[Fic Fill + some art] Adventure
TITLE: Adventure
AUTHOR/ARTIST: mcmitters
RECIPIENT: strawberryburst
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: Russia/America
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: America decides take Russia to the beach.
Adventure
America drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The leather was beginning to get sticky and hot from sitting in the sun. He glanced at his watch and sighed. He rolled his eyes with a groan and shook his head, knocking his over-the-glasses sunglasses askew. He had considered wearing a real pair, but was in a hurry and couldn’t find his prescription pair. He readjusted the glasses with a grimace and scanned the terminal exit.
He watched the people shuffle in and out of the airport doors; business people, tour groups, families, etc. America smiled softly as he watched his people go about their daily lives. Watching them made him feel like a proud parent.
The breeze began to pick up and America gave a sigh of relief. He was dressed in just a thin T-shirt and jeans, but it was still unbearably hot. Some days he was convinced that the sun had it out against him. Maybe the ozone really was thinning.
He laid his head back and closed his eyes, focusing on the sounds of birds and cicadas over the vehicles and people. He stayed in that peaceful bliss for what seemed like fifteen minutes until he felt something block the sunlight over his head. He opened his eyes to see the tall Russian standing over him with a displeased expression.
“Oh, hey Russia! What took you so long? I thought your flight got in two hours ago?” He turned the keys to start the ignition (and AC) before getting out of the car to help Russia with his things.
“You did not inform me of the size of this airport before directing me here.” He said with iciness.
“Whaaat? I told you Hartsfield-Jackson was big! You didn’t believe me?”
“You didn’t tell me I had to ride a train to get from one terminal to the other. I got lost. Many times.” He scoffed.
“I’ve never gotten lost, you’re just stupid then.” America retorted with a huff and grabbed Russia’s suitcase and threw it haphazardly into the backseat of his Mustang convertible.
“Perhaps that’s because it’s your airport!” Russia waved his arms.
“Excuses, excuses. C’mon, get in, we’re late.”
“For what?” Russia’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see~” America purred. “And you might want to take off that coat before you get in. Why the fuck did you wear that thing anyway? It’s summer!”
“I didn’t think it would be this hot-“
“Welcome to July in Georgia, my Georgia. It’s like this almost half the year.”
Russia peeled off his coat and tossed it on top of his suitcase. He pulled down his T-shirt, which had been gradually inching up his midsection during his walk to the baggage terminal. It was a little too small for him and it squeezed him uncomfortably. He opened the passenger side door and plopped down into the seat. He jolted as his back made contact with the hot leather and leaned forward.
“The scarf too.”
“Nyet.” Russia said curtly and picked at the ends of his scarf. He could see America scowling in his peripheral vision and didn’t want to turn to face him.
“You know I don’t care about your scars. Just take it off!”
“It would disturb the public!” He cried. Russia continued to fidget with his scarf; it was amazing how interesting it could be in time of avoiding conversation!
“Russia.” America said with a stern tone.
“No!”
“Ivan.” He leaned closer.
“Nyet!” He shook his head wildly and sunk away from America. Too late. America pounced. He clung to one side of the scarf and tried to prevent America from unraveling it from around his neck, but his grip failed against America’s inhuman strength. America pulled it out of Russia’s reach, wadded it up and sat on it with a victorious grin.
“You lose.” America smirked and tapped Russia on the nose. He pressed the gas and drove out of the parking space.
Russia fidgeted uncomfortably rubbed the collar of his shirt. America glanced over and placed a hand on Russia’s shoulders. He squeezed lightly and looked Russia in the eyes. “You’re fine. You look beautiful. Stop worrying.” He flashed one of his trademark smiles and returned his concentration to driving.
Russia scowled; he hated it when the word “beautiful” was used in the same sentience as his name. Describing his wilderness? Yes. His appearance? No. But hearing it from America wasn’t that unusual, the man seemed to find something positive in everything. He would probably describe a hamburger as “beautiful”. Russia still felt exposed and uncomfortable but decided to stare out at the passing city scenery to distract himself.
A few hours of sulking and many miles later, Russia’s curiosity had reached critical mass. “So where are we going?” He pushed his hair behind his ears, only to have it blown in his face again by the wind for the umpteenth time. He never was fond of convertibles.
“The beach!” America grinned.
Ivan blanched. He also wasn’t fond of beaches. “Um, America, if we are going to the beach, don’t you think I flew into the wrong state?” He gestured to all the trees and the blue shapes of mountains off into the distance.
“Georgia does have beaches, but we’re not going to them. We’re driving up to the North Carolina.”
“Why did you not just tell me to fly into an airport there?”
“Because I wanted to go on a road trip with you!” America continued to beam.
“Road-trip?”
“You know, like an adventure driving somewhere with someone?”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a question.” There was a pause. “Never mind, you’ll have fun, I promise!” Russia’s mouth twitched into an unnatural smile.
“Yes. Fun…” Russia cared for his American friend very much, but sometimes he thought there was something wrong with him in the head. Perhaps he had been dropped upon it as a colony? Who knew.
They drove for several hours down the interstate, America chattering on about whatever his heat desired, Russia stopping him to ask a question every now ant then. America had the radio turned to some classic rock station, but neither of them were actually listening. America had been right; he was having fun. When in the presence of a person that exudes as much happiness and energy as America, it was hard not to enjoy oneself.
America decided to turn off onto a secondary road after they crossed the state border claiming he wanted a more “scenic” drive. Russia wondered if these sights were worth the extra hours of the trip. He was just about to ask America how much mileage the car got when it started sputtering and
coasted to a stop. America turned to him with a sheepish expression. “Out of gas.” He said weakly.
