A/N: Thank you to everyone who took the time to review the first chapter, considering how basic, plain, and long it was. I really appreciated that.
A lot more Russia in this chapter.
Enjoy.
Something was strange.
Like, no, seriously. Something was horrendously strange.
Not strange like seeing someone with pink hair and rainbow leggings at some fancy-pantsy five star French restaurant, or strange like eating mayonnaise straight from the jar with a salad tong. It was more like the kind of strange when going to a farm and seeing a cow with three heads or hearing that Celine Dion was in the top fifty best selling artists of the year.
Yeah. It was the uncomfortable, unnerving kind of strange that Alfred was feeling. And he didn't feel that all too often; minus all the times where he had to eat England's food.
It was weird. Maybe he was feeling this foreboding off-putting feeling because he actually managed to come into the meeting early. He was still pretty tired and didn't really want to deal with anything, so that could be it, right? Alfred probably just woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something.
Actually his bed essentially had bedbugs so he'd slept on the floor, but that wasn't the point.
The point was, throughout the whole presentation on an in depth journey into The Wonders and Blunders of Current Global Economics as it was so cleverly named, Alfred could feel pressure distinctly on one of his temples. No matter which was he turned his head, if he put his hand up, if he stuffed his face between his arms to take a light nap (always interrupted by Japan), he would still feel that tiny dot of strain on his face growing with each and every minute.
And to put it frankly, he was feeling a bit paranoid.
It was like someone was boring a hole in his head and he couldn't get them to stop. Alfred squirmed and fidgeted and didn't even bother to pay attention the entire time. So when the meeting finally drew to a close, Alfred was more exhausted than when he came in. He gave a hefty yawn into his hand and began to slop his papers and folders and the like into his briefcase with barely contained jitters. Was this what it felt like to be stalked? he wondered absentmindedly before rubbing one of his tense shoulders.
"You look terrible," Japan put bluntly as he glanced over at his friend with little sense of sympathy. Because of all Alfred's shuffling around, it had taken a toll on his concentration as well.
"Thank you for pointing that out. I wasn't aware of that, but it's always good to hear from a friend," Alfred muttered into his briefcase before giving a sarcastic eye-roll. Japan huffed and buckled his own case.
"Just out of plain curiosity, America-san –"
"I keep saying call me Alfred. Alfred. We're friends now, remember?"
Japan shifted awkwardly, a little embarrassed at this whole talk to your friends less formally – you're not a social cripple anymore – thing,before continuing once more. "Alfred-san…Why were you so anxious today?"
Alfred opened his mouth to say something before just letting his jaw flap there in the wind. For when he looked up for no particular reason, he met eyes with Russia, standing across the room smiling at him behind a few other former Soviet nations.
Well.
What the fuck?
"America-san?" Japan inquired confused at his friend's frozen posture, leaning over to get a better look at his face.
"Alfred," Alfred corrected him on a reflex, brow pulling together and glaring at the human icicle. Japan made a displeased noise and snapped his fingers at his mistake again.
"I will get this right," the Asian muttered under his breath before a wisp of air blew some strands of his dark hair from his face and he was left alone with nothing but a large scent of burgers and anxiety. Japan watched with confusion as Alfred led himself to the doors in a stiff and hardy pace. "Alfred-san? Where are you going?"
Alfred grinned at him quickly before turning back around and walking. "Meeting's over, Kiku! People to go, places to see…Wait, that's not right…Well it's something like that anyways." He waved over his shoulder.
Japan blinked before frowning. "We were in the middle of a conversation," he said but Alfred was already out the doors and not paying attention anymore. Japan slumped and shook his head. Of all the people he managed to make friends with, he chose that person? Maybe he had been making some bad judgments in his not so long ago past.
Alfred continued down the long corridor in search for the elevator. He just wanted to get something to eat and go back to his hotel to watch celebrity kickboxing or whatever was on German television at night. He felt his stomach growling and patted it in reassurance; the poor little guy barely had anything to eat all day because of that stupid black-hole-sucking-his-face feeling distracting him. He quickened his pace and hopped in right as the elevator doors were opening.
