Holding Out For A Hero (part 3a)
anonymous
February 16 2011, 02:46:02 UTC
Christmas was always America's favorite time of the year. People got together and were a lot nicer than normal, the winter fashion, snowball fights, eggnog, Christmas trees, hot coco, really hyped up Christmas decorations, and of course, mistletoe and presents.
America had always made every Christmas party better than the last one--fuck the recession. Each year had to be more grand, more decorated, more Christmassy. This year, however, he decided to take the party to good ol' Houston (that's right, no one will be shoving snow into his shirt anymore like last year--yeah, fuck you Sweden, I'm gonna get get you someday. You too, Finland.). He figured that after the freak snowstorms, people would have been sick of snow already. He would have picked Hawaii this year if it hadn't been for the coconuts--he didn't want to inconvenience Russia*.
He had gone out of his way to meticulously--yes, meticulously--redecorate his house: he had the finest and awesomest Christmas tree shipped in, decorated it himself, and put it at the center of the house; he'd lined the entire house with so much Christmas lights that it could blind a person a mile away; he set up places where some groups of nations would most likely huddle and drink their asses off; he set up the sound system ahead of time, getting the largest and loudest speakers; he child-proofed most of the house under Switzerland's strict requests (which therefore meant no weapons or mounted dead animals on the walls and absolutely no fireworks[who the fuck had fireworks on Christmas anyway? It'd totally shoot Santa Claus out of the sky]); he padlocked the kitchen (also under Switzerland's requests); he set up consoles for video games in case his guests wanted to play; and he had the guests to ship in whatever they were planning to bring so they wouldn't be troubled by Christmas day. Oh yeah. Who said America was a scatterbrain?
More importantly, America had already set up where the mistletoe were going to be: one by the gifts (which were under the tree, as customary), one by the drinks, one by the stairs, and one in his bedroom. It was a very straight-forward approach. He'd learned, over the years, that peppering his house with dozens of them had greater tendency to backfire on him--especially putting one at the main door--very bad idea.
Everything had been ready. Russia would come over, holding his gift for America, while America held Russia's gift (America made sure they got each other every Christmas for Secret Santa), Russia would comment on how awesome his gift was and how handy he was despite what the others say, then he'd show Russia his really awesome tree and Russia was gonna comment about how pretty it was and how awesome America was at art and everything Christmassy (which he is) and he'd get his first mistletoe kiss, and then they were going to go by the drinks where Russia was going to say he was enjoying himself very much and America was like the greatest host ever and then he'd get his second mistletoe kiss, and then they'd play a couple of video games where America would let Russia win some of the games and he would win others, and then he would lead Russia up by the stairs, because he'd probably be kinda tired by now from the long flight and would want America to show him a room and this would be where he gets his third kiss, and then upon reaching the door of his room, he'd get his last mistletoe kiss before they...uh...well. Uhm. Spend a fun night together yeah. (He put everything they would probably need in a box under the bed.)
Well, at least, that's how it would have gone had the bastard actually bothered showing up.
America pushed at the reasonably abused controller button particularly hard, causing the button to get stuck for a few moments before it popped back up again as his virtual soldiers threw everything at a virtual Soviet barracks. It was already two in the morning. Most of his guests had already gone home because they were already too sick or too tired to party.
Holding Out For A Hero (part 3b)
anonymous
February 16 2011, 02:48:21 UTC
If Russia wasn't planning to come over, he could have said something! Fuck. He knew he should have talked to Medvedev that morning when the guy called his boss about START, but he had been kinda hesitant. If he knew this was going to happen, he would have at least said a casual 'hi', really.
He checked everything: the weather in Moscow, delays at the Domodedovo and Sheremetyevo airport, or any strikes there, but there were none. Nada. Zilch. He didn't understand why Russia still wasn't here. It was already two in the morning and there didn't seem to be any sign of him attending. He tried calling him but for some reason, he couldn't connect. He would have called Medvedev or Putin, but he didn't want to be obvious. Plus Putin didn't like him so much right now.
America tried to keep himself cheerful under the circumstances and connect with his other guests, but it was much harder to be all jolly and shit when everyone was avoiding telling him important things--lest they be exposed later on in wikileaks--something, that could have been avoided had a certain nation beside him at that very moment, did something.
"All right!" Australia howled in joy as he deployed bombs over the Soviet base, bouncing beside him on the couch with excitement.
He made to high-five America, but America merely answered with a terse, "No."
Australia gave him an uneasy smile. "Come on, mate, don't be like that," Australia pleaded with him, wearing an identical horrible looking sweater similar to the one America was wearing--most likely in an attempt at reconciliation. A feeble attempt. "You know he didn't do anything illegal."
America clutched the plastic controller so hard that there was a loud snap. "Not illegal?" he ground out, outraged. "He's exposing my national secrets to the public!"
Australia gulped. "Yes, but if it really was illegal, then you would have already been able to do something about it, right?"
He merely scowled at his brother and looked back at the screen. Yeah, okay, that was true, but that didn't account for the fact that Australia was his brother and ally and that meant they were supposed to protect each other's intererests.
Australia sighed. "All right, look," he said sounding resigned, "if you'll forgive me, I'll...I'll...let you ride Stevie. Once."
America looked back at him in shock. He didn't expect this. Stevie was Australia's pet kangaroo which America had been pleading to ride on for years. And by 'ride', he didn't mean ride on its pouch--he meant to be spun around with its foot like they did in the cartoons. Australia always argued that Stevie was too small and weak, which America knew was a downright lie--especially after he saw Stevie kick a hole through a brick wall that one time.
And he bet Australia did that stunt all the time, he just didn't want to share.
He licked his lips and tried to hide his excitement. He knew he was impulsive when he was excited. France had always told him, that if he waited, he might be able to get a better deal. He wondered what else he could possibly squeeze out of his brother.
"Well?" Australia asked.
He cleared his throat, feigning a nonchalant expression. "I don't know, man. I mean, it's not like you just exposed all of my secrets to the world and ruined my credibility..." He took a potato chip and ate it. Oh yeah.
Australia groaned. "What else do you want?"
America stopped smiling internally. Okay. So he didn't actually want anything else from Australia, but he knew he couldn't just stop there. It'd make him look like a pushover. There's gotta be some sort of punishment in this for Australia.
"You don't want anything else, do ya?" Australia asked, a smirk ghosting in his expression.
Fuck it all, let me think. "You're seriously not getting away from this with just a kangaroo ride."
"I can bring you a pav."
"You already brought me one today and I could always ask Kiwi for one."
"Yeah but mine's the origina--ow!"
America didn't even need to see what happened. New Zealand obviously flicked the elder brother in the neck. Kid had a mean set of fingers. "Hey Kiwi."
"Hey America," New Zealand greeted back. "And mine's the original."
"No it isn't," Australia grunted, slapping away the offending hand away.
Holding Out For A Hero (part 3c)
anonymous
February 16 2011, 02:50:05 UTC
Normally, America would tell them to cut it out, because that's what heroes do, but right now, Australia deserved that and more. So America poked him repeatedly hard on the cheek as well.
"Quit it--"
America struggled to play with just one hand and continued assaulting the other who was trying to slap three hands (because New Zealand used two hands this time) away from him.
"Stop that," said Wales' voice above him, followed by a cold ring being pressed on the top of his head.
"He started it," America grumbled, stopping his assualt, as he reached up and grabbed the cold beverage that was rested on his head.
"Wee jimmies will be wee jimmies!" he heard Scotland shout drunkenly behind him.
Who the fuck is Jimmy?
"Oy," Wales hissed, annoyed because Scotland probably shouted in his ear.
"I'm a girl!" New Zealand huffed in frustration.
At this, America's brows shot up and he looked at New Zealand, who looked sort of pissed. "You are?"
She scowled at him this time. "Why do I have to keep telling you guys?"
"No, really, you are?" America asked, wide-eyed.
"Yes!"
America snorted. "Yeah right." This was probably another practical joke or something.
"Wales!" she whined.
Wales patted her head as Scotland just snickered around his shoulder. "They're just playin'." Then he looked at America. "You shouldn't be playing games like that. What if Russia sees you?"
It was America's turn to scowl this time and he returned to his game, which he forgot to pause. Good thing he already built up his defenses. "He ain't coming anyway."
"Really?"
America nodded, taking a sip of his drink while watching the game closely. An unfamiliar brand of liquid passed between his lips, which he spit out almost immediately. "What the fuck is--" he said, and then stopping as he read the label. He looked back at Wales. "Paulaner? What happened to my Bud?"
The other sighed, rearranging Scotland so he doesn't choke on the other's beefy arms. "England an' the Nordics hoarded 'em all. German beer's the only thing he wouldn't touch."
America cursed under his breath. England had been acting up since they came. He just wished his beer didn't have to take the consequences. His shoulders tensed as he remembered something. He needed to interrogate France about those warships he sold to that asshole who was too good to attend his party. "Where's France?"
Scotland hiccuped. "Th' lest time Ah saw heem was when 'at mistletoe by th' stairs an' pit it oan his belt."
America took a few seconds to recognize some words: he got 'mistletoe', 'stairs' and 'belt'. His eyes widened in horror. "Did France take that mistletoe by the stairs and put it on his belt?!" he asked, if only to confirm if his translation was right.
"Aye."
God damn it.
"Yoo're nae plannin' oan takin' it back, ur ye?"
"What...?"
"He's askin' if you're plannin' on takin' it back," Australia translated for him flatly.
"Hell no!" America exclaimed in disgust. Having a mistletoe or anything near France's crotch was a lost cause. It was pretty much like a wayward spaceship near a black hole. There was no point in going after it. Fuck. He'll talk to him next time.
Scotland snickered and wobbled over to the space between Australia and America, leaning his elbows on the headrest of the couch so he wouldn't fall off. "Sae, laddie...I hear Russia isnae haur yit?"
"America says he isn't coming," Australia confirmed, before America could even try to process what the guy said.
"Ah see..." Scotland said, then he turned to America. "Ain where's yer brither?"
It took America a few seconds before he digested that. The guy could have a totally weird accent when he wanted, but at least America got the word 'brother' in so he must have been talking about Canada. "I dunno probably chugging down maple-flavored Molson or something."
"Ooooh that's nae a guid sign."
America's eye twitched. Somehow, he understood that one quickly, maybe because of the tone he used. "What are you talking about?" he asked carefully.
"Aam nae sayin' anythin'. It's jist 'at th' lad has a wee french in heem."
After taking the time to translate it, it still didn't make sense. "So?"
"An' Englain brooght heem up tay."
America understood 'brought him up' and 'England'. "So? They both brought me up too."
Holding Out For A Hero (part 3d)
anonymous
February 16 2011, 02:52:37 UTC
"Exactly! 'at means ye cannae troost heem tay much."
America's eyes narrowed in confusion, first at the accent, and then upon deciphering it, the meaning itself. Was he insinuating that Russia and Canada had a thing for each other? That was ridiculous. And totally gross. Even if Canada did kinda look like America a little. "That's ridiculous," America said. "They hate each other! They almost tore each other apart for that hockey tournament shit."
Scotland clapped his hands together much like a Eureka moment. "That's reit! They baith loch ice hockey, dornt they? They hae a lot in common."
America understood only the 'lot in common' part, but that was enough to make him incensed. Sure, they were the largest counrties in the world. Sure they both live in igloos. Sure they both like polar bears. Sure they like hockey like their lives depended on it, but that wasn't enough to be a basis for a relationship! Russia and him had a lot in common too! Like....like...love for outer space...and...and...and...nuclea--no. Okay. And...uh...and...and...and...uh...
And.
America frowned hard at the screen.
"America," Wales said gently. "Don't listen te him."
"Dornt fash yerse abit me!" Scotland said with a loud jolly laugh. "Aam jist showin' ye th' possibilities. efter aw, it seems loch ye inherited yer faither's bad luck in loove."
America got 'possibilties', 'inherited', 'father', 'love' and 'bad luck' in what Scotland said. He gripped his controller. He so knew that Scotland was going to go on about how he and England were so alike (which they're not, thank you very much. America is obviously way awesomer) and then he was going to talk about some other obscure scar he got from England, yadda-yadda-yadda. Sometimes he wished the guy would shut his trap when he was drunk.
Wales conked him on the head. "Stop that."
"Aam jist warnin' th' laddie," Scotland said good-naturedly. "Besides," he caught America's cheek in a light pinch, "he an' Englain ur sae alike."
America slapped his hand away. "No we're not," he grumbled.
"Och, did ye see 'at, Weels? Exactly loch 'at bratty radge."
America decided to ignore him--mostly because he didn't know what the hell 'radge' meant and partly because he wasn't in the mood.
Wales sighed but didn't do anything.
