Thank you guys so much for the super fantastic reviews! Unfortunately, this story ran away from me when it kept insisting that Canada had some deep issues of his own that needed to be dealt with. So there will be a third part, which is already done, but needs to be revised. Oi. At least I don't owe Lucky any more fics after this. So for you 14th Birthday I missed! Here you go! Oh, and it's ridiculously long. Woot.
Disclaimer: I don't own shit! *Tosses chapter out and flies off of a building using scotch tape and my obese cat*
"Wow, your boss was that mad about a stupid car?" America asked over Skype.
"Yes." Russia tilted his head back and took another swig of vodka. "You know, I'm old enough to be his grandfather a thousand times over. You'd think he wouldn't get off on treating me like a child."
"Yeah, well, you know how humans are." America laughed and Russia found it sad at how poorly it translated through the computer. Even America's one thousand kilowatt smile was dimmed by the quality of his webcam. "And how much vodka have you guzzled down since you got home?"
"Why do you ask?" Russia asked after another drink.
"Well, you get on me about heart health, when that crap will make your liver shrivel up like a raisin." America tilted his head. "You know if I was over there, we'd do something fun. Like go to that cool swirly castle thing. I'm so going to climb it!"
"For the last time, it's called St. Basil's Cathedral and you'd be arrested on the spot." Russia's lips quirked in a sideways smile and he resisted the urge to touch the outline of America's face.
"Uh huh." America waved a hand. "So you sure you're okay, or am I going to have to hop a flight to Moscow and flip shit? You know I will."
"I'm sure that would put a damper on our diplomatic relations, so though I appreciate the offer, I'll have to pass." Russia let his chin rest on his hand. "We all know how bosses are."
"Yeah—" America was interrupted by a crash from his end. "Yo Matthew, you okay down there?" He called over his shoulder.
"Your brother is at your house?" Russia's jaw clenched.
"Yeah, he came home with me after the meetings, and hasn't left yet. Since we're eight hours behind you, it's breakfast time for North America!" America threw his fists in the air. "And let me tell you, no one makes better pancakes than my Mattie! Dude, next time you find yourself stateside, you should totally mosey on over."
"That sounds great." It sounded like a good way to get poisoned.
"Al, who are you talking to?" Canada's voice carried faintly over the computer's speakers.
"Just Russia," America called back. Russia resisted the urge to slap a hand to his face. Sure enough, Canada poked his head through the door and bent over America's shoulder to peer into the screen. His kind smile was so convincing that if Russia hadn't been threatened by him, he would have been fooled into thinking it was genuine.
"Oh, hello there." Canada waved and closed his eyes pleasantly. "Breakfast is almost ready, America."
"Aw, bro. You're the best. Just give me a minute here, okay? I'll be down in a sec." He rubbed his knuckles across the top of Canada's head. The other pulled away with a soft laugh and backed away until he stood in the doorway. America smiled at Russia. "I'll talk to you later, okay? We need to hang out again."
"Yeah, we do. It's been so long, and we've both changed so much." Russia nervously toyed with the faucet of his pipe when Canada took out a small doll from the front pocket of his hoodie.
"All the more reason," America said. The doll in Canada's hands looked a lot like Russia.
"Next meeting we'll figure something out." Russia trained his eyes on America, determined not to let Canada ruin the moment, but was able to see him gripping the doll's head out of the corner of his eye.
"Russia, I um," America rubbed the back of his head and smiled bashfully. "I uh…" Canada promptly ripped the head off of the doll.
"Well, I'd hate to keep you from breakfast!" Russia said cheerfully. "I think I heard Belarus downstairs so I better go get my fort ready!"
"Okay." America sounded as if he were both relieved and disappointed.
"Brother, I have completed your supper." Russia instinctively flinched. Speak of the devil. Belarus stood in the doorway, her hands crossed demurely in front of her. She stepped into the room, silent and graceful. However, Russia calmed when he saw no hard edge to her violet eyes. This might be a good night.
"Hey, Bela!" America called from the computer screen. Belarus blinked and placed her hand on Russia's shoulder. He suppressed the sudden whimper manifesting itself. Even if she wasn't acting crazy, she could turn at the drop of a dime.
"America," she said. "What are you doing talking to brother?"
"We're trying to be friends again," America said. "It's going great so far! Pretty soon you can come over again and we can restart our General Hospital marathons!" Russia looked at his sister curiously. She had lived with America for a while after the Soviet Union collapsed, but never spoke about it.
"Has Laura come to terms with her killing her stepfather yet?" Belarus stared intently into the screen. Russia's mouth fell open. Was his sister actually talking to someone other than him in a civilized manner?
"She went catatonic in the mental hospital," America said sadly. "Luke was devastated. But they managed to find an experimental drug to wake her up in time for Christmas. Then it wore off."
"That is unfortunate. At least they got to be together for a little while." Russia couldn't suppress the cold chills he got from that.
"You should really visit me more often," America said. "Tony and the whale miss you." Then the strangest thing happened. Belarus, cold, withdrawn, Belarus had a ghost of a smile on her face. It wasn't the creepy leer that sent Russia screaming for the bathroom, but a true smile, and dare he think, there was a hint of warmth in her eyes. She had smiled at him like that when she was younger. It was so rare, yet Russia had yet to find anything more beautiful.
"We do still need to finish our last game of Ivanka, forest man." Belarus's eyes glinted challengingly.
"You played Ivanka together?" Russia was awed. Ivanka was a game Belarus made when they were very small. A little doll she affectionately called Ivanka was placed in the middle of a square dubbed 'the forest' then a large circle was drawn around it. The forest man's job was to guard Ivanka without leaving the square, while the other players called 'swans' tried their best to rescue Ivanka without getting caught by the forest man. They couldn't leave the circle and if they were touched they were out. Russia smiled at the memories. "We used to play it all the time when we were children. We'd always force big sis to be the forest man."
"The old tripping trick got her every time," Belarus said. "Big brother cried so convincingly he served as a perfect distraction."
"Isn't that cheating?" America tilted his head.
"You haven't played with my big sister," Russia said. "Though Belarus became quite good and I didn't need to fall so much"
"Dude, your sister is like a freaking ninja!" America moved his hands wildly. Russia found it sort of endearing. Usually he couldn't stand it when people talked with their hands. "I can't touch her! Even when I'm the swan she just like appears! She always lets Tony win though." He huffed.
"That's because I like Tony," Belarus said. "He makes for good conversation. Not to mention he's never claimed I was 'an undemocratic, oppressive, dictatorship' as you so kindly put it."