He took a spot next to Iceland and Finland. Alfred leaned over and clicked the button for the bottom floor and waited as China also stepped inside. He scooted over and let the shorter nation choose his floor of preference before looking up and freezing. Alfred sucked a sharp breath back into his lungs as he saw Russia making his way towards the elevator with Latvia, chatting away like nothing was wrong to the small shivering nation.
Alfred frowned and quickly leaned over to tap his button again. Why weren't the doors closing by now? Hellooo. Wasn't that their job? To close and take people up and down until they got motion sickness, throwing up all over the back corner where no one ever seemed to want to stand because of its salty smell. The clacking of Russia's boots echoed like some terrible music sonata that played on a loop from the old record player in Alfred's mind; the one that housed any and all dreadful sounds that he encountered once upon a time, never wanting to hear again, France moaning being one of them.
He pressed the button more insistently, ignoring the look of confusion China shot him before the Asian followed Alfred's line of vision and stiffened just as quickly. Both of them began to practically pound at the buttons until the elevator finally gave a beep of recognition and the doors began sliding shut. Just before the doors were fully closed, Russia peered up and waved politely, making solid eye contact with Alfred. With that he was gone and Alfred was now alone with his thoughts in the most awkward elevator ride ever. Why did Germany insist the meeting should be on the twelfth floor anyways?
Alfred shifted and slowly began to regain all composure, trying to forget the fact that Russia waved at him. Again. What was with that guy and waving at him all of the sudden? Was it some new mind game or did he just coincidentally have his arm fall asleep every time he made eye contact with him and had to shake it around to wake it up making it seem like a wave? But it wasn't a wave. Alfred was positive that it wasn't a wave. He glanced curiously down at China beside him who was staring intently at the doors with his lips pursed in a thin, tight line.
Alfred straightened up. Okay, so it was a wave. Big deal…It wasn't like he was going to ever wave back…
Eeeuugghhh. Gross! Why was Russia waving at him?
The elevator clicked open and Alfred would have been lying if he said everyone present didn't scoot out of the enclosed box as quickly as they could. The air was just so suffocating – all because of Russia (again) – and Alfred was glad to rid himself of it. He parted ways, not even bothering to ask China why he had made such a scrunched up face; he was pretty sure he had a good idea why. Once away from his daily obligation for his nation, Alfred walked down the street in search for a place to eat.
He pulled his coat tighter and squinted against the chilly wind nipping at his cheeks. No later than ten minutes did he find a small little restaurant that he was eager to get inside, the food smelling like heaven. It was a popular place and even as he ordered his food and waited with his number, he still looked around a little nervous that he wouldn't find a spare table. It looked like the only ones left were outside and no way in hell was he eating out there. Alfred's food finished and was placed on the counter with a 'ding' from the bell and he took his tray in search for a table.
Alfred muttered under his breath certain expletives that he hoped the other people in the restaurant couldn't understand as every single table seemed to be occupied. He looked down at his tray of food and sighed. Well what was he supposed to do now?
When all hope seemed lost and Alfred thought he would have to eat at one of the frozen tables outside, an airy voice broke through some of the clustered conversations rumbling around the air.
"You look like you are lost."
Alfred blinked and turned around trying to locate where the voice had come from. Was it even talking to him? He glanced around the restaurant before stopping, eyes snagging on a head of pale-blonde hair. Oh come on. Seriously. Seriously? Russia sat at a small, two-seater table with a cup nestled between his large hands, violet eyes perceiving Alfred in amusement as he stood dumbly in the middle of the room. Russia craned his neck and squinted his eyes in a pleasant little smile that Alfred knew was anything but. "Your food is getting cold, is it not?"
Alfred didn't move, his eyes glancing around once more for another spare table. Anything to get what he thought he was about to do out of his mind. "Please," Russia said and pushed the chair across from him back with the bottom of his shoe. "You may borrow my spare chair for the time being." Alfred looked back at him and appeared calm on the outside, but on the inside he was rampaging and pulling his hair out and screaming loud enough to break glass.
Russia tilted his head a bit and raised his eyebrows when he received no response. "Are you alive?" he asked jokingly.
Alfred blinked and scowled before turning his back to the human icicle. "I'm eatin' outside," he mumbled and made his way for the door with heavy dread. If Russia hadn't been such a time traveler and hadn't taken Alfred's table, then he wouldn't have to be forced into the snow and eat like some loner in the rapidly growing dark.
