June, 2099 - Confessions
"I can't believe you call this a game," mumbled England as America managed to putt his fourth hole-in-one in a row at Captain Salisbury's Mini-Golf Emporium.
"It's not just a game," retorted America, walking down the green to collect his neon orange ball from the hole. "It's a sport."
England rolled his eyes. He got up to the starting point to putt his blue ball, managing to get it to the far end of the fourth hole. America sat on the fake rock ledge that enclosed it.
"I'm starting to think you just like starting at my ass," England said sarcastically.
America scoffed, his phone starting to ring. "You wish your butt was that cute," he mocked before answering the phone. "Y'ello… Oh, hey Lithuania!"
England tuned him out as he continued to putt. He positioned himself and gave the ball a light tap, only to watch it dance along the rim of the hole and continue several inches over a hill and into a trench on the other side. He let out a long sigh.
"Sure, sounds great! I'd love to have you guys over."
England walked over to the trench, giving the ball another tap up the hill, only for it to roll back down to bounce off the wall. He groaned.
"Yeah, I understand… I'll make sure Russia isn't there."
In his frustration, England slammed his putter into the ball hard enough for it to fly over the trench and off the course. "Fuck it," he snapped, tossing his putter over his shoulder and walking off.
"You give up a lot more easily than I remember," remarked America. "Oh! Sorry, I don't mean you, Liet."
"Shut up," said England as walked away to get his ball back.
"So, hey, I guess I'll see you guys next week? Cool! See you then!" America hung up and slipped his phone back in his pocket.
"Trouble in paradise?" mocked England.
"What's that supposed to mean," retorted America, brows furrowed in a way that showed he knew exactly what England meant.
"Just that you're obviously having a housewarming without you darling husband," he said, pronouncing "darling" with a long, sarcastic drawl.
"Shut up," frowned America, walking away from him to the next hole.
England was honestly baffled by America's outburst. "And you seem to lose your temper more easily than I remember," he remarked.
"Is that any of your business?" snapped America, England's sympathetic tone somehow irritating him more than it normally would.
"Yes? You're still my little brother,"
America groaned loudly at hearing that old argument being dusted off and brought back to life. He could almost hear a dazzling ta-dah! in the process. "You're still hung up over that," he said.
England gave him a sobering glance. "Not at all, but it was a turning point in our history."
America sighed. He sat down at one of the many park benches around, sulking. England didn't know what else to do, so he sat next to him, remaining quiet until America's mood would pass.
"You know… sometimes I regret winning," America quietly confessed. England was speechless at the sudden revelation. "But it doesn't matter anymore," he soon added with a certain amount of determination that England knew was forced. America's blunt honesty shocked him and he didn't know what to make of this newfound information so freely given.
Where did it even come from?
When America decided his melancholy had passed, he got up and continued their game. England followed suit, still unsure how to react, and within half an hour of silent, mechanical mini-putting, they were done.
Still unsure how to react, England gave America a hug before parting ways. Neither of them spoke another word that day since America's confession.
A little less than two weeks later
When Russia got off the plane, he felt anxious to get to America's place but when he got in the cab, he just felt disappointed. America would have normally picked him up and driven him home to save the cash, but this wasn't a normal circumstance.
He'd gone back home to visit his sisters. He found it unusual how America insisted he go on such short notice, but he didn't think anything of it and arranged the trip anyway. He hoped to try reestablishing diplomatic relations with the Baltic nations while he was there and America was not; to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. But Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia weren't home, they weren't returning his calls… even Poland wasn't home. When he asked Belarus if she knew where they went, she mockingly told him they had a date with America and that he wasn't invited.
It was one thing that she said this with obvious jealousy, but another altogether that she didn't take it seriously. Of course, he didn't know at the time that it was jealousy he felt. He called it anger and resentment. No, he was furious that America arranged this behind his back! He's had lots of time to think about how he felt on the plane. He felt guilty for getting possessive of the Baltics. He'd been told countless times by America that they were independent from him and that they didn't need him; they were free of him. They wanted Russia to leave them alone indefinitely and Russia had a hard time accepting that for a very long time.