“Good thing there is a petro station over there, yes?” He gestured to the station behind them. America glanced at the station and stiffened.
“I am NOT buying it from a BP station.” He hissed.
Russia blinked as realization hit him. “Oh. I see… But where are you going to get fuel?”
“I don’t know, there’s probably somewhere down the road a ways.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and angrily got out of the car.
“You’re not seriously thinking of pushing this all the way there are you?”
America snorted. “No, of course not!” He shut the trunk and waved an empty fuel canister in the air. “I’ll be back. You wait here.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to just get fuel from the BP station just once? It’s ridiculous to walk all that way and have to carry a heavy canister back! I’m sure no-“
“NO.” America huffed and set off down the road, muttering about dead pelicans and shrimp the entire way.
Russia sighed and watched him go until he was so far Russia could barely see him anymore.
It must have been over an hour before America came back. Or at least it felt like and hour, but Russia couldn’t really be sure. All he knew was that he fell asleep at one point and awoke to a shirtless America poking him on the forehead. He groggily swatted the offending hand before jolting awake sputtering a string of Russian profanity.
“Wake up sleepy head.” America patted Russia’s cheek with a chuckle.
“Wh-What happened? Did you get fuel? Are we going to resume traveling soon? And what happened to you shirt?”
Yes, yes, and it’s right here.” America turned and patted the back pocket he had tucked the white T-shirt into.
Russia caught himself lingering his gaze on America’s rear and quickly turned forward again, feeling his face redden. “W-Why did you even take it off in the first place!?” His voice raised a little too high as he yelled.
“I didn’t want it to get all stinky and sweaty!” America has finished refilling the gas tank and tossed the empty canister back into the trunk. He pulled the shirt over his head and got back into the car. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate me being funky for the duration of the drive.” He grinned.
“You already smell putrid, obviously your plan did work that well.” Russia retorted.
“Well excuuuse me!” Russia also heard him mutter something that sounded like ‘with a schnoz the size of yours probably everything smells bad’, but decided it wasn’t worth getting into an argument. The car rumbled back to life and two of them returned to their ‘adventure’.
Russia was just beginning to smell the ocean when the sun sank below the horizon. America sighed loudly. “We’re not going to get there in time. Do you mind if we stop somewhere for the night? I’m kinda tired of driving.”
“Not at all.”
“Good” America said weakly, sounding relieved. “There’s a cheap motel up ahead, I’m going to stop there.”
Russia made a noise of agreement and stretched in his seat. He ached to get out and move again.
“I’ll go get us a room, you gather up your stuff. This place looks unusually crowded.” He said as he pulled into the only free parking space. Russia nodded as he got out. Walking around was sweet relief. His spine cracked loudly as he stretched, he gave a contented yawn. He reached into the backseat and retrieved his bag and coat, which surprisingly had moved during the ride. He remembered his missing scarf as the breeze blew across the back of his neck, making him shiver uncomfortably. Where was it now? He glanced over at America’s seat. Sure enough, crumpled and halfway stuck in the crack of the seat was his tan scarf. He quickly pulled it out and shook it to smooth some of the wrinkles before wrapping it back around his neck with a contented smile.
“Hey they only had one room left so I got that- oh no how’d you get that back?” America eyeballed the scarf with horror.
“You left it there, your loss, my gain.” He smirked. America groaned and rolled his eyes.
“Anyway, lets go check out our lovely abode in this roach motel.”
The first thing Russia noticed about the room was the awful smell, like old socks and cigarettes. The second, and more pressing matter, was the sole bed in the room. He would have to share a bed with America. He stiffened as his it felt like his stomach dropped. He felt his ears heat up as a grimaced.
“The only room they had was one with a king sized bed. I hope you don’t mind. “ America turned back and caught sight of Russia’s mortified expression. “Look, it’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before! Um. If I seem stinky from that walk earlier today-“
“No, it is fine!” Russia said with over exaggerated happiness. He forced an overly toothy smile on his face. America gave him a skeptical look.
“Are you sure, because I can probably find somewhere else to sl-“
“Nyet! It is fine!” He clapped a hand on America’s shoulder awkwardly.
“O-okaay.” America said nervously and set his keys down on the table. There was an awkward pause and they both stood fidgeting.
Russia sorely wished to be a turtle at that moment, to just curl up in a shell and forget all his problems. Unfortunately he was not a turtle, he was a Russia, and Russias don’t have shells.
He gave himself a mental slap to the face. It’s not like he hadn’t shared a bed with another man, or America to be exact before, right? It was just like being in the barracks! He’d shared a bed with America many times during WWII; this should be no different. It was just that the combination of his shyness and America’s clingy tendencies made it awkward. Really awkward. Awkwardness bringing forward feelings Russia wasn’t quite ready to face at the moment. He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and tried to work past his miniature panic attack.
America was the first to break the silence. “Well, we’ve got to get an early start tomorrow, I don’t know about you, but I’m going to hit the hay.” He kicked off his shoes and dove under the covers. Russia shook of some of his uneasiness and followed suit.
He slid under the covers staying as far from America as he could. As he laid his head down on the pillow and closed his eyes, the exhaustion from the day’s traveling finally caught up with him and he felt a wave of sleepiness wash over him. He was vaguely aware of himself inching toward a source of warmth under the covers as sleep began to claim him, but his brain was to tired to fully process what that meant.
