Keep the bad things away:

"What now…"Kaliningrad mused allowed, rereading the summons Russia had sent her not two days ago. How was she supposed to run an oblast if Ivan called her to Moscow ever other day? Khrushchev certainly passed enough reforms to keep her up to her elbows in documents. But the telegram, which she folded and stuffed into her military jacket, was sent with three simple words on it: Come to Moscow. That was it, nothing more was said, no explanation, just a declaration that made her huff as she walked up the stairs of the Kremlin. Had she done something? Attempting to smuggle letters to Germany, yes, but with Khrushchev's new idea of inviting Westerns into the Soviet Bloc, she hardly need to sneak anything. Military personnel still heavily guarded the border and harbor, and much to her displeasure, her home.

It was a loud bang, resonating throughout the hallway, that pulled her from her inner monologue and made Kaliningrad pause in the hallway, which she finally noticed was very empty. Where was everyone? Cautiously, she opened the door to her overseer's office. As soon as she stepped inside, her senses were hit with the overpowering scent of vodka. It was so much that she sneezed and scratched at her nose, which burned and Kaliningrad could taste the alcohol on her tongue. The room was, for lack of better words, a mess, littered with broken pieces of wooden furniture. Papers lay scattered about amidst the rubble of wood shards and broken glass. Her eyes widened at the mess, but it paled in comparison to the nation wielding a metal pipe and a half empty bottle of liquor. His back was to her but Kaliningrad could make out the blond hair that was in utter disarray, his jacket discarded somewhere in the corner.

He staggered forward, toward the window and, tilting his head back to finish off the remaining vodka before tossing it behind him to shatter not to far away from where Kaliningrad stood. She reasoned that he wasn't aware of her presence, and would rather keep that way. The woman took a half step back but the heel of her boot crunched on the broken pieces of glass, causing Russia to wheel around quickly.

Kaliningrad froze, almost looking like a frightened, stubborn child, as she stood there, unable to really say anything for a long moment. A justifiable reaction when she saw that distant and nearly clouded looking in wide violet eyes that looked at her suspiciously. A type of reckless abandon that she hadn't seen before, causing the personified oblast to hold up her arms defensively when he turned to face her fully.

"Ivan…" She started off and took a cautious step back as he took a large step forward; pipe tossed aside and kept coming. Kaliningrad panicked with rushed backward steps; nearly tripping over a piece of wood but her movements weren't quick enough to stop Russia from closing the distance. His hands seized her shoulders; forcing her backwards until her back hit the door with such force that it slammed it shut, popped her hat off and she closed her eyes at the impact. Her heart rate spiked, barely processing the transition from hands gripping her shoulders to arms completely engulfing them until Russia pressed the whole of his weight against her frame. He ducked his head, and damped hair brushed against her cheek. She held her breath at the rigid, warm air that huffed against her ear. He reeked of vodka and sweat but Kaliningrad made no such maneuvers to move him.

"Why do they all want to leave?" His voice is barely audible even in such close proximity that she tilted her head to get a better listen. But the simple action caused Russia to tighten his hold on the material of her jacket. "…Why won't they love me?"

There was such a fragile desperation unlike she'd heard from him before that Kaliningrad didn't so much as flinch when Russia brushed his cheek against her own. Or when he twisted the clothes in his massive grip, no doubt wrinkling it in the process. She didn't make a move to reciprocate the hug either. She simples stood, his nose grazing her messed up hair when his fingers clenched her shoulders again. "All they do is complain..."

Russia's voice took on a bitter edge, getting progressively louder until he was practically screaming the words in her ears. "Revolting and complaining without gratitude for what I've done. Then I become the bad guy…" But his anger dissipated just as quickly as it came, and he moved one arm to make room his head. Russia tucked it between the curves of her neck, resting against her shoulder. "Am I wrong?"

She knew what he was speaking of. All of the Soviet Union and possibly Western countries had heard of the rebellion from the Polish and Hungarian alike after Khrushchev's 'Secret Speech' was given. Kaliningrad pondered the question for a long moment before responding with one of her own. "Is this what you called me here for? To ask if you were wrong?"

The personification of Russia grunted in response and wrapped his arm around her even more. His other hand took the liberty of trailing down her arm and Kaliningrad wanted desperately to move it. Fingers dragged over the green material, creating unwanted goose bumps all the way up to her neck where his breath tickled. Had he not been so heavy, Kaliningrad would have pushed him off of her right then, but as it was, Russia had her trapped between his grip and body weight. Until those wandering fingers found the palm of her hand and she could feel his lips as they pulled into a smile.

Russia laced his fingers between hers and curled them around her hand. When she didn't immediately reciprocate, the Russian pulled his face back so they were eye to eye for the first time since he slammed her into the door. "Hold my hand…" It was a command, albeit a soft, intoxicated one that she didn't readily adhere to.

"You're drunk." Kaliningrad stated plain instead.

Her answered seemed to confuse him for a moment as he squinted and shifted his gaze downward before nodding slowly. "Da…I am. But hold it."
The woman didn't relent but challenged his request. "Is this why you called me here?"

"Mmhm," Russia answered and swayed a bit too close for her comfort. "Like you did before. Hold my hand like before," he leaned in, resting his sticky forehead against her own, bring the scent of vodka even closer to her nostrils with every word uttered. "And keep the bad things from me…"

The personified oblast swallowed thickly at the unexpected confession. When had she done such a thing, 'kept the bad things' away? Kaliningrad blinked as her mind tried to work through the haze of their closeness. Of his forehead sliding against hers, arm wrapped around her shoulder in a protective embrace and his hand clenching hers in a gentle but earnest grip; all of it made the space between them almost non-existent and Kaliningrad had to will herself not to panic when she could feel every warm, alcohol tinted exhale. Despite all of that, the nation seemed so helpless and childlike, in need of a comforting touch from…her? He wanted her to comfort him by holding his hand if the squeeze that followed her current thoughts were any indication. It was a pleading of sorts that Kaliningrad had no immediate objection to, so with a bit of reluctance she did as she was asked. Russia immediately tightened his hold and his lashes caught in hers as they tried to close.

She'd never shared such closeness, not even with Prussia and it scared her more than the thought of forgetting her former nation. It scared her because she didn't move him. But, most of all it scared her because Kaliningrad wanted to keep the bad things away.


A/N: I struggled so much with this chapter! Ah, I just want to get rid of it! Lol

-CeCe ^_^