"I said that about your boss." America crossed his arms. "And no offense, but he's insane."
"Um, I hate to interrupt," Canada said, leaning over his brother's shoulder again. "But the pancakes are probably getting cold."
"You're right." America slapped a palm to his forehead. "Shit, I gotta go. Nice seeing you again, Bela! Take good care of your brother for me. You know he'd probably forget how to dress himself without you there."
"I resent that," Russia said. The thought of Belarus seeing him naked was pure nightmare fuel. "Oh, and before you go, who is hosting the next meeting? My boss hasn't gotten a memo yet."
"W-Well," this time it was Canada who spoke up. The little shit even had the gall to blush. "I am, and I'm so very excited." His icy blue eyes pieced Russia through the computer screen. "The others sometimes pay attention to me." He smiled bashfully. "I'll do my best to make it enjoyable."
Keeping his usual smile on his face, Russia clenched his fists. Oh, I bet you will.
nnnn
Upon arriving in Canada, Russia was immediately on guard. The nation himself was probably stalking him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He wasn't going to have the element of surprise. No way in hell.
Russia made his way to the baggage claim, hating the familiar feel of jet lag. He yawned, before realizing that it was a show of weakness. Canada might take it as a sign to attack. Russia stiffened and he clutched at his pipe. No way was the little monster going to get the drop on him this time. He glanced at the faces of the people walking by and realized most of them were Canada's. What if they were in on it? What if there was an entire army of Canadians about to swoop in and murder him while their nation laughed like a lunatic in the background?
America's true national defense: Canadians.
Russia slapped himself across the face, the sting banishing the increasingly gruesome thought. He needed to keep it together, but he hadn't been this paranoid since the Cold War. As far as he knew, he and Canada were on decent enough terms on the political sphere, but then politics and personal life hardly meshed well.
"Hey, Ivan!" The sound of his human name caused him to turn.
"Oh, Alfred it's good to see you." All the tension melted out of his shoulders and back. Canada wasn't going to attack with his brother nearby.
"Ha, that's an improvement from 'Privet, fat ass.' I gotta say I like it." America brought him into a one armed hug and Russia realized that he was wearing the same cologne from the night of the Christmas ball.
"And I prefer hugs to the old 'commie bastard' greeting. Cute though it was." Russia tightened his hold on the other nation and let his chin rest on America's shoulder. It was indulgent, and his entire body protested when America moved back to give him his award winning smile. Russia was dazed only for a second before he realized that America was here rather early. "Did you just get off the plane as well?"
"Nah, I've been here a few days. Matthew wanted me to come with him when he left for home and I decided why not?" He shrugged. "But dude, I found the greatest thing in the world. Hold on a sec!" It was then Russia noticed he was carrying a messenger bag. America reached into it and pulled out a clunky box with Mickey Mouse and a villainous looking, fat cat thing on the cover. Russia scanned the title of the box.
"Magical Tetris," he read aloud. He took it from America and looked it over. "This is Tetris?"
"Uh huh! I've had this game since the 90s! We should go over to my hotel room and play it! I just found it again after cleaning my attic."
"So this is like Tetris with your Disney characters." Russia studied the strange fat cat thing glaring at Mickey Mouse. He lowered the box and found America's smile eerily similar to Mickey's.
"Yeah, it's like the best of both worlds!" America took the game back and held it fondly at eye level. "I love this game, but on the hardest level, I could never beat the final boss, Pete." America pointed to the fat cat thing.
"Oh?"
"And well, since you're the Tetris master, you know, since one of your people made it and all, I figure we'd have time to play through a good story mode. Luckily my Nintendo 64 is still in tip top shape."
Russia smirked. "I would have thought you'd have moved on to one of those bigger shinier game consoles."
"No, I could never get rid of my 64!" America placed a hand over his heart as if the very thought caused it to break. "Japan gave it to me for my birthday. So come on, want to give this baby a try?"
"I guess we could." Russia could never turn down a game of Tetris. He was earlier than expected, the meeting wasn't for another few hours, and America was so earnest he practically glowed. Screw Canada and his army of people wanting to disembowel him. "Let us go."
The hotel wasn't far, and despite past issues, sitting in the back of a car with America wasn't nearly as awkward as he thought it was going to be. It helped that other nation hadn't stopped talking since they left the airport, gushing over this and that. Russia listened just like he used to. It was exhausting to some, but Russia always liked listening to people talk. Fights at meetings were the best. Everyone together always made him oddly happy.
"And then he takes these big ass blocks and ruins everything!" America said as they walked through the hotel lobby. "Stupid Pete." Russia hated to admit it, but Canada had outdone himself. The hotel was beautiful, complete with a miniature fountain out front and well-dressed staff who were more than happy to give him his key and take his luggage to his room for him.
"This place is nice." Russia boots sank into the plush carpet as they trailed down the well-lit halls. The décor was light and tasteful, complimenting the winter month with various depictions of horse-drawn carriages.
"Yeah, Matthew's too French for his own good." America beamed proudly despite the backhanded compliment. When they made it two floors up in the elevator, America took out his card key and swiped it. The door opened to reveal a lavish room, complete with a king sized bed and a couch with silk throw pillows. It even had a balcony that looked over the expanse of Ottawa. A large flat screened television hung on the wall like a large painting. The only thing that was distinctly America was the tangle of wires streaming from its front and connected to several different video game consoles sprawled across a fancy coffee table.
"Wow, this place is nicer than my apartment." Russia walked down the hall and peeked into the bathroom. It had a hot tub. That was something he was going to need by the end of the day, he was sure of it.
"You live in an apartment?" America followed him. "I thought you lived in a mansion or something."
"I did back when everyone was around." Russia fiddled with the ends of his scarf. "I found it a little unnerving to stay in a place so big when it was just me." He turned around and forced his mouth into some semblance of a smile. The last thing he wanted was to darken the mood with his long since dead and buried abandonment issues. "I don't need that much space, and it's much easier to maintain an apartment in Moscow than a big house."
"Yeah, I get that." America said, and Russia had no doubt he did. "Anyway, let's get this Tetris party started." Russia was grateful that America hadn't pushed him for details. It had to have taken a lot of self-restraint on his part, and he busied himself with turning on the enormous television and plunging the game into the 64. "I call first challenge!"
"Go ahead. I'll judge your technique." Russia took a seat next to America on the couch. "Condescendingly," he added with a smirk.
