Dinner was nothing too special; a simple social gathering to please the media, which lead to the Russian and American personifications having to act at least faintly touchy-feely with one another. As if they were already married. Good grief.

But...it was alright, America supposed. Although Russia could have gone without randomly playing with his hair, or holding his hand half the time, or whispering into his fucking ear like like a FUCKING CREEP-

...

Now...that was a little too touchy-feely, even if it was...sweet and well-played out. Damn, that commie is a good actor. Even he was starting to think the guy was being genuine. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud, but… Alfred's cheeks flushed a bit darker as he shifted on his feet. He stood leaning behind the wall, feeling horribly awkward and silent. In the other room, Ivan relaxed in their shared room, nose nestled in a thick book and eyes roving quickly over the text.

Damn Chase and his stupid foreign agenda, Alfred cursed silently, before hunching his shoulders gloomily, and damn nations and their stupid alliance ritual-ey thingies. Honestly, why couldn't he just stay in a room of his own? They weren't even married yet and already they were being forced to get all cuddly whether they were in public or not. How messed up was that? What do those assholes think they are? Animals? Robots?

Sighing away his anger, America briefly wondered if he could sleep on the tiny couch in the small lounge, or if there were enough spare blankets hidden around to make a little fort out of the kitchenette. Maybe he could bunk with the President. He'd be cool with that, Alfred was sure. They were totally tight enough to be bros. And it was bros before hoes, right?

Not that Russia was a hoe but…

Another flush of heat struck him, this time burning the tips of his ears. Regardless, he would take just about anything at this point to avoid sleeping in the same bed with the Russian.

Well, maybe not anything but...

Alfred sighed again, slumping his shoulders in defeat.

What was the point of resisting? It wasn't like he could avoid him for much longer. Unions like theirs needed at least one of two things to become firmly established. One of which was the approval of the people, which was was easily obtainable with a legally binding marriage, some luck, and a little well-meaning propaganda. Splurge the media with cutesy photos and articles of him and Russia and stability would be obtained within the year. The other was all the paperwork officially binding them together, which would be fully signed come their wedding day. And, as much as Alfred hated to admit it, his country really needed Russia's intervention between him and China. The problem was, getting that intervention meant permanence. Damn Russia and his weird obsession with "becoming one."

How lucky he was to have to be a part in the guy's dastardly schemes. Alfred clutched his sides and frowned down at the ground, gulping quietly as his cheeks continued to burn hotly. To achieve permanence, the actions needed to be taken were...a bit more personal. More intimate. A shudder skittered down his spine to settle uncomfortably in his stomach. He was so not going to think about this right now. Not with Russia mere paces away. So, Alfred was going to have to share a bed with the freak. So, he was probably gonna have to sleep with him at some point in their marriage. So what? It wasn't like both of them hadn't been alive for literal centuries. It wasn't like they weren't mature enough to deal with awkward situations. Lord knows that their existence was probably the product of an awkward situation to begin with.

Now there's an interesting thought-!

No, Alfred. Now is not the time to have an existential crisis, America thought with a grimace before steeling himself and walking into Russia's line of sight.

"Hey," he greeted amicably as he walked by. Ivan glanced up, smiled and nodded back, then continued to read. The youth nearly sighed with relief. Thank god. Don't look at me, you creepy fuck.

"Privet, Fredya." Uuuuugh… Alfred smiled back, sort of, and strolled off to his suitcase, unzipping it and sifting through his clothes for what he wanted to wear to bed. Something that covers his entire body, probably. No skin allowed whatsoever. Thank god he had enough foresight to bring his favorite pajama pants; the blue ones with eagles wearing various sports attire! He grinned as he tugged them out, along with a Dallas Cowboys t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

"I'm gonna grab a shower, 'kay?" Russia hummed in acknowledgment and Alfred scampered off quickly. After cleansing his body of the dirt and grime it had accumulated over the day, he stood in the hot spray, leaning against the slick, white shower walls tiredly. He breathed in, filling his lungs with the hot steam wafting around him. The water was practically scalding, beating against his skin with violent fervor. America sighed happily, forcing his mind clear as he let the water rinse away his anxiety.

When he exited with a towel around his head roughly fifteen minutes later, Russia was getting up from the bed, a pile of neatly folded clothes in his arms. America easily let him pass, opting to stay silent even as his mouth quivered with the urge to make mindless small talk as he was so used to doing in awkward situations. But Russia had already closed the door behind him, the sound of rustling clothes and running water soon following. Good.

I was about to make some weak promise to update on more of a schedule since I have plenty of material to back me up and plenty of stuff to write about for upcoming chapters (like I have 10 pt2 ready and 11 ready rn in my docs so...) but I know that I'm not going to follow through with a schedule whatsoever because I'm really good at remembering! (I'm also a lying sonuvabeech!) Although, reviews do help remind me because I get an email that shows up on my phone that notify me of that so you really like this story, feel free to give me a reminder through reviews or PMing because I am literally never on this site except for posting new chapters.