No Need for Desperation! [3/4]
anonymous
April 16 2009, 06:30:42 UTC
Russia laughs. Nervously. With a grimace he zips himself back in his pants and starts to climb off the bed. “It was in the moment, I thought we were still… you know. In-character. Look, I’m so sorry, but I’m out of the mind set, and I really don’t think I can continue-”
A hand lashes out and seizes his wrist, the nails digging in like teeth. America’s face is predatory. “No take-backs,” he says with a manic grin. “You said yes!”
“No, I didn’t. This isn’t funny, now, let go-”
“But we’re going to be married!”
Russia screams a little and wrenches his arm free. “No we’re not! Leave me alone!”
“Wait…!” America calls out, but Russia-fuck this Russia shit! he thinks to himself-is already running out of the room in nothing but his pants and a scarf, not bothering to grab his shoes or other clothes. He redoubles his speed when he hears America wrapping the sheets around himself to give chase.
In the hallway all the doors he tries are locked, and he can hear his America gaining on him by the time he finds one that will open. So, half naked and panting from the exertion, his zipper half down, he opens the double doors.
Unfortunately, he opens them to find himself in an office face-to-face with the actual America and Russia.
There is a pause.
“Oh, this is rich.” Slowly, the real America turns to glare at the real Russia. “Don’t worry, he says. I’ll cut back on the nuclear testing, he says. Yeah, right! Let’s see you explain this one!”
“I… I cannot explain it,” Russia answers, his eyes wide.
America smirks, generally not paying attention as the not-Russia runs around the room, locking doors. “Ha, see, if you were like me and didn’t do things like that behind everyone’s backs, little mutant mini yous running around wouldn’t be a problem-”
“I see,” the real Russia says solemnly. “I will have to amend this.”
They all stop when they hear the scratching at the door, and the doorknobs rattle. “These are new,” says the voice the not-Russia recognizes quite well.
To his surprise, the real Russia’s outline goes rigid as well. “What…?”
“Not to worry, I’ve found another way in!” the not-America says, popping out of what not-Russia thought was a closet. The real Russia and America stare as the shorter, noticeably curvier America steps out of the closet, barely concealed behind a trailing bed sheet.
The real Russia clears his throat. “America, you were saying something about nuclear testing?” But the real America can only stare as his double drops to his knees on the floor and yanks the not-Russia’s hand to his breast.
“I’ve found you at last, and now we shall be together until the end of time. Oh, touch me, fuck me, love me, only let me be yours!” he says, tears of happiness in his eyes. “Can you feel my heart? It beats only for you!”
“No, no, no! Go away, and leave me be! You, real Russia!” the not-Russia says suddenly. He grabs the real Russia’s coat and attempts to throttle him. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you keep things like that just lying around?” Not-Russia flings himself away, grabbing the stunned real Russia’s shoulders and hiding behind him. “Look, here-here’s Russia, the real one. You like him, don’t you? Marry him, instead.”
The not-America stands, clasping the sheets over his chest, and looks at the new Russia, who is quick to shake his head and point around his waist to indicate the scapegoat. He gets out of the way before the not-America lunges.
“Why are you hiding from me? I thought we were past this.”
“Bloody hell, I said go hang yourself!”
The room spins in a flurry of half-off clothes and bed sheets before the not-Russia runs out the door, slamming it behind him. The not-America wrenches it open so forcefully the knob breaks off, and he throws it away before sprinting out into the hallway.
“Why are you running so fast, darling?” he sings in a curiously high-pitched voice--at least high-pitched for America. “Let’s get maaarrried!”
A hand lashes out and seizes his wrist, the nails digging in like teeth. America’s face is predatory. “No take-backs,” he says with a manic grin. “You said yes!”
“No, I didn’t. This isn’t funny, now, let go-”
“But we’re going to be married!”
Russia screams a little and wrenches his arm free. “No we’re not! Leave me alone!”
“Wait…!” America calls out, but Russia-fuck this Russia shit! he thinks to himself-is already running out of the room in nothing but his pants and a scarf, not bothering to grab his shoes or other clothes. He redoubles his speed when he hears America wrapping the sheets around himself to give chase.
In the hallway all the doors he tries are locked, and he can hear his America gaining on him by the time he finds one that will open. So, half naked and panting from the exertion, his zipper half down, he opens the double doors.
Unfortunately, he opens them to find himself in an office face-to-face with the actual America and Russia.
There is a pause.
“Oh, this is rich.” Slowly, the real America turns to glare at the real Russia. “Don’t worry, he says. I’ll cut back on the nuclear testing, he says. Yeah, right! Let’s see you explain this one!”
“I… I cannot explain it,” Russia answers, his eyes wide.
America smirks, generally not paying attention as the not-Russia runs around the room, locking doors. “Ha, see, if you were like me and didn’t do things like that behind everyone’s backs, little mutant mini yous running around wouldn’t be a problem-”
“I see,” the real Russia says solemnly. “I will have to amend this.”
They all stop when they hear the scratching at the door, and the doorknobs rattle. “These are new,” says the voice the not-Russia recognizes quite well.
To his surprise, the real Russia’s outline goes rigid as well. “What…?”
“Not to worry, I’ve found another way in!” the not-America says, popping out of what not-Russia thought was a closet. The real Russia and America stare as the shorter, noticeably curvier America steps out of the closet, barely concealed behind a trailing bed sheet.
The real Russia clears his throat. “America, you were saying something about nuclear testing?” But the real America can only stare as his double drops to his knees on the floor and yanks the not-Russia’s hand to his breast.
“I’ve found you at last, and now we shall be together until the end of time. Oh, touch me, fuck me, love me, only let me be yours!” he says, tears of happiness in his eyes. “Can you feel my heart? It beats only for you!”
“No, no, no! Go away, and leave me be! You, real Russia!” the not-Russia says suddenly. He grabs the real Russia’s coat and attempts to throttle him. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you keep things like that just lying around?” Not-Russia flings himself away, grabbing the stunned real Russia’s shoulders and hiding behind him. “Look, here-here’s Russia, the real one. You like him, don’t you? Marry him, instead.”
The not-America stands, clasping the sheets over his chest, and looks at the new Russia, who is quick to shake his head and point around his waist to indicate the scapegoat. He gets out of the way before the not-America lunges.
“Why are you hiding from me? I thought we were past this.”
“Bloody hell, I said go hang yourself!”
The room spins in a flurry of half-off clothes and bed sheets before the not-Russia runs out the door, slamming it behind him. The not-America wrenches it open so forcefully the knob breaks off, and he throws it away before sprinting out into the hallway.
“Why are you running so fast, darling?” he sings in a curiously high-pitched voice--at least high-pitched for America. “Let’s get maaarrried!”
“NOOOO!”
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