"Dick." The menu screen came up and Russia was surprised when America chose Minnie as his character instead of Mickey. "What?" America raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Minnie is a beast. Besides, we have to show the ladies some love too. Alice Paul would be proud."
"Alice Paul?"
"A big leader in the suffragist movement. One of the toughest broads I ever met." America clicked through the dialogue exchanged between Minnie and Donald Duck, who Russia assumed was going to be their first opponent. The game started and America's blue eyes were glued to the screen.
"Why is the music something out of a horrible 80's porn soundtrack?" Russia found himself asking after a moment. "Bad job Disney." America took the time to shoot him a glare before returning his attention to the screen.
"And how would you know what a horrible 80's porn soundtrack sounds like?"
"Everyone knows what a horrible 80's porn soundtrack sounds like."
"…Point taken."
It went on for what seemed like hours. America wasn't bad, though the attacks the other characters were allowed to use were irritating beyond belief. Donald went down pretty easily while Russia took on Mickey. They managed to defeat all the characters, until they finally made it to Pete's castle.
"Shit's about to get real." He felt rather than saw America take his arm. The game wasn't very long, but this Pete grated on Russia's nerves. The stupid fat cat thing kept hitting him with oversized blocks and constantly shifting shapes Russia had no control over. However, Russia managed to earn himself a Pentris thanks to the oversized blocks, which caused a nauseating looking rainbow to appear on his half of the screen and clear away nearly all of his shapes. On screen Minnie smiled and jumped up and down excitedly. "Yes!" America cheered. "You almost got him!"
"Stupid fat cat thing." Russia growled when Pete earned himself a Tetris. It wasn't enough though. Russia grinned evilly as Pete started to sweat when his blocks got dangerously close to the top of the screen. "Kolkolkolkol." This was the hardest challenge Russia ever faced when it came to this game. The blocks were raining down so fast it was almost impossible to keep up with them all.
Pete's blocks touched the top of his screen and Minnie became victorious. Russia couldn't help it. He stood up and cheered along with the 2D sprite. "Take that!" He did it. He won Tetris against a fat, evil cat thing with hippo teeth. "This is my game! Mine! I made it! Screw you, ugly fat cat thing!"
"Ha, fuck you, Pete!" America got down on one knee and flailed two middle fingers at the television. Pete slumped to the floor in his defeat, his fancy suit rumpled. "Thirteen years, and your reign of terror ends, bitch!" America got up and ran to Russia, practically tackling him back into the couch. Russia caught him with a laugh, sinking into the plush cushions.
Soon their laughter died and America pulled back a little to look at him, though didn't remove himself from Russia's lap. Russia felt the pads of the younger nation's fingers stroke along his jawline. America's hands weren't soft, but his touch was gentle. Looking up at him, Russia felt a tingling warmth rise up in his chest, and he wanted to touch him too, to feel the muscles in his neck and the warmth of his cheeks. America's messy blond hair had fallen across his forehead again and it took all of Russia's restraint not to brush it back to the side.
"Hey, Russia?" America's voice came out soft, complimenting the gentle movement of his fingers across Russia's face.
"Da, Amerika?" Russia held America's eyes. The blue had darkened, but that by no means diminished their beauty.
"Are there any people in your history that you wish you could bring back for a night and talk to them?" It was a heavy question and one that made Russia's chest ache as he remembered all his past bosses, and people who helped shape him into the nation he was. He remembered the Romanovs, Lenin, Catherine the Great, Ivan III, Olga of Kiev, and Peter I. There were so many more. So many people, ideas, and values made him, and gave him life.
"You know there are." His eyes burned thinking about them all, but he refused to break eye contact with the nation on his lap.
"What would you say to them?" America lips hovered inches away, teasing, warm and wet. His fingers entwined themselves in Russia's hair.
"I would ask them two questions." He decided to risk it and let his own cool fingers stroke America's face, brushing soft golden bangs away from those deep blue eyes.
"What would they be?" Their breaths mingled and Russia's eyelids grew heavy. America's warmth seeped through his coat and down to his cool flesh. Russia continued to touch him. Everything about America's face was masculine and lovely. His neck was smooth with muscle and clean shaven.
"Did I do okay?" Russia's voice came out rough. "And can you forgive me?"
Something in America's expression opened up entirely and his lips came down warm and eager on Russia's. The kiss was clumsy and inexperienced. It made Russia want to return the enthusiasm all the more. He shifted so that he fell back with America on top of him, warm and protective, while the couch pillowed him like a cloud.
How many people allowed themselves to be chased away from this? Russia let his tongue trail across the other nation's lower lip and America opened his mouth to him. Their tongues danced while lips molded together and hands roamed. Russia let his fingers curl into the hollow behind America's ear and deepened the kiss, breathing as he pulled back to deposit smaller kisses along the America's jaw and face.
"Russia." It sent shivers down his spine the way America said his name. The younger nation forced his hands underneath Russia's body and held him closer, catching his lips once more and settling against him. It was as if he read Russia's mind, and in his own innocent way, was trying to please him.
If only Russia cared about that. America deserved to be kissed every day of his life if it was what he wanted. It baffled him how anyone could give this up, psychotic twin brother or no. America was annoying at times, obtuse and arrogant, but then the moments where his true heart showed were beautiful beyond any words he could summon in Russian or English.
After a while, America pulled back with soft pants that ghosted across Russia's face. His head was pillowed in America's arms and he sat up a bit to nuzzle America's cheek. America returned the touches, brushing the silvery strands of hair off of Russia's forehead. Somehow, the touches were more intimate then the kissing, more personal and full of so many emotions Russia couldn't hope to name them all.
"What are we doing?" Russia asked before he could stop himself. His eyelids felt too heavy and he peered at America through his lashes. America's breaths brushed his lips until the younger nation sat up and away. Russia propped himself up on his elbows and immediately regretted saying anything. Yes, they had been in some strange fantasy world where the problems between their people didn't exist, but it was a nice fantasy. Why did he have to ruin it?
"I really don't know," America replied. His eyes shimmered and Russia knew he was coming to his senses as well. Being friends was one thing, but being whatever it was they were now was another. A couple light kisses could easily be forgiven, but the passion of this one couldn't. Toss in two psychotic younger siblings and political disputes, and this was doomed for failure.
"I didn't think it would come to this." Russia internally winced at the confession. He sat up entirely but didn't turn away from America. "We were friends back then, nothing more. I don't understand where this came from." He sounded so pathetic even to his own ears, like a little lost schoolgirl who couldn't control her hormones. If only he could bludgeon himself to death. That would be nice right about now.
