Forgot to mention, guys, but if you review could you do it by "chapter" and not all at once? It's easier to sort things and to see what you like the most then! :)

Title: When You See the Flash...

Prompt: Duck and Cover

Rating: PG

Summary: America has some unpleasant dreams.

I spent far too long on youtube watching old 50's duck and cover videos while writing this...

Russia pushed open the door of his home with a sigh, leaning back against it for a moment as it closed behind him. He hated having to go into work while America was visiting him, but his boss had insisted today. It seemed like once they'd gotten him in, though, everyone had had something to ask him about or to show him, and he'd been kept busy for hours with dozens of smaller issues. By the time he realized what time it was, it was late enough that he figured America hadn't been waiting up for him. America was an independent person and he usually was okay with being left on his own for a while, but Russia still felt guilty. It was hard enough to find time together normally without making their visits susceptible to interruptions.

He loosened his tie and left it on the hall table with his briefcase. As he shrugged his suit jacket off and draped it over the railing of the stairs, he reflected that tomorrow he'd have to come around and pick all of this up again, but he was tired enough that he couldn't bring himself to care much. He missed the days when he could rely on Lithuania to take care of everything around the house and not have to worry.

The hallway creaked as he padded down it. All the lights were off already, which wasn't really surprising. America tended to be a night owl, but he was probably still sleeping off the jet lag. Russia eased open the door to his bedroom, the soft sigh of America's breath greeting him. As usual, Russia could barely tell where America began and the covers ended. America's love of snuggling was one of his more endearing habits.

Russia didn't think much about flipping the light switch on. America usually slept like a log, and he tended to leave his shoes scattered on the floor, in the perfect places for Russia to trip over them and break his neck. When the light came on, though, there was a sudden and violent reaction from the huddle on the bed. Without warning, America shot out from under the sheets and rolled to the floor, curling in a fetal position with his hands tightly covering his head. He lay there trembling for a moment or two, shoulders taut, before Russia collapsed to his knees next to him.

A single blue eye peaked out at him from under America's hand, the pupil contracting rapidly at the change in lighting. "…We're still alive?" America's voice was tight and low, charged with the tension that was running through his body.

Russia's chest tightened for a moment. "Yes," he said quietly, "we're both still alive." America relaxed a little at this, pulling his hands away from his face and uncurling his legs. "You had that dream again, didn't you?" Russia asked, watching him.

America bit his lip and didn't answer, shifting so that he was seated and leaning against the bed. A thought seemed to strike him then and he laughed a little, gesturing vaguely at his legs. "I don't know why I thought this would make me feel any better, about dying, you know, if anything ever had happened. But look at me, how many years later and I'm still doing it. Old habits die hard, I guess."

There was silence for a few moments, then Russia stood, extending a hand to pull America to his feet. "Come on," he said roughly, "I will make you some soup or something." He didn't like to think about America practicing duck and cover, America crouching under a desk in terror, America curled up when the blast hit—

America's hand slipped into his and those thoughts were shoved away forcibly. They were both fine, and America, nightmares aside, wasn't about to die anytime soon. Russia kissed him on the cheek, both to comfort him and as an apology for coming home late and startling him. Actually, he hadn't stopped for dinner, and soup was starting to sound pretty good.

"I will get you something warm to drink, too," Russia promised as they walked down the hallway, their sides brushing and their hands tangled together. "It is what my sister would do for me whenever I had bad dreams."

Of course, that meant he had to spend the next hour relating stories from his childhood, but it was worth it to see the carefree, relaxed look that spread over America's face.