"Ah min' th' time Englain chibbed me in mah shoolder wi' a spear fur bein' friends wi' Frrance."
"Scotland, we already heard about that," Australia said, rolling his eyes.
Scotland laughed. "Aye. Ay coorse ye did. but Ah want America tae ken abit it tay."
"I really don't wanna know," America said with a shudder. Scotland tended to be too graphic, and America...well, it's not like he got nightmares which would prompt him to have a sleepover with Canada or anything, but he didn't want his siblings to get scared, you know? After all, if New Zealand really were a girl, she'd probably be real scared and shit.
"I've never heard of it," New Zealand piped up. "Come on, tell us!"
Pfffsh. New Zealand was so in denial about being scared.
"Don't encourage him," Wales said quietly.
"It was efter th' revol--"
"Ye're not going to tell that story on Christmas day, Scotland," Wales said softly but with authority.
Scotland glared, or at least tried his best to glare at him, and then continued, "If Ah waur ye, eh'd keep an yak oan 'at loon."
"What...?"
"Watch Canada," he said, being pretty clear this time.
"There's no danger with Canada," Wales said, conking Scotland on the head again. "Besides, Russia can't even see him. He accidentally sat on him in one meeting, didn't he?"
"More than one," Australia piped up.
"But whit if he was sittin' oan heem fur anither reason?"
America heard the plastic on his controller snap and bile go up his throat. God, why the hell did his brain translate really disgusting statements like that so fast?!
He heard Wales give a long-suffering sigh, while he heard a small snort from Australia.
"I-I don't even know what to say to you," America said, trying to keep himself from vomitting.
"Aye, Ah was jist jokin' aroond!" Scotland shouted into his ear whilst slapping his shoulder particularly hard in a supposedly friendly way. "'Sides, Ah heard he likes China noo."
Holding Out For A Hero (part 3e)
anonymous
February 16 2011, 02:54:14 UTC
At this point, America snapped. "NOBODY FUCKING LIKES CHINA!!!"
"America," he heard Canada's scolding voice.
He quickly shot his well-practiced kicked-puppy look at his brother who was holding a tray of mulled wine mugs. "They started it."
He sighed and gave Wales and Scotland The Look™. "Don't you two have anything better to do?"
Scotland swayed, giving him a wide grin. "Ah woods if Oz gits aff his crease."
America pursed his lips after a few seconds. Okay, he still can't understand that. "What'd he say?"
"He wants Australia to go with him," Wales said quietly.
"Oh no," America said, his face scrunching up. "You're not taking Oz. He's playing with me!" Australia was actually the only one, aside from Hong Kong (South Korea's prodigy), he could play with without feeling bad about himself. He'd already tried playing with South Korea, but the guy would never let him win. Playing with Canada was also out of the question because he could be such a passive-aggressive jerk when it came to video games. Japan--well, for some reason, he always seemed to win too easily despite the fact tha Japan was supposed to be better than he was. Plus he was kinda weird sometimes, the way he fidgets and goes red often. Must be an Asian thing.
He felt someone flick him on the forehead. He shook his head, as if waking up. "W-W-Whu...t...?"
"You doing all right, mate?" Australia asked, with an arched brow.
America looked at him with narrowed eyes and then looked around behind him. "Where'd everybody go?"
"They left when ya spaced out," Australia said with a small smile. "Canada and New Zealand took Scotland and Wales somewhere else."
"Oh." He should really watch himself when he spaces out. But he can't really help it, you know? People like telling him to think about things more, and actually, he does. He doesn't really know why people say he doesn't. He thinks about things a lot. Sometimes, when somebody forces him out of his thoughts, he gets this knee-jerk reaction where he does the first thing that comes into his mind. But honestly, he thinks about things a lot. It's just that he gets distracted easily. Like, how would it be if he could fly? That'd be really cool. Especially if he could fly as fast as Superman. That'd be super awesome. He wondered, would Superman be as awesome if he had wings instead of a cape? He'd be like some kinda angel, for sure, but he'd probably fly a lot slower because of the wind resistance, plus wouldn't his wings hurt if he flew at that speed? (Maybe that's why Angel flies a lot slower than Superman.) And what's up with the cape thing anyway? It doesn't really help with speed or--
He felt a sudden sting on his arm and he yelped and almost lost his virtual cavalry.
"You spaced out again, mate," Australia said, frowning. "Ya know, if you stop spacing out so much, you'd have better memory. Then you'd have an easier time remember everyone's name--"
"Hey, Oz, do you think Superman would be as awesome if he had wings instead of a cape?"
Australia looked at him, confused for some reason. "...what?"
"Do you think Superman would be as awesome if he had wings instead of a cape?" he repeated.
There were a few moments of silence. Man, Australia can be slow sometimes. "...yes...?"
"Awesome," America said with a smile. He thought so. Superman was always awesome, regardless of any modifications.
"I think, before you start on that, you need to get your feet on the ground first."
"Dude, you have no idea. I'd give anything to get off the ground without some jet or machine or something."
"Perhaps I can be throwing Amerika into sky? For old time's sake."
America whirled around immediately, dropping his controller. Russia was standing right behind him, and he didn't even make a sound. Holy fuck, did he turn into a ninja? America felt his heart hammer in his chest.
Good God, it should be illegal to look that good. Russia was wearing a sexy black sweater with his trademark scarf wrapped comfortably around his neck. His jeans snugged his ass in a way that made America's breath catch in his throat. America could have sworn this was a seduction if he didn't know that Russia was unaware of America's feelings for him.
Holding Out For A Hero (part 3f)
anonymous
February 16 2011, 02:55:58 UTC
Russia straightened up, his person catching into the shine of the Christmas lights, making him sparkle. No shit, he was really sparkling. What the hell?!?! America felt himself blush.
Russia gave him his non-psycho killer smile, which made America melt. "I am always good at aeronautics. Flight should not be problem." Then he turned to Australia. "Privyet, Avstraliya."
"Hello," Australia said in a small sheepish voice.
America didn't even realize that he was staring at the sparkling Russia until Australia kicked him gently on the ribs. He shook his head, trying to get his thoughts in place. "H-Hey. Y-You." He facepalmed inwardly.
"Privyet," Russia said with a smile. "I am sorry I am being late. There have been many unprecedented delays. I was not able to make call."
America stood up so fast he almost knocked Russia's face with his forehead. "H-Hey, it's no biggie. I-I guess Aeroflot musta been having a full house today, huh?"
Russia chuckled. "Ah, I was not riding Aeroflot for today. I decide to board Aircanada because it was having soonest schedule."
America merely looked at him. Canada?
"Do not be worrying. Ottawa was beautiful city covered in snow. Very much like homeland. I was feeling very much at home with nice people. It has been long time since my last visit."
America swallowed. Maybe Scotland had a point earlier? He shook his head again, willing the thoughts away. Canada wasn't going to betray him, no way. "Wow...uh...I don't...I don't know what to say..."
Russia tilted his head, looking at the game screen behind America where virtual Soviet soldiers were being run over by tanks. With lightning speed, America quickly unplugged the console, earning a small cry of protest from Australia.
"America was playing video games?"
"What?" America asked, his tone high-pitched. "I wasn't playing. Who's playing? What are video games? I've never ever heard of them in my life. You're talking nonsense. How's the weather outside?" Real smooth.
"Weather is cold but no snow," Russia informed him, maintaining his smile, then he looked down to what had been America's seat earlier. Where he'd put the CDs. Of Soviet war games. And Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. Fuck.
"Ame--"
America quickly took them and threw them across the room. Somebody yelped in pain as they got hit by the plastic cases.
Russia looked towards where America had thrown the CDs. "Was that bei--"
"Uh...hey, you really had long delays, I mean, it's already two in the morning."
Russia looked back at him. "Da. But I am not being angry."
America pulled Russia away from the video games before he could find anything more that could hurt America's chance of getting lucky tonight. "Why was it delayed though?"
"I do not know," Russia answered. "I was not told reason."
America pushed down the thought that screamed that Canada was up to something.
"Ah!" Russia exclaimed, looking like he remembered something. He rummaged throgh his pockets and showed America a piece of paper that had the word 'America' printed out on it. "It appears that I am having you again for Secret Santa this year, da?"
"Wow, what a total coincidence! Me too!" America exclaimed, feeling a little guilty at rigging the secret Santa assignments. Russia really seemed to be buying that they keep getting each other out of a computer glitch. He felt bad for lying to him to his face.
"That is being strange," Russia said, smile not wavering. "Perhaps you should be letting Estoniya take a look at your systems, da? So that you will not be having more problems with technology."
Great, now he looked like an idiot. At least that was way better than being seen as a liar.
Okay, he needed to stay positive. It's Christmas eve, and he was going to get at least one mistletoe kiss before the party was over. More importantly, he made his gift for Russia! Oh yeah. Canada had always commented about how he wasn't handy. Hahaha Take that, ya lousy Canuck! America was so totally handy, he just didn't feel like getting his hands dirty all the time, that's all. But he was totally handy and artistic, no matter what Canada said.
Holding Out For A Hero (part 3g)
anonymous
February 16 2011, 02:59:02 UTC
America blinked. Damn, he spaced out again. He quickly rushed over to the closet and pulled out his gift, then rushed back to Russia. Usually, he would spend lots of time thinking of what to buy for Christmas as early as August, but this time, he settled to a home-made gift after Michelle commented on how these kinds of gifts were so much sweeter than those you buy from the mall. He spent months on this little art project. He always heard about Russia loving sunflowers but not getting enough of them in a year. So, America decided to make him one. America decided on Russia's gift using simple arithmetic--adding in everything that Russia liked. The keywords he'd come up with were 'sunflower', 'faucet pipes', 'Winnie the Pooh' and 'wool'. So he made an artificial sunflower of faucet pipes with a cute Winnie the Pooh plushie clutching at its stem and a brown piece of wool stuck at the bottom to hold it in place in the clay pot he made himself. All in all, it costed around half the price of a second-hand car. Don't ask how that happened, it just did.
Russia's smile, if anything, grew a little wider along with his eyes. "Amerika, what is this?"
"It's your gift!" America said, pushing his gift toward Russia who accepted it after looking at it for a few moments--probably struck by its awesomeness or something.
"Amerika...is learning how to weld metal. How nice."
America raised a brow at him. "Dude, I've always known how to weld metal."
"Ah," Russia said, setting his gift aside. "My gift is being outside. You are wanting to see--"
Before Russia could even finish his sentence, America had already run out the door in excitement. Ohgodohgodohgod what could it be? It was probably something fucking huge if it needed to be outside. Could it be a plane? Or a rocket? HOLY FUCKING SHIT, A SPACESHIP?!?!?! He wrenched the door open pretty hard, almost tearing the door off its hinges.
America's eyes bulged and his smile grew so wide that it could've split his face. In front of him was a sleigh tied to three majestic-looking horses that looked like it came out from a Disney princess movie.
"A troika!" Russia said in that quiet grand way of his as soon as he caught up with him. "This is reason why I was being late. I am remembering that you have not ridden in one, da?"
"Yes. Absolutely! This is going to be my first time riding it!" Which was, definitely an outright lie. He had, actually, already ridden a troika, back in his younger days. Being young and reasonably newly independent, America (because of his little puppy crush on Russia) had tried driving a troika by himself. He had no prior experience and it therefore predictably ended in him mildly fracturing his elbow, splitting his lip and having the nail from his right big toe pulled out clean off. Thank God he was a nation. Only James Madison knew about it, and it was never mentioned again, for obvious reasons. But despite the trauma it was threatening to resurface, America found himself more than willing to ride in once again, because, really--this spelled romance in bright cheesy blinking neon lights. Sure, it wasn't a space ship ride with an "A Whole New World" style to it, but this--this spelt Disney romance, and America, among other things, was always romantic.
He wasn't going to let this pass even if he had to lose a tooth for it.
He looked up at Russia, with loving eyes, with the intent to thank him for the romantic gesture but stopped before he could start at the sight of Russia's frown. "What's wrong?"
Russia bit his lip in that cute way he always did. "I was hoping that there would be snow because of frozen East Coast. We cannot be riding with such a carriage."
He was right. Damn. Why'd this have to happen when he picked Houston this year?
"Hey, don't worry about it," he cooed Russia, despite feeling the disappointment as well. "We can ride it again some other time, okay?" Although in truth, he would have ridden it even without the snow.
"We should be setting date later when we are not busy, da?"
Holding Out For A Hero (part 3h)
anonymous
February 16 2011, 03:01:37 UTC
"We should be setting date later when we are not busy, da?"
America looked at his Russkie bear, feeling warmth spread through his chest. This was enough. Sure, he didn't get to ride it with him (and maybe at the back of his mind, he really was relieved), but the fact that Russia had gone through so much just to give him this--it was enough. He grinned up at Russia.