Russia had (at least what he considered to be) a wonderful dream. He was in a sunny field observing wildlife. A bear lumbered over to him and nudged him in the side with its furry head. It was a very unusual bear; it had golden fur and intelligent blue eyes. It eased its massive bulk onto the ground and nibbled at the flowers. The bear nudged the back of Russia’s knees with its nose and stared up at him with an expectant look. It pointed its nose to the ground in a gesturing motion.
“You want me to join you?” Russia asked, half feeling crazy for asking a bear questions. The bear nodded. Russia blinked. “O-okay” He slowly plopped to the ground next to the bear, pulling his coattail out from under him as he squirmed into a more comfortable position. The sun shone on the bear’s pelt making it look like spun gold. It looked so soft. He wanted to touch it. The bear was still watching him.
“May I?” He asked the bear, reaching his had towards its massive back. The bear nodded again. He hesitantly touched the fur, slowly stroking a gloved hand down its side. He repeated the action a few more times before stripping off his glove and burying his fingers into the soft fur. It had been softer than he had been expecting, almost as soft a human hair. He bear let out a contented rumble as Russia continued stroking its side.
He scooted up against the bear’s side and lay back, staring up at the cloudless blue sky. The sun and the warmth was so calm and peaceful, he felt his eyelids begin to get heavy. He closed his eyes and let sleep drift over him.
Sunlight filtered through the crack in the grubby curtains shining on the bed. Russia stirred, blearily observing the surroundings. He felt a heated mass pressed up against his chest. Something tickled at his chin as the mass began to move. Realization hit Russia’s groggy brain like one of those anvils out of America’s cartoons. Oh. He had one of his arms wrapped protectively around America’s waist and another up against America’s back, his fingers tangled in the golden hair. So that’s what the bear was.
He jolted a little as he became aware of America’s arms wrapped around his midsection. He felt his face heat up once again.
America moved again, letting out a sleepy groan. He stretched in Russia’s arms and loosened his grip around Russia’s waist. He mumbled something, his words too slurred for Russia to understand.
America pulled back a little and blearily looked up at Russia. “Hey big guy.” He said weakly and moved closer to nuzzle Russia again. Russia tensed. He swallowed and cleared his throat.
“A-Am-America, do you not think we should be start heading towards our destination soon, yes?” He rasped, his brain not quite awake enough yet to form correct sentences.
“Mmmgh-yeaaah” America yawned as he spoke, stretching like a cat and popping his back. “You’re right.” He pried Russia’s arms off and sat up. He ran his hands down the front of his shirt, smoothing some of the wrinkles. “Since I just slept in this stuff I’ll change and bathe once we get to there, is that okay with you?” He smiled at Russia.
“Da- I mean yes.” Russia nodded. As if it was possible to say no to America when he made that face He sat up and hopped out of bed, hoping to distract America from thinking about the topic of their cuddling a few minutes ago. Thankfully the subject was never mentioned. They gathered their belongings and were out the door a few minutes later.
“Let’s go!” America yelled in a cheery voice as he trotted over to the car. Russia followed him but stopped in front of the trunk.
“America, could I possibly put my items in here so they do not blow out when we are driving? “ He was amazed it didn’t in all of yesterday’s escapades.
“Yeah sure! Gimmie a sec to clean it first.” He scrambled over and popped the trunk. Shuffling the empty gas can, his bag, and a few half empty chip bags aside, he cleared a (crumb coated) spot.
“There, that’s better, go right ahead buddy.” He chimed, but decided to do it for Russia anyway. As he ripped it from Russia’ grip, their hands made a brief contact. America appeared to not notice, but Russia felt his stomach lurch.
“One more thing.” He said quietly as he reached towards the trunk lid. Russia raised an eyebrow.
America grabbed him around his upper arms and spun him around unraveling his scarf in the process. America’s lips being pressed against his own quickly snuffed his cry of protest. They moved against his for another second before America drew back, tossed the scarf into the trunk, and shut it without another word. He shuffled back to the drivers seat leaving a dazed Russia behind.
Russia didn’t remember what happened during the rest of the ride, he was too lost in his thoughts to notice anything. He snapped back to his senses when the convertible pulled up in front of a yellow beach house.
“Here we are! I rented this baby for the whole weekend, so we’ve got it all to ourselves! You can have your own room and everything!” He parked and hopped out, whistling to himself as he gathered both of their belongings out of the trunk. Russia brain slowly starting to function again, his thoughts clearing out- and he was suddenly hit by a had wad of keys in the back of the head
“Ow! What-“
“Could you open the door for me pal? I’ve kinda got my hands full” America gestured to the bags.
Russia shot him a glare and rubbed the back of his head as he retrieved the keys from the seat.
The inside of the beach house was simple and cheap: decorated with tacky sea related pictures and lamps. The floor scuffed with the sound of sand against wood as they walked, and the salty ocean air seemed to have seeped into every pore of the house. America dumped Russia’s bag and coat onto a bed in the downstairs bedroom and went to place his possessions in the one on the second floor.
Russia stared out the big windows in his room into the crowded beach below. He had to admit, it did look nice out there.
He unzipped his bag and rummaged through it looking for his swimming trunks. He had not been expecting the beach trip when America invited him over, but he always carried a pair in case he was in a hotel with a nice hot tub. He shut the door; pulled one of the curtains across the windows, made sure America wasn’t coming, and shimmied out of his clothes.
