America:

If I had seen myself two months prior, sitting as I am now next to Russia, I think I would have allowed myself to die. If I had known what was going through my mind as I sat next to him, I probably would have done the job myself. I may have hated Russia more than anything in the world, but now there was one thing I hated more, and that was the part of me, wishing furiously that he was just a little bit closer. I leaned forward and stood, checking his cup for any coffee before taking it from him and placing it on the table next to the coffee maker.

"Hey Amerika?"

"Yeah?" I called from the kitchenette.

"Why did you hate me?" He stared up at me, eyes somber and serious. I watched him there for a moment before I walked over and sat beside him again.

"I do because you're sick."

"I have not been ill…"

"No, I mean sick, as in sick in the head. You're insane." Russia's brow furrowed in thought.

"Perhaps," he started, "but if you do not hate me now, does that no longer matter?"

"I still do… and I… I don't know." He replied quietly, more to himself than to the other.

"Does my mental state matter?"

"…O-Of course it does."

"How does it matter?" I stood, frustrated and indignant.

"You've done so many horrible things… your people… and the Jews… God, and Stalin! …So many deaths under sick and twisted regimes... Just how many people have you killed?"

"I don't know, Amerika. How many have you?"

"…I don't know."

"Do you remember every horrible act which happened on your soil?"

"No… No, I don't."

"It'd hurt too badly if you did. You'd never be able to live with yourself, even though, you had nothing to do with them. All of those horrible things… we'll never know whether they reflect on your dark inner thoughts. We are the physical manifestations of our people, so their crimes… are they ours, or are they just lost somewhere along the equation?"

"I never would have…" America thought aloud, eyes clouded with memories of darker times.

"No… Neither would I," Russia agreed, shoulders slumped.

"How much of it… was you? How much of it reflects who you are?"

"I'd ask the same of you."

"I don't know…"

"Me neither." They stared blankly ahead of them, thinking in silence.

"Hey, Amerika? Does it matter if I'm sick?"

"No… I don't know."

"Me neither," he smiled apologetically at America. "Well, I think I've sobered up enough to find my way home. I apologize for the burden," Russia said, as if preparing to stand and leave, but he failed to find the strength.

"Yeah… see you later." America replied dumbly to the Russian still seated firmly next to him. They sat silent and still for what seemed like hours, both thinking deeply. Around the same time that the sun began to color the horizon, America dozed off, feeling mentally and emotionally exhausted from his long day.

He slumped over silently, his head falling on the taller man's upper arm, sleeping soundly despite his uncomfortable position. Russia smiled at the sleeping man, touching his cheek affectionately before guiding him in to bed. America was awakened by the movement, but Russia's suggestion seemed brilliant in his half-asleep state. He crawled in to bed and nested himself under the covers, instantly snoring softly with contentment.

Russia settled the covers around him, sitting quietly on the side of the bed for a couple of moments before reaching back under the covers into America's coat. He pulled out his flask with an accomplished smile and settled the blankets back around the sleeping man. He turned away, still sitting on the edge of the bed and took a deep drink of the vodka left inside. His large hand nestled itself in America's blonde hair and ruffled it softly.

"Спокойной ночи и спать спокойно," he whispered in the younger nation's ear, brushing his lips softly against it as he spoke. He stood committed to leaving, and walked out the door, sliding the flask into his coat pocket. He closed the door carefully behind him to avoid awakening America and walked down the hall, feeling lighter and heavier than he ever had. He was unsure of exactly what he wanted from the vivacious young nation, but he knew that whatever it was, he was a step closer to it.

"M-Mr. Russia! There you are," Lithuania greeted him at the hotel lobby.

"Yes, here I am. But what are you doing here?" He glared harshly at the smaller nation. Lithuania cowered under his glare.

"I-I just… You left your room, and you were so drunk so I figured…"

"You figured what? That I'd come to his room and rape him in his sleep, or just go ahead and kill him so I could bath in his youthful blood?"

"I-I don't… I mean…"

"Sorry Liet, I know. I just… not now."

"I'm still happy to see you, Mr. Russia. Your borders were closed for so long and I… I missed you" Lithuania finished, speaking in the general direction of the Russian who had long since started walking away. He strode to catch up.

"M-Mr. Russia?"

"Does it matter that I'm insane?" Lithuania paused to look at him for a moment.

"Not to me, Russia. I've seen you at your worst, and after everything you've done to me, I still… still want you," his eyes smoldered as Russia stopped to look at the other nation. Russia felt his stomach coil with an emotion he couldn't express. Lithuania looked at him, desperately seductive and begging him closer.

"Is that so…"

CLIFFHANGERRRRR Feel free to kill me now.

Thanks a lot to everyone who is reading and reviewing my stories! I always love comments. ALWAYSSSSssssss

All creepiness aside, I hope you're all enjoying my story. I'd love to hear any suggestions, comments, or questions.