"Oh? Well if that is what you wish," Russia uttered with a shrug. He grinned knowingly at the back getting farther and farther away from him, Alfred not looking like he was going to stop for anything he said. Russia snickered; not stop for anything, huh? "Have fun enjoying your meal out in the freezing cold then."
Alfred's feet stuttered for a moment before he flinched. His momentary pause was short lived and he continued towards the door stubbornly.
"Be sure to wipe the frost and water from your table. It would be uncomfortable to wear soggy clothes for the rest of the day, but I am sure you would not mind."
Alfred winced and stopped again, this time a bit longer, his shoulders slumping at each and every word the Russian spoke. Russia giggled. One more should do it.
"Are you aware that under extreme temperature shifts, a person's skin could literally freeze to a surface? It is very interesting, in fact. When going to pull it from the frozen surface, the skin is melded down with ice so strong that the skin actually gets ripped from the person's body –"
"Alright!" Alfred growled, eyes wide from the mental images Russia was parading around in his brain. With locked joints and a chest full of already forming regret, he turned around and stormed over to Russia's table, his tray slamming against it. "Just shut up with that peeling skin talk. I can't – I'll lose my appetite."
Russia rolled the cup against his gloved palms and watched as Alfred began to pull his gloves from his hands and droop his wet coat over the back of his chair. "I somehow doubt that," Russia commented and relished the glare he received. Honestly, Alfred was so very amusing. He watched curiously as Alfred began to grab his fork and poke around at some sort of salad thing on his plate before abandoning it for his sandwich. Russia continued to stare even as the minutes started to pile up and Alfred made no sign to start a conversation.
"How did you like the meeting?" Russia asked pleasantly and stopped his rolling of his warm cup under his palms.
"Hn," Alfred gave a noncommittal grunt of a reply. He wasn't in the mood to talk to Russia. He would sit across from him, but that didn't mean he had to talk to him. Haha, take that you slimy snowman!
"It was very informative, do you not agree?"
Alfred gave a shrug, eyes still glued to his drink, attempting in vain to read the German ingredients.
Russia continued on with a smooth and inquisitive voice, much like a light breeze on a tepid summer day. "You agree with me?" Alfred was a bit irked at the following thick silence, so much so that he had to raise his head a fraction of an inch to peer into Russia's expectant eyes.
Alfred scowled. "Sure, yeah. Whatever." He took another bite of his sandwich and went back to the task of reading German. Russia smiled knowingly and tilted his warm beverage with a (seemingly) lighthearted chuckle. Alfred was convinced Russia couldn't do anything lighthearted. One would need a heart for that first.
"I think you are humoring me, America. I hope you realize that that is very rude."
Alfred chewed slower and raised his head with a guarded glare. "How'd you figure?" he asked with his mouth full, crumbles flicking across the table. Russia looked slightly annoyed at the food vestiges before brushing them aside with tight lips.
"You were barely paying attention."
Alfred stared.
"I am sure you could ask your Asian friend and he would agree with me. You were too busy wiggling around and chewing at your fingernails. Are they stumps now, I must ask?" Russia inquired and reached out to pull up one of Alfred's hands like he was a prince about to greet a princess. Alfred blinked owlishly before wrenching his hand back and swallowing in one painful gulp. He choked and took a sip from his drink before wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
"Well if you were so busy watching me eat my hand, then I can say that you weren't paying attention either!" Alfred accused and stuck his nose up confidently. Or maybe it was spitefully – who could really differentiate emotions anymore?
Russia crinkled up his nose in a cat-like smile, an infinitesimal spot of teeth showing. "True. However, unlike you I possess the ability to multitask."
Alfred licked the corner of his mouth with a skeptical gaze before wrapping his hand around his fingers protectively. Now it wasn't the insult that bothered him…well, okay, the insult did bother him. But it was not the main source of discomfort spiraling around in his belly like the tires on a bike picking up their pace when going down a hill. Blue eyes flitted up to perceiving violet and Alfred took a large scoot back in his chair. "You," he muttered, almost enlightened.