"You will be loving it," Russia continued, looking back at his gift. "Kitai was very afraid of his turn."
Wait, what?
He felt his jaw stiffen. "C-China's ridden one too?"
"Da."
He swallowed. "With--With you?"
"Da," Russia said with a chuckle. "He was very terrified of speed."
America opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Damn it. Even if he didn't attend, China was still ruining his time with Russia. But wait, he acted like a wuss, didn't he? The thought of China showing himself to be a wuss emboldened him. When it was his turn, he was going to show bravery like a true hero. He wasn't going to be a sissy. He smiled. China was probably a gigantic turn off that time. He laughed. "I could imagine."
"Da. He would not release me from embrace even after the ride."
America's jaw dropped. Oh that fucking whore.
Russia yawned. "We must get back inside. America is not very fond of the cold."
America frowned, hardly noticing that he had been shivering. Russia merely smiled at him and glided inside, America following his trail.
He inhaled deeply. Okay, positive thoughts, positive thoughts. If he was going to make this Christmas memorable, he had to think positive and stop focusing at breaking China's face by accident with his elbow in the next meeting. Negativity wasn't going to attract Russia.
Time for some mistletoe action.
"Hey," he said, falling in step with the larger nation.
"Hmmmm?"
America ducked as a flying bottle of beer whizzed above his head. "You must be thirsty from that really long trip, right?"
"Hmmmm...now that you are mentioning it..."
America brightened at this. "Great!" he grabbed Russia's wrist. "Come on--" he tugged, but Russia refused to move. He looked back at the larger nation.
"It is all right, Amerika," he said with a smile, brandishing a bottle of vodkha with the hand that America wasn't gripping on. "I am being prepared. No need for you to struggle in crowd for beverage."
Never in his life had America looked at a bottle of vodkha with so much venom. Okay, so that's two mistletoe destinations down. Or maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe if, you know, Russia's vodkha just happened to drop and crash on the floor, he'd need another drink. And if he was lucky, Russia would catch him in his arms, which would hopefully lead to...well, you know. America smiled inwardly.
"Hey, that's great--" he started, before intentionally falling over, his hand mindfully raised up to knock the bottle out of the other's hand.
It was all in slow motion, he could see it, as the wind rushed against his face, Russia's eyes slowly widened and he lost his balance--his hand was there--almost--almost--but Russia's lightning speed got the bottle out of the way and soon, America's face was intimately acquainted with his floor.
Fuck.
"Amerika is already being drunk, da?" Russia asked America who was face down on his floor, casually. The bottle safe in his grip.
America sprang up almost immediately. "No! No, why would you say that? I never even drank anything the whole night!"
"Ah! Clumsy then."
America internally berated himself. Great, aside from being technologically impaired, he was a clumsy idiot too. This was definitely an off-day for him. Plus he can't try to knock the bottle out of Russia's hand now, it'd look mighty suspicious.
Then, all of a sudden, a football flew out of nowhere and hit Russia's hand, knocking the bottle into the ground where it shattered like a newly-laid egg. The sound was akin to choirs of cherubs singing the Star-Spangled banner. America would have shed tears of admiration. Nothing could be more beautiful.
Russia sent a particularly powerful death glare to the general direction of where the football came from, which was oddly devoid of people in a matter of nanoseconds. America knew he invited the right people to his party.
Holding Out For A Hero (part 3i)
anonymous
February 16 2011, 03:05:01 UTC
"So..." America said, doing his hardest to keep the goofy grin off his face. "Let's get a drink then?"
Russia looked back at him again, smiling in a way that reminded America of the freezing gulag in his nightmares. "Not to be worrying, Amerika," Russia said, whipping out another bottle of vodkha pretty much like an awesome sherriff would have done with a gun. America would have stared in awe if it didn't just ruin his plans again. "I have come prepared."
"B-B-B--"
"Besides, I am thinking Kanada is enjoying drinking station, da?" he said cheerfully, cocking his head towards the said area,
America raised an eyebrow at him and then turned his head towards that direction, his jaw dropping at the sight.
Canada was there, under the mistletoe he'd put up. His face was...well, there was no other proper way to describe it: his face was being assaulted by Denmark's mouth. It almost looked like the guy was trying to eat him. Both of his arms were trapped to his sides as Denmark's hands helped themselves with Canada's behind.
Lucky bastard. That mistletoe was supposed to be for his and Russia's use!
"We should not be interfering," Russia adviced, holding his elbow and leading him elsewere. They were almost back to the couch, now devoid of Australia, when America remembered about the mistletoe by the gifts.
He stopped Russia and started leading him over towards that location. "Hey, hey, let's go over to the gifts!"
"But Amerika has already given gift."
Shit. That's right. He was sort of embarassed about putting Russia's gift with the others because he knew France or England was going to comment about how it wasn't artistic. Snobby bastards. "Uh...yeah, but...uh...there's uh...there's a big...a huge Christmas tree over there!" he said, suddenly remembering the Christmas tree he had painstakingly decorated.
"Da, I am seeing it from here," Russia said plainly. "I am not wanting to go near it."
America frowned. "Why not?"
"It is having too much glitte--"
"Russie!" Someone shouted from behind them. They both turned around to see France, who was thankfully fully clothed still, although the colour of his face gave away a hint that he was already probably drunk. Germany came behind him.
"Frantsiya!" Russia cried, taking France in a rib-crushing embrace.
America felt a twinge of jealousy. Russia never greeted him like that.
Russia released him, but they were still holding hands like an excited--
"Bunch of girls," slipped through America's mouth before he could stop himself. God damn his sharp humorous wit.
France and Russia took a moment to glare at him, the latter's glare making his insides shrink, before putting attention back to each other.
"When did you arrive? I did not see you come in earlier!"
"It was being a few minutes ago. I was having problems with flight."
"Oh, but you don't look it, mon cher," France purred, fixing Russia's scarf. Oh now, wait a minute. That scarf was a no-touching zone! Why was France allowed to touch it? "You're even wearing glitter! Your skin is practically sparkling!" he added with a strange expression on his face that was directed at America.
"It is not intentional," Russia said with a small smile. "I am not being able to remove it when I sneeze at large glittery neon invitation."
America felt heat in his ears. Oh god, he wasn't going to talk about the invitation, right? He was the one who received the largest (and awesomest) one. The rest had received the same generic ones(except for China). If France found out about it, he wouldn't hear the end of it.
France quirked an eyebrow at him. "Invitation?"
"Da. Its being invitation for this--"
"So how do you like the party so far, France?" America cut in, rather hastily.
France looked at him, bewildered. "It is fine, mon cher. A very American Christmas, if I do say so myself."
America grinned at him widely. Oh yeah. That just meant it was the awesomest Christmas in the entire world.
"That is being interesting choice of belt buckle, Frantsiya," Russia commented.
France looked back at him. "Oui," said in his most sultry voice. "It is the belt buckle of l'Amour de Noel."
Holding Out For A Hero (part 3j)
anonymous
February 16 2011, 03:08:07 UTC
At this, Germany flushed bright red from behind France.
"Eh?"
"Mistletoe, mon cher!" France said, laughing. "You know the tradition, non? You must kiss the person nearest--"
And before America or Germany could stop it from happening, Russia leaned down and pecked France on the lips. America's jaw dropped in terror. That was supposed to be his kiss!
"I have fulfilled tradition?"
France giggled, "Rightly so."
America grabbed Russia by the elbow. "Uh...let's go over there in the kitchen! See you two later, France!"
France bade them goodbye and Russia followed his lead meekly.
"Is something wrong, Amerika?"
"No," America said, scowling. Just that some other guy got kissed and hugged by you while I got none.
"Where are we going?"
"To the kitchen," America said absent-mindedly, unlocking the padlock he put on the kitchen door. "I kinda want some burgers and I'm pretty sure England already finished the first batch."
He opened the door. They stopped at the doorway at the sight of Mexico and some former Soviet guy making out under another mistletoe, which he didn't even put up. Wait, so some people brought their own mistletoe? And wait, they fucking picked his lock and locked the kitchen again so they can make-out?! What the hell?
"It seems that guests are enjoying Christmas decorations," Russia observed.
A little too much. This was ridiculous. Why was everybody else benefitting from the decorations except him?
"I am thinking we should let them be," Russia said, leaving America to glare at the couple for a few seconds before following the taller man.
Okay, so the last two mistletoe destinations left were: the one by the Christmas tree and the one in his room. He still had chances.
America led him to the Christmas tree by going through pretty much the entire house so that Russia didn't realize that he was being led to the tree. He was going to get his Christmas kiss by hook or by crook. They stopped just a few feet away from it.
"It is beautiful," Russia said, smiling at his awesome Christmas tree.
Damn right, it was.
"Are those being matryoshka?" his guest asked curiously, narrowing his eyes at the make-shift matryoshka decorations he put up in the tree. He'd put up a lot of other decorations that represented his friends, after all, it was Christmas and he wanted something that symbolized the whole world being close together. Although naturally, he surrounded matryoshka dolls with his plastic burger and cowboy hat decorations, which seemed to take the shape of a heart, now that he was looking at it again.
He blushed. He didn't really mean for that to happen, but hopefully Russia catches the hint somehow. He looked at Russia, who was practically sparkling under the Christmas lights. His breath caught in his throat. It was almost like he got sprayed by Tinkerbell's fairy dust, or fireflies or whatever. Or maybe he was just really that beautiful.
Russia reached out and touched the decoration that was supposed to represent him, and then looked at his fingers which were now covered in gold glitter. "Glitter," he said with a voice that almost sounded like that of horror but it couldn't be because this was Christmas and there was nothing wrong with glitter. "It is very nice."
"Thanks," America said, blushing some more, and then he noticed that the mistletoe was directly above them. This couldn't have happened in a better background. They were directly in front of America's subliminal decoration, with the Christmas lights making Russia sparkle. America grinned widely and closed his eyes, puckering his lips slightly as Russia and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
He cracked one eye open and saw Russia looking at him with a raised brow. "Did Amerika get glitter in eye?"
"W-What?"
Russia took his wrist. "Come, we should be washing it out with water. Where is bathroom?"
"I-I don't want to go to the bathroom!" Damn it, they were under a mistletoe right here! Why the fuck would they go somewhere without one?
Russia looked at him in surprise. "You are wanting for me to wash it out with vodkha?"
"No!" America said, almost in tears. God damn it, how can he not see it? It was practically six inches from his forehead!
Russia let go of his wrist. "I am not understanding problem."
Holding Out For A Hero (part 3k)
anonymous
February 16 2011, 03:09:55 UTC
"Okay," America inhaled. "I don't have glitter in my eyes."
"Ah," Russia said, confusion only slightly leaving his expression. "You were looking as if you were in pain."
"I wasn't," America said, swallowing. He quickly tried to think of a way to make Russia notice the mistletoe right above them. Okay, he can still do this while keeping his pride. "Hey...uh...you had a long flight, right?"
"...da..." Russia replied rather warily.
"You should...uh...do that neck exercise thing, you know, in case it's sore and all," he said, placing his hands on both sides of Russia's face, planning to manuever his head so that he'd face the ceiling.
"But I am not being sore," Russia said with a little scowl, similar to that of a child's, head not moving, despite America's insistence.
What's this guy's neck made out of, a tree trunk?! "Oh, now, how would you know that if you don't try?" he said weakly. He could use full force, but he might break Russia's neck and that was probably unromantic. He only wanted to kiss the guy, not kill him.
"You are wanting me to be hurt?" Russia asked, an air of creepiness slowly moving about him.
"No, no," America said, still holding his head. "I just don't want you to...um...you know...get a sore neck."
"I have already said that I am not being sore."
"Ya know, if you don't do that head tilt thing, you're gonna lose feeling on that" pretty "neck o' yours."
The other raised an eyebrow at him. "Is this being American superstition?"
"Uh...yeah, sure! Let's go with that. Christmas tradition of sorts"
Russia sighed. "Very well," he said, and then quickly bent his head left and right. "Are we being finished now?"
America gawked at him. "What, that's it?"
"Da. Neck is feeling refreshed, Amerika was correct."
His eye twitched. This was getting ridiculous. "You should do that up and down thing too."
"Up and down?"
"Yeah, like...uh...this," he said, demonstrating to Russia.
"You are saying that I should be nodding as well?"
"Uh...yeah, whatever."
Russia narrowed his eyes at him for a few seconds before complying. Russia bowed his head down, and here it is! He's gonna fucking see the mistletoe, YES!
"Ah!" Russia hissed in pain, closing his eyes just as he was about to face the ceiling. America immediately released him in panic.
"Oh God Ohmygod what's wrong?" He didn't break his neck, did he?
