The Companion [9.13/?]
anonymous
June 11 2010, 05:47:21 UTC
America breathed a bittersweet sigh at the sight. He loved their simple emotions and their simple reactions, he loved to watch their puppyish love in action as they planted big kisses and thanks and comfort on one another's cheeks. He wanted to jump right out of the truck and scoop them up in his arms, but most of all, he wanted that affection. Such thoughtless amounts of love, receiving kindness for the smallest of problems, as simple to obtain as turning on a tap and watching water pour out.
The children skipped off together hand in hand as America quietly pined, his heart aching to reenact what he had witnessed. Every since he had come to live with Russia he had lived a life nearly devoid of physical and verbal affections. Sure, Russia gave the odd hug or bizarre compliment, but that wasn't enough. Nothing was ever enough for America.
He never could settle for the small things in life. Given a hug, he'd want a kiss, given a compliment, he'd want a sonnet. Given the opportunity to flap his wings, he'd want to soar. America rapped his fingernails against the armrest of the door as he wallowed in his loneliness. Russia was like that too, he decided, never able to settle with a single scrap, always wanting the whole meal. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if they gave into each other. Not a lot, only a bit. The smallest smidge.
America let out a low growl. Being stuck with Russia all day, all the time was messing with his head. It was like shoving teenagers together at a camp for a week and not excepting half of them to come back in one form of tangled relationship or another. He bumped his head restlessly against the back of his seat. Russia and relationships didn't go together. Not ever, not now.
And what was taking Russia so long, anyway? America played with the handle of the door, tugging it, letting it snap back, tugging it again. His vision became unfocused as he stared at the door of the music shop, waiting for it to open, waiting for Russia to come back. But it remained closed.
America continued to fiddle with the door handle, the snapping growing to an irritatingly quick pace as he plucked at it, his finger slipping on occasion in his haste. He snagged it more tightly, his finger yanking with impatience. The lock disengaged, the door springing open. America's hand immediately went to grab it, but missed my mere inches.
He looked at the open door, then the music shop, his eyes swiveling back and forth. He'd said he'd wait in the truck like a good little boy, yes, but Russia had also said he'd only be a moment. An eye for an eye, a lie for a lie. That was the way of the world, and in this case, a rather fair exchange. With one last glance at the store, America slipped from his seat and out in to the world, a sly smile gracing his lips.
---- A/N: RUN, AMERICA, RUN LIKE THE WIND.
Russia's 'many horses' comment is meant to be a joke about horse power. Don't look at me, it's not my fault Russia can't tell one.
Re: The Companion [9.13/?]
anonymous
June 11 2010, 14:39:34 UTC
YES!!! AN UPDATE!!!
I've never commented before, but I thought I'd let you know this time how much I love this story and especially how you write America's thoughts and little comments like dogs' feet and the thing about the man law back when he ran around with the phone. And poor(?) Russia's just like a little kid trying to tame a small animal he caught in the back yard or something, wanting to be friends with it but just keeps being unhappy. ♥
I'm looking forward to the next chapter!!! This was a horribly cruel place to stop, though. I'm both cheering for America and horribly worried about what Russia might do to him for this.
The children skipped off together hand in hand as America quietly pined, his heart aching to reenact what he had witnessed. Every since he had come to live with Russia he had lived a life nearly devoid of physical and verbal affections. Sure, Russia gave the odd hug or bizarre compliment, but that wasn't enough. Nothing was ever enough for America.
He never could settle for the small things in life. Given a hug, he'd want a kiss, given a compliment, he'd want a sonnet. Given the opportunity to flap his wings, he'd want to soar. America rapped his fingernails against the armrest of the door as he wallowed in his loneliness. Russia was like that too, he decided, never able to settle with a single scrap, always wanting the whole meal. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if they gave into each other. Not a lot, only a bit. The smallest smidge.
America let out a low growl. Being stuck with Russia all day, all the time was messing with his head. It was like shoving teenagers together at a camp for a week and not excepting half of them to come back in one form of tangled relationship or another. He bumped his head restlessly against the back of his seat. Russia and relationships didn't go together. Not ever, not now.
And what was taking Russia so long, anyway? America played with the handle of the door, tugging it, letting it snap back, tugging it again. His vision became unfocused as he stared at the door of the music shop, waiting for it to open, waiting for Russia to come back. But it remained closed.
America continued to fiddle with the door handle, the snapping growing to an irritatingly quick pace as he plucked at it, his finger slipping on occasion in his haste. He snagged it more tightly, his finger yanking with impatience. The lock disengaged, the door springing open. America's hand immediately went to grab it, but missed my mere inches.
He looked at the open door, then the music shop, his eyes swiveling back and forth. He'd said he'd wait in the truck like a good little boy, yes, but Russia had also said he'd only be a moment. An eye for an eye, a lie for a lie. That was the way of the world, and in this case, a rather fair exchange. With one last glance at the store, America slipped from his seat and out in to the world, a sly smile gracing his lips.
----
A/N:
RUN, AMERICA, RUN LIKE THE WIND.
Russia's 'many horses' comment is meant to be a joke about horse power. Don't look at me, it's not my fault Russia can't tell one.
Reply
And with how this part ended, I am suspecting these things are, in fact, going down. *nervous anitcipation goes here*
I laughed at the horse power joke, by the way. I thought it was brilliant. *epic fail*
Reply
I've never commented before, but I thought I'd let you know this time how much I love this story and especially how you write America's thoughts and little comments like dogs' feet and the thing about the man law back when he ran around with the phone. And poor(?) Russia's just like a little kid trying to tame a small animal he caught in the back yard or something, wanting to be friends with it but just keeps being unhappy. ♥
I'm looking forward to the next chapter!!! This was a horribly cruel place to stop, though. I'm both cheering for America and horribly worried about what Russia might do to him for this.
Reply
RUN DAMMIT!
I DON'T EVEN CARE IF I'M BREAKING UP MY OTP!
Well, maybe just a little.
FREEDOM FIRST, AMERICA.
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