Story Thirteen

In Which Russia and America's lunch date is rudely interrupted

America and Russia were enjoying a snack. For once, both of them seemed content to enjoy each other's company in mutual silence—Russia was reading a book, mindlessly accepting the chips America kept offering him while she stared up at the sky and made pictures out of the clouds.

They were on a break from a meeting. Normally, America would go have some lunch with her brother or England or maybe Japan, but she had promised Russia that today she would eat her lunch with him. While she ate like a linebacker, munching her way through a few family-sized bags of chips, four hamburgers and a super-sized Coca-Cola, Russia seemed content to accept the small bits she offered him.

It was truly a beautiful sight. Two nations with so much horrible history between them, and still existing with such tensions between each other to this day, were sitting complacently by each other, simply enjoying the other's company.

They were sitting a little too close, if you asked England.

He had been rather put out when America had denied his offer to take her to lunch. Given that England could count on one hand how many people he could tolerate for prolonged amounts of time, his options for eating partners was a bit limited. He had honestly been surprised when she'd said no, especially when he offered to pay and everything! It wasn't like America was exactly Miss Popularity!

So why, oh why, had she said no?!

He had been sulking on his way to some shitty French café that France was bringing him to now that England couldn't say he was already eating out with America. Honestly, that bitch had to have had a really, really good reason to say no to make England go through such torment.

And then, lo and behold, he'd seen that adorably rancid display of rare mutual peace and companionship between two rival superpowers on a park bench in Versailles. America had been mid-offer with her chip bag and Russia had glanced up from his book to give her a smile before accepting a few. They then went back to enjoying each other's company.

It was awful. England thought he was going to vomit. He had ended up blindly grabbing the sleeve of France's shirt and then dove into some bushes, hiding them both from view while making spying on America and Russia much easier.

"Mon dieu!" France cried. "You mongrel! I might have gotten a grass stain on my suit!"

England stopped France from attempting to get up and give away their position, yanking him right back into the bushes with a furious look on his face.

"Don't you dare move!" England snarled. "Look at that disgusting display over there!"

England then pointed at Russia and America. France finally spied them and, instead of being horrified or angry, his eyes became huge and he gasped, clutching a hand over his heart. A rose seemingly appeared from nowhere and England watched, dumbfounded as France inhaled the rose and sighed, his eyelashes fluttering like his heart was no doubt doing.

"What an exquisite display of beauty and true love!" France cooed, staring at America and Russia as he fanned himself. "I have not seen a love such as this in so very long!"

"What the bloody hell are you talking about, love?" England sneered. "They are sitting on a park bench! They aren't even speaking to each other! If anything, he is a mistake America will be too embarrassed to acknowledge in several months' time."

"Scoff not, you grouchy old thing!" France admonished, flicking England's nose. England balked as France continued. "Just because you don't believe in love doesn't mean it doesn't exist! I see proof right there on that bench!"

"They hate each other," England pointed out dryly. Despite the little PowerPoint display only a few months ago, he was in a state of absolute denial. At the very least, he thought they would be back to their old "we hate each other" shtick by now, but no. It was getting a bit alarming.

France giggled, practically vibrating with glee. "Well, it doesn't look that way from this angle!"

While France fangirled and kept going on and on about true love and Cupid's bow and all that crap, England decided to let someone who would maybe be as furious as him know about America and Russia's current lovey-dovey status. It took him a few minutes to actually remember his name, and even then, he had to ask France in the end.

England had expected Canada to go full-on protective big brother mode. Sure, Canada had voiced his approval before, but perhaps seeing them actually like this would make him angry. But how did Canada respond to England's text—which had been a picture of America and Russia sitting together?

:D!

That's right. ":D!"

Instead of an insane Canadian with a hockey stick and justifiable sibling rage, he got a smiley face emoji and an enthusiastic exclamation point.

Well. If Canada wasn't going to do anything about it, and if France was just going to ship it, England was going to take care of this problem.

He got up and stomped over. The most effective way to get through to either of them was to be direct. He stood in front of them, quickly garnering America's attention, although Russia was a bit too immersed in his book to take notice at first.