America averted his eyes and adjusted his glasses. "I know where mine came from, if that helps anything."
Russia opened his mouth in attempts to say something, but found his voice had fled. Something changed about America's expression. There was no bravado or pride, but something gentle and honest. It was a look Russia had only seen on a select few. It was complete openness. America was stripping himself down to the core, completely vulnerable. "America…"
"Russia, I don't know where this is going to lead, or if we're both completely nuts for even letting it get this far, but I do know this." America scooted further back, not to distance himself, but so Russia could see all of him. "I've seen you triumph, fall, and get back up again. I've been amazed by you and disgusted at the very thought of you. I've been terrified of you. I've cared about you as my friend, and hated you as my enemy. I've wanted to save you, and I've wanted to kill you. You've done so many horrible things, and you've accomplished moving mountains. I've seen you at your worst, and I've seen you at your best.
"You know me. I don't really think all that much. I follow my heart, which doesn't always translate well to everyone else. I get that I'm not very old, and I've made a lot of mistakes, wrong calls, and dick moves, but despite all that, or maybe because of it, I have a perfect understanding of what you are."
"What am I then?" Russia wasn't sure he wanted to hear this. The Cold War kept creeping up from the back of his mind. He'd been the bane of America's existence and America his. They said awful things to one another, things that couldn't be forgiven, or at least not easily.
"You're one batshit crazy, but amazing country," America said with a teasing grin. "Not to mention insanely gorgeous." His smile softened. "You've been through hell and back, and your people have more moxie than I do on a good day. I don't know if this thing is going to last or if we're walking headlong into the biggest mistake since some idiot thought it was a good idea to let England anywhere near a kitchen." He reached across the space between them and touched Russia's face. "But from the moment I first met you, I thought you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen since myself."
"You had to kill it didn't you?" Russia laughed softly and placed his hand over America's, leaning into the touch. "As I remember, Empress Catherine had taken quite a liking to you, oh America the Beautiful."
"Yes, and I didn't hear the end of it for the next three decades, jerk." America scooted back across the couch until he was nearly in Russia's lap and brought their foreheads together. "You've seen me do some pretty shitty things. You've also seen me do some pretty freaking awesome things. That's the thing with us. We've seen each other. I mean, really seen each other. I won't say this is all going to be puppies and rainbows, because even now you drive me insane with some of the crap you try to pull, but I'm willing to give it a shot if you are."
Russia took a shuddering breath and removed America's hand from his face. For a moment, he thought he saw pain flash in the younger country's eyes. That wasn't what he wanted. Still holding the other nation's hand, he unbuttoned the top of his dress shirt, and placed it over his rapidly beating heart. America's hand felt warm against his cold skin, and he closed his eyes. For some reason he was able to clearly picture the field of sunflowers he wanted for so long. He could almost feel the wind in in his hair, and not the freezing breaths of General Winter, but the soft cool wind that complimented a warm day.
"Your heart is racing." The sound of America's awed voice brought him out of the trance. Russia hid his face in his scarf and let his eyes drift to the side. Was he afraid? He would have scoffed not too long ago at the very thought, but a relationship with America was dangerous at best. If he agreed, if he gave in, they'd never be friends again.
"Politics may say otherwise, but Alfred still makes me feel like this." He took a shaky breath and returned his gaze to America's face. The other nation's cheeks were tinged pink and his blue eyes softened as he smiled. Grasping Russia's other hand, he placed it over his own heart. Russia couldn't help but take a sharp breath at how fast it thrummed against his palm.
"And Ivan makes me feel the same."
"You sure that's not just your high cholesterol?" The question was quiet, and teasing. It was just expected of them, and America chuckled, shaking his head.
"Nah, this is all you, tactless and totally unromantic as you are. So what do you say, ya big lug?" America winked and grinned devilishly. "Wanna make the biggest mistake of the century and possibly ruin any chance of diplomatic peace between our people when this thing turns sour?"
Russia titled his head back as if to think about it and shrugged one shoulder, reveling in the increase of America's heartbeat. "Eh, why the hell not? World peace sounds so dull."
"Look at that, already finishing each other's sentences." America was positively glowing, and without another word, they closed the distance between them, hands still pressed over each other's hearts. America rested his head against Russia's shoulder and Russia pressed his cheek against the soft golden hair. America was so warm, bright, and alive. His let out a relieved sigh, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel cold.
"America?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm…happy."
"Me too. Me too."
nnnn
Russia gripped his pipe as his driver neared Canada's manor, a large wooden cabin surrounded by acres of evergreen forest. The house was breathtaking, but Russia refused to be impressed as he stepped out of the limo and adjusted his suit. It had taken a lot of persuasion, but he'd convinced America it was best not to arrive together and to keep their new relationship secret for a while.
This thing with Canada needed to be dealt with. After all these years of struggle and loss, Russia had found happiness in the most unlikely person, and no one was going to take it away. Russia walked towards the house, unsurprised to see everyone else filtering in. That was when Russia saw him.
Standing in the doorway, America was talking to Canada. Even from so far away Russia could tell by the way Canada's smile strained that America was telling him about their new relationship. At first, he had half a mind to be angry, but then shook it off. Why should he and America keep their relationship secret? Canada's sake?
Russia's thoughts immediately went back to the doll and his resolve hardened. Canada knew where he stood now, and he was not giving America up without a fight. He quickly went over his various spats with America during the Cold War, recalling old strategies and the heaviest thing America had ever thrown at him, which at the time had been his entire desk.
Russia approached the twins with a smile and his stomach tied itself in a knot when America's entire face lit up. "Hey, Russia. I was just telling Canada the good news." He let an arm rest over his brother's shoulders. "Don't worry, he promised not to tell."
"I'm so happy for you, Al." Canada's eyes were blazing with pure unadulterated rage but there was also…terror. Russia had seen that look in the eyes of the countless soldiers he had killed in the war. It had been present in the car too, but then it had just been fear.
"Thanks, bro." America squeezed his shoulder affectionately and gazed up at Russia. "I guess I'll see you inside. Spain and France are coming up the way so I better scoot unless we want France shouting it to the rooftops."
"How would he know?" Russia tilted his head.
"We could be playing a nice game of canasta and he'd know if we were in talking range of each other." America shrugged. "Probably some weird French power, but he'd blab, and as snotty as he is, I'd hate to watch you kill him."
