Feeling more at peace than he had in long time, America picked up the phone and dialed Russia. He tapped his finger against the nightstand and hummed contentedly to himself as the phone rang loudly in his ear.

"Pryvet?" The voice was soft, almost childish despite the deepness of it, and the innocent tone was belayed only slightly by the gentle grovel from years of smoking.

"Hey, Russia," America greeted amicably, his voice filled with triumph. Russia perked up immediately and the American could almost hear him smile through the line.

"Yes, Amerika?"

"So… I've been hanging out with Toris a lot right?"

"More than I would care for, yes. And?"

"He's finally getting back together with Poland!"

"Oh?" Russia's voice raised slightly in an almost unperceivable optimism. "And how did this come about?"

"Well, obviously I'm the hero, right? So I was talking to Toris the other night over beers—"

"Wait. Is this why you've been staying in England?" America cleared his throat at the almost accusatory tone.

"Well… yeah. Mostly…" He mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Anyways, so I was drinking with Toris and—"

"Wait. So you called me first to tell me about all of this? Not your brother or England?"

"I—well, shut up and let me finish..." He grumbled in frustration. "Ugh! Never mind, you get the point. Anyway, Lithuania wanted me to tell you something about 'getting the girl' or something. I was too caught up in my awesomeness to pay attention."

"Getting the girl…" Russia repeated quietly to himself.

"Yeah, something like that. And that's why I called you."

"Is there anything you expect me to do about this?" He asked with genuine curiosity.

"What? Well… Now that you mention it… It's only appropriate that you take me out for drinks to celebrate!"

"Take you out for drinks… Celebrate that other people started dating?"

"Yeah! Totally." America agreed, sounding a little ridiculous to even himself.

"So you want me to take you out… You're out of money, aren't you?"

"Whaaat?" America drawled in false offense. "No way! I would never—yeah… I'm totally broke."

"How did you run out so fast?"

"Well, I was really hungry this morning, and I needed clothes… and I brought a new xbox…" America relayed counting the expenses on his fingers with a slight smirk.

"You bought a game system!" At this America became deadly serious.

"Russia, I would sooner die than miss out on another week of gaming. Do you know how many map packs I have yet to download?"

"What?"

"Too many. Far, far too many."

"And you want me to buy you alcohol? Are you sure you aren't just saying all of this so you can see me again?"

"Positive. Now get some booze."

"At a bar, or should I just pick some up?"

"I don't really care, just—"

"Great, I'll be over soon." Russia chimed happily before hanging up the phone.

"—not at my place." America sighed, placing the phone back in the receiver.

It took a grand total of thirty minutes for Russia to arrive at the door with three twenty-four packs of local beer stacked on top of each other with a paper bag on top. The tower wobbled precariously as he knocked. America looked out the peephole, more from habit than anything else, and laughed loudly before opening the door.

"Do not laugh, Comrade. Can you grab the bag on top?"

America reached up and snagged the edge of the bag, cradling it gently in his arms as he brought it down from the top of the ridiculous stack. Ever curious, he peeked inside and scrunched up his nose seeing only cheap vodka.

"Do not make that face. I brought you your beer," Russia replied, thoroughly amused with himself. America stepped toward him, grabbing the box on top after placing the bag on the coffee table.

"You brought me… European beer? They're right, you know, you are a monster." Russia laughed playfully.

"Like I would suffer through even the smell of the piss you drink!"

"Piss! That's some all-American piss to you, buddy!" Russia snorted, lowering the last two large boxes on to the bed. He walked back to the coffee table and snagged a clear bottle out of the bag before breaking the seal and drinking heavily. America's eyes followed the movement, dipping downward when the Russian turned around. Russia glanced over his shoulder with a smug expression raiding and eyebrow as America averted his eyes to the wall. His face was flushed and he felt absolutely horrified. "Our beer may be piss, but at least we aren't drinking that lighter fluid." He muttered lamely, feeling irrationally angry with the Russian.

"Lighter fluid? I feel like there's a 'hot' joke here, but I just can't seem to find it." America coughed awkwardly, ignoring the jibe as best he could and ripping the side off of the box of beer. He grabbed the closest beer and popped it open, chugging it to eradicate the sudden dryness of his mouth.

"Thirsty?"

"Something about being within twenty feet of you makes me wish I was drunk."

"Something about being within twenty feet of you makes me feel drunk."

"Do you ever stop?"

"Should I?" America grumbled with annoyance, plopping on to the couch. Russia ignored the American's annoyance and sat down beside him on the couch.

"You burned through quite a bit of money just to get me back here. What are you going to do if I refuse to lend you any more? Will you suck up your pride and have some wired to you?"

"I'm not going to need any more money, Russia."

"Oh? You plan to live on beer?"

"No. I'm going home." America's voice was saturated with homesickness and longing. "It's been long enough. I can't put this off any longer."

"You don't want to go home?"

"No, I do. I really do. But then I'll have to stop pretending everything's the way it was…" America searched Russia's face for a response.

"Do you mean…"

"Something like that. Things are different between us now. …all of us, sure, but you and me too. Maybe especially you and me… That doesn't mean that anything's changed between the nations, however. 'America' and 'Russia' still have history."

"Just wait until your country starts trying to investigate where you were… I'm sure that'll go over well."

"They're not going to. I'm not going to let them make an international crisis out of this."

"No?" Russia asked, almost whispering as he placed a gloved hand on the American's cheek. "Then we don't need to make an international crisis out of this either," he breathed onto America's lips, watching America's eyes close before he kissed him.