But that wasn't what was bothering him, he realized. It was the way Belarus had told him: they had a date with America and he wasn't welcome. He realized it was the thought of America dating anyone that angered him. Of course, it hurt all the more that it was the Baltics he was spending time with without him, and worse that they arranged it secretly, but what really bothered him was someone else getting to spend time with America when it was Russia's right to have him. They Baltics may not belong to him anymore, but America certainly did! And the longer he thought about it, the more he felt resolute over it and the more he had a bone to pick with America.
The cab finally pulled up in front of America's manor home. Russia's heart was beating fast, working up the courage to confront America in this time of delicate peace between them. He was reluctant to dive back into petty quarrels and the only thing strengthening his resolve was knowing America most definitely started this one, and Russia was getting more and more determined to pursue it.
The Jeep was missing, so Russia wasn't surprised to see the house was empty. Biding his time, he unpacked and went about his day as though he never left in the first place.
Once Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia were each on board their flights, America finally returned Belarus' call, a small part of him worrying something might have happened to Russia. The last thing he expected to learn was that Russia was already back and that he was royally pissed—her words. America tried not to speed home, but he didn't want Russia's bad mood to fester… his temper is wretched and he learned to avoid it over the years.
There was a mixture of relief and fear as he parked the jeep in its usual spot. He hummed to Can't Stop the Feeling to steady his heart rate, walking up the porch and into his house. He didn't think to ask Belarus why her brother was angry and he tried to think of what it might be this time, coming up blank. Everything has been so smoothed between them recently.
He could smell potato pancakes frying in the kitchen so he stopped at the entrance.
"Had a good trip?" he asked conversationally, leaning against the door frame.
"Hm," replied Russia without looking up from the frying pan.
Uh oh, thought America. "You sound like there's something bothering you."
"M-hm." Russia had already exhausted himself over it.
"Wanna talk about it?"
Russia turned off the element, letting the patties sizzle on their own. "You wanted me to visit my sisters so you could meet Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia in secret," he stated bluntly, his tone sounding cheerful.
But America knew better. "Who told you that?"
"Belarus." Russia started placing the patties on a plate. "Actually, she told me you had a 'date' with them," he added, his tone turning cold.
"Well, I wouldn't call it a date, but we hung out," murmured America. "Look, Ivan, I didn't like keeping it a secret from you, but they wanted me to because… well, you know," he tried to explain.
"No, I don't know."
"Because you get possessive!"
"I don't care about them," said Russia, turning to face America and offering him a patty. America surprised himself wondering if they were poisoned—something he hadn't worried about for years—but mumbled a thanks as he took one, starting to nibble on it.
"Then why're you angry?" America asked.
"Because you lied to me."
"I didn't lie to you. I suggested you visit your sister and you did," he said defensively.
"I don't want you doing things behind my back like that."
"Too bad, Russia! 'Cause I'm gonna anyway," replied America crossly, losing his temper with him. "What the hell is up with you?"
"I don't… I don't like you hanging out with others without me," whined Russia, knowing how childish he sounded but unable to stop himself.
America was dumbfounded. "You mean to tell me you got jealous?"
"Y-yes," Russia stammered shyly, avoiding his eyes now. He felt like he was confessing more than just a petty jealousy.
America's jaw clenched. To him, this meant Russia considered him one of his subordinates, and this infuriated him. "I don't belong to you, Russia."
"Don't you—?"
"No! And you should keep in mind what happened last time someone thought he could claim ownership over me like a fucking pet," he spat, walking out.
Russia stood alone in the kitchen, baffled and confused. He wondered over America's reaction, especially since he hadn't actually done anything except admit he was jealous.
He sadly figured that this time, the thought counted more than enough.