"Oh, but Papa means well," Canada said with a smile. "He just gets excited when he sees people…in love." The tightening around his eyes told Russia that saying the last part actually caused him physical pain.
"Well, I know I can trust you with anything." America patted his brother's cheek. "I'm going to head in now, you two play nice." America disappeared inside the manor and Russia was left to stare into Canada's frigid eyes.
"You sicken me." All pretenses of a friendliness were gone.
"You don't exactly inspire me to paint great art either," Russia said. "Your face looks a lot better on America."
"What are you doing to him?" Canada took a step forward, heedless of the other nations approaching. "Whatever it is, I will not let you play out whatever sick game you have planned in that crazy, corroded, pile of meat festering inside your skull."
"That was a mouthful," Russia said. "You've been sitting on that for the past few weeks, haven't you?"
"No!" Canada's face reddened, though it wasn't out of embarrassment. He was getting angrier and he looked so much like America it was startling. If he wasn't careful, Russia feared he might start thinking he'd gone back in time to the Cold War. "Everyone knows how all your relationships end, and I will rip your finger off before it touches a hair on my little brother's head."
Russia leaned forward. He was pushing it, just as he had done with America. It was easy to slip back into old habits, and he knew there was going to be a fight. He could smell the adrenaline and feel the tension in the air. His grin was razor sharp as he chose his next words carefully. "Too late for that. I wonder what shampoo he uses to make it so soft."
Canada's lips peeled back in a murderous snarl and he leaned forward as well. Enraged blue drilled into violet. Russia admitted he was intimidated, but he kept his smile firmly in place. America had intimidated him on many occasions. It would be stupid not to have been, here was no different, but just because he was intimidated didn't mean he'd let it rule him. In a way it was exciting, and tension curled in his gut like a serpent.
"Lunch break. You die." Every word was hissed through clenched teeth.
"I look forward to seeing you try, child," Russia replied. He straightened up until he was standing at his full height. Canada didn't back away, just tilted his head back. Canada glared at him for a few moments before his expression cleared, replaced by shy innocence.
"H-Hello France, Spain." He smiled and shook both of their hands. "I hope the hotel was okay. I tried my best."
Not wanting to listen to more of Canada's fake stuttering, he entered the house and was greeted with a hallway of mounted animal heads. The biggest bears Russia had ever seen were stuffed and forced into different roaring positions. Moose, wolves, reindeer, and more glared down at him with dead glass eyes.
"Little known fact about me: I'm an avid hunter," Canada said from behind him, smiling in that stereotypical friendly Canadian way. Russia wondered how long they had both been standing there. He hadn't seen anyone else walk by, but he could hear the dull rumble of their chatter from somewhere down the hall. Canada opened his eyes and they were warm and welcoming. He chuckled and stepped past Russia. "See you at lunch!"
Russia set his jaw and followed him into the meeting room. He took his usual seat next to the Italian brothers and glared at the table. He could hear them whimpering, but decided to ignore it. Usually he would at least attempt to offer them a reassuring smile. It always made them cry, but it was the thought that counted. Not today, though.
He was going to make that little Canadian bastard bleed. The pipe was going to come down on his face so many times that he would never look like his brother again. These thoughts consumed him so deeply that when his phone went off in his pocket it caused him to blink. England was droning on about something unimportant, and Russia took out his phone.
U ok?
Russia looked up to see America watching him, the right side of his mouth quirked up in a crooked, worried smiled. The anger and bloodlust left him in an instant. Crazy as Canada was, he was still America's twin brother, and the one who took care of him when they were young. Murdering Canada would destroy America, and it was almost scary that just a few years ago, Russia would have leapt at the chance.
He nodded towards the other nation and adjusted his thoughts to simply maiming. About a half an hour later, England settled down in his seat between France and America, his green eyes finding Russia in an instant. From there the Englishman merely shook his head in disapproval and turned his attention to Belgium.
Through the entire meeting, Russia felt Canada's eyes on him, but finding him was turning out to be a bit of a challenge. It was as if he were invisible. Russia thought for sure he'd be clinging to America like a barnacle after his little tirade outside.
"Okay everyone!" America suddenly shouted, standing up abruptly with an excited grin. "Canada has something to say!" Russia blinked when he realized that Canada was indeed standing next to his brother.
"America-kun, have you finally managed to clone yourself?" Japan looked at the twins with surprise mixed with a bit of betrayal. Translated to his face, such feeling was displayed by his brows raising a fraction of an inch. "You said we would work on the technology together."
"And I meant that. This is my brother."
"Oh, yes I remember now." Japan's cheeks flushed a bit.
"Can we please get on with this?" China snapped from his place next to Korea.
"Um, yes." Canada cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, we've reached the two hour mark, so we have an hour and a half to get some lunch. There's plenty of places to go, just make sure you're back on time." Canada met Russia's glare with an innocent smile. Without another word, the nations in the room departed. America made his way over, much to Russia's surprise, and yawned.
"These things get more boring at the centuries go by. At least during World War II we had my cute New York City pop art on the chalk board."
"As I recall, my nose took up my whole face," Russia said.
"Nah, more like half." America snickered. "But don't feel bad. I gave England a unibrow."
"America." As if summoned by the mention of those horrid drawings, England approached after waving France off with a scowl. "I need to have words with you."
"Really?" America blinked. "Aren't we getting lunch together anyway?"
"It has to be now, as in right this second." England grabbed America's wrist and towed him away.
"Um, I'll talk to you later, Russia!" America called as England dragged him out of the meeting room. Russia stood still, taking his pipe out from his coat and holding it at the ready once all the other nations were gone. Canada was still in the room. He could feel that eerie sensation of cold nails being dragged up his spine.
Sure enough, just as Russia made it to the opposite wall, Canada appeared out of thin air with a fist aimed right at his head. Russia was quick to dodge, and the fist went straight through the wall and up to Canada's elbow. Canada pulled away with a growl, leaving a sizable crater in his house.
"This ends here," he said, taking a step to the side. Russia followed, knowing turning his back was out of the question. "You are not going to turn my brother into a sex puppet."
"That's not what I want from him," Russia said. "You wouldn't understand."
"I don't plan to understand anything that goes on in that black abyss you call a mind. I only care about Alfred."
"You're really going to fight me, you little shit?" Russia held his pipe, legs braced apart as he and Canada continued to circle each other. His mind was already retreating back to the Cold War when he and America had gotten into several physical altercations. Distance was the key. He had been a fool last time to stand still when Canada charged him.