The trunks were a dark purple color and fit comfortably on his waist. He pulled them on and looked at himself in the (seashell shaped) mirror on the wall. He frowned as he pinched the rolls of fat on his stomach. His eyes drifted upwards and he inspected the scars on his neck. They were not something he should show out in public, especially a crowded beach. He cursed America for stealing his scarf, blushing as he remembered the younger nation’s distraction technique. He rummaged through his bag and found a sunflower patterned bandana. He tied it around his neck with a pleased smile.
“Hey, do you- Oh, that was fast! Great timing, I guess great minds think alike!” America appeared at his door, clad in only a pair of American flag swimming trunks. Russia suddenly felt a little guilty for being self-conscious about his scars as he saw America’s chest. It wasn’t unusual for a nation to have lots of scars, but as far as Russia was concerned, America had way too many for one so young.
A long and prominent scar stretched from his right shoulder to his left hip down the front of his chest. (Russia had asked him about it once, he knew it was from the Civil War, but it should have healed better than that. America just replied with ‘some things never heal all the way’ and gave him a forlorn smile) there was also a faint discolored path over his heart (Burning of Washington), another on his shoulder (Pearl Harbor), and a still somewhat raw gash down his back (9/11).
“Quit lolly-gagging, let’s go!” America beckoned and dashed out of the doorframe. Russia followed him without protests.
The beach had fun. They bummed around under an umbrella for a few hours before taking a long walk. America had dragged Russia up to a little boardwalk area to buy food. He found a vendor with hats and bought Russia a large floppy grass hat with a cheap plastic sunflower glued onto it. Despite Russia’s protests about if being an old lady hat, America jammed it onto the older nation’s head. He laughed and ran from Russia’s impending rage. There was none of course, but Russia chased him anyway. (at least until he ran out of breath and stood panting against the railing) They began walking back towards the rental beach house as the sun started sinking below the horizon.
“I’m not particularly hungry, I was just thinking I’d take a long shower and go to bed, how ‘bout you?” America unlocked the door and flicked on the lights with a yawn. So the great energetic nation does get tired! Russia smiled inwardly.
“That is fine.” Russia said as he watched America go, a little ping of sadness settling in his chest as he went into his empty room.
Russia took a short but nice and warm shower to rid himself of all the scum and sand from the day. He felt nice and refreshed as he pulled on a clean pair of boxers. He pulled back the covers and sat down on the bed. He felt miserable and alone in the small room, this would not do. He thought of America upstairs and worked up the nerve for his plan. He grabbed his book from his bag and switched off the light.
America was still in the shower (and singing to himself (badly)) when Russia crept up to his room. He slid into one side of the large bed and attempted to read his book. It was no use; he had to read the same sentence over and over, the one familiar Cyrillic letters, seeming foreign under his nervousness. Butterflies danced in his stomach as he heard the shower shut off.
America stepped out a minute later, clad in only a towel around his waste, his glosses fogged up. He hummed to himself as he walked over to the bed with closed eyes. As soon as his glasses cleared he jumped in surprise with a little yell as he saw Russia. “Geez, man, you could of given me some warning! You scared me half to death!” He slowly eased out of the defensive pose he had jumped into.
“Why are you here. In my bed. Is there something wrong with your room, do you want to switch?” America prodded as he dug out underwear from his bad. He pulled up the towel that had been gradually sliding down his waste (much to Russia’s disappointment).
Russia cleared his throat. “No. I, uh, wanted to sleep in here with you.” He turned his head aside, redness engulfing his cheeks. “L-like last night, yes?” He fidgeted with the edges of his book as he waited for America’s reply.
A grin spread across America’s face. “Really? You don’t mind sleeping with me? I didn’t turn you off with all that subconscious snuggling last night?” He scratched the back of his head nervously.
“Nyet. I like the snuggling.” He returned America’s smile.
“G-great! I’ve got another question though.” He gave a small awkward cough. “Y-you are wearing something under those covers, right?” He gestured to Russia’s bare chest, his underwear hidden by the sheet.
Russia’s blush deepened as he understood what America was implying. He gave a small sigh and pulled back the covers revealing his not completely undressed form.
America gave a little sigh of relief. “I’m going to get dressed, close your eyes!” He said with a huff and turned his back to Russia. Russia obeyed, but left one eye slightly open so he could see America strip. He grinned. America quickly changed and crawled into the bed. “What’s with the smi- YOU PEEKED DIDN’T YOU?!?” He glared at Russia, his nostrils flared in anger.
Russia grinned wolfishly. “I did no such thing.” America punched him in the shoulder. It was meant to be a playful message, but with America’s strength it was quiet painful. He winced, but laughed anyway. America huffed and folded his arms. Russia tugged off the nation’s glasses and set them on the nightstand atop his book. He shimmied under the sheets and dragged America with him.
America instantly curled up against him. “Did you have fun today?” He mumbled into Russia’s chest.
“Yes.” He said quietly and ran a hand through America’ hair. They lay in silence for a while. Another wave of exhaustion hit him. “Thank you for everything, I-“ America had already fallen asleep in his arms. He gave America a quick kiss on the forehead closed his eyes, hoping to once again dream of sunny fields and golden bears.
AN: Cheesy ending is cheesy! It was kinda rushed due to time constraints, sorry. OTL
The last half of this wasn't beta'd, and I haven't writtne a fic in almost a year, so if you see any typos or mistakes, please let me know!
And I felt really crummy about having to file an extension and only being able to send the first half of my entry out on the 20th, so I did a piece of art to go with the final finished fill. It's not in my normal style because I was trying to be all sneaky and anon-like. :3
Someday I'll learn to draw feet. /fail
AUTHOR/ARTIST: mcmitters
RECIPIENT: strawberryburst
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: Russia/America
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: America decides take Russia to the beach.