Russia let loose a tiny hum, excited that Alfred had picked up on it so quickly. Alfred chewed at his lip in annoyance. "You're what caused that – you – you're –" he sputtered searching for the right words. He was the cause of that black-hole-eating-his-face feeling. Russia's eyes were like miniature imploded stars with their own gravitational pull that had an insatiable taste for Alfred's facial beauty. Alfred scowled at the Russian who started to look a little bemused when Alfred didn't comment any further. How low could one person go?
"Didn't you know that it's rude to stare?" Alfred shot back, trying to ignore the unnerving crawling of his skin under Russia's eyes.
"I did not stare. Please do not be so vain and think that I would focus my sole attention onto you when I should be doing work. There is a time for frivolity and a time for business."
"Yours intermingle apparently because you just admitted you were staring –"
"Not staring. Merely taking occasional glances for specific periods of time," Russia corrected without batting an eyelash.
Alfred blanched. "That's staring!"
Russia lolled his head to the side and feigned confusion. "Is it now?" he queried with a downy, childish voice. "Well then, that would call for an apology I assume."
Alfred grumbled and took another large bite of his sandwich wanting nothing more than to leave the restaurant asap. He took another swig of his drink before quirking an unamused eyebrow. "Well?" he asked expectantly. Russia inspected his glass with mock interest.
"Hm?"
"Don't you owe me an apology for your overall freakishness?"
Russia chuckled lightly and traced the intricate designs of the snowflakes against the cup. "Oh, you thought I was serious?" he asked in delight making Alfred clench his teeth. "I suppose that is my fault. Now if you rethink my words, you will understand that I never said I would give an apology, only that you deserve one."
"What's the fuckin' difference?" Alfred asked on a breath.
"That I am not such a gifted actor such as yourself, what with all of your overzealous movies and love for all things fiction, and cannot force something that I do not mean when I already know you will not appreciate the sentiment."
Alfred stared in disbelief at the roundabout way Russia made it known that he was a jerk. Who knew there was a long way to say Don't hold your breath. I'm the King of all Douche-baggery.
He looked away and poked at his salad thing again silently wondering why on God's green earth did he order a salad. Maybe he was more distracted than previously thought. Another handful of silence passed before Russia tightened his scarf around his neck.
"I have a question for you, dear America." Alfred looked up apathetically at the way Russia's voice rang with endearment. Russia blinked and his bangs shuffled against the light caress of resting on his lashes. When Alfred made no move to answer and actually shoved more food into his mouth, Russia continued on without a care in the world. "Why do you wear glasses?"
Alfred continued chewing and wondered to himself if Russia was really a moron. "Are you serious?"
Russia gave a wilted smile and tapped his fingers against the edge of the recyclable cup. "Like you would not believe."
Alfred shrugged and took a hesitant bite of his salad. "Bad eyes."
"Well of course I am aware of that. I became certain of that by all of the garbage you mistake for food that you put into your mouth."
"Then why didn't you correct me?" Alfred asked sarcastically only to receive a cheeky smile from his unwanted dinner guest.
"Because, silly. Little children must learn from their own mistakes." Alfred actually wanted to cringe from how creepy that sounded (Russia's voice didn't help the effect either) but managed to choke back the bile rising. Russia hummed in thought and looked intriguingly at the cup resting in his hands with the care of that of a mother tending to her baby. "As I was saying, I could not help but think that even though you have poor eyesight, you continue to wear glasses." Russia peered up curiously to find the blonde chewing blankly at him. "What I mean to say is why not adapt with your time as you are prone to do and get contacts or laser eye surgery?"
Alfred fixed Russia with a look that could only read You're an idiot. Like, no, really. You really are.
"You're stupid."
Russia paused and stopped his exploring fingers around the edge of his cup that looked surprisingly untouched. "I am sorry. I did not quite catch what you just said."
"You're stupid," Alfred reiterated without a second-thought. He huffed and swallowed another large bite and solidly frowned at the simple, stupid giant across from him. "I wear them because it's a part of my history and I want to. Only girls wear contacts or guys hiding too deep back in the closet to have a good relationship with their masculinity. And laser eye surgery is a waste of money and only people who are too self-conscious or like to cut corners will get that so you're stupid. Now shut up."
He casually turned his attention back to his half finished meal and ate in silence. Russia watched and took in every word with the utmost care before giggling to himself. "I never took you for the sentimental type."
