The dream. The one where ice cuts his palms when he tries to rise and the night sky’s lit up with dancing red.
Russia calmly watches him struggle. “Even I did not expect to be the one to have you went it was over.”
It can’t end like this, America thinks. The only consolation-that he hasn’t lost to Russia-is overshadowed by the more terrible truth, he’s lost to everyone. How can I be giving up?
“How can you still fight?” Russia says in a whisper, genuinely curious. “You can’t endure like this. Let it be over, America. You can put a stop to it with a word and we will begin negotiations.”
“You don’t negotiate with losers.” And he doesn’t mean just Russia when he says it. “I really have had worse,” he lies. “I wasn’t joking.”
He expects to feel Russia’s wrath, to see all Russia’s pent-up burning desire to smash America’s face in wrapped in a pleasant facial tick and turned at the last second to a smile to save face, a pretty foil to America’s own expression.
But no. Russia is almost tender when he whispers into America’s ear, softly, with certainty, “You are lying.”
-
Sun shines through the curtains instead of moonlight when America wakes next. He rises out of sleep slowly, expecting the pain to jump him. There’s a bandage wrapped around his head. One of his arms hangs in a clean white sling. He’s numb, but thankfully there’s no pain. That must mean it’s about time to bust out of here. Wherever here is.
America pushes himself out of the mountain of soft white feather blankets. The numbness in his extremities makes it a bitch to get out of bed. He stumbles, has to watch his feet until the feeling comes back into them. He can’t find his glasses, so leaves the room without them.
He stops dead when he passes a window in the hall. There’s some ten feet of snow outside, achingly fresh. Something tells America he’s not in Miami anymore. He’ll be lucky if he can push the door open, much less make a break for it in his bare feet and pajamas.
The footsteps reach his ears just a few seconds before Lithuania rounds the corner. At least it looks like Lithuania when America squints. They stare dumbly at each other before America raises his good hand to try and wave, but Lithuania grasps the arm instead. “What are you doing?” he hisses, pulling America urgently down the hall.
America is led back to the room, and follows Lithuania’s example by speaking in a low voice. “Did I get wasted or something? I had the weirdest dreams last night.”
“I know exactly how you feel and we will talk about it if you want, but what are you doing out of bed? You shouldn’t be walking around.”
America blinks, imagination overcome by Cold War-tinted images of armed robots patrolling the halls. “How come?”
“Well, you-” Lithuania shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be able to, is what I meant, but... it is you, I guess, even if... well, you still need rest. Come back and get back in bed, please? You should take advantage of this when you still can, while Russia’s still-”
“What?” America snaps, suddenly alert. Even though they were just dreams. America tries to calm down, but suddenly this is very important. Because he just realized whose house he’s in. “While Russia is what?”
“He-he’s at a meeting-”
“Who with?”
Lithuania pales and shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”
America sits on the bed. “Why not?”
With pained expression, Lithuania sighs and helps America back under the covers. “China, Japan, Canada, Mexico. Some UN representatives.”
“Is there a reason Russia’s in a meeting with my neighbours and moneylenders, or is that really a coincidence?” America deadpans. Lithuania doesn’t meet his eyes. “Well you knew I didn’t want to know, and you were right. Like you usually are.”
“I’m sorry.” Lithuania administers a kiss to America’s forehead. He doesn’t pull away immediately, keeping his lips pressed to America’s hair. “I’m so sorry,” he says, unable to mask all the emotion in his voice. America’s not always great reading the atmosphere, but he can tell Lithuania isn’t just apologizing for telling him the names.
He wraps his good arm around Lithuania’s waist to hug him, and this is how they’re caught a few seconds later, when Russia enters the room.
Re: Unfree [2/?]
anonymous
May 13 2009, 12:25:11 UTC
Please do continue. I love America in this (I don't know, the joke part and the lie and everything) and can't wait til we see some Russia outside the dream.
Re: Unfree [2/?]
anonymous
May 13 2009, 22:17:27 UTC
Author!anon. I am not a religious anon, but all sorts of blasphemy ran through my head when I realized I've read all you've written so far. This. This is, I don't know, I can't find the superlatives for it; all my words of praise are far too cliche for this.
Re: Unfree [2/?]
anonymous
May 14 2009, 02:17:23 UTC
author!anon, here: thank you! EVERYONE thank you, you're all so kind Really, everything? :DD I'm flattered, but I think I may have deceived you! If you're going by style alone, that is, haha... (insert furious blush). I could just have some writing/formatting habit I'm not aware of, but almost all of my previous fills have been crack/comedy... I would be blown away if you have picked them out from reading this of all things.
Still, considering all the more talented author!anons here, I'm honestly tickled to have been probably? mistaken for one of them ♥
Re: Unfree [2/?]
anonymous
May 14 2009, 03:21:02 UTC
Oh God, Lithuania and America under Russia's roof is one of my long time kinks. I luv luv luv them. They're my favorite non-yaoi pair and this fic is awesome for having Liet in it to share and help with America's dilemma. I'm so curious to know what caused America to be at Russia's house, and how they will react when they come face to face. The last line left me wanting. What will Russia do? Will he be angry at Lithuania for comforting his long time enemy and rival, or at America for becoming intimate with his favorite Baltic? Please continue.
