America jumped out of the plane just as the wheels began to slow.
"Sir?" The attendant for the make-shift airfield had not expected him here in Normandy. Well, it had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. The Siege of Oslo was starting to bore him.
"Sir, Mr. Braginsky is here to see you."
How on Earth did Russia know he'd be here? He hadn't told anyone he was coming…
"His army, too?"
"No, sir. Just him. He's in your office."
Damn creepy commie…
"Thanks!" America said as he walked towards his office-tent.
"Anytime, sir!"
"And stop calling me 'sir'!"
When America walked into the tent that had been set up as his office, he saw Russia seated at his desk.
"Privyet, Amerika!"
"Hello, Russia. Good to see you…"
"It is good to be seeing you too!"
"So, is there a reason you came to this front?"
Russia laughed. "Nyet!" He pulled out a bottle of vodka. "A drink?"
"…Sure."
"So, Amerika, how are things going on this front?" Russia asked as he poured two glasses of vodka and handed one to America.
"Good, I guess. Oslo is the only free part of Norway at the moment, so we're almost ready to start the invasion of Sweden. Probably tomorrow or the next day, if the bureaucracy gets their…um, if they get their stuff together. And part of my army is stationed here."
"Why?"
"Norway's army is a few miles that way." He pointed west. "We've blocked most of their out-going communications and in-coming supplies. We'll probably begin offensives tomorrow or the next day."
"Why wait?"
"We need more supplies- mostly ammo."
America had been standing awkwardly throughout this whole exchange. Now, however, Russia pulled him into his lap.
"Wh-what are you doing!?"
"Become one with me, Amerika."
"Commie!"
"Not anymore, Amerika. Why won't you become one with me? I have such a lovely, large house."
"No, I won't! Capitalism!"
Russia laughed his adorable, innocent-sounding laugh. "You will become one with me, Amerika."
"Nope! Not cool!" America began struggling, trying to get out of Russia's lap. "Let me go, you commie!"
"Sir?" An aide walked into the tent, saw what was going on, said, "Oh, sorry, sir, didn't mean to interrupt," then promptly left.
America, with his face redder than one of Romano's tomatoes, finally succeeded in squirming out of Russia's lap.
Russia laughed again. "Poor Amerika. So alone and won't let anyone help him."
"I-I don't need your help, you commie! I'm the hero!"
"We all are needing help at some time, da?"
"No!"
Russia smiled sadly. "Good bye, Amerika. We will be meeting again later to discuss strategy, da?"
"Sure, but only to discuss strategy."
"Da." Russia stood, lightly kissed the top of America's head, and left.
The tent instantly seemed larger, emptier, lonelier. America ignored that; he had work to do.