Eyes Wide Open [2/?]
anonymous
August 9 2009, 16:48:58 UTC
Like a true hero, he was right as rain, fit as a fiddle by the time the next chapter rolled about. The second time he fought off sleep to rejoin the land of awakening, he found himself refreshed, if desperately in need of the toilet and a couple of glasses of water. As if to reward him for suffering through that morning, there was even a note on the nightstand informing him that the morning meetings were cancelled because it turned out that everybody was suffering from a hangover that morning. Though he still couldn't remember exactly what happened during the night, his imagination worked to fill in the blanks with amusing images of a drunk England blabbing out his innermost secrets (again).
All in all, he felt great. So great, in fact, that he decided to take the short walk from his hotel to the meeting venue instead of breaking out his favourite SUV, the one that had Germany nagging at him every time the man came over. It was a wonderful day, one of those days when the sky seemed to go on forever, even when viewed from within the confines of a city. After this summit, maybe he could take a vacation, borrow one of their awesome fighter jets... but what were the chances of that? Lately, it was beginning to feel like he was always busy with one thing or another. He wasn't exactly unhappy about it, because people were starting to like him again for his work, and he did enjoy helping out his current boss, but... well...
It was too nice a day to spoil with non-happy thoughts, so he put them out of his mind, smiling, waving and saying 'hi' to anyone who met his eye. While most of the people merely stared at him as if he was insane, some smiled back and walked on with a renewed spring in their steps. And maybe those who smiled back would go on to smile at other people, who would go on to smile at other people until everyone was smiling and happy. Even if it was a naive hope, he liked to believe that it could happen.
Walking, he realised, brought him to the meeting room faster than if he had driven, though he conveniently ignored the fact in favour of bouncing into the room to check if he was the first.
He wasn't.
Russia was already there, sipping vodka from a bottle.
Russia. America frowned briefly, trying to remember what it was about Russia that was so important. Something about... a glass? Glasses? The note? Of course! He was so brilliant!
"Why are you drinking? I thought the meeting was postponed so that everyone could get over their hangovers?"
A slow smile spread over the Russian's face, one that usually sent most other countries cowering. It wasn't that the smile was particularly sinister, no. In fact, viewed on it's own, it could be called 'sweet' or even 'adorable'. On a man as large and imposing as Russia, though, it looked as out of place as a baby in a lion's mouth. The fact that that particular smile was usually the prelude to some terrible revalation no doubt also contributed to its scariness. America, however, was unaffected.
"Yes. This morning, when I come here for the meeting, there was no one being here, so I go to look for them." Russia took another sip of the vodka, grinning around the lip of the bottle. "But I, I am not getting hangovers, you know?" He leaned forward, as if bending close to tell a secret. "I don't stop drinking long enough for them to catch me."
America blinked at this tidbit of information. "Oh, I get it! You only get a hangover after you stop drinking!" It made sense! You certainly didn't get a hangover while drinking. It was perfectly logical. Almost. "But it means you're going to be drunk during the meeting."
"Of course!" replied the Russian matter-of-factly, still grinning that grin that never reached his eyes.
America would have said something, but at that moment, the doors opened to admit a rather pissed off England followed by a smirking France. The others soon followed and by the time the meeting had been called to order loudly by Germany (causing more than a few winces due to lingering hangovers), he'd forgotten all about his conversation.
Eyes Wide Open [2.5/?]
anonymous
August 9 2009, 17:10:27 UTC
Today, America smiled at him. At him. At him. For a moment, he panicked, wondering if America remembered anything from the night before. Fortunately, it didn't seem to be the case, though America seemed really, really happy all day.
The only downside to this was that America was smiling at everyone else too. Liet had told him before, reminicing about his time spent under America's employment, that America was just like that. When he was happy, he wanted everyone to be happy with him. When he'd pointed out that that sounded rather idiotic, that it was impossible to make everyone happy, Liet just smiled sadly.
"At least he tries."
Liet. Liet loved America too, right? And America, the eternally clueless America, could remember Lithuania's name. Was there something there? Liet'd denied it when he asked, but of course he would deny it. Liet knew that he was totally head over heels for America, so there was no way he'd ever admit it. After all, Liet used to be his too, and he knew well enough not to fight with him over the things he wanted.
But things were going well, so he could leave Liet alone for now. There was no need to concern himself with other people, now that he had America. And if America could say that back to him, then life would be utterly perfect.
He waited and watched throughout the meeting, hoping and wishing that America would smile at him and talk to him again, but America seemed more interested in teasing England and talking to just about everyone else. As usual. It was enough to make his blood boil.
