[Fanfiction] Comfortably Numb (2/5)
Title: Comfortably Numb
Author: Saemi_Mitsuwa
Pairings: Russia/America, France/England
Rating: R-18
Summary: America has gotten drunk. The problem? He gets really uncontrollable with his physical strength. Those with him decide to lay this problem on the only one who can physically control him: Russia. Who wasn’t even in their little drunken party.
Notes: Written for Hetalia_Kink
Link: FF.NET (Coming soon)
Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five
The incessant ringing of his doorbell was what woke him up. Eyelids peeling back from his bloodshot violet eyes, he stared at the ceiling and pressed his lips together.
His day had been spent in the office with paperwork and meetings with his boss. There was a lot of work to be done after the fall of…well…him. He wanted to help his struggling people in anyway he could. Exhausted, he stumbled in close to midnight and all but collapsed into his bed fully dressed, just barely covering himself before falling unconscious.
The sound of tires squealing shattered the blissfully calm night air.
Sleep called to him, lulling him back into its arms, weaving its layers around him one by one. His eyelids fell shut automatically. His bed sucked him into its comforting depths.
A knock sounded downstairs.
He loved his people, regardless of age, race, looks… they were all dear to him, as it was with all nations. But only the damnable teenagers really seemed to try his patience, now paper thin no thanks to a certain nation that was unbearably young, blond and too strong for his own good. Grinding his teeth together, he peeled his spine from the mattress and shifted his legs over the side of the bed. His booted feet sounded headily on the floor, and he walked slowly, steadily down the stairs to the front door.
The tentative knocking turned into a scratching, as if a cat were frozen and desperately clawing at the door for warmth. Unlocking the door, he twisted the handle, put on his best I’m going to beat you with my pipe and enjoy it look and opened the door.
“Hey… Russia!”
America smiled and tried standing, but his legs failed him and he collapsed to the porch.
“Help me…into my house?”
Russia glared at him sleepily, his hair tangled and scruffy.
America curled his legs and rolled onto his side. “It’s…fuckin’ cold man…bring me in…”
“What are you doing here.”
It was more of a demand than a question.
“Ahm…at my house.”
“This is my house.”
“But…but… they said…”
America turned, revealing the note pinned to his chest. Russia stared at it for a moment, determining whether he should shut the door in America’s face and go back to bed as America deserved a little pain once in a while to help develop his character, or give into that incessant, nagging voice piercing away at his exhausted temperament. Honestly, sometimes he wished his elder sister never raised him with manners. Going through the motions for the thousandth time got tiring after a while.
Against his better judgment, Russia crossed the threshold and tore the note from the pin, leaving it still fastened to his shirt, thought better, and removed the pin. Didn’t want America playing with it in his current state of mind, as who knows what drunken stupidity he was capable of. The note was written in crude, barely legible Russian.
For all the bullshit I’ve put up with for the last half century, here’s a fucking present to make your night more enjoyable.
The Awesome Me
Russia frowned and crumpled the letter into a ball, throwing it to the concrete of his front porch. He made a quick mental note to pay Prussia a visit after he dealt with the wasted America rolling on his front porch.
“It’s…really cold man…” America half crawled, half rolled across the porch to the doorway. “Help…help me inside.” He grabbed the door frame and squeezed. The old, weather beaten wood gave way under his fingers, splintering and shattering. “Come on~~”
Russia gripped America’s wrist and tore it from the door frame, more awake thanks to the sudden wave of irritation and alarm at America destroying his property.
“Get up.” Russia demanded thickly, his skills in speaking English rapidly declining with each exhaustive second.
“Mmm…dun wanna…” America smiled and wiggled his fingers. “Carry me in~…”
He ground his teeth together and leveled a cold glare at the younger nation.
“I’m not carrying you.”
America made a desperate sound again, twisting his back and half giggling, half chuckling. Russia silently counted to ten and crouched, looping an arm under America’s armpits and hefting him up to his feet. America’s legs crumpled instantly, and he wrapped his arm’s around Russia in a desperate hug to keep his head from cracking open against the concrete. Russia gripped him in surprise.
A hysterical giggle suddenly erupted from America.
“What?” Russia asked through clenched teeth and struggled to get them both through the doorway before slamming it shut with his foot.
“…Yer huggin’ me.”
The urge to smash something with his pipe started rising. Summing up what was left of his patience, he half-carried, half-dragged America down the hall, through the kitchen and into the living room where he dumped America onto the sofa.
“Sleep here.” Russia stated, and as an afterthought, he added, “If you vomit on anything, you’re buying me new furniture.”
