The Companion [6.3/?]
anonymous
May 12 2010, 18:51:04 UTC
"This is going to be exactly like chess, isn't it?" America slid a pawn forward. "Pawn to F3," he added belatedly, sure he had counted right, and that the lingo might impress Russia.
Russia's brow quirked, mirroring the edge of his lips. "Pawn to E5."
America nibbled on his lower lip. Maybe he should take the opportunity to move two spaces while he could. Russia seemed to have no qualms with it. "Pawn to G4."
Russia calmly placed his index finger upon his queen. It glided easily in a perfect diagonal line across the board, coming to a rest once it reached the end of the available path. "Queen to D4," Russia said casually. "And of course, checkmate."
"Checkmate? You listen here, bud─" America's tongue twisted awkwardly with shock as he looked at the possible trajectories of the queen. She was perfectly poised to strike down his king in the next turn, with no way for America to retaliate. "Ah," he breathed uneasily, squinting in irritation at the board.
Russia laughed loudly, joyously. America pulled his gaze away from the board to shoot him a dirty look. Russia locked eyes with him as he chuckled, his nose wrinkling with childish glee, a glimpse of teeth showing as his lips pulled back.
America caught sight of a snaggletooth. It jutted out strangely, slightly away from the rest of Russia's teeth, peeking from around one of his canines. America concentrated on it as he waited for Russia's laughter to face, working over the curves of the jagged tooth with his eyes.
"Such a rudimentary mistake." Russia shook his head, hair whipping around him. "Let us try again."
Russia and America moved their pieces back into their starting positions, Russia smiling confidently as America tried to make his king explode with his mind. At least that way he'd get some entertainment out of the game.
Their next match lasted only ten moves. America's pieces littered Russia's side of the board. He wasn't even sure how he lost, considering he had taken several of Russia's pawns and a bishop. Russia must have used some kind of Red magic, or slight of hand.
The third match became an extreme test of patience. America played haphazardly, pawns skittering about, knights hopping in inexplicable formations, rooks rocketing to and fro with no clear objective. Russia countered with slow, precise movements, thoughtful hums vibrating in his throat with every turn.
America grumbled and slumped in his chair when his queen was snatched from the board, a checker left as a kind of grave marker, a testament to the queen's last stand. Russia had refused to acknowledge the presence of checker pieces after the first game. America hastily flicked a rook forward a few spaces, only for Russia to capture it with his knight.
America was tempted to call off the game, preferably in a way that required him to flip the table over in a fit of rage, but he didn't have the energy. Russia's unfalteringly happy face wasn't helping either.
It wasn't happy in a sick way that spoke of delighting in the pain of others, though America thought his losing streak could be a factor in Russia's joy. But at least Russia was sunny, calm, relaxed. America preferred him in such a mood, it allowed him to let his own guard down and stop worrying so much about what Russia might have planned for the future.
America returned Russia's smile, rather weak from the aching need for sleep that was settling in his bones. He lolled his head against the back of the chair, hair ruffling as it rubbed against the wall. His back still throbbed painfully, but like Russia had said, it could have been a lot worse.
"Your move, America."
America jerked his head up, eyes wide with blank confusion. "No it's not, I made a move like two seconds ago, remember?"
"It was hardly 'two seconds ago', and I have already taken my turn."
America hid a yawn behind his hand as he looked the board over. Russia pointed to a bishop that had moved, and America nodded in agreement; it hadn't been nestled up against his knight before. "Good to know you're not waiting for the seasons to change anymore before making a move."
Russia's brow quirked, mirroring the edge of his lips. "Pawn to E5."
America nibbled on his lower lip. Maybe he should take the opportunity to move two spaces while he could. Russia seemed to have no qualms with it. "Pawn to G4."
Russia calmly placed his index finger upon his queen. It glided easily in a perfect diagonal line across the board, coming to a rest once it reached the end of the available path. "Queen to D4," Russia said casually. "And of course, checkmate."
"Checkmate? You listen here, bud─" America's tongue twisted awkwardly with shock as he looked at the possible trajectories of the queen. She was perfectly poised to strike down his king in the next turn, with no way for America to retaliate. "Ah," he breathed uneasily, squinting in irritation at the board.
Russia laughed loudly, joyously. America pulled his gaze away from the board to shoot him a dirty look. Russia locked eyes with him as he chuckled, his nose wrinkling with childish glee, a glimpse of teeth showing as his lips pulled back.
America caught sight of a snaggletooth. It jutted out strangely, slightly away from the rest of Russia's teeth, peeking from around one of his canines. America concentrated on it as he waited for Russia's laughter to face, working over the curves of the jagged tooth with his eyes.
"Such a rudimentary mistake." Russia shook his head, hair whipping around him. "Let us try again."
Russia and America moved their pieces back into their starting positions, Russia smiling confidently as America tried to make his king explode with his mind. At least that way he'd get some entertainment out of the game.
Their next match lasted only ten moves. America's pieces littered Russia's side of the board. He wasn't even sure how he lost, considering he had taken several of Russia's pawns and a bishop. Russia must have used some kind of Red magic, or slight of hand.
The third match became an extreme test of patience. America played haphazardly, pawns skittering about, knights hopping in inexplicable formations, rooks rocketing to and fro with no clear objective. Russia countered with slow, precise movements, thoughtful hums vibrating in his throat with every turn.
America grumbled and slumped in his chair when his queen was snatched from the board, a checker left as a kind of grave marker, a testament to the queen's last stand. Russia had refused to acknowledge the presence of checker pieces after the first game. America hastily flicked a rook forward a few spaces, only for Russia to capture it with his knight.
America was tempted to call off the game, preferably in a way that required him to flip the table over in a fit of rage, but he didn't have the energy. Russia's unfalteringly happy face wasn't helping either.
It wasn't happy in a sick way that spoke of delighting in the pain of others, though America thought his losing streak could be a factor in Russia's joy. But at least Russia was sunny, calm, relaxed. America preferred him in such a mood, it allowed him to let his own guard down and stop worrying so much about what Russia might have planned for the future.
America returned Russia's smile, rather weak from the aching need for sleep that was settling in his bones. He lolled his head against the back of the chair, hair ruffling as it rubbed against the wall. His back still throbbed painfully, but like Russia had said, it could have been a lot worse.
"Your move, America."
America jerked his head up, eyes wide with blank confusion. "No it's not, I made a move like two seconds ago, remember?"
"It was hardly 'two seconds ago', and I have already taken my turn."
America hid a yawn behind his hand as he looked the board over. Russia pointed to a bishop that had moved, and America nodded in agreement; it hadn't been nestled up against his knight before. "Good to know you're not waiting for the seasons to change anymore before making a move."
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