"I'd rather not," Canada said. His eyes were wild with what might have been fear or manic hatred. Russia couldn't really tell. "But you can bet your frozen tush I will if you insist on seducing my innocent brother!"
"I have been very patient with you," Russia said. "I have refrained from beating your skull in for America's sake, but you are really pushing your luck here."
"Then let's do this, crazy man." Canada rushed forward, and Russia automatically leapt to meet him head on. It seemed his fighting style was the same as America's, relying on brute strength. Canada drew his fist back as Russia neared him. Then with perfect timing, Russia sank down to one knee just as Canada swung. He held his pipe out to the side, tripping the other nation. The momentum from Canada's charge nearly caused Russia to fall backwards as well, but he held fast, and Canada was sent careening into the opposite wall.
"Is that all you've got, loh?" Russia stood up and faced his attacker again, pipe at the ready. Distance, he reminded himself. A full-powered punch from America could take a person's head off. Canada was no different, and if the younger nation managed to wrap his arms around him, he might as well say do svidanya to his ribcage.
"I haven't even started yet, hoser." Canada chuckled and picked himself up off the floor. "Looks like I'll have to play this a bit smarter." He cracked his fists. "It's time to break out Jimmy Doohan and Celine."
"What?" Russia took a step back.
"My fists." Then to Russia's horror Canada rushed over to the meeting table and promptly lifted it above his head. It was solid mahogany. Sweet Lenin's ghost, if that came down on his head then he was going to be comatose for the next five years. "Or this could work." Russia felt all his blood drain from his face. That table was heavier than two cars put together, but he held his ground.
Never show the enemy your fear, he reminded himself. Just when Canada brought the table down, Russia darted out of the way, blocking his face from the wreckage. A few pieces of wood clattered against him and when he lowered his hands Canada appeared right in front of him and ready to bludgeon him with a hockey stick he seemed to have pulled out of nowhere. Russia blocked it with his pipe and nearly lost hold of it.
"This," Russia snarled. "Is going to be the last thing you see."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Canada growled back.
nnnn
"America, are you sure this thing with Russia is a good idea?" England and America stood on the porch of Canada's large manor. England leaned casually against the railing, shoving his gloves into the pockets of his fluffy coat.
"What do you mean?" America blinked. The sliding glass behind him reflected his back, showing his fingers knotting together nervously. England rolled his eyes. Even after all this time the boy still couldn't lie to him convincingly.
"Don't play dumb. I saw you ogling him all meeting."
"I was not ogling!" America crossed his arms. "I was glancing. There's a difference."
"It's just so out of the blue," England said. "You and Russia were a button push away from killing each other not too long ago."
"Everyone always brings that up," America muttered. "No one ever remembers that when I was going through my Civil War, Russia was the only one who believed that I could be a single nation and supported the Union. He also tried his best to convince you to get that stick out of your ass and let me open my trade to other nations during 1812."
"Yes, and then you both were ready to plunge the world into nuclear winter," England reminded flatly. "I think the only reason you're so adamant about this is that he's shown an interest." America's face darkened and England knew that was the wrong thing to say.
"How dare you?" America lips turned down in a scowl. England mentally kicked himself. Was he trying to get his spine ripped out today? "Do you think I'd be so desperate that I would play with someone's feelings like that? I may be a lot of things, but I would never ever lead someone on. That's not cool."
"I know you don't think so, but I'm old, America." England held up his hands. He hated admitting it, but sometimes the age card was the best way to go about dealing with someone so young and inexperienced. "I know how it feels to have someone take an interest in you, and sometimes you might lead someone on without realizing it. Let's face it, you haven't had the chance to have a serious intimate relationship."
"I am experienced!" America threw his hands in the air. "Plenty of people have asked me out, but when I say yes they just decide not to." He crossed his arms and huffed. "Kinda like what you did if you want to talk about leading people on." England winced. He remembered when he finally got the courage to ask America out on a date. For the first twenty minutes, he'd been the happiest man in the world. The hour after that consisted of Canada tying him to a chair and forcing him to choke down ungodly amounts of pancakes until he felt like his stomach was going to burst.
Silly Iggy, you've already taken everything from me. Canada had said it pleasantly, as if they were merely chatting and he was recalling a fond memory. And I'm so sorry for getting in the way, but I just can't let you have Alfred. I do hope you understand and we can get past this. He's the only one who sees me. Canada set the freshly made pancakes down with a sweet-natured smile. You like over indulging yourself, so eat these. Eat until you're satisfied and don't want America anymore. I've made plenty, just for you. And when you're done, you can call him and tell him you've come to your senses.
"Yeah." England looked down at his boots. France obviously made Canada insane just to spite him, though the bloody frog denied it and thought Canada's obsession with guarding his brother's virtue was sweet. "I'm sorry it didn't work out."
"Built a bridge and got over that one a long time ago." America shrugged. "You're like my older brother anyway. Going on a date with you would be really creepy if you think about it."
"I hear you." It was odd how much being considered a brother meant to him, not that he'd tell America that. Still, maybe Canada's disapproval was for the best. He enjoyed having a place in America's heart that was permanent and untouchable. Lovers came and went, but family was forever. "But this is Russia we're talking about. A union between you two would be terrifying, not to mention doomed for failure. Your ideologies are too different. You have incompatible personalities, and…" England trailed off when Canada and Russia stumbled into view from inside the house.
Both of them were tattered, as if they had been fighting ever since the meeting cut for a lunch break. Canada's face was bruised and his glasses were gone, while Russia bled from a gash above his right eye. He legs were wrapped around Canada's waist as he attempted to strangle him from behind with his pipe. Canada gripped the pipe and launched himself backwards into the far wall. Russia continued to hold strong despite the impact.
"Iggy, I get that you're worried, and to be honest, I'm not sure where this is going." America's voice was soft. England immediately tore his eyes away from the wrangling pair and focused them back on America. "But I do know I care about Russia. Maybe I don't agree with him on a lot, but maybe that's not what I need."
"I don't get it." England winced as Canada managed to toss Russia over his shoulder and bring his hockey stick down on the other nation's side, undoubtedly cracking a few ribs. Russia swiped out with his pipe and knocked Canada on his back. He attempted to crawl on top of the other nation, and they rolled across Canada's hardwood floors trying to strangle one another.
"Maybe Russia is meant to be my asshole," America said. England couldn't help the horrified look that crossed his face when Canada lifted Russia over his head and slammed the considerably larger nation down on his knee.
"God save the Queen," he whispered. Russia's back bent awkwardly, but it was quickly remedied when he lifted his leg and kicked Canada in the side of the head, sending the other nation toppling to the ground.