Adventure
America drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The leather was beginning to get sticky and hot from sitting in the sun. He glanced at his watch and sighed. He rolled his eyes with a groan and shook his head, knocking his over-the-glasses sunglasses askew. He had considered wearing a real pair, but was in a hurry and couldn’t find his prescription pair. He readjusted the glasses with a grimace and scanned the terminal exit.
He watched the people shuffle in and out of the airport doors; business people, tour groups, families, etc. America smiled softly as he watched his people go about their daily lives. Watching them made him feel like a proud parent.
The breeze began to pick up and America gave a sigh of relief. He was dressed in just a thin T-shirt and jeans, but it was still unbearably hot. Some days he was convinced that the sun had it out against him. Maybe the ozone really was thinning.
He laid his head back and closed his eyes, focusing on the sounds of birds and cicadas over the vehicles and people. He stayed in that peaceful bliss for what seemed like fifteen minutes until he felt something block the sunlight over his head. He opened his eyes to see the tall Russian standing over him with a displeased expression.
“Oh, hey Russia! What took you so long? I thought your flight got in two hours ago?” He turned the keys to start the ignition (and AC) before getting out of the car to help Russia with his things.
“You did not inform me of the size of this airport before directing me here.” He said with iciness.
“Whaaat? I told you Hartsfield-Jackson was big! You didn’t believe me?”
“You didn’t tell me I had to ride a train to get from one terminal to the other. I got lost. Many times.” He scoffed.
“I’ve never gotten lost, you’re just stupid then.” America retorted with a huff and grabbed Russia’s suitcase and threw it haphazardly into the backseat of his Mustang convertible.
“Perhaps that’s because it’s your airport!” Russia waved his arms.
“Excuses, excuses. C’mon, get in, we’re late.”
“For what?” Russia’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see~” America purred. “And you might want to take off that coat before you get in. Why the fuck did you wear that thing anyway? It’s summer!”
“I didn’t think it would be this hot-“
“Welcome to July in Georgia, my Georgia. It’s like this almost half the year.”
Russia peeled off his coat and tossed it on top of his suitcase. He pulled down his T-shirt, which had been gradually inching up his midsection during his walk to the baggage terminal. It was a little too small for him and it squeezed him uncomfortably. He opened the passenger side door and plopped down into the seat. He jolted as his back made contact with the hot leather and leaned forward.
“The scarf too.”
“Nyet.” Russia said curtly and picked at the ends of his scarf. He could see America scowling in his peripheral vision and didn’t want to turn to face him.
“You know I don’t care about your scars. Just take it off!”
“It would disturb the public!” He cried. Russia continued to fidget with his scarf; it was amazing how interesting it could be in time of avoiding conversation!
“Russia.” America said with a stern tone.
“No!”
“Ivan.” He leaned closer.
“Nyet!” He shook his head wildly and sunk away from America. Too late. America pounced. He clung to one side of the scarf and tried to prevent America from unraveling it from around his neck, but his grip failed against America’s inhuman strength. America pulled it out of Russia’s reach, wadded it up and sat on it with a victorious grin.
“You lose.” America smirked and tapped Russia on the nose. He pressed the gas and drove out of the parking space.
Russia fidgeted uncomfortably rubbed the collar of his shirt. America glanced over and placed a hand on Russia’s shoulders. He squeezed lightly and looked Russia in the eyes. “You’re fine. You look beautiful. Stop worrying.” He flashed one of his trademark smiles and returned his concentration to driving.
Russia scowled; he hated it when the word “beautiful” was used in the same sentience as his name. Describing his wilderness? Yes. His appearance? No. But hearing it from America wasn’t that unusual, the man seemed to find something positive in everything. He would probably describe a hamburger as “beautiful”. Russia still felt exposed and uncomfortable but decided to stare out at the passing city scenery to distract himself.
A few hours of sulking and many miles later, Russia’s curiosity had reached critical mass. “So where are we going?” He pushed his hair behind his ears, only to have it blown in his face again by the wind for the umpteenth time. He never was fond of convertibles.
“The beach!” America grinned.
Ivan blanched. He also wasn’t fond of beaches. “Um, America, if we are going to the beach, don’t you think I flew into the wrong state?” He gestured to all the trees and the blue shapes of mountains off into the distance.
“Georgia does have beaches, but we’re not going to them. We’re driving up to the North Carolina.”
“Why did you not just tell me to fly into an airport there?”
“Because I wanted to go on a road trip with you!” America continued to beam.
“Road-trip?”
“You know, like an adventure driving somewhere with someone?”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a question.” There was a pause. “Never mind, you’ll have fun, I promise!” Russia’s mouth twitched into an unnatural smile.
“Yes. Fun…” Russia cared for his American friend very much, but sometimes he thought there was something wrong with him in the head. Perhaps he had been dropped upon it as a colony? Who knew.
They drove for several hours down the interstate, America chattering on about whatever his heat desired, Russia stopping him to ask a question every now ant then. America had the radio turned to some classic rock station, but neither of them were actually listening. America had been right; he was having fun. When in the presence of a person that exudes as much happiness and energy as America, it was hard not to enjoy oneself.
America decided to turn off onto a secondary road after they crossed the state border claiming he wanted a more “scenic” drive. Russia wondered if these sights were worth the extra hours of the trip. He was just about to ask America how much mileage the car got when it started sputtering and
coasted to a stop. America turned to him with a sheepish expression. “Out of gas.” He said weakly.
