The Companion [7.3/?]
anonymous
May 19 2010, 17:16:49 UTC
Russia was unphased by the dramatic gesture. "I would prefer not to. You seem rather upset, America. Perhaps you should lie back down?"
America pushed the book back into its place, the case rattling with the force of the movement. "Do you know what day it is? Because I don't," America spouted at no one in particular, his voice faltering slightly, a crack piercing his words. "Hell, I don't even know what time it is anymore." His shoulders sagged in desperate exasperation.
"America, you are getting too worked up. Remember your promise, there will be no more crying." Smooth and hypnotic, the words were without a trace of emotional inflection as Russia spoke them. "Is this all too much for you right now? Let me escort you back to your room, you've had a long day."
America shook his head and backed away, putting as much space between him and the door as was possible. "No," he said simply.
Russia strode towards America, holding his hands open and palm up, his approach slow and unthreatening. "You have not eaten yet today America, it must be making you nervous."
America couldn't deny that he was feeling a bit on the jittery side and then some, but it wasn't as if he'd never gone a day without eating before. He'd take whatever sliver of freedom he'd get over eating any day, even if it was somewhat maddening.
Russia's fingers gently wound around America's forearms, giving him a light tug forward. America resisted, digging his heels into the carpet as if he were a child being dragged from the candy aisle by his mother. Russia seemed hesitant to force America to come with him, instead continuing to tug and coax.
Russia gave up quicker than America had expected him to, his hands sliding from America's arms, moving to scratch curiously against his chin before once again continuing, his forefinger tapping against America's forehead. "What are you thinking in there?" he asked plainly.
"In my head? None of your business."
"It is when you act like this."
"Act like 'this'? I'm acting like I've been kidnapped and shut off from everyone and everything I care about!" America nearly spit the words, anger keeping his tears at bay.
Russia mulled America's outburst over for a moment, his expression announcing that he'd like to point out there was nothing all that bad about America's situation, but the look never passed through his lips. "Okay, how about this? We will make a little deal, like we did with the chess and the checkers."
"I don't want to play chessers anymore."
"No more games tonight, I agree. But if you have some dinner, I will─" Russia's lips fell, twisted into a reluctant frown. "─show you a little bit of what has been happening."
America's eyes were shadowed with doubt. "No you won't. You're going to shove me back in my room and never let me out again."
"That is not how we have dinner in my country."
"But it's what you're going to do to me."
Russia sputtered slightly, a rare show of confusion on his behalf. "Who is telling you these things? Listen to me, you are not little Rapunzel, locked high up in a tower you will never be able to come down from without throwing your hair to the ground."
"Sure feels like it." America stared off into the darkening corners of the room, the walls painted a low red as the sun dwindled.
"My home is yours to enjoy, America, but first you must prove to me you are not a flighty little finch."
More bird talk. America rolled his eyes at the mention. He was tired of being referred to as an animal, unthinking, acting on instinct alone. Instinct was the only way to survive in unfamiliar situations, and his was as unfamiliar as it got.
"Can you tell me what's going on before dinner?" America asked, knowing full well the answer, but needing the topic to divert from birds.
"No, dinner first, then the showing." Russia turned and went to the door. America gave an unseen and stilted nod before dogging Russia's footsteps.
America pushed the book back into its place, the case rattling with the force of the movement. "Do you know what day it is? Because I don't," America spouted at no one in particular, his voice faltering slightly, a crack piercing his words. "Hell, I don't even know what time it is anymore." His shoulders sagged in desperate exasperation.
"America, you are getting too worked up. Remember your promise, there will be no more crying." Smooth and hypnotic, the words were without a trace of emotional inflection as Russia spoke them. "Is this all too much for you right now? Let me escort you back to your room, you've had a long day."
America shook his head and backed away, putting as much space between him and the door as was possible. "No," he said simply.
Russia strode towards America, holding his hands open and palm up, his approach slow and unthreatening. "You have not eaten yet today America, it must be making you nervous."
America couldn't deny that he was feeling a bit on the jittery side and then some, but it wasn't as if he'd never gone a day without eating before. He'd take whatever sliver of freedom he'd get over eating any day, even if it was somewhat maddening.
Russia's fingers gently wound around America's forearms, giving him a light tug forward. America resisted, digging his heels into the carpet as if he were a child being dragged from the candy aisle by his mother. Russia seemed hesitant to force America to come with him, instead continuing to tug and coax.
Russia gave up quicker than America had expected him to, his hands sliding from America's arms, moving to scratch curiously against his chin before once again continuing, his forefinger tapping against America's forehead. "What are you thinking in there?" he asked plainly.
"In my head? None of your business."
"It is when you act like this."
"Act like 'this'? I'm acting like I've been kidnapped and shut off from everyone and everything I care about!" America nearly spit the words, anger keeping his tears at bay.
Russia mulled America's outburst over for a moment, his expression announcing that he'd like to point out there was nothing all that bad about America's situation, but the look never passed through his lips. "Okay, how about this? We will make a little deal, like we did with the chess and the checkers."
"I don't want to play chessers anymore."
"No more games tonight, I agree. But if you have some dinner, I will─" Russia's lips fell, twisted into a reluctant frown. "─show you a little bit of what has been happening."
America's eyes were shadowed with doubt. "No you won't. You're going to shove me back in my room and never let me out again."
"That is not how we have dinner in my country."
"But it's what you're going to do to me."
Russia sputtered slightly, a rare show of confusion on his behalf. "Who is telling you these things? Listen to me, you are not little Rapunzel, locked high up in a tower you will never be able to come down from without throwing your hair to the ground."
"Sure feels like it." America stared off into the darkening corners of the room, the walls painted a low red as the sun dwindled.
"My home is yours to enjoy, America, but first you must prove to me you are not a flighty little finch."
More bird talk. America rolled his eyes at the mention. He was tired of being referred to as an animal, unthinking, acting on instinct alone. Instinct was the only way to survive in unfamiliar situations, and his was as unfamiliar as it got.
"Can you tell me what's going on before dinner?" America asked, knowing full well the answer, but needing the topic to divert from birds.
"No, dinner first, then the showing." Russia turned and went to the door. America gave an unseen and stilted nod before dogging Russia's footsteps.
"Can I just relax while you make dinner?"
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