He comforted himself with the knowledge that he was the one who slept with America, he was the one who made America feel good in bed, and no one else could take his place like that. And he would remind America again, tonight, about how good it felt, and maybe, tomorrow, America would smile at him again.
In his pocket, his fingers tightened around a pack of pills.
Re: Eyes Wide Open [2.5/?]
anonymous
August 9 2009, 17:58:13 UTC
Oh... my God. This type of fic usually isn't my cup of tea, but YOU MAKE IT MY CUP OF TEA, ANON. YOUR WRITING. IT IS AMAZING. YOUR CHARACTERIZATIONS, EACH PART OF THE CHAPTER MOVING FROM AMERICA'S TO RUSSIA'S POV; I AM IN LOVE.
All in all, he felt great. So great, in fact, that he decided to take the short walk from his hotel to the meeting venue instead of breaking out his favourite SUV, the one that had Germany nagging at him every time the man came over. It was a wonderful day, one of those days when the sky seemed to go on forever, even when viewed from within the confines of a city. After this summit, maybe he could take a vacation, borrow one of their awesome fighter jets... but what were the chances of that? Lately, it was beginning to feel like he was always busy with one thing or another. He wasn't exactly unhappy about it, because people were starting to like him again for his work, and he did enjoy helping out his current boss, but... well...
It was too nice a day to spoil with non-happy thoughts, so he put them out of his mind, smiling, waving and saying 'hi' to anyone who met his eye. While most of the people merely stared at him as if he was insane, some smiled back and walked on with a renewed spring in their steps. And maybe those who smiled back would go on to smile at other people, who would go on to smile at other people until everyone was smiling and happy. Even if it was a naive hope, he liked to believe that it could happen.
Walking, he realised, brought him to the meeting room faster than if he had driven, though he conveniently ignored the fact in favour of bouncing into the room to check if he was the first.
He wasn't.
Russia was already there, sipping vodka from a bottle.
Russia. America frowned briefly, trying to remember what it was about Russia that was so important. Something about... a glass? Glasses? The note? Of course! He was so brilliant!
"Why are you drinking? I thought the meeting was postponed so that everyone could get over their hangovers?"
A slow smile spread over the Russian's face, one that usually sent most other countries cowering. It wasn't that the smile was particularly sinister, no. In fact, viewed on it's own, it could be called 'sweet' or even 'adorable'. On a man as large and imposing as Russia, though, it looked as out of place as a baby in a lion's mouth. The fact that that particular smile was usually the prelude to some terrible revalation no doubt also contributed to its scariness. America, however, was unaffected.
"Yes. This morning, when I come here for the meeting, there was no one being here, so I go to look for them." Russia took another sip of the vodka, grinning around the lip of the bottle. "But I, I am not getting hangovers, you know?" He leaned forward, as if bending close to tell a secret. "I don't stop drinking long enough for them to catch me."
America blinked at this tidbit of information. "Oh, I get it! You only get a hangover after you stop drinking!" It made sense! You certainly didn't get a hangover while drinking. It was perfectly logical. Almost. "But it means you're going to be drunk during the meeting."
"Of course!" replied the Russian matter-of-factly, still grinning that grin that never reached his eyes.
America would have said something, but at that moment, the doors opened to admit a rather pissed off England followed by a smirking France. The others soon followed and by the time the meeting had been called to order loudly by Germany (causing more than a few winces due to lingering hangovers), he'd forgotten all about his conversation.
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The only downside to this was that America was smiling at everyone else too. Liet had told him before, reminicing about his time spent under America's employment, that America was just like that. When he was happy, he wanted everyone to be happy with him. When he'd pointed out that that sounded rather idiotic, that it was impossible to make everyone happy, Liet just smiled sadly.
"At least he tries."
Liet. Liet loved America too, right? And America, the eternally clueless America, could remember Lithuania's name. Was there something there? Liet'd denied it when he asked, but of course he would deny it. Liet knew that he was totally head over heels for America, so there was no way he'd ever admit it. After all, Liet used to be his too, and he knew well enough not to fight with him over the things he wanted.
But things were going well, so he could leave Liet alone for now. There was no need to concern himself with other people, now that he had America. And if America could say that back to him, then life would be utterly perfect.
He waited and watched throughout the meeting, hoping and wishing that America would smile at him and talk to him again, but America seemed more interested in teasing England and talking to just about everyone else. As usual. It was enough to make his blood boil.
He comforted himself with the knowledge that he was the one who slept with America, he was the one who made America feel good in bed, and no one else could take his place like that. And he would remind America again, tonight, about how good it felt, and maybe, tomorrow, America would smile at him again.
In his pocket, his fingers tightened around a pack of pills.
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F5ING FOREVER!!
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