First and foremost, I apologize about the quality of this work. I usually triple and quadruple edit my fics for story flow before posting ( even though I still somehow still miss quite a lot of spelling/grammar errors). However, I don't want to stress over a mere drabble and given the type of story, I want to write this free style. No edits. Just words. Hope you enjoy it anyway.
Beer, cold and bitter, slid down his throat as he threw his head back and drank to his heart's content. His eyes darted to the side and somehow, China was unsurprised to see Russia sitting next to him, smiling indulgently.
Wiping his mouth, China placed his tankard down with a thump. He turned to the other nation and quirked up an eyebrow. At the silent challenge, Russia raised his glass in salute before downing it in one big gulp.
A smile flirted with corners of China's mouth, but he quickly turned away from Russia and ordered the both of them another round. The bet would not be over until one of them fell over drunk or throw up their dinner. He glanced to his side again and noted Russia obliviously humming a cheery tune to himself. A few more shots of vodka, and China would have it in the bag. Perhaps it was an unfair wager but he wasn't the one that insisted that beer was a diluted version of a "witch's piss".
When their drinks came and China gulped down his beer, he was careful to watch Russia finish his vodka. In the back of his mind, he was aware about how queer this all was. To sit beside Russia, to laugh and share drinks- his Past Self who owned an Empire and was courted by the World, would sneer at the impossibility. And yet, here he was, drinking and having a meaningless, ridiculous wager with his northern neighbor.
How this all began, how it became a habit between them was a mystery to China. The first time was a mere accident. Japan had been seduced by the Westerners and of all people, it was Russia who sat beside him and listened to his drunken whining. Though Russia was terrible at consoling him, China nonetheless appreciated his efforts.
The second time was a coincidence. Russia was sitting at the bar by himself when China walked in. The Chinese remembered what Russia did for him only months before and offered to buy him a round in thanks. They sat, talked about nonsensical things for awhile, and then said their goodbyes.
Before either knew what was happening, every Thursday at 7:30PM China would come to the bar and sit on the second to last stool. And almost like clockwork, five minutes later Russia would slide into the seat beside him as if they coordinated it.
At first, there was just silence. They sat, nursing their drinks without acknowledging the nation sitting beside them. Words were not spoken, gestures were not exchanged, but somehow they knew what the other was thinking. In the stillness of unsaid sentiments, they found the similarities between them. They each had a sorrow so deep that it seeped and bled into their very bones. It was a type of sadness that billowed gently in the air around them. In the companionable silence, there was a sense of peace each of them sought after.
Who was it that spoke first? When was it their Thursdays began to be filled with conversations and stupid dares? China knew there was no true answer. The answers were meaningless when the truth came from the questions themselves.
The sound of something hard hitting wood sounded to his right. He looked and found Russia's slumped form sitting on the stool, his stubborn hand somehow still holding a shot glass upright.
Looking at Russia's prone body, China sipped on his drink and wondered about their odd little friendship. They did nothing more than to come here every Thursday and drink, but that was just how some things were, were they not? Life was such a fickle, whimsical thing. Some bonds are formed through chance meetings, some are forged through circumstances. Funny enough, for them war brought them together. Typical of male friendship, China could not help but find it funny. A bond created by bloodshed.
China finished the last drop of beer, a pleasant buzz flittering around in his head. Laughing as a drunkard wont, he threw his arms in conviviality around Russia's shoulders. How it fit the both of them so well. They'd go down in a blaze of glory. Damn it to hell the other nations.
It was them against the world.
I just wanted a story with Yao and Ivan sitting in a bar like buddies with no romantic tendencies towards each other. To me, I don't think I've EVER written a story where Yao and Ivan slowly fell in love with one another. So I wanted a take on what their relationship would be like before they developed feelings beyond friendship. This is what I got.
I didn't know how to end it, so I borrowed Westlife's song "Us Against the World". A lot of RoChu fans think of it as a theme song for RoChu x"D