Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes to get to the bar. Fifteen minutes of privacy with Russia. Germany wanted to make the best of it.
"So, um, do you think the guys are through chasing us?"
"Germany, you're smart. What do you think?"
"That they'll leave us alone for our boyfriends' sakes."
"And so they will."
"And if they don't?"
"We run. Again." Another minute of silence went by. Finally Germany worked up the courage to ask what he really wanted to know.
"Russia, why're you being so nice?" Russia stopped in his tracks and turned to look at the man behind him.
"It's a secret."
"Why?"
"Because it is."
"C'mon, Russia. Tell me. I swear I won't say a word." Russia sighed and continued to walk, Germany trailing 3 feet behind.
"Fine. I'll tell you. I'm not really all that evil."
"Huh?"
"You heard me. The meanness is an act for the most part. So no one will think I'm weak. I'm usually kind underneath the mask."
"Usually?"
"I may have my nice moments, but I'm still a bad person. Honestly, I think a lot of people would be better off if I was gone. And my friends are idiots for not abandoning me yet. It doesn't matter though. They'll come to their senses eventually." Germany sighed.
"That's love, Russia. That's why they don't abandon you." They arrived at the bar. Russia stood in the doorway, again turning around to look at Germany.
"I don't deserve to love or be loved."
"But you are anyway."
"The people who get close to me get hurt."
"But they don't care as long as they can have you with them." Russia turned back around.
"Maybe, maybe not. They'll realize I'm bad news soon enough. Now come on, or else you'll be the one treating me." Russia walked inside.
"…" Germany silently followed. What could he say? The man had just poured his heart out, whether he realized it or not. Russia sat at the bar and patted the stool next to him. Germany sat down. The bartender walked up to them. Germany was surprised to see that their bartender was France.
"France? You're a bartender?" Germany was confused. Russia started explaining.
"France here isn't just your typical run-of-the-mill rapist. He has an international bartending license. And he's my go-to guy on everything alcohol. France smiled.
"Uh huh. And Russia here is one of my regulars. What can I get you two tonight?"
"I'll have a shot of vodka on the rocks."
"Straight beer."
"A vodka with ice and a bottle of beer coming right up." France walked away to tend to other bar goers, leaving the two alone once again.
"I didn't know France was a bartender."
"There are a lot of things that I know that others don't."
"Like?"
"Like Ukraine's boobs being fake. Or America getting high every night in the graveyard. Or Prussia eating a bug because of a dare."
"I knew about Ukraine's implants. I could guess about America getting high. He acts high even when he's clean. And Prussia ate a bug? That'll be good blackmail material." Russia glared at Germany.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you. He's friends with Spain. Spain's a black belt."
"He is?!"
"Uh huh."
"Wow." At that moment, France returned with their drinks.
"Enjoy, guys."
"Thanks, France." Russia slid France his tip and France walked away again.
"Russia, why do you feel that way?"
"That way about what?"
"About yourself."
"I said why already. The people I love and who love me…they always end up getting hurt. And I'm the one holding the weapon."
"How's that work out?"
"Simple. I abandon them. I betray them. I break my promises to them. I leave them feeling horrible and then I can't help but laugh when everything's over. I'm despicable."
"Can't you just stop?"
"No, because I don't try in the first place. It just happens."
"What about Canada?"
"I haven't hurt him yet. Or at least to my knowledge. If I have, he didn't say anything."
"Does anyone else know you feel like this?"
"Of course not. You're the first person I've told any of this to." Russia looked down.
"Russia…" Just then, France brought out another round.
"This one's on me." He put the drinks in front of the men and again walked away. Russia picked his head up.
"We came here to forget our issues. Let's just take a break and drink." Germany nodded, still speechless. An hour later, both men were completely sauced. That's when the conversation turned to relationships.
"Y'know…you got a pretty good catch there, Russia."
"Canada? I know. He's pretty great."
"What about in bed?"
"Not shy at all. The boy lets his presence be known. And mine, for that matter." Russia hiccupped. "What about Italy?"
"Three words…Ah-May-Zing"
"How do you do him?"
"Doggy. It's his favorite. You?"
"Against the wall. God, are we sore afterwards."
"Understandable. Who do you think would be better?"
"What do you mean?"
"Who do you think is better in bed, Italy or Canada?"
"I dunno. Italy sounds good."
"So does Canada."
"Which of us do you think is better?"
"Me."
"In your dreams."
"Want to prove me wrong?"
"Maybe I do." Russia pulled Germany closer by his necklace and planted a kiss square on his lips. Germany returned the kiss without thinking twice. Their tongues battled for dominance as their lips moved against each other. Five minutes passed and they were still swapping spit. Russia broke the kiss, leaving both men panting.
"Canada… is a very… lucky man"
"So… is Italy…"
"I think…we should head…back home"
"Uh huh…" France walked up to them.
"You two are both way too wasted to drive. C'mon, I'll give you a ride." France walked to his car. Both men followed, stumbling and holding each other up as they walked.