"Oh, I don't mean like that!" America exclaimed, oblivious to the brawl behind him. "Jeeze Louise, I meant that everyone needs an asshole in their lives. You know, that one person who argues with them about everything just to keep them on their toes and annoy the piss out of them. I like that about Russia, I really do. Plus," America blushed and toyed with the ends of his scarf, "he's the first person who's kissed me and hasn't avoided me like the black plague the next day. In fact, it's like we're friends again, but more…intense."
"That's bloody insane," England said. Russia sat on Canada's chest and continuously punched him in the face until Canada caught his fist, twisting it so Russia tumbled to the side. Then Canada was the one on top doing the punching. Russia must have worn him out to the point where he couldn't focus enough to harness his superhuman strength.
"I know, right? Do I smell or something?" America sighed. "Whelp, we better go grab some grub before the meeting starts up again." Canada clung to Russia's back and used both ends of his scarf to strangle him. England hadn't seen a fight this intense since the Cold War. A hollow feeling overcame his insides. What if this caused a war between Canada and Russia? World War III would be upon them, and all because America was an idiot convinced that his brother was a helpless damsel and not a bleeding lunatic.
England snapped out of his thoughts when he felt America tap his forehead. "Earth to England, are you there?"
"Yes, I am!" England slapped the intruding digit away. "And we should get something, but before you say it, we're not getting McDonalds. That stuff erodes away your heart like no tomorrow."
"Again with the heart health." America grinned and headed towards the porch steps. Behind him, Russia smacked Canada across the room with his pipe and straight into the television set. Now they appeared to be in some sort of pseudo sword fight with the pipe and hockey stick. "So, is Francey Pants coming to join us?" America smirked.
"Yes, actually. He said he found this supposedly 'charming' place last time he was here. Get your wallet ready. Knowing the frog it's probably expensive." England was quick to follow America lest he turn around and see what a true menaces his brother and potential love interest were. America's entire world would be turned upside down if he saw Canada suplex Russia or Russia beat the snot out of "poor" and "defenseless" Canada.
America prided himself on being the hero, and England couldn't imagine the consequences if he found out Canada was the one scaring his potential suitors off. Russia currently pile driving his head through the floor probably wouldn't sit well with America either.
"France just doesn't get that I'm kind of scraped for cash." Russia was now on his stomach, reaching for the handle of the door, while Canada held him in a headlock and punched him in the side of the head. England tore his gaze away from the fight and darted to America's side.
"We've spent enough time chatting, let's go!" England hooked an arm around America's and practically dragged him down the steps.
"You okay?" America asked curiously.
"Why wouldn't I be?" England gave a strained smile as they made down the walkway. If the Cold War was anything to go by, it was best to let them get it out of their systems.
"Oh! We forgot about Mattie. I'm sure he'd be happy to see France since the poor guy's been super busy lately."
"No time! We just need to meet the wine bastard before—"
The sound of shattering glass caused Alfred to whip around in time to see Russia flipping backwards down the porch steps until he was sprawled on his back in the front yard.
"Time for you to die, red villain!" Canada stepped through the remains of his sliding doors and launched himself at Russia in what was going to be a very painful body slam. At the last moment, Russia lifted his legs and kicked Canada in the gut, causing him to flip in the air and land on his back with a thud.
"You…are going…to pay," Russia gasped as he turned over and dragged himself towards Canada.
"Not…a snowball's chance…in…Bermuda." Canada got to his knees, gripped Russia's arms and hoisted him up. "I'll…kill you." The two nations attacked each other once more with renewed vigor.
"I am the Russian Fucking Federation, you invisible cretin!" Russia punched the other nation across the jaw, panting roughly. Canada's head whipped around so fast, England was surprised it didn't pop off his neck. "You are nothing! You…have England's queen as your head of state!" Canada returned the punch into Russia's gut and sent him toppling to the ground once more.
"Your mouth is filthy!" Canada, with rivers of blood trickling down his chin, was upon the downed nation in a second, his hands around his throat. "You are nothing but a psychotic waste of space and frozen tundra!"
"Psychotic…wastes…of space and frozen tundra…who live in glass houses…shouldn't throw stones!" Russia managed to choke out before he elbowed Canada in the chin. However, before the fight could escalate further, England flinched at America's shout of,
"What in the name of Betsy Ross is going on here?" Immediately, Russia and Canada stopped their assault on one another. Canada paused in mid punch and slowly turned his head to look at his brother. His expression became so terrified that for a moment, England almost felt sorry for him. Almost. He still got stomachaches whenever he thought of pancakes.
"Oh! America!" Canada scrambled off of Russia. "Thank goodness. R-Russia attacked me!"
"What?" Russia gingerly sat up, cradling his side and grimacing. England didn't blame him. He and Canada both looked as if someone had thrown them under a moving truck.
"It's true!" Canada's blue eyes filled with tears. It was a look England knew America couldn't resist, but when he looked over he saw America's lips pressed into a thin line and his brows furrowed. "He just went crazy! He hasn't changed at all from the Cold War!"
"You are the one who's crazy!" Russia wiped the blood away from his left eye, still clutching his side. England had been right in thinking some of his ribs broke. "Your brother has been harassing me since we started talking!"
"Look, he's already lying." Canada sniffled, wincing when he touched his newly formed black eye. He looked up at America again, tears still streaming down his battered face. "Please, I…I was so scared! I didn't stand a chance! I need my hero!"
"You sure did a number on him for someone who didn't stand a chance." America's voice was dark and England swallowed nervously.
"I-I was protecting myself!" Canada's voice held a twinge of hysteria. America wasn't buying into the act, and England knew he wasn't going to. If he was, he'd already be smothering his brother with hugs and doting over his wounds.
"He's lying." Russia hunched over in pain, but managed to point an accusing finger at Canada. "He's the one who's been chasing away everyone you've ever tried to date."
"Come on, you know that's…that's silly!" Canada let out a high-pitched giggle that quickly died when America's expression didn't soften. "Come on, bro! You know me! Russia…Russia is the commie bastard, remember?" He flinched. "Maple, I don't like using words like that."
"It's true!" Russia insisted. "Ask England! Your evil twin said he chased him away as well!" England groaned. Why did he always have to be dragged into things like this? What made it worse was when America shifted focus to him. His usual vibrant blue eyes were like chips of ice, and his frown made him look older, and defiantly scarier. It was hard to imagine America intimidating. He was like a puppy: sweet and over-enthusiastic with paws too big for his body. He was also a full-grown nation who wasn't immune to the feral side they all possessed. England had to remember that.
