The Companion [3.2/??]
anonymous
April 14 2010, 18:39:40 UTC
"To tell the truth, I was planning to do such a thing, but then you had your little─" Russia hummed for a few seconds, searching for the appropriate word, "─episode."
"Well, what were you expecting me to do?"
"I can tell you that I wasn't expecting you to play dead, or whatever little trick it was that you were trying to accomplish."
"I thought I had you fooled," America huffed under his breath.
"Oh no, I quite enjoyed the show, you have fine acting talents, but I was not lying when I said I had not tampered with your drink. It was vodka, pure and simple, and no matter how poor your ability to hold your drink is, a sip or two would not knock you out."
America licked his lips nervously as he tried to put the pieces together. He had been so sure Russia was going to drug him, especially when Russia hadn't drunk any vodka himself. "If you didn't put anything in it, why didn't you have some?"
"So observant," Russia purred, lightly scratching America's back with gloved fingertips. "In truth, I wanted none. As I told you, I prefer not to drink and drive." He chuckled to himself, deep and rolling. "Your paranoia is greater than your reasoning, a combination I truly adore."
The tears America had been trying so hard to stem seeped from his eyes, rolling hastily down his cheeks, wanting to escape the situation just as badly as America did. He swiped at them with the back of his hand, clearing them away, only for more to come tumbling down.
Russia had known he was awake the entire time, pretended to take a part in America's little game, all the while aware of the truth. And the words he had spoken while America had pretended to be sleeping─
"Why did you say those things?" America choked out, shoulders beginning to heave as he fought to control his breathing.
Russia didn't respond at first, taking several paces away to place the gun down, well away from America's reach. He turned on his heel and strode back, foot falls silent against the floor as he flitted back with movements too quick and too light for a man his size.
Russia lurched forward in a sudden movement, hands capturing America's wrists, twisting them roughly until America yelped sharply in pain. "Listen to me," Russia hissed, shaking America, "I meant those words, every last single one of them."
America flinched with each syllable that bit at his ears, trying to pull away as best he could. Russia released him and smiled. The curl of his pale lips set alarms off in his mind, the way they drew back, exposing snow-white teeth that glistened and gleamed. There was a distinct wrongness to the sight that caused him to involuntarily cower and curl away. He wasn't looking at a grown man, but a child who wanted to play with his dolls, and play rough.
America's mind buzzed and snapped with ideas and outcomes. He could play the part Russia wanted him to, docile and obedient, wait until Russia's guard was down to dart off, or he could seize the moment. Russia was expecting him to go for the gun, America could see how his deep, almost hypnotizing eyes flicked back and forth from him to the weapon.
He wouldn't be thinking America would go for the phone again. Of course it'd be impossible to nonchalantly pick it up and dial Canada once more, Russia would crack him across the head with the butt of his rifle before he even got the first ring off. But he didn't need to call Canada right in the middle of the foyer.
It was possible to make a mad dash though, snatch up the phone and go tearing away into another room. America could barricade himself in, and as long as he could hook the phone back up he'd be good as gold. Sure, once Russia steamrolled into the room, or simply waited America out, there'd be hell to pay, but at least America could rest assured he'd set the wheels of rescue in motion.
"Well, what were you expecting me to do?"
"I can tell you that I wasn't expecting you to play dead, or whatever little trick it was that you were trying to accomplish."
"I thought I had you fooled," America huffed under his breath.
"Oh no, I quite enjoyed the show, you have fine acting talents, but I was not lying when I said I had not tampered with your drink. It was vodka, pure and simple, and no matter how poor your ability to hold your drink is, a sip or two would not knock you out."
America licked his lips nervously as he tried to put the pieces together. He had been so sure Russia was going to drug him, especially when Russia hadn't drunk any vodka himself. "If you didn't put anything in it, why didn't you have some?"
"So observant," Russia purred, lightly scratching America's back with gloved fingertips. "In truth, I wanted none. As I told you, I prefer not to drink and drive." He chuckled to himself, deep and rolling. "Your paranoia is greater than your reasoning, a combination I truly adore."
The tears America had been trying so hard to stem seeped from his eyes, rolling hastily down his cheeks, wanting to escape the situation just as badly as America did. He swiped at them with the back of his hand, clearing them away, only for more to come tumbling down.
Russia had known he was awake the entire time, pretended to take a part in America's little game, all the while aware of the truth. And the words he had spoken while America had pretended to be sleeping─
"Why did you say those things?" America choked out, shoulders beginning to heave as he fought to control his breathing.
Russia didn't respond at first, taking several paces away to place the gun down, well away from America's reach. He turned on his heel and strode back, foot falls silent against the floor as he flitted back with movements too quick and too light for a man his size.
Russia lurched forward in a sudden movement, hands capturing America's wrists, twisting them roughly until America yelped sharply in pain. "Listen to me," Russia hissed, shaking America, "I meant those words, every last single one of them."
America flinched with each syllable that bit at his ears, trying to pull away as best he could. Russia released him and smiled. The curl of his pale lips set alarms off in his mind, the way they drew back, exposing snow-white teeth that glistened and gleamed. There was a distinct wrongness to the sight that caused him to involuntarily cower and curl away. He wasn't looking at a grown man, but a child who wanted to play with his dolls, and play rough.
America's mind buzzed and snapped with ideas and outcomes. He could play the part Russia wanted him to, docile and obedient, wait until Russia's guard was down to dart off, or he could seize the moment. Russia was expecting him to go for the gun, America could see how his deep, almost hypnotizing eyes flicked back and forth from him to the weapon.
He wouldn't be thinking America would go for the phone again. Of course it'd be impossible to nonchalantly pick it up and dial Canada once more, Russia would crack him across the head with the butt of his rifle before he even got the first ring off. But he didn't need to call Canada right in the middle of the foyer.
It was possible to make a mad dash though, snatch up the phone and go tearing away into another room. America could barricade himself in, and as long as he could hook the phone back up he'd be good as gold. Sure, once Russia steamrolled into the room, or simply waited America out, there'd be hell to pay, but at least America could rest assured he'd set the wheels of rescue in motion.
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