Alfred grunted and took another sip from his drink. Russia leaned in on his elbows and craned his neck down to get a better view of Alfred's face. Said blonde glanced up and glowered when coming no more than a foot away from Russia's coy smile.
"Do you keep any other old things for sentimental value besides your glasses and crusty jacket?" Russia inquired. Alfred pointedly tried to ignore him to the best of his abilities. It was really hard; no lie. Russia rocked gently from side to side in thought. "Like an old pen set or a photograph or," Russia paused and his smile darkened just a bit, eyes amused but no real smile resting there. Alfred chanced a glance up curiously and guarded himself against that smile. He knew that smile from back during the Cold War. Russia chuckled and leaned in a hair. "Or perhaps a storage closet of sorts?"
Alfred felt his blood freeze as he stared in distrust into amused violet eyes twinkling with intrigue at the surprised face Alfred was apparently making. He felt his anger spike and his lip peeled back in distaste. Alfred could tell even through the haze that had started to reside over Russia's gaze like a thick fog that Russia was toying with him, and he didn't appreciate it one bit. The fork twirled in Alfred's fingers as he leaned back and forced a calm over his mind. No, he was just jumping to conclusions. Russia couldn't know about that storage room he kept in terrible shape. Only he and Lithuania knew of it, let alone saw it, and Alfred was sure his friend wouldn't splurge to Russia on the information he obtained by staying with Alfred for a while.
With that in mind, Alfred ran his tongue slowly over the top teeth and pushed his tray away, not really hungry anymore under Russia's perceiving eyes. "Nope. I think you're jumping to conclusions this time."
Russia leaned back as well and slid his index finger slowly over the lid of his cup drawing Alfred's eyes. It sent a disturbing shiver down his spine at how sensual the action seemed. "My mistake then," he chuckled and that familiar twinkle came back into his eyes. Alfred felt himself relax a little bit when seeing that exploring darkness of mirth disappear again, liking this playfully disturbing Russia more than the one that seemed to be appearing more frequently.
"Do you sleep with your glasses on?" Russia asked politely, turning back to the original subject.
Alfred winced. "Why?" he demanded. Why was Russia probing him all of the sudden? It was starting to grate his nerves.
"Well you said you prefer glasses to any alternatives. If you are willing to choose spectacles, I am just curious if you ever take them off."
"Duh. Who the heck wears glasses 24/7?" Alfred scoffed and put his gloves back on. Russia didn't seem concerned with Alfred's movements to leave soon and simply smiled at him.
"I am not ignorant to that information. You just seem to have so many strange habits, I would not put it past you to sleep with glasses on."
"Then they'd break, moron," Alfred said dully and pulled his coat from his chair.
Russia perked up a bit at that, a new curiosity swirling under his eyes. "Are these the original spectacles from Spain?" Russia asked, fascinated, and reached out to pull Alfred's glasses suddenly from his face. Alfred flinched when feeling Russia's fingers lightly stroke his face for a brief moment before the snow monster blurred around the edges.
The whole world blurred too. Oh man, he had the eyes rivaling a blind person. Alfred gaped and put a hand to cover part of his face in a vain attempt to hide his shameful eyes. Without his glasses he felt naked. And feeling naked in front of Russia was never good. He went to snatch them back but Russia leaned away teasingly and put them on.
"These are awful. You truly have the eyes of a nation blind to the future or common sense. That explains a lot. I would be doing you a favor by ripping them out," Russia concurred and let his smile hike his pale lips up his face when Alfred blanched, completely adverse to the idea. Truly Alfred was too adorable for words.
"Give them back," Alfred demanded and blindly reached out to snatch his glasses away in an angry huff. Russia ducked and snickered when Alfred's glove brushed some hair away from his ear. Alfred stood up on uneasy feet and growled, hand darting out again and brushing Russia's cheek. "I'm serious. This isn't funny, Russia." He all but spat the nation's name.
"I disagree."
"I don't care what you think – just give them back!" Alfred straightened the table quickly when he rocked it forward, plate and silverware clattering like a litter of bothered birds. "I'm not playing around here. I mean it," Alfred ordered and strained his eyes to see Russia's blurry form standing. The distinct and semi-permanent smell of vodka wafted over his nose and he had to crinkle it at how strong the smell was. Russia removed Alfred's glasses and stuffed them in a pocket inside his coat, turning his attention back to the table.