“But-but wait-…” America grabbed the front of his long-sleeved shirt, yanked Russia towards him with such force he nearly lost his footing, and wound his arms around Russia’s waist. “Dun leave-…you-”
Russia grabbed his arms and started prying them from around his hips. America whined and buried his face into Russia’s belly, causing a faint pink tinge to dust elder nation’s pale skin.
“America.” Russia growled. “Let go.”
“Yer…house…the thingies will get me.”
Russia paused and tried making sense of what America just said.
“America…what is this…’thingies’?”
After receiving no answer, Russia gripped his shoulders and shook them. “America, let go of me-”
America peeled his pink face away and leveled a half-lidded, alcoholic-glazed stare at Russia with a smug, secretive grin slowly splitting his face apart.
“You have a pudgy tummy.” America barely uttered before he started giggling.
“I do not!” Russia shouted infuriatingly, gripped America’s shoulders and tried pushing him away. “I’m big boned!”
America giggled hysterically and clung him like super-glue.
“Let go!” Russia growled through clenched teeth.
“Noo~ dun wanna~~..” America gasped through his giggling.
Russia gave a mighty shove, surprising America and momentarily causing his hands to slide around him, dragging his fingers across his sides, before they shot around him once more.
Laughter bubbled up Russia’s throat the moment the fingers grazed across his sides, and Russia forced the giggles away abruptly. His face blushed pink now, obviously embarrassed despite the angry, violet-eyed glare he leveled at America.
America stopped giggling and stared at Russia for a long moment before a hysterical grin appeared.
“…Yer ticklish.”
“I am not.”
“Are too.” America bit his lower lip. “I heard you.”
“No you didn’t-”
America dug his fingers into Russia’s sides, causing an abrupt giggle to erupt past his lips.
“Hah!” America shouted. “I knew it-!”
Russia grabbed America by the shoulders, shoved him away and into the couch. “I am not.” He growled, his face an angry red. “And if you lie and tell anyone else about this, I’ll take you to the most haunted building in my land and lock you up inside for an entire night. Understand?”
America abruptly stopped giggling and stared at Russia. A slow shiver took hold and his eyes started growling glassy.
“…Ah…wait…” Russia gawked at him. “Are…are you going to cry?”
“N-no!”
America peeled his arms from Russia’s waist, planted them on his chest and shoved him off, sending him into the coffee table where it split down the center, cracking neatly in half. America turned away and buried his face into the sofa, curling into a fetal position. Russia lay in the demolished remains of his coffee table and stared at the ceiling.
It was going to be a long night.
Author: Saemi_Mitsuwa
Pairings: Russia/America, France/England
Rating: R-18
Summary: America has gotten drunk. The problem? He gets really uncontrollable with his physical strength. Those with him decide to lay this problem on the only one who can physically control him: Russia. Who wasn’t even in their little drunken party.
Notes: Written for Hetalia_Kink
Link: FF.NET (Coming soon)
Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five
The incessant ringing of his doorbell was what woke him up. Eyelids peeling back from his bloodshot violet eyes, he stared at the ceiling and pressed his lips together.
His day had been spent in the office with paperwork and meetings with his boss. There was a lot of work to be done after the fall of…well…him. He wanted to help his struggling people in anyway he could. Exhausted, he stumbled in close to midnight and all but collapsed into his bed fully dressed, just barely covering himself before falling unconscious.
The sound of tires squealing shattered the blissfully calm night air.
Sleep called to him, lulling him back into its arms, weaving its layers around him one by one. His eyelids fell shut automatically. His bed sucked him into its comforting depths.
A knock sounded downstairs.
He loved his people, regardless of age, race, looks… they were all dear to him, as it was with all nations. But only the damnable teenagers really seemed to try his patience, now paper thin no thanks to a certain nation that was unbearably young, blond and too strong for his own good. Grinding his teeth together, he peeled his spine from the mattress and shifted his legs over the side of the bed. His booted feet sounded headily on the floor, and he walked slowly, steadily down the stairs to the front door.
The tentative knocking turned into a scratching, as if a cat were frozen and desperately clawing at the door for warmth. Unlocking the door, he twisted the handle, put on his best I’m going to beat you with my pipe and enjoy it look and opened the door.
“Hey… Russia!”
America smiled and tried standing, but his legs failed him and he collapsed to the porch.
“Help me…into my house?”
Russia glared at him sleepily, his hair tangled and scruffy.
America curled his legs and rolled onto his side. “It’s…fuckin’ cold man…bring me in…”
“What are you doing here.”
It was more of a demand than a question.
“Ahm…at my house.”
“This is my house.”
“But…but… they said…”
America turned, revealing the note pinned to his chest. Russia stared at it for a moment, determining whether he should shut the door in America’s face and go back to bed as America deserved a little pain once in a while to help develop his character, or give into that incessant, nagging voice piercing away at his exhausted temperament. Honestly, sometimes he wished his elder sister never raised him with manners. Going through the motions for the thousandth time got tiring after a while.
