Dinner for Two [1/2]
anonymous
November 16 2009, 04:17:51 UTC
“My god, would you stop that?!”
Russia snatched his hand away from America's swollen stomach and at least had the grace to look guilty.
“But I want to,” he mumbled sullenly under his breath.
“I don't really care if you want to, I'm getting sick of you being all grabby hands with my belly. If you want to touch it that bad, at least ask first. Be like, 'America, may I please touch your baby bump?''”
“...America, may I please touch your baby bump?”
“No! We're in public! What would people think? It's bad enough I'm all bloated looking-”
“I think you look beautiful.”
“I'm a guy, Russia. I don't want to look beautiful.”
“Then I think you look handsome.”
“That came from the bottom of your heart, I'm sure.”
“Da, it did! And there's no one around to see us, so what is the problem?” Russia gestured around the restaurant to prove his point. They were seated near a window, a fair distance from the other diners and semi-hidden behind a large potted plant.
“Speaking of no one being around to see us, where the hell is that waiter?” America snapped. He suddenly looked terribly uncomfortable.
“I'm afraid I don't know, dorogoy. Is something wrong?”
America turned pink and fidgeted his in chair for a second before leaning across the table to whisper, “Did you see any restrooms on the way in? I've seriously got to piss like a racehorse.”
“Ah. That is a problem.”
“You're telling me! And it's going to be more of a problem if that stupid waiter doesn't come back soon.”
“But you went before we left the house. Can't you wait a bit longer?”
“No. I. Fucking. Can't. The kid's sitting right on my bladder. Oh screw it, I'm going to go find it myself.” With some difficulty, America managed to get to his feet, one hand curled around the swell of his belly.
“Do you need any help?”
“Naw, you stay behind and order for me if the waiter ever comes back.”
“And what do you want to eat?”
“C'mon Russia, how long have we been together? I trust you to pick something I'd like.”
Russia snatched his hand away from America's swollen stomach and at least had the grace to look guilty.
“But I want to,” he mumbled sullenly under his breath.
“I don't really care if you want to, I'm getting sick of you being all grabby hands with my belly. If you want to touch it that bad, at least ask first. Be like, 'America, may I please touch your baby bump?''”
“...America, may I please touch your baby bump?”
“No! We're in public! What would people think? It's bad enough I'm all bloated looking-”
“I think you look beautiful.”
“I'm a guy, Russia. I don't want to look beautiful.”
“Then I think you look handsome.”
“That came from the bottom of your heart, I'm sure.”
“Da, it did! And there's no one around to see us, so what is the problem?” Russia gestured around the restaurant to prove his point. They were seated near a window, a fair distance from the other diners and semi-hidden behind a large potted plant.
“Speaking of no one being around to see us, where the hell is that waiter?” America snapped. He suddenly looked terribly uncomfortable.
“I'm afraid I don't know, dorogoy. Is something wrong?”
America turned pink and fidgeted his in chair for a second before leaning across the table to whisper, “Did you see any restrooms on the way in? I've seriously got to piss like a racehorse.”
“Ah. That is a problem.”
“You're telling me! And it's going to be more of a problem if that stupid waiter doesn't come back soon.”
“But you went before we left the house. Can't you wait a bit longer?”
“No. I. Fucking. Can't. The kid's sitting right on my bladder. Oh screw it, I'm going to go find it myself.” With some difficulty, America managed to get to his feet, one hand curled around the swell of his belly.
“Do you need any help?”
“Naw, you stay behind and order for me if the waiter ever comes back.”
“And what do you want to eat?”
“C'mon Russia, how long have we been together? I trust you to pick something I'd like.”
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