OP CANNOT BREATHE
anonymous
May 14 2009, 03:49:10 UTC
You make OP happy ;A; I'm loving this so much!! God, don't mind making me wait! Take your time cause this is gorgeous. The way your write Lithuania all caring and sweet tickles my heart. I have to admit, I giggled at the 'ten feet of snow' part. That's a shitload of snow.
Russia calmly watches him struggle. “Even I did not expect to be the one to have you went it was over.”
It can’t end like this, America thinks. The only consolation-that he hasn’t lost to Russia-is overshadowed by the more terrible truth, he’s lost to everyone. How can I be giving up?
“How can you still fight?” Russia says in a whisper, genuinely curious. “You can’t endure like this. Let it be over, America. You can put a stop to it with a word and we will begin negotiations.”
“You don’t negotiate with losers.” And he doesn’t mean just Russia when he says it. “I really have had worse,” he lies. “I wasn’t joking.”
He expects to feel Russia’s wrath, to see all Russia’s pent-up burning desire to smash America’s face in wrapped in a pleasant facial tick and turned at the last second to a smile to save face, a pretty foil to America’s own expression.
But no. Russia is almost tender when he whispers into America’s ear, softly, with certainty, “You are lying.”
-
Sun shines through the curtains instead of moonlight when America wakes next. He rises out of sleep slowly, expecting the pain to jump him. There’s a bandage wrapped around his head. One of his arms hangs in a clean white sling. He’s numb, but thankfully there’s no pain. That must mean it’s about time to bust out of here. Wherever here is.
America pushes himself out of the mountain of soft white feather blankets. The numbness in his extremities makes it a bitch to get out of bed. He stumbles, has to watch his feet until the feeling comes back into them. He can’t find his glasses, so leaves the room without them.
He stops dead when he passes a window in the hall. There’s some ten feet of snow outside, achingly fresh. Something tells America he’s not in Miami anymore. He’ll be lucky if he can push the door open, much less make a break for it in his bare feet and pajamas.
The footsteps reach his ears just a few seconds before Lithuania rounds the corner. At least it looks like Lithuania when America squints. They stare dumbly at each other before America raises his good hand to try and wave, but Lithuania grasps the arm instead. “What are you doing?” he hisses, pulling America urgently down the hall.
America is led back to the room, and follows Lithuania’s example by speaking in a low voice. “Did I get wasted or something? I had the weirdest dreams last night.”
“I know exactly how you feel and we will talk about it if you want, but what are you doing out of bed? You shouldn’t be walking around.”
America blinks, imagination overcome by Cold War-tinted images of armed robots patrolling the halls. “How come?”
“Well, you-” Lithuania shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be able to, is what I meant, but... it is you, I guess, even if... well, you still need rest. Come back and get back in bed, please? You should take advantage of this when you still can, while Russia’s still-”
“What?” America snaps, suddenly alert. Even though they were just dreams. America tries to calm down, but suddenly this is very important. Because he just realized whose house he’s in. “While Russia is what?”
“He-he’s at a meeting-”
“Who with?”
Lithuania pales and shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”
America sits on the bed. “Why not?”
With pained expression, Lithuania sighs and helps America back under the covers. “China, Japan, Canada, Mexico. Some UN representatives.”
“Is there a reason Russia’s in a meeting with my neighbours and moneylenders, or is that really a coincidence?” America deadpans. Lithuania doesn’t meet his eyes. “Well you knew I didn’t want to know, and you were right. Like you usually are.”
“I’m sorry.” Lithuania administers a kiss to America’s forehead. He doesn’t pull away immediately, keeping his lips pressed to America’s hair. “I’m so sorry,” he says, unable to mask all the emotion in his voice. America’s not always great reading the atmosphere, but he can tell Lithuania isn’t just apologizing for telling him the names.
He wraps his good arm around Lithuania’s waist to hug him, and this is how they’re caught a few seconds later, when Russia enters the room.
more on the way
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please continue anon? ^^
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I love America in this (I don't know, the joke part and the lie and everything) and can't wait til we see some Russia outside the dream.
Gotta go read again.
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Please keep being brilliant, Anon.
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Really, everything? :DD I'm flattered, but I think I may have deceived you! If you're going by style alone, that is, haha... (insert furious blush). I could just have some writing/formatting habit I'm not aware of, but almost all of my previous fills have been crack/comedy... I would be blown away if you have picked them out from reading this of all things.
Still, considering all the more talented author!anons here, I'm honestly tickled to have been probably? mistaken for one of them ♥
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(godnowIwanttorpthis)
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I'm loving this so much!!
God, don't mind making me wait! Take your time cause this is gorgeous. The way your write Lithuania all caring and sweet tickles my heart. I have to admit, I giggled at the 'ten feet of snow' part. That's a shitload of snow.
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That is a shitload of snow indeed. And leaves you a little sore after shoveling the driveway, let me tell you...
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You're doing an overly awesome job so far anon. Please, just PLEASE continue!!!
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