"Well, is it true?" America asked in the same cold voice. "Was Canada the reason you called me an hour after asking me out to inform me you made a giant mistake?" England's vocal chords decided not to work, and he was left opening and closing his mouth uselessly.
"I…I…" He cast a quick glance at Canada and found him glaring daggers. It was enough to make England's blood boil. It had been heartbreaking to hear America act like he was okay and he couldn't forget his own physical torment. He'd spent the latter half of the day puking his guts out and hating himself for hurting America. Canada had no right to glare at him. Regardless if it had turned out for the better, it hadn't been his decision to make. This cute little brother act was finally going to end. England met America's eyes and took a nervous breath. "Yes."
"I see." The hardness in America's eyes faded back into something softer and vulnerable. Tears bloomed in their corners and he turned back to Canada and Russia. He laughed miserably. "Why didn't you tell me, Russia?"
"Who were you going to believe?" Russia asked breathlessly. "Me or your own brother? And after what you told about how you both grew up, I couldn't tarnish that."
"So you decided beating the shit out of him was the better solution?" America was still smiling. It was a disturbing sort of smile that made England feel torn between wanting to hug his former colony and back away. There was so much sadness in it, but also an incredible amount of anger.
"No, but he was going to bash my brains in with the meeting table if I didn't do something."
"Right," America said a little too calmly. "Okay." A choked sound left him.
"I was just trying to protect you!" Canada said. "I hear what they all say about you in world meetings. I couldn't let anyone hurt you. That's all they wanted to do, America. They just wanted to hurt you!"
"You lied to me," America said. "All those times you lied and let me believe that I did something wrong."
"You wouldn't understand," Canada said. "You wouldn't understand because you won't shut up and listen!"
"I'm listening now," America said. "All these years I thought something was wrong with me." He lips quivered and he was no longer smiling. "Canada, I told you everything about how I felt. You let me…you let me believe that I was unlovable."
"N-No," Canada stammered. "No, that's not what—"
"Well, that's what you did!" He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "You were the one chasing everyone away. I can't believe it."
"I told you I wanted to pro—"
"Enough, Matthew, okay?" America lifted his head from his hands. His whole face was raw with hurt and disbelief. Canada's mouth shut with a snap and it looked as if he was truly about to burst into tears. He lifted his arms towards his brother, pleading. America took a few steps back, shaking his head and refusing to let the tears gathering in his eyes fall. "I don't want to see you for a while." His gaze fell on Russia. "Either of you. I have…I have to think."
"America." England reached a hand out, but stopped himself when America turned his back on all of them.
"I can't deal with this right now." His entire body trembled, and his voice cracked. He was trying not to cry. England felt as if someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart.
"America, please don't go." Russia got to his feet.
"I need to. Sorry." And with that he took off down the street, disappearing around the corner.
"This is all your fault." England's attention was brought back to Canada, who now stood slightly hunched over. "You ruin everything."
"How is any of this my fault?" England raised his brows and crossed his arms. "I'm not the one acting insane."
"Because you ruin everything!" Canada straightened a bit and England took a startled step back. Standing before him wasn't someone crazy. He was angry, there was no denying that, but that wasn't the main emotion. Overall, Canada was hurt and scared, and all of it was directed at him. "You took everything from me!"
"What are you talking about?"
"You made such a big deal about making France give me up, and then when he does, I might as well not exist to you! I even put up with you during America's revolution, thinking if I stayed you'd care! I could have left with him! I could have, and instead I refused to leave you, and you didn't even blink! I'm even still part of your Commonwealth, but I'm nothing to you!"
"That's not true!" England considered getting into his face, but thought better of it. America would never lift a hand against him, but in the state he was in now, Canada would snap him like a twig.
"Yes it is! It's true for everyone! Alfred is the only one who cares! He's the only one who can see me and even he forgets me half the time. Now you've taken him too, so I hope you're happy or at least indifferent because I'm that insignificant!" Tears streamed down Canada's face as he turned and limped back towards his house.
"Wait! Uh…fuck!" England was ready to rip out his hair. How could the boy's name have slipped his mind now of all times? "Just, wait! Wait, Camda, Card, Canaidia! America's brother!" America's brother stopped, his back rigid, and when he turned around, his eyes were flat with pure rage and hatred so intense England thought for sure he was going to be burnt.
"It's Canada, you self-centered, war-mongering, oppressive, selfish, bitter, washed up has been of a country." England was completely speechless. Even in their worst fights America had never said something in a way that was so cruel. Canada wanted to hurt him and hurt him badly. Well, mission accomplished. "Don't bother talking to me when the meeting starts up again." He gingerly pulled himself up the steps, one at a time and disappeared through the shattered doors.
"I need to talk to him," Russia said. England blinked. He almost forgot the larger country was there.
"Are you out of your mind?" England glanced up at him and immediately felt stupid for asking. "Wait, it's you, but do you want to die?"
"He can't kill me," Russia said. "Besides, he wants you to go after him, but you won't so I will."
"Did you not hear what he just said?" England asked.
"Da, and you have someone who's hurt and feels like he's worthless." Now Russia glared at him, and he was far more intimidating than Canada or America combined. "Someone needs to calm him down." Russia winced and limped towards the house.
"Why are you doing this?" England asked. "Are you trying to get on America's good side or something? You know he'll eventually forgive Canada, but you are out of luck."
"Nyet." Russia paused and looked over his shoulder. Unlike Canada, Russia's face hadn't suffered too badly. Other than the gash and a sprinkling of bruises, most of the damage must have been done to his body. "I just know how it feels when you think no one cares."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's not me he's angry at." Russia turned and hobbled into the house. England huffed, suddenly feeling very alone and guilty. Why was it his fault? Canada was acting crazy. He was the one with the unhealthy obsession with keeping his brother out of the beds of other nations. That went far beyond brotherly protectiveness. It was possessive, territorial, and…he was a bloody git.
"I didn't do anything!" England's shout fell on deaf ears.
Oh England. Well, odd thing is that next chapter Sage!England turns out to be Sage!France, so sorry Lucky! D: Damn these characters and doing whatever they want! Also, I have a new tumblr Lucky forced me to get if you want to send me a message or something or follow me. I have no idea how to use it, but I'm learning! It's buffy4spike. Um...until next time! And thank you so much for the feedback! (Hopes for another 25 reviews and cries)