Alfred jumped when Russia shoved something inside his gloved palms, the slight buzzing of warmth reaching the thick material. Alfred blinked in a confused stupor before Russia hooked his arm around his own like he would lead a date through the town and pulled his shorter, more stunned companion out of the restaurant, not caring of the mess left behind.
"I will give your glasses back once you finish your beverage."
Alfred glanced down at the red and white blob in his hands before digging his heels into the snowy ground. Russia did not mind and continued to pull Alfred through the dark German streets, lights from cars and buildings dancing about like fireflies.
"Wai – What – Why are you – S-stop, Russia, stop!" Alfred protested and felt himself becoming dizzy. Russia slowed his pace but did not relinquish his hold against Alfred's arm, fingers squeezing lightly against the fabric of his coat.
"I do not hear any sipping," Russia said and continued onward, heavy knee-high military issued boots sloshing against the snow he was so used to on a daily basis.
"I'm not gonna drink your sicky drink, you sicky," Alfred said stubbornly and tried to pull away from the wall beside him, also known as Russia. "Your germs are on it and I don't feel like contracting a deadly disease toni –"
"I did not touch it," Russia informed casually.
"I don't believe you," Alfred said and narrowed his eyes at a street lamp. Russia placed a leather gloved hand on Alfred's chin and guided him to his face. Alfred looked around before muttering a 'thanks' and glared harder.
"It is the truth, my friend," Russia chimed.
Alfred scowled and tore himself violently away from the larger nation, nearly falling on his butt. He straightened out and pointed at a woman walking by before Russia corrected him again and moved his arm towards him. "First off, let me say that you are not my friend. You never will be. And B, then why did you order," Alfred paused to sniff the drink only to blink in surprise and raise an eyebrow. "Coffee?" he finished, perplexed.
He could see a vague outline of the Russian against a circle of light, the sound of water splashing delicately behind him. They must be by a fountain he concluded.
He shifted and felt his fire being snuffed out bit by bit. "Why'd you buy coffee?" he asked, confused.
Russia sat back against the edge of the fountain and interlaced his fingers against his lap, ankles crossing. "It simply crossed my fancy."
Alfred palmed lightly at the dully heat the cup emitted before giving Russia's blurry blob a skeptical once-over. "Did…Did you buy this because you knew I was going to be there and that I liked coffee?" It was a long shot, a very scary long shot. The first reason because that would mean that Russia had already known where he was going even before he knew it. That made Alfred's throat clench in a panic at the unsettling thought. The second reason was because that would mean that Russia committed an act of kindness…towards him. America. Alfred.
Whoo-boy. What was that about?
Russia's jaw tightened and his smile wavered in an uncomfortable irritation. "As I have said before, do not be so vain."
Alfred twitched before frowning indignantly. He stared down at the cup in his hands and let the briskness of the cool night nip at his neck and cheeks in the silence. Aside from Russia trying to quell his thoughts somewhere else, Alfred had the slight inkling that he had the right to be vain. It was a little too perfect. His eyes widened suddenly.
Unless…Unless it wasn't an act of kindness at all. It was an act of doing bad things to an awesome guy! That was the worst thing of all.
Alfred held the cup at arm's length in case poison fumes would arise from the small sipping spout and made the muscle around his cheeks melt away leaving him almost as hideously disfigured as Russia. Maybe he just wanted another freak show in their conference gatherings. Well, the joke would be on Russia, because Alfred Jones didn't go down without a fight. He'd rather die than be voted the second ugliest of everyone, Russia obviously being the first.
"I don't want it," Alfred said and tried to hand the cup back to Russia without touching him. He was a ways off anyways.
Russia sighed lightly under his breath but didn't sound particularly angry. "Why must you be so difficult?"
"I'm not difficult," Alfred pouted and huffed, his chest puffing out stubbornly.
"I believe you are. Please do not annoy me further by throwing the coffee against the cement," Russia warned with a tilt of his head. Alfred froze, fingers twitching nervously. How did he – ? Alfred stiffened and took a cautious step away from the grey blob. Oh no! Maybe it was too late. Russia was already in his mind.