"Oh, heya, Iggy." America grinned. "Didja ditch Francis to come hang out with the cool kids?"

England valiantly resisted the urge to point out that Russia and America were both pretty high on the list of "Unpopular Nations", but if he hoped to get her away from that creep, he couldn't point out any common ground between them. Instead, he snorted and shook his head.

"What on Earth are you doing here, Amelia? With him?"

America blinked, surprised, and then huffed. "None of your beeswax, that's what."

"We are simply enjoying the nice weather," Russia cut in, a bit annoyed at being distracted from his book. "We are also sharing food. I believe this qualifies as a 'picnic'?"

"It sure does by my standards!" America waved at England, as if saying goodbye. "Alright, now that your curiosity is sated, you can leave and go make out with France or whatever it is you do."

"I would never!" England scowled at his so-called closest ally. "Just why are you two spending time together? Since when do you enjoy each other's company?"

Russia ignored him and America let out loud laugh.

"Man, you are in a world of denial!" she said cheerfully. "Let me tell you a little story about a super awesome nation and a heartless sociopath who found love. Well, an insane amount of crazy sex first. Then love."

Russia smiled gleefully while England looked like he would rather be talking about anything else, like cannibalism or circumcision or anything.

"One of these days, Amelia, you are going to drive me to the brink of insanity. Or perhaps I'll just convince France that it would be a good idea to declare war on you together. Sort of like history coming full circle."

America nodded, munching on a handful of chips. "You do that, Iggy. I'd love to have two more states."

Russia guffawed and he and America exchanged high fives. England sputtered angrily when America continued.

"Although I have to admit, war is a pretty weird idea for a date." She frowned and elbowed Russia lightly. "Doesn't seem very romantic."

Russia, meanwhile, sighed dreamily. "I think it would be a wonderful idea. It has been far too long since I last saw you covered in the entrails of your fallen enemies while we fought side-by-side. I always did think you looked prettiest like that."

"Awww!"

England paled, realizing he had just possibly made a fatal mistake bringing up the subject of warfare. Panicking, he suddenly sat down in between America and Russia, halfway on both of their laps. Russia grunted and scooted away while America yelped, nearly dropping her chip bag and shoved England off of her, causing him to practically sprawl across Russia's lap.

"What's the big idea, limey?!" America grabbed more chips, eating far faster and far more angrily in light of this new situation.

"The big idea is that you are making a massive mistake and I am attempting to save you from further embarrassment." England crossed his arms over his chest. "Try as you might, you will not move me. Not until you rethink your life choices, Amelia."

America narrowed her eyes at England as he smugly reached into her chip bag and took a few, popping them into his mouth. He suddenly gasped and let out a groan.

"Bloody… what the hell is wrong with your crisps?!"

"Crisps? It's pronounced 'chips', Iggy." America rolled her eyes. "And what do you mean what's wrong with them? These are great!"

"Well, for one, I'm not entirely sure if I just ate them or if I just rubbed them all over my face." England groaned as America offered him her Cola and he downed a few large gulps, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. "Secondly, I'm a bit worried a single bite of that salty, oily nightmare may have just given me diabetes!"

"If you have nothing nice to say, shut your yapper," America snapped, elbowing him sharply. "Go be a crabby old fart somewhere else."

"Oui, for once, our lovely Amélie is correct." France suddenly grabbed England and attempted to drag him off the bench. "You are interrupting their lovely date, you buffoon! Just because you don't have a romantic bone in your body doesn't mean you must force others to live a life of celibacy as well!"

"Celibacy?!" England glared at France. "I am not celibate, France!"

"Non? Making love to your hand does not count."

England began to shriek profanities while France dragged him away, finally leaving America and Russia alone once more.

"Your friends are strange," Russia observed, turning back to his book.

America sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, grabbing another handful of chips. "Tell me about it."

Author Notes

Well, I WAS going to upload the Civil War chapter next, but instead of pressing 'save' last time I was working on it, I simply exited out of the word document and lost EVERYTHING. So I'm trying to re-write it, so hopefully I'll have that up soonish.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Seasons Greetings, whatever you're celebrating this year, I hope it's the best!