A/N: WARNING! IF YOU DO NOT ENJOY THE YAOI, SKIP PAST THE ITALICS! Though, if you're a pervy yaoi addict like me, go ahead and read! :D
America twisted his hands in Russia's hair as the other man licked up his neck, pressing him down into the bed. America's breathing was heavy in pleasure while Russia reached his mouth, pulling him into a deep kiss. The Russian's tongue invaded America's mouth, making him shiver and moan the other's name. Russia responded favorably, hands going down to America's waist and slipping past the belt on his pants. America arched back off the bed as Russia's hands traveled teasingly yet determinedly downward...
"Alfred." America's whispered name in that familiar voice broke through his mind, waking him. His eyes opened and he was looking up at Russia, who was shaking him by the shoulder. "Wake up," he murmured quietly.
"What the hell...?" America muttered, sitting up. He was completely disoriented, and immensely confused. That was one freaky-ass dream, he thought, slightly wondering why he wanted to go back to sleep. And more immediately, why was Russia waking him up at one in the morning?
"Get up, Alfred," Russia told him. "Get dressed, and meet me down in the kitchen. Quietly; we wouldn't want to disturb the Baltics." He left America's room, leaving him tired and immensely confused. America blinked, adjusting to the light from his lit lamp; what was that dream about? Shaking it off, he drowsily got dressed-almost putting his pants on backwards as he did so-and stumbled downstairs. Russia was already dressed in his long coat, sitting at the kitchen table. He looked up when he saw America.
"Good. Come on," Russia said, tugging America out the door. The snow hit him in the face again, which was a mixed blessing. On the good side, he was awake now. The bad part was that he was cold and his face was wet. Again.
"Where are we going?" he asked as Russia pushed him into the backseat. Clasping his seat-belt, America waited for Russia to get in before repeating his question. Only when Russia started the car did he answer. Well, sort of.
"You'll see," he said mysteriously.
"Aww, come on," America whined half-heartedly. "You wake me up at one in the morning and drag me out to the car, taking me God-knows-where. The least you could do is give me a hint. City?"
"That would give it away," Russia said. "I'll give you this though: it's in Russia."
"Wow. I don't think you could have been more vague if you tried," America grumbled. Russia chuckled.
"Da, I could have," he promised.
"Vanya, please tell me why I'm awake at this ungodly hour," America begged. Russia looked at him in the rear-view mirror and smirked, shaking his head. "Okay, then, I'm going back to sleep. Wake me when we get there."
And with that, America leaned against the inside of the car door and fell asleep. Russia kept driving for around half an hour; because it was early and nobody else was on the road, Russia's driving got even worse. He nearly hit trees, ran over mailboxes, and was lucky the car didn't hydroplane and flip over. America somehow slept through it.
"Alfred," Russia said, parking the car. "We're here." He shook America's shoulder, hoping that the trick he used on the plane would work now. It didn't.
"I hate you," America mumbled tiredly.
"Da, I know," Russia said, smiling faintly. "Alfred, get up, though. You'll want to see this."
After much shaking, ordering, and finally bribing on Russia's part, America actually got out of the car. Snow crunching beneath his boots, America shivered and, in his still-mostly-asleep state, leaned into Russia for warmth. The Russian arched an eyebrow, but didn't complain; instead, he opted for taking a flashlight out of his pocket and passing it off to America.
"Are those...two-headed eagles?" America asked, shining the light on a large, black, cast-iron gate. On the top there were four small golden statues of what truly seemed to be eagles with two heads.
"Da, I believe so," Russia said, trying to focus on the miniaturization. He wondered what the architect had been thinking of, or whether he was simply distracted when he made them. How odd.
"Where are we, Vanya?" America questioned. "Tell me right now or I'll call Lithuania and tell him you kidnapped me."
"Fine, fine," Russia said, raising his hands in a mock gesture of giving up. "We're at Alexander Garden, in Moscow."
"Are we allowed to be here after dark?" America asked.
"I'm Ivan Braginski," Russia pointed out, "I can do pretty much anything I like in this country. Especially take you places."
"Wow Vanya, how...conceited," America said sarcastically. "And England says I'm full of myself."
"Wow Alfred, 'conceited' is a large word, especially for you," Russia shot back. It was all in good humor, America knew, but he wasn't expecting that from Russia.
"Shut up!" he said, laughter ruining the mock anger he tried to express. "What would you know about big words, anyway?"