Alfred gripped anxiously at his collar and took two large breaths. Alright. He wouldn't throw it on the ground, he'd just throw it –
"Please do not throw it at my face either."
Holy hound dog! Alfred gripped his free hand in his hair and ruffled wildly, eyes darting about. "So he really is in my head," he muttered under his breath in a quick burst of surprise. Russia watched the spectacle with slight amusement.
"What did you say, America?"
Alfred whipped around with a crumbling smile on his face. "N-nothing, nothing. All is good over on this side of the fountain," he said between strained teeth.
Russia rocked back against his bottom and shut his eyes, liking the soft rippling of water against his ears. When Alfred continued to stand, lost in a world of blurs and ice, Russia spoke up again, much more at peace. "I did not lie when I said I would give you your spectacles back after you have finished the contents of that cup."
Alfred remained silent and worried at his bottom lip, not liking his options. Russia had backed him into a wall it would seem. After a long moment of glaring at the cup, he slowly started to drink the lukewarm coffee, silently admitting that it wasn't so bad. And even if Russia did slip something into it, he wouldn't die. He was a nation; nations wouldn't die so easy. They'd just live through immense amounts of pain…immense…
"Do you often look at the stars, America?" Russia asked quietly and opened his violet eyes towards the vast plains of the sky, littered with many streams of stars to pinpoint.
Alfred remained five paces away from the Russian and continued to nurse the beverage. When Russia remained quiet and willing to wait until he received an answer, Alfred sighed against the lid. "Sometimes." There. Russia may be able to make him talk, but he wouldn't say anything more than brief answers.
"You seem like you would enjoy it," Russia continued. Alfred felt some sort of jump in his belly, unsure if he should be concerned that Russia just admitted that he thought about him, and that he thought of things he thought Alfred would like. Since when did Russia know what he would like? Alfred heard the rustle of fabric and looked at what he thought was Russia. He couldn't be too sure, but he was pretty certain. Russia was the only guy gray enough and big enough to make up the outline of a person like that. He wasn't sure if Russia was looking at him but it was best to always assume that.
"Do you know any constellations?" Russia asked curiously and ran his finger ever so lightly against the top of the water, leather glove practically unaffected.
"No."
"Have you ever?"
"A long time ago."
"What made you forget?"
"Work."
"Who taught you them?"
A face flashed in Alfred's mind – a scowling face with large eyebrows and a permanent crinkle between them – and he stopped mid-sip. Alfred stared and started to swirl the coffee in his hands, just biting at the inside of his cheek. "What's wrong with you?" he settled on.
Russia tore his eyes away from the stars and turned it towards his shivering companion. "Pardon?"
Alfred furrowed his brows and breathed evenly through his nose. "What's – what's with all the questions? Why do you care all of the sudden?"
Russia didn't say anything but continued to watch until Alfred became unnerved. "Colors, glasses, stars – why the hell does it matter? What's your angle?"
"Curiosity."
"Bullshit," Alfred spat and felt his fiery anger starting to stoke again. "Curiosity my ass. You've never been this curious."
"Really now?" Russia hummed and rested his palms against the cool marble beside him. "Perhaps you have never been that vigilant to notice the kind of person I am."
Alfred stilled. Was that – was that annoyance he heard? He shook his head and sauntered aimlessly, however carefully, towards Russia until he was sure he towered over him. Alfred crunched the cup in his hands and dropped it into the fountain. He set his palm straight up and reached towards the Russian. "May I please have my glasses back?" he asked blankly.
Russia stared at his hand a moment before tearing a hole through the tension piling in the air with a smile. Rustling inside his coat he pulled out the spectacles and returned it to its owner. Alfred didn't even bother saying thanks before putting them back on, the world coming into view without all the squiggles and blurs. He glanced down at Russia, illuminated by the dancing lights of the fountains, before taking a few steps back.
Wordlessly he turned, unable to withstand another moment under Russia's gaze, before stuffing his hands in his coat pockets and heading towards where he thought his hotel was. Russia didn't move from his spot on the fountain and watched Alfred's retreating back with a pungent smile.
"Do have a goodnight, dear America. I wish you pleasant dreams," Russia chuckled into his hand, overwhelmed with sudden enjoyment.
A/N: Tiny bit of Russia's interest.
R&R if you would.