Russia isn't going to tell America why he was depressed. It's not like America can do much about it anyway, other than beating up Latvia, and it's not like he'd ever do that.
And they were totally dancing to Time of my Life from the movie Dirty Dancing. :D
Ah, Firenze~. A beautiful city, no?
Words:
Gelateria: Place that sells gelato (Italian ice cream)