“Good thing there is a petro station over there, yes?” He gestured to the station behind them. America glanced at the station and stiffened.
“I am NOT buying it from a BP station.” He hissed.
Russia blinked as realization hit him. “Oh. I see… But where are you going to get fuel?”
“I don’t know, there’s probably somewhere down the road a ways.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and angrily got out of the car.
“You’re not seriously thinking of pushing this all the way there are you?”
America snorted. “No, of course not!” He shut the trunk and waved an empty fuel canister in the air. “I’ll be back. You wait here.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to just get fuel from the BP station just once? It’s ridiculous to walk all that way and have to carry a heavy canister back! I’m sure no-“
“NO.” America huffed and set off down the road, muttering about dead pelicans and shrimp the entire way.
Russia sighed and watched him go until he was so far Russia could barely see him anymore.
It must have been over an hour before America came back. Or at least it felt like and hour, but Russia couldn’t really be sure. All he knew was that he fell asleep at one point and awoke to a shirtless America poking him on the forehead. He groggily swatted the offending hand before jolting awake sputtering a string of Russian profanity.
“Wake up sleepy head.” America patted Russia’s cheek with a chuckle.
“Wh-What happened? Did you get fuel? Are we going to resume traveling soon? And what happened to you shirt?”
Yes, yes, and it’s right here.” America turned and patted the back pocket he had tucked the white T-shirt into.
Russia caught himself lingering his gaze on America’s rear and quickly turned forward again, feeling his face redden. “W-Why did you even take it off in the first place!?” His voice raised a little too high as he yelled.
“I didn’t want it to get all stinky and sweaty!” America has finished refilling the gas tank and tossed the empty canister back into the trunk. He pulled the shirt over his head and got back into the car. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate me being funky for the duration of the drive.” He grinned.
“You already smell putrid, obviously your plan did work that well.” Russia retorted.
“Well excuuuse me!” Russia also heard him mutter something that sounded like ‘with a schnoz the size of yours probably everything smells bad’, but decided it wasn’t worth getting into an argument. The car rumbled back to life and two of them returned to their ‘adventure’.
Russia was just beginning to smell the ocean when the sun sank below the horizon. America sighed loudly. “We’re not going to get there in time. Do you mind if we stop somewhere for the night? I’m kinda tired of driving.”
“Not at all.”
“Good” America said weakly, sounding relieved. “There’s a cheap motel up ahead, I’m going to stop there.”
Russia made a noise of agreement and stretched in his seat. He ached to get out and move again.
“I’ll go get us a room, you gather up your stuff. This place looks unusually crowded.” He said as he pulled into the only free parking space. Russia nodded as he got out. Walking around was sweet relief. His spine cracked loudly as he stretched, he gave a contented yawn. He reached into the backseat and retrieved his bag and coat, which surprisingly had moved during the ride. He remembered his missing scarf as the breeze blew across the back of his neck, making him shiver uncomfortably. Where was it now? He glanced over at America’s seat. Sure enough, crumpled and halfway stuck in the crack of the seat was his tan scarf. He quickly pulled it out and shook it to smooth some of the wrinkles before wrapping it back around his neck with a contented smile.
“Hey they only had one room left so I got that- oh no how’d you get that back?” America eyeballed the scarf with horror.
“You left it there, your loss, my gain.” He smirked. America groaned and rolled his eyes.
“Anyway, lets go check out our lovely abode in this roach motel.”
The first thing Russia noticed about the room was the awful smell, like old socks and cigarettes. The second, and more pressing matter, was the sole bed in the room. He would have to share a bed with America. He stiffened as his it felt like his stomach dropped. He felt his ears heat up as a grimaced.
“The only room they had was one with a king sized bed. I hope you don’t mind. “ America turned back and caught sight of Russia’s mortified expression. “Look, it’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before! Um. If I seem stinky from that walk earlier today-“
“No, it is fine!” Russia said with over exaggerated happiness. He forced an overly toothy smile on his face. America gave him a skeptical look.
“Are you sure, because I can probably find somewhere else to sl-“
“Nyet! It is fine!” He clapped a hand on America’s shoulder awkwardly.
“O-okaay.” America said nervously and set his keys down on the table. There was an awkward pause and they both stood fidgeting.
Russia sorely wished to be a turtle at that moment, to just curl up in a shell and forget all his problems. Unfortunately he was not a turtle, he was a Russia, and Russias don’t have shells.
He gave himself a mental slap to the face. It’s not like he hadn’t shared a bed with another man, or America to be exact before, right? It was just like being in the barracks! He’d shared a bed with America many times during WWII; this should be no different. It was just that the combination of his shyness and America’s clingy tendencies made it awkward. Really awkward. Awkwardness bringing forward feelings Russia wasn’t quite ready to face at the moment. He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and tried to work past his miniature panic attack.
America was the first to break the silence. “Well, we’ve got to get an early start tomorrow, I don’t know about you, but I’m going to hit the hay.” He kicked off his shoes and dove under the covers. Russia shook of some of his uneasiness and followed suit.
He slid under the covers staying as far from America as he could. As he laid his head down on the pillow and closed his eyes, the exhaustion from the day’s traveling finally caught up with him and he felt a wave of sleepiness wash over him. He was vaguely aware of himself inching toward a source of warmth under the covers as sleep began to claim him, but his brain was to tired to fully process what that meant.