Russia rubbed at his neck, eyes still closed in agony. "Amerika was being right," he gasped out. "Neck is hurting from long flight."
America swallowed. "Do you need to lie down or something?"
"Nyet," Russia said, breathing slowly. "I am being fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Da. Please to not worry."
America gulped. Okay, so he can't make Russia look up. Damn it. But what was more important was Russia's comfort, right? But he was so close to his kiss! So close. Russia can still look up without hurting his neck, right? But how do you make people look up?
"Amerika?"
"Uh...hey, uh...would you mind looking up?" Real creative.
"Eh?"
"Uh...you uh..."
"Is this being silly tradition again?"
"Uh...yeah...tradtion...right. T-Tell me what you see."
Russia's eyes rolled up. Yes. He was gonna see the mistletoe and they were gonna kiss. FUCK YES.
"Ah, giant moth is being on ceiling," Russia said, bored. "Amerika should have pest control."
What? America looked up. True enough, there was a giant moth on the mistletoe, whose markings strangely resembled a big smile--like God was laughing at his face or something. "Oh come on," he exclaimed, really annoyed. Somebody was definitely out to get him. How did a moth just suddenly fly up there and cover the whole fucking thing?
"Da, we should be going. Moth might attack Amerika's clothes, da?"
"T-That wasn't what I wanted you to see."
"Hmmmm? Ah. Da. Ceiling is also very nice. No web of spider."
GOD DAMN IT.
Russia turned to leave, but America clucthed the hem of his sleeve. He was going to get his fucking kiss, damn it! He didn't get one last year, and the year before that. He wasn't going to let this day pass without his dream Christmas kiss under the mistletoe. Russia turned around to look at him. "Amerika?"
Just, please, kiss me. He swallowed. "Y-You can't leave," he said, eyes trained on Russia's shoes.
Holding Out For A Hero (part 3l)
anonymous
February 16 2011, 03:11:44 UTC
"Me. You. We gotta..." the words died in his throat. What was he supposed to say? If he asked for a kiss, Russia might put meaning to it, get scared and push him away like he did when the Bolsheviks came into power. And that would put all his hardwork for nothing. He didn't want them to end up like France and England, who hated each other so much that it gave them energy. He didn't want a Romeo and Juliet kind of story.
"Amerika?" Russia asked, hand reaching out to touch his jaw lightly.
He felt like crying. This was unfair. He was never good at all this subtle flirting stuff. "I...I..." I want you to kiss me.
"Is Amerika catching cold?" he asked casually, as if he was asking if it was raining outside.
"No," he said, still looking at Russia's shoes, he could feel the bridge of his nose start to hurt as he tried to keep the tears in.
"Is Amerika afraid of giant moth?"
America shook his head, shutting his eyes. A few moments of silence passed.
"Amerika...skaji mena," Russia said almost tenderly, making America's eyes meet his. "Shto eta?"
"I-It's just...I..."
"Da?"
Somebody gasped a few feet away from them. Russia looked at the direction of the gasp and saw Liechten...Leichten...Liechtenberg with her hands covering her mouth and alternating a glance between them and the ceiling.
Russia looked up again. "Oh! Look, Amerika! There is being mistletoe in ceiling."
His heart thudded loudly in his chest and his mouth was dry. Oh god, this made up so much for Switzerland making sure that he made the whole place child proof.
Russia looked back down at him. "It seems I have to fulfill tradition again, da?" he said, with a slight quirk on his lips.
America swallowed and closed his eyes.
Big warm hands held the sides of his face and Russia's warm lips descended gently upon his. America gasped a little. Russia took advantage of this and slipped his tongue in. America obliged by opening his mouth a little more, his hands going around Russia's waist.
He was dimly aware of camera flashes around them, which was probably either Hungary or Japan or both. He'd have to get them later. Or get someone else to get them later. That would be the most awesome Christmas gift ever.
And then someone made a barfing sound. "Scheisse, that's the most disgusting thing I--"
"Shhhh! You're ruining the moment!" he heard Hungary hiss. Hungary then. He'd have to get the pictures somehow.
America held Russia tighter to his body and deepened the kiss, continued drinking Russia in. He had waited for so long for this kiss, but it was worth it. Russia pulled away slightly.
"S RozhdestvOm, Amerika," Russia whispered tenderly against his lips.
"W-What...?" America asked, still dazed from the kiss.
"Merry Christmas," Russia said with a chuckle.
"Hmmmm," he hummed, before Russia took his lips again. Merry Christmas indeed.
*-More on this later.
Belated Happy Valentine's day!
Kind of long and hopefully not too pointless. Anyway, this will be the last chapter in America's point of view for a while. I want a little bit of elbow room. Hahaha
I'm sorry I'm extremely late. My laptop died so now my computer time is cut by 70% and I couldn't get everything I wrote. So I had to rewrite everything, and then I decided I didn't like the previous version of this so much so I completely rewrote it too and then had this huge writer's block. Damn it. Sorry, OP. I'll try not to disappear again. And I'm sorry for the typo on Middle East. I type too fast sometimes.
And guess what? I have a title now! Okay, so maybe some other US-related fanfics way better than this already used this title but if I get no violent reaction, I ain't chnagin' it. :D
Newsbits I used: 1. Medvedev calling Obama about the START's success in the US. 2. France selling Russia two war ships. Now four. 3. Junior Hockey tournament between Russia and Canada.
Replies: @anon1 I hope the Denmark/Canada mistletoe action satisfied you. Hahaha || I like torturing England. Expect glimpses of him to be less than rosy. :P So you're still checking up on Long September even after it's been long finished? I have to say, I'm flattered.
@Southeastasiananon Well, we typically have this special mass you attend at 4 in the morning for nine days until Christmas comes. Everybody in the family is present at Christmas. And then we have this great feast made up of roast pig, special sweet treats, pasta, etc that we eat at midnight--it's actually just everything you've ever wanted to eat put in a table for you to eat in one night. Sometimes karaoke is involved, sometimes we play video games until morning. It's awesome. Then we have masses again, but this time it's back to the regular schedule. Catholic countries can be so fun. :D
@ShamelesslyEuropeananon I have accomplished my mission with England, it seems. This makes me happy. || America is actually getting harder to write. I have to put a balance of his right wing and left wing perspective in line with how his people react to the Obama administration. Plus Alfred Jones' actual character. He's such a complicated guy. || I'm glad you like the accents! Tell me when it gets annoying. :p || Nyahaha I honestly can't predict what's happening with this one as compared to the first. I'm just going with the flow. Hahaha
@OP I'm glad you like it! I'll do my best. :D
@anoncallingmeback Sorry about the delays. In the words of General McArthur, "I have returned." :D Thank you for reading this!
ShamelesslyEuropean!Anon
anonymous
February 16 2011, 13:05:55 UTC
I AM SO FUCKING HAPPY YOU HAVE NO IDEA ♥ I thought for sure this was abandoned ;_; In fact, I am so happy that...Have a five or six parts review! ^^
This update was fucking awesome, so long, and hilarious and beautiful at the end! almost in time for Christmas too ok, no, almost fittingly in time for Valentine's Day ;)
I'm absolutely in love with your writing style, particularly America's narration. Some instances:
Holy fuck, did he turn into a ninja?
"H-Hey. Y-You." He facepalmed inwardly.
America pushed down the thought that screamed that Canada was up to something. he totally is, listen to Weird Al
Ohgodohgodohgod what could it be? It was probably something fucking huge if it needed to be outside. Could it be a plane? Or a rocket? HOLY FUCKING SHIT, A SPACESHIP?!?!?! He wrenched the door open pretty hard, almost tearing the door off its hinges. Lol, spaceship. That would be the ultimate AmeRus gift.
The sound was akin to choirs of cherubs singing the Star-Spangled banner. America would have shed tears of admiration. Nothing could be more beautiful. Russia sent a particularly powerful death glare to the general direction of where the football came from, which was oddly devoid of people in a matter of nanoseconds. America knew he invited the right people to his party. This entire part is HILARIOUS XDXDXDXDXDXD
They both turned around to see France, who was thankfully fully clothed still Pfff, France, I love you <3
Russia released him, but they were still holding hands like an excited-- "Bunch of girls," slipped through America's mouth before he could stop himself. God damn his sharp humorous wit. OH GOD, STOP KILLING ME XDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXD
America led him to the Christmas tree by going through pretty much the entire house so that Russia didn't realize that he was being led to the tree.
He looked at Russia, who was practically sparkling under the Christmas lights. His breath caught in his throat. It was almost like he got sprayed by Tinkerbell's fairy dust, or fireflies or whatever. Or maybe he was just really that beautiful. Oh, America, you're so cute! =>_<=
Russia looked at the direction of the gasp and saw Liechten...Leichten...Liechtenberg Lol at America's fail geography xD
This couldn't have happened in a better background. They were directly in front of America's subliminal decoration, with the Christmas lights making Russia sparkle.
HAHAHA, I loved this! I also knew it was going to end in absurdity. Poor America. In fact, though it starts hilarious, I ended up going 'dawww' and feeling really sorry for poor America, especially when he almost cries (he's a teen! he's always hormonal and emotional!). It also looks like Russia noticed he took it too far there at the end, and it ended so wonderfully ROMANTIC AWWWWWWWWWWW ♥ ♥ ♥
I also love your characterization, he's the most authentic America I've ever read. A perfect mix of hilariously random, cutely childish and adorably romantic. Some instances that prove this:
America had always made every Christmas party better than the last one--fuck the recession China's paying for everything anyway...
He licked his lips and tried to hide his excitement. He knew he was impulsive when he was excited. France had always told him, that if he waited, he might be able to get a better deal +the fact that he's so transparent xDDDDDDDDD
After all, if New Zealand really were a girl, she'd probably be real scared and shit. "I've never heard of it," New Zealand piped up. "Come on, tell us!" Pfffsh. New Zealand was so in denial about being scared. PFFFFFFFFFFFF WIN
"NOBODY FUCKING LIKES CHINA!!!"
Oh, America, your jealousy is showingXD (it's even better because I bet America's jealous on more than just the Russia front. These two are so competing over everything)
America could have sworn this was a seduction if he didn't know that Russia was unaware of America's feelings for him.Poor kid xDDDDDDDD
"What?" America asked, his tone high-pitched. "I wasn't playing. Who's playing? What are video games? I've never ever heard of them in my life. You're talking nonsense. How's the weather outside?" Real smooth.
Hahaha, this entire part was fucking brilliant. It's so like America to get vindictive and take out the Soviet games, lol. And this America quickly took them and threw them across the room. Somebody yelped in pain as they got hit by the plastic cases. MADE ME BURST OUT LAUGHING AT WORK THANK YOU >.<
feeling a little guilty at rigging the secret Santa assignments. Russia really seemed to be buying that they keep getting each other out of a computer glitch. He felt bad for lying to him to his face.
He's so innocent and cute, it makes me feel a little bad that Russia is playing with him so much. How will he react when Russia confesses the truth?
+ everything about the house decoration. The fact that he put so much effort and thought into it and nobody seems to notice is both dawww and bawww +the whole paragraph about his fantasies about the night. Oh, America <3 so prudish at the end lol +spacing and Superman ramblings. Particularly Man, Australia can be slow sometimes xDDDDDDDDD +Disney romance fantasies! Also the first try at troika retelling xDDDDDDD
"Perhaps I can be throwing Amerika into sky? For old time's sake."
RUSSIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA <3<3<3 Great entrance, man. Also looking great I happen to share America's taste for glitter during Christmas so yeah
Russia gave him his non-psycho killer smile, which made America melt
Dawwwww
Ottawa was beautiful city covered in snow. Very much like homeland. I was feeling very much at home with nice people. It has been long time since my last visit
I am thinking Russia heard something from before...such a tease! xD
"Kitai was very afraid of his turn." Wait, what? (...) "Da. He would not release me from embrace even after the ride." America's jaw dropped. Oh that fucking whore.
Russia, you meanie! xDDDDDDD. I fear for China's face next meeting lol. Though we were shown he was as strong as America, so maybe I am fearing for the entire room maybe if America gets violent China and Russia will see that they've gone too far with him, lol
"I am not being able to remove it when I sneeze at large glittery neon invitation."
I always mention that I love the broken engrish grammar thing you have going on, and this is exactly why. LOL
it was much harder to be all jolly and shit when everyone was avoiding telling him important things--lest they be exposed later on in wikileaks--
SO MUCH FUCKING WIN <3<3<3
He didn't want them to end up like France and England, who hated each other so much that it gave them energy
I am always happy at any paralelism being drawn between these pairings, because they are my favourites, and because it works so well!
"Amerika...skaji mena," Russia said almost tenderly, making America's eyes meet his. "Shto eta?"
DAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW and Russia speaking in Russian, hawt~~
"Scheisse, that's the most disgusting thing I--"
Prussia, you always manage to steal the story with just one line xDDDDDDDDDD
"Did France take that mistletoe by the stairs and put it on his belt?!"
France, you're always my favourite person xD
Plus he was kinda weird sometimes, the way he fidgets and goes red often. Must be an Asian thing.
Is this a onesided!Japan-->America reference? Poor Japan! Go console England and maybe more
"Hello," Australia said in a small sheepish voice.
Interesting reaction. Is Australia afraid of him?
Also, surprise Denmark/Canada! I also love this fill because the secondary pairings aren't what you usually see in secondary pairings: USUK or FrUK, Spamano, PruCan, AusHun, GerIta, SuFin, DenNor. Yours are all over the place, and it's perfect.
I was hoping for some more Germany/France action, but I get that this isn't their story. It's just so nonexistent as an established secondary pairing in fics.... I wonder how that mistletoe kiss with Russia went for them, after the other two left...
The fact that America calls Australia "brother" made me happy inside. In fact, the whole anglo-family interaction is made of absolute pure undilutted win, all the way through. Australia's terrifyingwonderful pets also made me squee. NZ is freakin awesome, you have to fill more prompts with her, hohoho; the gender confusion was fantastic especially America's disbelief and almost instant dismissal. And their names are superperfect, and just became my headcanon (Oz and Kiwi, lol). I really like your UK brothers, Wales acting more mature as they're older, like an uncle and got fucking sexy when he held his authority over Scotland, and Scotland being such a drunk jerk, hahaha, making poor America paranoid with Canada I wonder if you'll explore that more. I love your take on them, man. Also, poor England...
And guess what? I have a title now! Okay, so maybe some other US-related fanfics way better than this already used this title but if I get no violent reaction, I ain't chnagin' it. :D
I will be eternally amused about the fact that you can write so incredibly well and are incapable of coming up with good titles xDDDDDDDDDDD
The ending was superadorable, I can't wait to see what else you have in store for themus! Update soon, please ^^ sorry this ended up shorter than I previously promised ^^U
America had always made every Christmas party better than the last one--fuck the recession. Each year had to be more grand, more decorated, more Christmassy. This year, however, he decided to take the party to good ol' Houston (that's right, no one will be shoving snow into his shirt anymore like last year--yeah, fuck you Sweden, I'm gonna get get you someday. You too, Finland.). He figured that after the freak snowstorms, people would have been sick of snow already. He would have picked Hawaii this year if it hadn't been for the coconuts--he didn't want to inconvenience Russia*.
He had gone out of his way to meticulously--yes, meticulously--redecorate his house: he had the finest and awesomest Christmas tree shipped in, decorated it himself, and put it at the center of the house; he'd lined the entire house with so much Christmas lights that it could blind a person a mile away; he set up places where some groups of nations would most likely huddle and drink their asses off; he set up the sound system ahead of time, getting the largest and loudest speakers; he child-proofed most of the house under Switzerland's strict requests (which therefore meant no weapons or mounted dead animals on the walls and absolutely no fireworks[who the fuck had fireworks on Christmas anyway? It'd totally shoot Santa Claus out of the sky]); he padlocked the kitchen (also under Switzerland's requests); he set up consoles for video games in case his guests wanted to play; and he had the guests to ship in whatever they were planning to bring so they wouldn't be troubled by Christmas day. Oh yeah. Who said America was a scatterbrain?
More importantly, America had already set up where the mistletoe were going to be: one by the gifts (which were under the tree, as customary), one by the drinks, one by the stairs, and one in his bedroom. It was a very straight-forward approach. He'd learned, over the years, that peppering his house with dozens of them had greater tendency to backfire on him--especially putting one at the main door--very bad idea.
Everything had been ready. Russia would come over, holding his gift for America, while America held Russia's gift (America made sure they got each other every Christmas for Secret Santa), Russia would comment on how awesome his gift was and how handy he was despite what the others say, then he'd show Russia his really awesome tree and Russia was gonna comment about how pretty it was and how awesome America was at art and everything Christmassy (which he is) and he'd get his first mistletoe kiss, and then they were going to go by the drinks where Russia was going to say he was enjoying himself very much and America was like the greatest host ever and then he'd get his second mistletoe kiss, and then they'd play a couple of video games where America would let Russia win some of the games and he would win others, and then he would lead Russia up by the stairs, because he'd probably be kinda tired by now from the long flight and would want America to show him a room and this would be where he gets his third kiss, and then upon reaching the door of his room, he'd get his last mistletoe kiss before they...uh...well. Uhm. Spend a fun night together yeah. (He put everything they would probably need in a box under the bed.)
Well, at least, that's how it would have gone had the bastard actually bothered showing up.
America pushed at the reasonably abused controller button particularly hard, causing the button to get stuck for a few moments before it popped back up again as his virtual soldiers threw everything at a virtual Soviet barracks. It was already two in the morning. Most of his guests had already gone home because they were already too sick or too tired to party.
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He checked everything: the weather in Moscow, delays at the Domodedovo and Sheremetyevo airport, or any strikes there, but there were none. Nada. Zilch. He didn't understand why Russia still wasn't here. It was already two in the morning and there didn't seem to be any sign of him attending. He tried calling him but for some reason, he couldn't connect. He would have called Medvedev or Putin, but he didn't want to be obvious. Plus Putin didn't like him so much right now.
America tried to keep himself cheerful under the circumstances and connect with his other guests, but it was much harder to be all jolly and shit when everyone was avoiding telling him important things--lest they be exposed later on in wikileaks--something, that could have been avoided had a certain nation beside him at that very moment, did something.
"All right!" Australia howled in joy as he deployed bombs over the Soviet base, bouncing beside him on the couch with excitement.
He made to high-five America, but America merely answered with a terse, "No."
Australia gave him an uneasy smile. "Come on, mate, don't be like that," Australia pleaded with him, wearing an identical horrible looking sweater similar to the one America was wearing--most likely in an attempt at reconciliation. A feeble attempt. "You know he didn't do anything illegal."
America clutched the plastic controller so hard that there was a loud snap. "Not illegal?" he ground out, outraged. "He's exposing my national secrets to the public!"
Australia gulped. "Yes, but if it really was illegal, then you would have already been able to do something about it, right?"
He merely scowled at his brother and looked back at the screen. Yeah, okay, that was true, but that didn't account for the fact that Australia was his brother and ally and that meant they were supposed to protect each other's intererests.
Australia sighed. "All right, look," he said sounding resigned, "if you'll forgive me, I'll...I'll...let you ride Stevie. Once."
America looked back at him in shock. He didn't expect this. Stevie was Australia's pet kangaroo which America had been pleading to ride on for years. And by 'ride', he didn't mean ride on its pouch--he meant to be spun around with its foot like they did in the cartoons. Australia always argued that Stevie was too small and weak, which America knew was a downright lie--especially after he saw Stevie kick a hole through a brick wall that one time.
And he bet Australia did that stunt all the time, he just didn't want to share.
He licked his lips and tried to hide his excitement. He knew he was impulsive when he was excited. France had always told him, that if he waited, he might be able to get a better deal. He wondered what else he could possibly squeeze out of his brother.
"Well?" Australia asked.
He cleared his throat, feigning a nonchalant expression. "I don't know, man. I mean, it's not like you just exposed all of my secrets to the world and ruined my credibility..." He took a potato chip and ate it. Oh yeah.
Australia groaned. "What else do you want?"
America stopped smiling internally. Okay. So he didn't actually want anything else from Australia, but he knew he couldn't just stop there. It'd make him look like a pushover. There's gotta be some sort of punishment in this for Australia.
"You don't want anything else, do ya?" Australia asked, a smirk ghosting in his expression.
Fuck it all, let me think. "You're seriously not getting away from this with just a kangaroo ride."
"I can bring you a pav."
"You already brought me one today and I could always ask Kiwi for one."
"Yeah but mine's the origina--ow!"
America didn't even need to see what happened. New Zealand obviously flicked the elder brother in the neck. Kid had a mean set of fingers. "Hey Kiwi."
"Hey America," New Zealand greeted back. "And mine's the original."
"No it isn't," Australia grunted, slapping away the offending hand away.
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"Quit it--"
America struggled to play with just one hand and continued assaulting the other who was trying to slap three hands (because New Zealand used two hands this time) away from him.
"Stop that," said Wales' voice above him, followed by a cold ring being pressed on the top of his head.
"He started it," America grumbled, stopping his assualt, as he reached up and grabbed the cold beverage that was rested on his head.
"Wee jimmies will be wee jimmies!" he heard Scotland shout drunkenly behind him.
Who the fuck is Jimmy?
"Oy," Wales hissed, annoyed because Scotland probably shouted in his ear.
"I'm a girl!" New Zealand huffed in frustration.
At this, America's brows shot up and he looked at New Zealand, who looked sort of pissed. "You are?"
She scowled at him this time. "Why do I have to keep telling you guys?"
"No, really, you are?" America asked, wide-eyed.
"Yes!"
America snorted. "Yeah right." This was probably another practical joke or something.
"Wales!" she whined.
Wales patted her head as Scotland just snickered around his shoulder. "They're just playin'." Then he looked at America. "You shouldn't be playing games like that. What if Russia sees you?"
It was America's turn to scowl this time and he returned to his game, which he forgot to pause. Good thing he already built up his defenses. "He ain't coming anyway."
"Really?"
America nodded, taking a sip of his drink while watching the game closely. An unfamiliar brand of liquid passed between his lips, which he spit out almost immediately. "What the fuck is--" he said, and then stopping as he read the label. He looked back at Wales. "Paulaner? What happened to my Bud?"
The other sighed, rearranging Scotland so he doesn't choke on the other's beefy arms. "England an' the Nordics hoarded 'em all. German beer's the only thing he wouldn't touch."
America cursed under his breath. England had been acting up since they came. He just wished his beer didn't have to take the consequences. His shoulders tensed as he remembered something. He needed to interrogate France about those warships he sold to that asshole who was too good to attend his party. "Where's France?"
Scotland hiccuped. "Th' lest time Ah saw heem was when 'at mistletoe by th' stairs an' pit it oan his belt."
America took a few seconds to recognize some words: he got 'mistletoe', 'stairs' and 'belt'. His eyes widened in horror. "Did France take that mistletoe by the stairs and put it on his belt?!" he asked, if only to confirm if his translation was right.
"Aye."
God damn it.
"Yoo're nae plannin' oan takin' it back, ur ye?"
"What...?"
"He's askin' if you're plannin' on takin' it back," Australia translated for him flatly.
"Hell no!" America exclaimed in disgust. Having a mistletoe or anything near France's crotch was a lost cause. It was pretty much like a wayward spaceship near a black hole. There was no point in going after it. Fuck. He'll talk to him next time.
Scotland snickered and wobbled over to the space between Australia and America, leaning his elbows on the headrest of the couch so he wouldn't fall off. "Sae, laddie...I hear Russia isnae haur yit?"
"America says he isn't coming," Australia confirmed, before America could even try to process what the guy said.
"Ah see..." Scotland said, then he turned to America. "Ain where's yer brither?"
It took America a few seconds before he digested that. The guy could have a totally weird accent when he wanted, but at least America got the word 'brother' in so he must have been talking about Canada. "I dunno probably chugging down maple-flavored Molson or something."
"Ooooh that's nae a guid sign."
America's eye twitched. Somehow, he understood that one quickly, maybe because of the tone he used. "What are you talking about?" he asked carefully.
"Aam nae sayin' anythin'. It's jist 'at th' lad has a wee french in heem."
After taking the time to translate it, it still didn't make sense. "So?"
"An' Englain brooght heem up tay."
America understood 'brought him up' and 'England'. "So? They both brought me up too."
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America's eyes narrowed in confusion, first at the accent, and then upon deciphering it, the meaning itself. Was he insinuating that Russia and Canada had a thing for each other? That was ridiculous. And totally gross. Even if Canada did kinda look like America a little. "That's ridiculous," America said. "They hate each other! They almost tore each other apart for that hockey tournament shit."
Scotland clapped his hands together much like a Eureka moment. "That's reit! They baith loch ice hockey, dornt they? They hae a lot in common."
America understood only the 'lot in common' part, but that was enough to make him incensed. Sure, they were the largest counrties in the world. Sure they both live in igloos. Sure they both like polar bears. Sure they like hockey like their lives depended on it, but that wasn't enough to be a basis for a relationship! Russia and him had a lot in common too! Like....like...love for outer space...and...and...and...nuclea--no. Okay. And...uh...and...and...and...uh...
And.
America frowned hard at the screen.
"America," Wales said gently. "Don't listen te him."