Against his better judgment, Russia crossed the threshold and tore the note from the pin, leaving it still fastened to his shirt, thought better, and removed the pin. Didn’t want America playing with it in his current state of mind, as who knows what drunken stupidity he was capable of. The note was written in crude, barely legible Russian.
For all the bullshit I’ve put up with for the last half century, here’s a fucking present to make your night more enjoyable.
The Awesome Me
Russia frowned and crumpled the letter into a ball, throwing it to the concrete of his front porch. He made a quick mental note to pay Prussia a visit after he dealt with the wasted America rolling on his front porch.
“It’s…really cold man…” America half crawled, half rolled across the porch to the doorway. “Help…help me inside.” He grabbed the door frame and squeezed. The old, weather beaten wood gave way under his fingers, splintering and shattering. “Come on~~”
Russia gripped America’s wrist and tore it from the door frame, more awake thanks to the sudden wave of irritation and alarm at America destroying his property.
“Get up.” Russia demanded thickly, his skills in speaking English rapidly declining with each exhaustive second.
“Mmm…dun wanna…” America smiled and wiggled his fingers. “Carry me in~…”
He ground his teeth together and leveled a cold glare at the younger nation.
“I’m not carrying you.”
America made a desperate sound again, twisting his back and half giggling, half chuckling. Russia silently counted to ten and crouched, looping an arm under America’s armpits and hefting him up to his feet. America’s legs crumpled instantly, and he wrapped his arm’s around Russia in a desperate hug to keep his head from cracking open against the concrete. Russia gripped him in surprise.
A hysterical giggle suddenly erupted from America.
“What?” Russia asked through clenched teeth and struggled to get them both through the doorway before slamming it shut with his foot.
“…Yer huggin’ me.”
The urge to smash something with his pipe started rising. Summing up what was left of his patience, he half-carried, half-dragged America down the hall, through the kitchen and into the living room where he dumped America onto the sofa.
“Sleep here.” Russia stated, and as an afterthought, he added, “If you vomit on anything, you’re buying me new furniture.”
“But-but wait-…” America grabbed the front of his long-sleeved shirt, yanked Russia towards him with such force he nearly lost his footing, and wound his arms around Russia’s waist. “Dun leave-…you-”
Russia grabbed his arms and started prying them from around his hips. America whined and buried his face into Russia’s belly, causing a faint pink tinge to dust elder nation’s pale skin.
“America.” Russia growled. “Let go.”
“Yer…house…the thingies will get me.”
Russia paused and tried making sense of what America just said.
“America…what is this…’thingies’?”
After receiving no answer, Russia gripped his shoulders and shook them. “America, let go of me-”
America peeled his pink face away and leveled a half-lidded, alcoholic-glazed stare at Russia with a smug, secretive grin slowly splitting his face apart.
“You have a pudgy tummy.” America barely uttered before he started giggling.
“I do not!” Russia shouted infuriatingly, gripped America’s shoulders and tried pushing him away. “I’m big boned!”
America giggled hysterically and clung him like super-glue.
“Let go!” Russia growled through clenched teeth.
“Noo~ dun wanna~~..” America gasped through his giggling.
Russia gave a mighty shove, surprising America and momentarily causing his hands to slide around him, dragging his fingers across his sides, before they shot around him once more.
Laughter bubbled up Russia’s throat the moment the fingers grazed across his sides, and Russia forced the giggles away abruptly. His face blushed pink now, obviously embarrassed despite the angry, violet-eyed glare he leveled at America.
America stopped giggling and stared at Russia for a long moment before a hysterical grin appeared.
“…Yer ticklish.”
“I am not.”
“Are too.” America bit his lower lip. “I heard you.”
“No you didn’t-”
America dug his fingers into Russia’s sides, causing an abrupt giggle to erupt past his lips.
“Hah!” America shouted. “I knew it-!”
Russia grabbed America by the shoulders, shoved him away and into the couch. “I am not.” He growled, his face an angry red. “And if you lie and tell anyone else about this, I’ll take you to the most haunted building in my land and lock you up inside for an entire night. Understand?”
America abruptly stopped giggling and stared at Russia. A slow shiver took hold and his eyes started growling glassy.
“…Ah…wait…” Russia gawked at him. “Are…are you going to cry?”
“N-no!”
America peeled his arms from Russia’s waist, planted them on his chest and shoved him off, sending him into the coffee table where it split down the center, cracking neatly in half. America turned away and buried his face into the sofa, curling into a fetal position. Russia lay in the demolished remains of his coffee table and stared at the ceiling.
It was going to be a long night.