"I know that the biggest non-technical word in your English language is antidisestablishmentarianism," Russia said. "And the biggest word in Russian is никотинамидадениндинуклеотидфосфатгидрин. The English word refers a nineteenth-century political movement that opposed the disestablishment of the Church of England as the state church of England. Now, the Russian term is technical, and is what you know as NADP."
America stared, then smirked. "Wrong! The biggest word in English is Blatherskite!"
Russia laughed at the ridiculousness. "Oh, really now? What does that even mean?"
"It means fantastic! Wonderful! Epic! Awesome!" America exclaimed.
"I know for a fact that that nonsense word is not in your dictionary," Russia said as they walked through the gates, under the slightly-creepy statues of multi-headed eagles.
"Wanna bet?" America asked. "Seriously, I'll bet you anything that is totally in my dictionary!"
"No, I am not betting with you; it would be far too easy. I believe you Americans have some odd phrase involving sugar and infants."
"Taking candy from a baby?" America suggested.
"Da, that is the phrase!" Russia claimed.
"Yeah, that's - hey, wait a minute! Are you calling me childish?" America asked, real anger leaking into his voice. His maturity had always been the stemming of many arguments with England, especially back when he was still a colony.
"Perhaps," Russia said, unaware that America was actually getting quite pissed off.
"I can't believe you'd say that, Ivan!" America said, and that time, Russia could hear the hurt in his voice.
"Alfred-"
"No, don't you 'Alfred' me; I'm completely mature, and I don't deserve to be called otherwise!" America began ranting, hatred glittering in his blue eyes. Russia didn't try to interrupt, but waited until America ran out of steam, which was about two full minutes later. By that time, America looked like he was on the verge of crying in abhorrence, his fists were balled up at his sides, and if looks could kill, Russia would've been dead three minutes ago.
"...America," Russia started after America calmed down a bit. "I'm sorry. I never meant to get you upset. I didn't know."
"Well, now you do," America seethed. Russia walked beside him to sit on a bench underneath a tree laden with snow.
"Yes, now I know," Russia said. They sat in silence for a while longer, and even America - who still hadn't found the bookstore they sold 'The Atmosphere' at yet - could see that Russia was getting slightly annoyed.
"America?" Russia asked.
"What?" America's words were clipped, his tone cold.
"Dammit, what do I have to do now?" Russia asked, utterly fed up. The creepy purple aura was beginning to appear around him, but America didn't care for the moment. "I apologized, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did."
"What else do you want to hear, then? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to call you immature, and you're not childish, okay?"
"You've already said that," America said.
"You don't believe me, do you?" Russia asked. When America didn't answer, he knew he was right. "America, I swear I don't think you're childish, at least, not all the time. I promise."
"Right," America said sarcastically. "You're always protecting me, telling me 'don't do that it's dangerous', 'don't do that you'll die'. You can't let me go somewhere by myself, you've got to depict every moment of my trip here according to your weird, twisted sense of humor!"
Russia was going to retaliate during that, but realized it was true. He was overprotective of the younger American. America continued to list things Russia did, and the list was getting dumber and dumber by the second - America started going on about how Russia's vodka habit somehow proved he thought America was childish. Russia found that it was really beginning to grate on his nerves; how was he going to shut America up and prove his point at the same time?
"Alfred," he said, "shut up."
Before America had time to respond, Russia pulled the shorter man toward him, kissing him deeply, and perhaps a tad roughly. At first, America wanted to pull away to bitch the Russian out; but after a second, he decided not to, and let Russia pull him almost into his lap.
When they broke apart, America watched Russia tentatively.
"See, Alfred?" Russia asked, "I would never do that to anyone I thought was childish."
"Blatherskite," was America's response.
A/N: Yay for the next chapter! And w00t; we're finally going to get into the reason why this is rated M in the first place! The next chapter will be out very soon, as I wrote most of it in a car trip about a week ago.
And yes, I do believe that America likes the movie Mary Poppins. XD I don't know why, it just seemed fitting. And yeah, sorry if this bit was all awkward, I don't write mushy shit. Everyone's all, "Write what it was like for you, your first kiss!" ...yeah, well, sorry to disappoint you all, but I've never kissed anyone. I don't even have a life. XD
Yes, I know that Blatherskite doesn't mean what America thinks it means. :)
So yeah, sorry this was late; my grandfather's in the hospital, so I've been really worried about him. Though he's keeping his spirits up by making passes on the 20-something-year-old med students. :)