Russia had (at least what he considered to be) a wonderful dream. He was in a sunny field observing wildlife. A bear lumbered over to him and nudged him in the side with its furry head. It was a very unusual bear; it had golden fur and intelligent blue eyes. It eased its massive bulk onto the ground and nibbled at the flowers. The bear nudged the back of Russia’s knees with its nose and stared up at him with an expectant look. It pointed its nose to the ground in a gesturing motion.
“You want me to join you?” Russia asked, half feeling crazy for asking a bear questions. The bear nodded. Russia blinked. “O-okay” He slowly plopped to the ground next to the bear, pulling his coattail out from under him as he squirmed into a more comfortable position. The sun shone on the bear’s pelt making it look like spun gold. It looked so soft. He wanted to touch it. The bear was still watching him.
“May I?” He asked the bear, reaching his had towards its massive back. The bear nodded again. He hesitantly touched the fur, slowly stroking a gloved hand down its side. He repeated the action a few more times before stripping off his glove and burying his fingers into the soft fur. It had been softer than he had been expecting, almost as soft a human hair. He bear let out a contented rumble as Russia continued stroking its side.
He scooted up against the bear’s side and lay back, staring up at the cloudless blue sky. The sun and the warmth was so calm and peaceful, he felt his eyelids begin to get heavy. He closed his eyes and let sleep drift over him.
Sunlight filtered through the crack in the grubby curtains shining on the bed. Russia stirred, blearily observing the surroundings. He felt a heated mass pressed up against his chest. Something tickled at his chin as the mass began to move. Realization hit Russia’s groggy brain like one of those anvils out of America’s cartoons. Oh. He had one of his arms wrapped protectively around America’s waist and another up against America’s back, his fingers tangled in the golden hair. So that’s what the bear was.
He jolted a little as he became aware of America’s arms wrapped around his midsection. He felt his face heat up once again.
America moved again, letting out a sleepy groan. He stretched in Russia’s arms and loosened his grip around Russia’s waist. He mumbled something, his words too slurred for Russia to understand.
America pulled back a little and blearily looked up at Russia. “Hey big guy.” He said weakly and moved closer to nuzzle Russia again. Russia tensed. He swallowed and cleared his throat.
“A-Am-America, do you not think we should be start heading towards our destination soon, yes?” He rasped, his brain not quite awake enough yet to form correct sentences.
“Mmmgh-yeaaah” America yawned as he spoke, stretching like a cat and popping his back. “You’re right.” He pried Russia’s arms off and sat up. He ran his hands down the front of his shirt, smoothing some of the wrinkles. “Since I just slept in this stuff I’ll change and bathe once we get to there, is that okay with you?” He smiled at Russia.
“Da- I mean yes.” Russia nodded. As if it was possible to say no to America when he made that face He sat up and hopped out of bed, hoping to distract America from thinking about the topic of their cuddling a few minutes ago. Thankfully the subject was never mentioned. They gathered their belongings and were out the door a few minutes later.
“Let’s go!” America yelled in a cheery voice as he trotted over to the car. Russia followed him but stopped in front of the trunk.
“America, could I possibly put my items in here so they do not blow out when we are driving? “ He was amazed it didn’t in all of yesterday’s escapades.
“Yeah sure! Gimmie a sec to clean it first.” He scrambled over and popped the trunk. Shuffling the empty gas can, his bag, and a few half empty chip bags aside, he cleared a (crumb coated) spot.
“There, that’s better, go right ahead buddy.” He chimed, but decided to do it for Russia anyway. As he ripped it from Russia’ grip, their hands made a brief contact. America appeared to not notice, but Russia felt his stomach lurch.
“One more thing.” He said quietly as he reached towards the trunk lid. Russia raised an eyebrow.
America grabbed him around his upper arms and spun him around unraveling his scarf in the process. America’s lips being pressed against his own quickly snuffed his cry of protest. They moved against his for another second before America drew back, tossed the scarf into the trunk, and shut it without another word. He shuffled back to the drivers seat leaving a dazed Russia behind.
Russia didn’t remember what happened during the rest of the ride, he was too lost in his thoughts to notice anything. He snapped back to his senses when the convertible pulled up in front of a yellow beach house.
“Here we are! I rented this baby for the whole weekend, so we’ve got it all to ourselves! You can have your own room and everything!” He parked and hopped out, whistling to himself as he gathered both of their belongings out of the trunk. Russia brain slowly starting to function again, his thoughts clearing out- and he was suddenly hit by a had wad of keys in the back of the head
“Ow! What-“
“Could you open the door for me pal? I’ve kinda got my hands full” America gestured to the bags.
Russia shot him a glare and rubbed the back of his head as he retrieved the keys from the seat.
The inside of the beach house was simple and cheap: decorated with tacky sea related pictures and lamps. The floor scuffed with the sound of sand against wood as they walked, and the salty ocean air seemed to have seeped into every pore of the house. America dumped Russia’s bag and coat onto a bed in the downstairs bedroom and went to place his possessions in the one on the second floor.
Russia stared out the big windows in his room into the crowded beach below. He had to admit, it did look nice out there.
He unzipped his bag and rummaged through it looking for his swimming trunks. He had not been expecting the beach trip when America invited him over, but he always carried a pair in case he was in a hotel with a nice hot tub. He shut the door; pulled one of the curtains across the windows, made sure America wasn’t coming, and shimmied out of his clothes.