"Dornt fash yerse abit me!" Scotland said with a loud jolly laugh. "Aam jist showin' ye th' possibilities. efter aw, it seems loch ye inherited yer faither's bad luck in loove."
America got 'possibilties', 'inherited', 'father', 'love' and 'bad luck' in what Scotland said. He gripped his controller. He so knew that Scotland was going to go on about how he and England were so alike (which they're not, thank you very much. America is obviously way awesomer) and then he was going to talk about some other obscure scar he got from England, yadda-yadda-yadda. Sometimes he wished the guy would shut his trap when he was drunk.
Wales conked him on the head. "Stop that."
"Aam jist warnin' th' laddie," Scotland said good-naturedly. "Besides," he caught America's cheek in a light pinch, "he an' Englain ur sae alike."
America slapped his hand away. "No we're not," he grumbled.
"Och, did ye see 'at, Weels? Exactly loch 'at bratty radge."
America decided to ignore him--mostly because he didn't know what the hell 'radge' meant and partly because he wasn't in the mood.
Wales sighed but didn't do anything.
"Ah min' th' time Englain chibbed me in mah shoolder wi' a spear fur bein' friends wi' Frrance."
"Scotland, we already heard about that," Australia said, rolling his eyes.
Scotland laughed. "Aye. Ay coorse ye did. but Ah want America tae ken abit it tay."
"I really don't wanna know," America said with a shudder. Scotland tended to be too graphic, and America...well, it's not like he got nightmares which would prompt him to have a sleepover with Canada or anything, but he didn't want his siblings to get scared, you know? After all, if New Zealand really were a girl, she'd probably be real scared and shit.
"I've never heard of it," New Zealand piped up. "Come on, tell us!"
Pfffsh. New Zealand was so in denial about being scared.
"Don't encourage him," Wales said quietly.
"It was efter th' revol--"
"Ye're not going to tell that story on Christmas day, Scotland," Wales said softly but with authority.
Scotland glared, or at least tried his best to glare at him, and then continued, "If Ah waur ye, eh'd keep an yak oan 'at loon."
"What...?"
"Watch Canada," he said, being pretty clear this time.
"There's no danger with Canada," Wales said, conking Scotland on the head again. "Besides, Russia can't even see him. He accidentally sat on him in one meeting, didn't he?"
"More than one," Australia piped up.
"But whit if he was sittin' oan heem fur anither reason?"
America heard the plastic on his controller snap and bile go up his throat. God, why the hell did his brain translate really disgusting statements like that so fast?!
He heard Wales give a long-suffering sigh, while he heard a small snort from Australia.
"I-I don't even know what to say to you," America said, trying to keep himself from vomitting.
"Aye, Ah was jist jokin' aroond!" Scotland shouted into his ear whilst slapping his shoulder particularly hard in a supposedly friendly way. "'Sides, Ah heard he likes China noo."
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"America," he heard Canada's scolding voice.
He quickly shot his well-practiced kicked-puppy look at his brother who was holding a tray of mulled wine mugs. "They started it."
He sighed and gave Wales and Scotland The Look™. "Don't you two have anything better to do?"
Scotland swayed, giving him a wide grin. "Ah woods if Oz gits aff his crease."
America pursed his lips after a few seconds. Okay, he still can't understand that. "What'd he say?"
"He wants Australia to go with him," Wales said quietly.
"Oh no," America said, his face scrunching up. "You're not taking Oz. He's playing with me!" Australia was actually the only one, aside from Hong Kong (South Korea's prodigy), he could play with without feeling bad about himself. He'd already tried playing with South Korea, but the guy would never let him win. Playing with Canada was also out of the question because he could be such a passive-aggressive jerk when it came to video games. Japan--well, for some reason, he always seemed to win too easily despite the fact tha Japan was supposed to be better than he was. Plus he was kinda weird sometimes, the way he fidgets and goes red often. Must be an Asian thing.
He felt someone flick him on the forehead. He shook his head, as if waking up. "W-W-Whu...t...?"
"You doing all right, mate?" Australia asked, with an arched brow.
America looked at him with narrowed eyes and then looked around behind him. "Where'd everybody go?"
"They left when ya spaced out," Australia said with a small smile. "Canada and New Zealand took Scotland and Wales somewhere else."
"Oh." He should really watch himself when he spaces out. But he can't really help it, you know? People like telling him to think about things more, and actually, he does. He doesn't really know why people say he doesn't. He thinks about things a lot. Sometimes, when somebody forces him out of his thoughts, he gets this knee-jerk reaction where he does the first thing that comes into his mind. But honestly, he thinks about things a lot. It's just that he gets distracted easily. Like, how would it be if he could fly? That'd be really cool. Especially if he could fly as fast as Superman. That'd be super awesome. He wondered, would Superman be as awesome if he had wings instead of a cape? He'd be like some kinda angel, for sure, but he'd probably fly a lot slower because of the wind resistance, plus wouldn't his wings hurt if he flew at that speed? (Maybe that's why Angel flies a lot slower than Superman.) And what's up with the cape thing anyway? It doesn't really help with speed or--
He felt a sudden sting on his arm and he yelped and almost lost his virtual cavalry.
"You spaced out again, mate," Australia said, frowning. "Ya know, if you stop spacing out so much, you'd have better memory. Then you'd have an easier time remember everyone's name--"
"Hey, Oz, do you think Superman would be as awesome if he had wings instead of a cape?"
Australia looked at him, confused for some reason. "...what?"
"Do you think Superman would be as awesome if he had wings instead of a cape?" he repeated.
There were a few moments of silence. Man, Australia can be slow sometimes. "...yes...?"
"Awesome," America said with a smile. He thought so. Superman was always awesome, regardless of any modifications.
"I think, before you start on that, you need to get your feet on the ground first."
"Dude, you have no idea. I'd give anything to get off the ground without some jet or machine or something."
"Perhaps I can be throwing Amerika into sky? For old time's sake."
America whirled around immediately, dropping his controller. Russia was standing right behind him, and he didn't even make a sound. Holy fuck, did he turn into a ninja? America felt his heart hammer in his chest.
Good God, it should be illegal to look that good. Russia was wearing a sexy black sweater with his trademark scarf wrapped comfortably around his neck. His jeans snugged his ass in a way that made America's breath catch in his throat. America could have sworn this was a seduction if he didn't know that Russia was unaware of America's feelings for him.
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Russia gave him his non-psycho killer smile, which made America melt. "I am always good at aeronautics. Flight should not be problem." Then he turned to Australia. "Privyet, Avstraliya."
"Hello," Australia said in a small sheepish voice.
America didn't even realize that he was staring at the sparkling Russia until Australia kicked him gently on the ribs. He shook his head, trying to get his thoughts in place. "H-Hey. Y-You." He facepalmed inwardly.
"Privyet," Russia said with a smile. "I am sorry I am being late. There have been many unprecedented delays. I was not able to make call."
America stood up so fast he almost knocked Russia's face with his forehead. "H-Hey, it's no biggie. I-I guess Aeroflot musta been having a full house today, huh?"
Russia chuckled. "Ah, I was not riding Aeroflot for today. I decide to board Aircanada because it was having soonest schedule."
America merely looked at him. Canada?
"Do not be worrying. Ottawa was beautiful city covered in snow. Very much like homeland. I was feeling very much at home with nice people. It has been long time since my last visit."
America swallowed. Maybe Scotland had a point earlier? He shook his head again, willing the thoughts away. Canada wasn't going to betray him, no way. "Wow...uh...I don't...I don't know what to say..."
Russia tilted his head, looking at the game screen behind America where virtual Soviet soldiers were being run over by tanks. With lightning speed, America quickly unplugged the console, earning a small cry of protest from Australia.
"America was playing video games?"
"What?" America asked, his tone high-pitched. "I wasn't playing. Who's playing? What are video games? I've never ever heard of them in my life. You're talking nonsense. How's the weather outside?" Real smooth.
"Weather is cold but no snow," Russia informed him, maintaining his smile, then he looked down to what had been America's seat earlier. Where he'd put the CDs. Of Soviet war games. And Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. Fuck.
"Ame--"
America quickly took them and threw them across the room. Somebody yelped in pain as they got hit by the plastic cases.
Russia looked towards where America had thrown the CDs. "Was that bei--"
"Uh...hey, you really had long delays, I mean, it's already two in the morning."
Russia looked back at him. "Da. But I am not being angry."
America pulled Russia away from the video games before he could find anything more that could hurt America's chance of getting lucky tonight. "Why was it delayed though?"
"I do not know," Russia answered. "I was not told reason."
America pushed down the thought that screamed that Canada was up to something.
"Ah!" Russia exclaimed, looking like he remembered something. He rummaged throgh his pockets and showed America a piece of paper that had the word 'America' printed out on it. "It appears that I am having you again for Secret Santa this year, da?"
"Wow, what a total coincidence! Me too!" America exclaimed, feeling a little guilty at rigging the secret Santa assignments. Russia really seemed to be buying that they keep getting each other out of a computer glitch. He felt bad for lying to him to his face.
"That is being strange," Russia said, smile not wavering. "Perhaps you should be letting Estoniya take a look at your systems, da? So that you will not be having more problems with technology."
Great, now he looked like an idiot. At least that was way better than being seen as a liar.
Okay, he needed to stay positive. It's Christmas eve, and he was going to get at least one mistletoe kiss before the party was over. More importantly, he made his gift for Russia! Oh yeah. Canada had always commented about how he wasn't handy. Hahaha Take that, ya lousy Canuck! America was so totally handy, he just didn't feel like getting his hands dirty all the time, that's all. But he was totally handy and artistic, no matter what Canada said.
"Amerika?" Russia asked, brow raising.
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Russia's smile, if anything, grew a little wider along with his eyes. "Amerika, what is this?"
"It's your gift!" America said, pushing his gift toward Russia who accepted it after looking at it for a few moments--probably struck by its awesomeness or something.
"Amerika...is learning how to weld metal. How nice."
America raised a brow at him. "Dude, I've always known how to weld metal."
"Ah," Russia said, setting his gift aside. "My gift is being outside. You are wanting to see--"
Before Russia could even finish his sentence, America had already run out the door in excitement. Ohgodohgodohgod what could it be? It was probably something fucking huge if it needed to be outside. Could it be a plane? Or a rocket? HOLY FUCKING SHIT, A SPACESHIP?!?!?! He wrenched the door open pretty hard, almost tearing the door off its hinges.
America's eyes bulged and his smile grew so wide that it could've split his face. In front of him was a sleigh tied to three majestic-looking horses that looked like it came out from a Disney princess movie.
"A troika!" Russia said in that quiet grand way of his as soon as he caught up with him. "This is reason why I was being late. I am remembering that you have not ridden in one, da?"
"Yes. Absolutely! This is going to be my first time riding it!" Which was, definitely an outright lie. He had, actually, already ridden a troika, back in his younger days. Being young and reasonably newly independent, America (because of his little puppy crush on Russia) had tried driving a troika by himself. He had no prior experience and it therefore predictably ended in him mildly fracturing his elbow, splitting his lip and having the nail from his right big toe pulled out clean off. Thank God he was a nation. Only James Madison knew about it, and it was never mentioned again, for obvious reasons. But despite the trauma it was threatening to resurface, America found himself more than willing to ride in once again, because, really--this spelled romance in bright cheesy blinking neon lights. Sure, it wasn't a space ship ride with an "A Whole New World" style to it, but this--this spelt Disney romance, and America, among other things, was always romantic.
He wasn't going to let this pass even if he had to lose a tooth for it.
He looked up at Russia, with loving eyes, with the intent to thank him for the romantic gesture but stopped before he could start at the sight of Russia's frown. "What's wrong?"
Russia bit his lip in that cute way he always did. "I was hoping that there would be snow because of frozen East Coast. We cannot be riding with such a carriage."
He was right. Damn. Why'd this have to happen when he picked Houston this year?
"Hey, don't worry about it," he cooed Russia, despite feeling the disappointment as well. "We can ride it again some other time, okay?" Although in truth, he would have ridden it even without the snow.
"We should be setting date later when we are not busy, da?"
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America looked at his Russkie bear, feeling warmth spread through his chest. This was enough. Sure, he didn't get to ride it with him (and maybe at the back of his mind, he really was relieved), but the fact that Russia had gone through so much just to give him this--it was enough. He grinned up at Russia.
"You will be loving it," Russia continued, looking back at his gift. "Kitai was very afraid of his turn."
Wait, what?
He felt his jaw stiffen. "C-China's ridden one too?"
"Da."
He swallowed. "With--With you?"
"Da," Russia said with a chuckle. "He was very terrified of speed."
America opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Damn it. Even if he didn't attend, China was still ruining his time with Russia. But wait, he acted like a wuss, didn't he? The thought of China showing himself to be a wuss emboldened him. When it was his turn, he was going to show bravery like a true hero. He wasn't going to be a sissy. He smiled. China was probably a gigantic turn off that time. He laughed. "I could imagine."
