The Companion [4.5/??]
anonymous
April 21 2010, 18:34:22 UTC
"Hey, I got a great idea," America piped up.
"Tell me more," Russia prompted.
"C'mon now, hear me out just for a few─ Oh, wait." America found his tongue momentarily tied, stumbling over confused words. "Er, well I was thinking, you say a lot of creepy things."
"And you say many blunt things." Russia fell back on the mattress, arms spread out on the sheets, legs still hooked over the edge of the bed.
"But that's me, we're talking about you." America's smile bloomed into a full on movie star grin. "I'm going to help you not say such creepy things, it'll be fun!"
"And in return, I will teach you to speak with more tact?"
America barked out a laugh at the absurdity of the notion, and followed suit in falling on the bed, the back of his head connecting with Russia's forearm. There was a small gap where America could have acknowledged the inadvertent touch, muttered something in protest and repositioned himself, made crystal clear how much he loathed the contact. He let it pass.
"Pay me a compliment," America prompted, he was so used to getting them on a daily basis he was growing to miss them, and decided even Russia's were worth hearing, no matter how odd.
"I wish I could rip the warmth from your voice and wrap it around me like a blanket."
"Okay, that was a solid start, it really was," America encouraged. The words had a kind cadence that made his skin tingle pleasantly, but such sincerity that it also made his throat tighten instinctively. "Let's try again. This time without mention of ripping things."
"I want to steal─"
"No stealing, either."
"When I look into your eyes," Russia began, stopping to see if America approved.
"Good, good, I like where this is going."
"─I only want to punch you in the face a little bit."
"Russia," America groaned, turning his head to look at him. "How can you be so utterly unable to give a good compliment?"
Russia's pale lips quirked up at the corners. A playful light flickered behind his eyes, dancing in and out of view as America studied them. America pushed himself up on his hands and looked down his nose at Russia. He was being played for a fool. Russia was coming up with inappropriate compliments on purpose, yanking America's chain for his own amusement.
"Do you not like my kind words to you?" Russia asked, laughter trailing on his breath.
"You're just messing with me." America cheeks puffed into a childish pout.
"But it is helping, is it not?"
"Helping with what? Annoying the heck out of me? Because that's pretty much all you're accomplishing."
"Distracting you from your pain," Russia answered lightly.
"Oh," America paused, registering Russia's intentions behind his poorly-worded compliments. They weren't meant to intentionally creep America out, or if they were, that was not their first objective. They were simple sentences to distract him from the aches of his body, the cries of his bones.
"I'll have to assume it worked."
"Couldn't you have done something conventional, like given me painkillers?" America lowered himself back down on the bed, pulling his legs up, body curled towards Russia's.
"No matter how many assurances I gave, I cannot imagine you swallowing pills that have come from my hands," Russia said, words tapering off into a wistful sigh.
"Fair enough."
"However, I will always be happy to supply you with enough vodka to drink your pains away." Russia flashed America a toothy smile, one that suggested he had tried such a remedy many times before and found it particularly helpful.
"Couldn't hurt," America shrugged, having come to the conclusion that Russia didn't spike drinks.
"Wonderful!" Russia exclaimed, arms darting in a flurry to grab America before pulling him close to his body. Russia hugged America like a boy hugs his dog when it has responded to its name for the very first time. A hug that sang of a friendship that would evolve into something unbreakable by time or distance.
"Tell me more," Russia prompted.
"C'mon now, hear me out just for a few─ Oh, wait." America found his tongue momentarily tied, stumbling over confused words. "Er, well I was thinking, you say a lot of creepy things."
"And you say many blunt things." Russia fell back on the mattress, arms spread out on the sheets, legs still hooked over the edge of the bed.
"But that's me, we're talking about you." America's smile bloomed into a full on movie star grin. "I'm going to help you not say such creepy things, it'll be fun!"
"And in return, I will teach you to speak with more tact?"
America barked out a laugh at the absurdity of the notion, and followed suit in falling on the bed, the back of his head connecting with Russia's forearm. There was a small gap where America could have acknowledged the inadvertent touch, muttered something in protest and repositioned himself, made crystal clear how much he loathed the contact. He let it pass.
"Pay me a compliment," America prompted, he was so used to getting them on a daily basis he was growing to miss them, and decided even Russia's were worth hearing, no matter how odd.
"I wish I could rip the warmth from your voice and wrap it around me like a blanket."
"Okay, that was a solid start, it really was," America encouraged. The words had a kind cadence that made his skin tingle pleasantly, but such sincerity that it also made his throat tighten instinctively. "Let's try again. This time without mention of ripping things."
"I want to steal─"
"No stealing, either."
"When I look into your eyes," Russia began, stopping to see if America approved.
"Good, good, I like where this is going."
"─I only want to punch you in the face a little bit."
"Russia," America groaned, turning his head to look at him. "How can you be so utterly unable to give a good compliment?"
Russia's pale lips quirked up at the corners. A playful light flickered behind his eyes, dancing in and out of view as America studied them. America pushed himself up on his hands and looked down his nose at Russia. He was being played for a fool. Russia was coming up with inappropriate compliments on purpose, yanking America's chain for his own amusement.
"Do you not like my kind words to you?" Russia asked, laughter trailing on his breath.
"You're just messing with me." America cheeks puffed into a childish pout.
"But it is helping, is it not?"
"Helping with what? Annoying the heck out of me? Because that's pretty much all you're accomplishing."
"Distracting you from your pain," Russia answered lightly.
"Oh," America paused, registering Russia's intentions behind his poorly-worded compliments. They weren't meant to intentionally creep America out, or if they were, that was not their first objective. They were simple sentences to distract him from the aches of his body, the cries of his bones.
"I'll have to assume it worked."
"Couldn't you have done something conventional, like given me painkillers?" America lowered himself back down on the bed, pulling his legs up, body curled towards Russia's.
"No matter how many assurances I gave, I cannot imagine you swallowing pills that have come from my hands," Russia said, words tapering off into a wistful sigh.
"Fair enough."
"However, I will always be happy to supply you with enough vodka to drink your pains away." Russia flashed America a toothy smile, one that suggested he had tried such a remedy many times before and found it particularly helpful.
"Couldn't hurt," America shrugged, having come to the conclusion that Russia didn't spike drinks.
"Wonderful!" Russia exclaimed, arms darting in a flurry to grab America before pulling him close to his body. Russia hugged America like a boy hugs his dog when it has responded to its name for the very first time. A hug that sang of a friendship that would evolve into something unbreakable by time or distance.
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