The trunks were a dark purple color and fit comfortably on his waist. He pulled them on and looked at himself in the (seashell shaped) mirror on the wall. He frowned as he pinched the rolls of fat on his stomach. His eyes drifted upwards and he inspected the scars on his neck. They were not something he should show out in public, especially a crowded beach. He cursed America for stealing his scarf, blushing as he remembered the younger nation’s distraction technique. He rummaged through his bag and found a sunflower patterned bandana. He tied it around his neck with a pleased smile.
“Hey, do you- Oh, that was fast! Great timing, I guess great minds think alike!” America appeared at his door, clad in only a pair of American flag swimming trunks. Russia suddenly felt a little guilty for being self-conscious about his scars as he saw America’s chest. It wasn’t unusual for a nation to have lots of scars, but as far as Russia was concerned, America had way too many for one so young.
A long and prominent scar stretched from his right shoulder to his left hip down the front of his chest. (Russia had asked him about it once, he knew it was from the Civil War, but it should have healed better than that. America just replied with ‘some things never heal all the way’ and gave him a forlorn smile) there was also a faint discolored path over his heart (Burning of Washington), another on his shoulder (Pearl Harbor), and a still somewhat raw gash down his back (9/11).
“Quit lolly-gagging, let’s go!” America beckoned and dashed out of the doorframe. Russia followed him without protests.
The beach had fun. They bummed around under an umbrella for a few hours before taking a long walk. America had dragged Russia up to a little boardwalk area to buy food. He found a vendor with hats and bought Russia a large floppy grass hat with a cheap plastic sunflower glued onto it. Despite Russia’s protests about if being an old lady hat, America jammed it onto the older nation’s head. He laughed and ran from Russia’s impending rage. There was none of course, but Russia chased him anyway. (at least until he ran out of breath and stood panting against the railing) They began walking back towards the rental beach house as the sun started sinking below the horizon.
“I’m not particularly hungry, I was just thinking I’d take a long shower and go to bed, how ‘bout you?” America unlocked the door and flicked on the lights with a yawn. So the great energetic nation does get tired! Russia smiled inwardly.
“That is fine.” Russia said as he watched America go, a little ping of sadness settling in his chest as he went into his empty room.
Russia took a short but nice and warm shower to rid himself of all the scum and sand from the day. He felt nice and refreshed as he pulled on a clean pair of boxers. He pulled back the covers and sat down on the bed. He felt miserable and alone in the small room, this would not do. He thought of America upstairs and worked up the nerve for his plan. He grabbed his book from his bag and switched off the light.
America was still in the shower (and singing to himself (badly)) when Russia crept up to his room. He slid into one side of the large bed and attempted to read his book. It was no use; he had to read the same sentence over and over, the one familiar Cyrillic letters, seeming foreign under his nervousness. Butterflies danced in his stomach as he heard the shower shut off.
America stepped out a minute later, clad in only a towel around his waste, his glosses fogged up. He hummed to himself as he walked over to the bed with closed eyes. As soon as his glasses cleared he jumped in surprise with a little yell as he saw Russia. “Geez, man, you could of given me some warning! You scared me half to death!” He slowly eased out of the defensive pose he had jumped into.
“Why are you here. In my bed. Is there something wrong with your room, do you want to switch?” America prodded as he dug out underwear from his bad. He pulled up the towel that had been gradually sliding down his waste (much to Russia’s disappointment).
Russia cleared his throat. “No. I, uh, wanted to sleep in here with you.” He turned his head aside, redness engulfing his cheeks. “L-like last night, yes?” He fidgeted with the edges of his book as he waited for America’s reply.
A grin spread across America’s face. “Really? You don’t mind sleeping with me? I didn’t turn you off with all that subconscious snuggling last night?” He scratched the back of his head nervously.
“Nyet. I like the snuggling.” He returned America’s smile.
“G-great! I’ve got another question though.” He gave a small awkward cough. “Y-you are wearing something under those covers, right?” He gestured to Russia’s bare chest, his underwear hidden by the sheet.
Russia’s blush deepened as he understood what America was implying. He gave a small sigh and pulled back the covers revealing his not completely undressed form.
America gave a little sigh of relief. “I’m going to get dressed, close your eyes!” He said with a huff and turned his back to Russia. Russia obeyed, but left one eye slightly open so he could see America strip. He grinned. America quickly changed and crawled into the bed. “What’s with the smi- YOU PEEKED DIDN’T YOU?!?” He glared at Russia, his nostrils flared in anger.
Russia grinned wolfishly. “I did no such thing.” America punched him in the shoulder. It was meant to be a playful message, but with America’s strength it was quiet painful. He winced, but laughed anyway. America huffed and folded his arms. Russia tugged off the nation’s glasses and set them on the nightstand atop his book. He shimmied under the sheets and dragged America with him.
America instantly curled up against him. “Did you have fun today?” He mumbled into Russia’s chest.
“Yes.” He said quietly and ran a hand through America’ hair. They lay in silence for a while. Another wave of exhaustion hit him. “Thank you for everything, I-“ America had already fallen asleep in his arms. He gave America a quick kiss on the forehead closed his eyes, hoping to once again dream of sunny fields and golden bears.
AN: Cheesy ending is cheesy! It was kinda rushed due to time constraints, sorry. OTL
The last half of this wasn't beta'd, and I haven't writtne a fic in almost a year, so if you see any typos or mistakes, please let me know!
And I felt really crummy about having to file an extension and only being able to send the first half of my entry out on the 20th, so I did a piece of art to go with the final finished fill. It's not in my normal style because I was trying to be all sneaky and anon-like. :3
Someday I'll learn to draw feet. /fail