"Da. He would not release me from embrace even after the ride."
America's jaw dropped. Oh that fucking whore.
Russia yawned. "We must get back inside. America is not very fond of the cold."
America frowned, hardly noticing that he had been shivering. Russia merely smiled at him and glided inside, America following his trail.
He inhaled deeply. Okay, positive thoughts, positive thoughts. If he was going to make this Christmas memorable, he had to think positive and stop focusing at breaking China's face by accident with his elbow in the next meeting. Negativity wasn't going to attract Russia.
Time for some mistletoe action.
"Hey," he said, falling in step with the larger nation.
"Hmmmm?"
America ducked as a flying bottle of beer whizzed above his head. "You must be thirsty from that really long trip, right?"
"Hmmmm...now that you are mentioning it..."
America brightened at this. "Great!" he grabbed Russia's wrist. "Come on--" he tugged, but Russia refused to move. He looked back at the larger nation.
"It is all right, Amerika," he said with a smile, brandishing a bottle of vodkha with the hand that America wasn't gripping on. "I am being prepared. No need for you to struggle in crowd for beverage."
Never in his life had America looked at a bottle of vodkha with so much venom. Okay, so that's two mistletoe destinations down. Or maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe if, you know, Russia's vodkha just happened to drop and crash on the floor, he'd need another drink. And if he was lucky, Russia would catch him in his arms, which would hopefully lead to...well, you know. America smiled inwardly.
"Hey, that's great--" he started, before intentionally falling over, his hand mindfully raised up to knock the bottle out of the other's hand.
It was all in slow motion, he could see it, as the wind rushed against his face, Russia's eyes slowly widened and he lost his balance--his hand was there--almost--almost--but Russia's lightning speed got the bottle out of the way and soon, America's face was intimately acquainted with his floor.
Fuck.
"Amerika is already being drunk, da?" Russia asked America who was face down on his floor, casually. The bottle safe in his grip.
America sprang up almost immediately. "No! No, why would you say that? I never even drank anything the whole night!"
"Ah! Clumsy then."
America internally berated himself. Great, aside from being technologically impaired, he was a clumsy idiot too. This was definitely an off-day for him. Plus he can't try to knock the bottle out of Russia's hand now, it'd look mighty suspicious.
Then, all of a sudden, a football flew out of nowhere and hit Russia's hand, knocking the bottle into the ground where it shattered like a newly-laid egg. The sound was akin to choirs of cherubs singing the Star-Spangled banner. America would have shed tears of admiration. Nothing could be more beautiful.
Russia sent a particularly powerful death glare to the general direction of where the football came from, which was oddly devoid of people in a matter of nanoseconds. America knew he invited the right people to his party.
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Russia looked back at him again, smiling in a way that reminded America of the freezing gulag in his nightmares. "Not to be worrying, Amerika," Russia said, whipping out another bottle of vodkha pretty much like an awesome sherriff would have done with a gun. America would have stared in awe if it didn't just ruin his plans again. "I have come prepared."
"B-B-B--"
"Besides, I am thinking Kanada is enjoying drinking station, da?" he said cheerfully, cocking his head towards the said area,
America raised an eyebrow at him and then turned his head towards that direction, his jaw dropping at the sight.
Canada was there, under the mistletoe he'd put up. His face was...well, there was no other proper way to describe it: his face was being assaulted by Denmark's mouth. It almost looked like the guy was trying to eat him. Both of his arms were trapped to his sides as Denmark's hands helped themselves with Canada's behind.
Lucky bastard. That mistletoe was supposed to be for his and Russia's use!
"We should not be interfering," Russia adviced, holding his elbow and leading him elsewere. They were almost back to the couch, now devoid of Australia, when America remembered about the mistletoe by the gifts.
He stopped Russia and started leading him over towards that location. "Hey, hey, let's go over to the gifts!"
"But Amerika has already given gift."
Shit. That's right. He was sort of embarassed about putting Russia's gift with the others because he knew France or England was going to comment about how it wasn't artistic. Snobby bastards. "Uh...yeah, but...uh...there's uh...there's a big...a huge Christmas tree over there!" he said, suddenly remembering the Christmas tree he had painstakingly decorated.
"Da, I am seeing it from here," Russia said plainly. "I am not wanting to go near it."
America frowned. "Why not?"
"It is having too much glitte--"
"Russie!" Someone shouted from behind them. They both turned around to see France, who was thankfully fully clothed still, although the colour of his face gave away a hint that he was already probably drunk. Germany came behind him.
"Frantsiya!" Russia cried, taking France in a rib-crushing embrace.
America felt a twinge of jealousy. Russia never greeted him like that.
Russia released him, but they were still holding hands like an excited--
"Bunch of girls," slipped through America's mouth before he could stop himself. God damn his sharp humorous wit.
France and Russia took a moment to glare at him, the latter's glare making his insides shrink, before putting attention back to each other.
"When did you arrive? I did not see you come in earlier!"
"It was being a few minutes ago. I was having problems with flight."
"Oh, but you don't look it, mon cher," France purred, fixing Russia's scarf. Oh now, wait a minute. That scarf was a no-touching zone! Why was France allowed to touch it? "You're even wearing glitter! Your skin is practically sparkling!" he added with a strange expression on his face that was directed at America.
"It is not intentional," Russia said with a small smile. "I am not being able to remove it when I sneeze at large glittery neon invitation."
America felt heat in his ears. Oh god, he wasn't going to talk about the invitation, right? He was the one who received the largest (and awesomest) one. The rest had received the same generic ones(except for China). If France found out about it, he wouldn't hear the end of it.
France quirked an eyebrow at him. "Invitation?"
"Da. Its being invitation for this--"
"So how do you like the party so far, France?" America cut in, rather hastily.
France looked at him, bewildered. "It is fine, mon cher. A very American Christmas, if I do say so myself."
America grinned at him widely. Oh yeah. That just meant it was the awesomest Christmas in the entire world.
"That is being interesting choice of belt buckle, Frantsiya," Russia commented.
France looked back at him. "Oui," said in his most sultry voice. "It is the belt buckle of l'Amour de Noel."
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At this, Germany flushed bright red from behind France.
"Eh?"
"Mistletoe, mon cher!" France said, laughing. "You know the tradition, non? You must kiss the person nearest--"
And before America or Germany could stop it from happening, Russia leaned down and pecked France on the lips. America's jaw dropped in terror. That was supposed to be his kiss!
"I have fulfilled tradition?"
France giggled, "Rightly so."
America grabbed Russia by the elbow. "Uh...let's go over there in the kitchen! See you two later, France!"
France bade them goodbye and Russia followed his lead meekly.
"Is something wrong, Amerika?"
"No," America said, scowling. Just that some other guy got kissed and hugged by you while I got none.
"Where are we going?"
"To the kitchen," America said absent-mindedly, unlocking the padlock he put on the kitchen door. "I kinda want some burgers and I'm pretty sure England already finished the first batch."
He opened the door. They stopped at the doorway at the sight of Mexico and some former Soviet guy making out under another mistletoe, which he didn't even put up. Wait, so some people brought their own mistletoe? And wait, they fucking picked his lock and locked the kitchen again so they can make-out?! What the hell?
"It seems that guests are enjoying Christmas decorations," Russia observed.
A little too much. This was ridiculous. Why was everybody else benefitting from the decorations except him?
"I am thinking we should let them be," Russia said, leaving America to glare at the couple for a few seconds before following the taller man.
Okay, so the last two mistletoe destinations left were: the one by the Christmas tree and the one in his room. He still had chances.
America led him to the Christmas tree by going through pretty much the entire house so that Russia didn't realize that he was being led to the tree. He was going to get his Christmas kiss by hook or by crook. They stopped just a few feet away from it.
"It is beautiful," Russia said, smiling at his awesome Christmas tree.
Damn right, it was.
"Are those being matryoshka?" his guest asked curiously, narrowing his eyes at the make-shift matryoshka decorations he put up in the tree. He'd put up a lot of other decorations that represented his friends, after all, it was Christmas and he wanted something that symbolized the whole world being close together. Although naturally, he surrounded matryoshka dolls with his plastic burger and cowboy hat decorations, which seemed to take the shape of a heart, now that he was looking at it again.
He blushed. He didn't really mean for that to happen, but hopefully Russia catches the hint somehow. He looked at Russia, who was practically sparkling under the Christmas lights. His breath caught in his throat. It was almost like he got sprayed by Tinkerbell's fairy dust, or fireflies or whatever. Or maybe he was just really that beautiful.
Russia reached out and touched the decoration that was supposed to represent him, and then looked at his fingers which were now covered in gold glitter. "Glitter," he said with a voice that almost sounded like that of horror but it couldn't be because this was Christmas and there was nothing wrong with glitter. "It is very nice."
"Thanks," America said, blushing some more, and then he noticed that the mistletoe was directly above them. This couldn't have happened in a better background. They were directly in front of America's subliminal decoration, with the Christmas lights making Russia sparkle. America grinned widely and closed his eyes, puckering his lips slightly as Russia and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
He cracked one eye open and saw Russia looking at him with a raised brow. "Did Amerika get glitter in eye?"
"W-What?"
Russia took his wrist. "Come, we should be washing it out with water. Where is bathroom?"
"I-I don't want to go to the bathroom!" Damn it, they were under a mistletoe right here! Why the fuck would they go somewhere without one?
Russia looked at him in surprise. "You are wanting for me to wash it out with vodkha?"
"No!" America said, almost in tears. God damn it, how can he not see it? It was practically six inches from his forehead!
Russia let go of his wrist. "I am not understanding problem."
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"Ah," Russia said, confusion only slightly leaving his expression. "You were looking as if you were in pain."
"I wasn't," America said, swallowing. He quickly tried to think of a way to make Russia notice the mistletoe right above them. Okay, he can still do this while keeping his pride. "Hey...uh...you had a long flight, right?"
"...da..." Russia replied rather warily.
"You should...uh...do that neck exercise thing, you know, in case it's sore and all," he said, placing his hands on both sides of Russia's face, planning to manuever his head so that he'd face the ceiling.
"But I am not being sore," Russia said with a little scowl, similar to that of a child's, head not moving, despite America's insistence.
What's this guy's neck made out of, a tree trunk?! "Oh, now, how would you know that if you don't try?" he said weakly. He could use full force, but he might break Russia's neck and that was probably unromantic. He only wanted to kiss the guy, not kill him.
"You are wanting me to be hurt?" Russia asked, an air of creepiness slowly moving about him.
"No, no," America said, still holding his head. "I just don't want you to...um...you know...get a sore neck."
"I have already said that I am not being sore."
"Ya know, if you don't do that head tilt thing, you're gonna lose feeling on that" pretty "neck o' yours."
The other raised an eyebrow at him. "Is this being American superstition?"
"Uh...yeah, sure! Let's go with that. Christmas tradition of sorts"
Russia sighed. "Very well," he said, and then quickly bent his head left and right. "Are we being finished now?"
America gawked at him. "What, that's it?"
"Da. Neck is feeling refreshed, Amerika was correct."
His eye twitched. This was getting ridiculous. "You should do that up and down thing too."
"Up and down?"
"Yeah, like...uh...this," he said, demonstrating to Russia.
"You are saying that I should be nodding as well?"
"Uh...yeah, whatever."
Russia narrowed his eyes at him for a few seconds before complying. Russia bowed his head down, and here it is! He's gonna fucking see the mistletoe, YES!
"Ah!" Russia hissed in pain, closing his eyes just as he was about to face the ceiling. America immediately released him in panic.
"Oh God Ohmygod what's wrong?" He didn't break his neck, did he?
Russia rubbed at his neck, eyes still closed in agony. "Amerika was being right," he gasped out. "Neck is hurting from long flight."
America swallowed. "Do you need to lie down or something?"
"Nyet," Russia said, breathing slowly. "I am being fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Da. Please to not worry."
America gulped. Okay, so he can't make Russia look up. Damn it. But what was more important was Russia's comfort, right? But he was so close to his kiss! So close. Russia can still look up without hurting his neck, right? But how do you make people look up?
"Amerika?"
"Uh...hey, uh...would you mind looking up?" Real creative.
"Eh?"
"Uh...you uh..."
"Is this being silly tradition again?"
"Uh...yeah...tradtion...right. T-Tell me what you see."
Russia's eyes rolled up. Yes. He was gonna see the mistletoe and they were gonna kiss. FUCK YES.
"Ah, giant moth is being on ceiling," Russia said, bored. "Amerika should have pest control."
What? America looked up. True enough, there was a giant moth on the mistletoe, whose markings strangely resembled a big smile--like God was laughing at his face or something. "Oh come on," he exclaimed, really annoyed. Somebody was definitely out to get him. How did a moth just suddenly fly up there and cover the whole fucking thing?
"Da, we should be going. Moth might attack Amerika's clothes, da?"
"T-That wasn't what I wanted you to see."
"Hmmmm? Ah. Da. Ceiling is also very nice. No web of spider."
GOD DAMN IT.
Russia turned to leave, but America clucthed the hem of his sleeve. He was going to get his fucking kiss, damn it! He didn't get one last year, and the year before that. He wasn't going to let this day pass without his dream Christmas kiss under the mistletoe. Russia turned around to look at him. "Amerika?"
Just, please, kiss me. He swallowed. "Y-You can't leave," he said, eyes trained on Russia's shoes.
"Hmmm?"
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"Amerika?" Russia asked, hand reaching out to touch his jaw lightly.
He felt like crying. This was unfair. He was never good at all this subtle flirting stuff. "I...I..." I want you to kiss me.
"Is Amerika catching cold?" he asked casually, as if he was asking if it was raining outside.
"No," he said, still looking at Russia's shoes, he could feel the bridge of his nose start to hurt as he tried to keep the tears in.
"Is Amerika afraid of giant moth?"
America shook his head, shutting his eyes. A few moments of silence passed.
"Amerika...skaji mena," Russia said almost tenderly, making America's eyes meet his. "Shto eta?"
"I-It's just...I..."
"Da?"
Somebody gasped a few feet away from them. Russia looked at the direction of the gasp and saw Liechten...Leichten...Liechtenberg with her hands covering her mouth and alternating a glance between them and the ceiling.
Russia looked up again. "Oh! Look, Amerika! There is being mistletoe in ceiling."
His heart thudded loudly in his chest and his mouth was dry. Oh god, this made up so much for Switzerland making sure that he made the whole place child proof.
Russia looked back down at him. "It seems I have to fulfill tradition again, da?" he said, with a slight quirk on his lips.
America swallowed and closed his eyes.
Big warm hands held the sides of his face and Russia's warm lips descended gently upon his. America gasped a little. Russia took advantage of this and slipped his tongue in. America obliged by opening his mouth a little more, his hands going around Russia's waist.
He was dimly aware of camera flashes around them, which was probably either Hungary or Japan or both. He'd have to get them later. Or get someone else to get them later. That would be the most awesome Christmas gift ever.
And then someone made a barfing sound. "Scheisse, that's the most disgusting thing I--"
"Shhhh! You're ruining the moment!" he heard Hungary hiss. Hungary then. He'd have to get the pictures somehow.
America held Russia tighter to his body and deepened the kiss, continued drinking Russia in. He had waited for so long for this kiss, but it was worth it. Russia pulled away slightly.
"S RozhdestvOm, Amerika," Russia whispered tenderly against his lips.
"W-What...?" America asked, still dazed from the kiss.
"Merry Christmas," Russia said with a chuckle.
"Hmmmm," he hummed, before Russia took his lips again. Merry Christmas indeed.
*-More on this later.
Belated Happy Valentine's day!
Kind of long and hopefully not too pointless. Anyway, this will be the last chapter in America's point of view for a while. I want a little bit of elbow room. Hahaha
I'm sorry I'm extremely late. My laptop died so now my computer time is cut by 70% and I couldn't get everything I wrote. So I had to rewrite everything, and then I decided I didn't like the previous version of this so much so I completely rewrote it too and then had this huge writer's block. Damn it. Sorry, OP. I'll try not to disappear again. And I'm sorry for the typo on Middle East. I type too fast sometimes.
And guess what? I have a title now! Okay, so maybe some other US-related fanfics way better than this already used this title but if I get no violent reaction, I ain't chnagin' it. :D
Newsbits I used:
1. Medvedev calling Obama about the START's success in the US.
2. France selling Russia two war ships. Now four.
3. Junior Hockey tournament between Russia and Canada.
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@anon1 I hope the Denmark/Canada mistletoe action satisfied you. Hahaha || I like torturing England. Expect glimpses of him to be less than rosy. :P So you're still checking up on Long September even after it's been long finished? I have to say, I'm flattered.
@Southeastasiananon Well, we typically have this special mass you attend at 4 in the morning for nine days until Christmas comes. Everybody in the family is present at Christmas. And then we have this great feast made up of roast pig, special sweet treats, pasta, etc that we eat at midnight--it's actually just everything you've ever wanted to eat put in a table for you to eat in one night. Sometimes karaoke is involved, sometimes we play video games until morning. It's awesome. Then we have masses again, but this time it's back to the regular schedule. Catholic countries can be so fun. :D
@ShamelesslyEuropeananon I have accomplished my mission with England, it seems. This makes me happy. || America is actually getting harder to write. I have to put a balance of his right wing and left wing perspective in line with how his people react to the Obama administration. Plus Alfred Jones' actual character. He's such a complicated guy. || I'm glad you like the accents! Tell me when it gets annoying. :p || Nyahaha I honestly can't predict what's happening with this one as compared to the first. I'm just going with the flow. Hahaha
@OP I'm glad you like it! I'll do my best. :D
@anoncallingmeback Sorry about the delays. In the words of General McArthur, "I have returned." :D Thank you for reading this!
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I thought for sure this was abandoned ;_;
In fact, I am so happy that...Have a five or six parts review! ^^
This update was fucking awesome, so long, and hilarious and beautiful at the end! almost in time for Christmas too ok, no, almost fittingly in time for Valentine's Day ;)
I'm absolutely in love with your writing style, particularly America's narration. Some instances:
Holy fuck, did he turn into a ninja?
"H-Hey. Y-You." He facepalmed inwardly.
America pushed down the thought that screamed that Canada was up to something. he totally is, listen to Weird Al
Ohgodohgodohgod what could it be? It was probably something fucking huge if it needed to be outside. Could it be a plane? Or a rocket? HOLY FUCKING SHIT, A SPACESHIP?!?!?! He wrenched the door open pretty hard, almost tearing the door off its hinges. Lol, spaceship. That would be the ultimate AmeRus gift.
The sound was akin to choirs of cherubs singing the Star-Spangled banner. America would have shed tears of admiration. Nothing could be more beautiful.
Russia sent a particularly powerful death glare to the general direction of where the football came from, which was oddly devoid of people in a matter of nanoseconds. America knew he invited the right people to his party. This entire part is HILARIOUS XDXDXDXDXDXD
They both turned around to see France, who was thankfully fully clothed still Pfff, France, I love you <3
Russia released him, but they were still holding hands like an excited--
"Bunch of girls," slipped through America's mouth before he could stop himself. God damn his sharp humorous wit. OH GOD, STOP KILLING ME XDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXD
America led him to the Christmas tree by going through pretty much the entire house so that Russia didn't realize that he was being led to the tree.
He looked at Russia, who was practically sparkling under the Christmas lights. His breath caught in his throat. It was almost like he got sprayed by Tinkerbell's fairy dust, or fireflies or whatever. Or maybe he was just really that beautiful. Oh, America, you're so cute! =>_<=
Russia looked at the direction of the gasp and saw Liechten...Leichten...Liechtenberg Lol at America's fail geography xD
This couldn't have happened in a better background. They were directly in front of America's subliminal decoration, with the Christmas lights making Russia sparkle.
HAHAHA, I loved this! I also knew it was going to end in absurdity. Poor America. In fact, though it starts hilarious, I ended up going 'dawww' and feeling really sorry for poor America, especially when he almost cries (he's a teen! he's always hormonal and emotional!). It also looks like Russia noticed he took it too far there at the end, and it ended so wonderfully ROMANTIC AWWWWWWWWWWW ♥ ♥ ♥
I also love your characterization, he's the most authentic America I've ever read. A perfect mix of hilariously random, cutely childish and adorably romantic. Some instances that prove this:
America had always made every Christmas party better than the last one--fuck the recession China's paying for everything anyway...
He licked his lips and tried to hide his excitement. He knew he was impulsive when he was excited. France had always told him, that if he waited, he might be able to get a better deal +the fact that he's so transparent xDDDDDDDDD
After all, if New Zealand really were a girl, she'd probably be real scared and shit.
"I've never heard of it," New Zealand piped up. "Come on, tell us!"
Pfffsh. New Zealand was so in denial about being scared. PFFFFFFFFFFFF WIN
"NOBODY FUCKING LIKES CHINA!!!"
Oh, America, your jealousy is showingXD (it's even better because I bet America's jealous on more than just the Russia front. These two are so competing over everything)
America could have sworn this was a seduction if he didn't know that Russia was unaware of America's feelings for him.Poor kid xDDDDDDDD
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Hahaha, this entire part was fucking brilliant. It's so like America to get vindictive and take out the Soviet games, lol. And this America quickly took them and threw them across the room. Somebody yelped in pain as they got hit by the plastic cases. MADE ME BURST OUT LAUGHING AT WORK THANK YOU >.<
feeling a little guilty at rigging the secret Santa assignments. Russia really seemed to be buying that they keep getting each other out of a computer glitch. He felt bad for lying to him to his face.
He's so innocent and cute, it makes me feel a little bad that Russia is playing with him so much. How will he react when Russia confesses the truth?
+ everything about the house decoration. The fact that he put so much effort and thought into it and nobody seems to notice is both dawww and bawww
+the whole paragraph about his fantasies about the night. Oh, America <3 so prudish at the end lol
+spacing and Superman ramblings. Particularly Man, Australia can be slow sometimes xDDDDDDDDD
+Disney romance fantasies! Also the first try at troika retelling xDDDDDDD
"Perhaps I can be throwing Amerika into sky? For old time's sake."
RUSSIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA <3<3<3 Great entrance, man. Also looking great I happen to share America's taste for glitter during Christmas so yeah
Russia gave him his non-psycho killer smile, which made America melt
Dawwwww
Ottawa was beautiful city covered in snow. Very much like homeland. I was feeling very much at home with nice people. It has been long time since my last visit
I am thinking Russia heard something from before...such a tease! xD
"Kitai was very afraid of his turn."
Wait, what?
(...)
"Da. He would not release me from embrace even after the ride."
America's jaw dropped. Oh that fucking whore.
Russia, you meanie! xDDDDDDD. I fear for China's face next meeting lol. Though we were shown he was as strong as America, so maybe I am fearing for the entire room maybe if America gets violent China and Russia will see that they've gone too far with him, lol
"I am not being able to remove it when I sneeze at large glittery neon invitation."
I always mention that I love the broken engrish grammar thing you have going on, and this is exactly why. LOL
it was much harder to be all jolly and shit when everyone was avoiding telling him important things--lest they be exposed later on in wikileaks--
SO MUCH FUCKING WIN <3<3<3
He didn't want them to end up like France and England, who hated each other so much that it gave them energy
I am always happy at any paralelism being drawn between these pairings, because they are my favourites, and because it works so well!
"Amerika...skaji mena," Russia said almost tenderly, making America's eyes meet his. "Shto eta?"
DAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW and Russia speaking in Russian, hawt~~
"Scheisse, that's the most disgusting thing I--"
Prussia, you always manage to steal the story with just one line xDDDDDDDDDD
"Did France take that mistletoe by the stairs and put it on his belt?!"
France, you're always my favourite person xD
Plus he was kinda weird sometimes, the way he fidgets and goes red often. Must be an Asian thing.
Is this a onesided!Japan-->America reference? Poor Japan! Go console England and maybe more
"Hello," Australia said in a small sheepish voice.
Interesting reaction. Is Australia afraid of him?
Also, surprise Denmark/Canada! I also love this fill because the secondary pairings aren't what you usually see in secondary pairings: USUK or FrUK, Spamano, PruCan, AusHun, GerIta, SuFin, DenNor. Yours are all over the place, and it's perfect.
I was hoping for some more Germany/France action, but I get that this isn't their story. It's just so nonexistent as an established secondary pairing in fics.... I wonder how that mistletoe kiss with Russia went for them, after the other two left...
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And their names are superperfect, and just became my headcanon (Oz and Kiwi, lol). I really like your UK brothers, Wales acting more mature as they're older, like an uncle and got fucking sexy when he held his authority over Scotland, and Scotland being such a drunk jerk, hahaha, making poor America paranoid with Canada I wonder if you'll explore that more. I love your take on them, man. Also, poor England...
And guess what? I have a title now! Okay, so maybe some other US-related fanfics way better than this already used this title but if I get no violent reaction, I ain't chnagin' it. :D
I will be eternally amused about the fact that you can write so incredibly well and are incapable of coming up with good titles xDDDDDDDDDDD
The ending was superadorable, I can't wait to see what else you have in store for themus! Update soon, please ^^
sorry this ended up shorter than I previously promised ^^U
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