[Closed]

[thebestandwurst]

Characters: Germany and Russia
Location: Russia’s apartment
Rating: Russia--
Time: August 30, Morning
Description: Germany promised Russia they will talk. Over breakfast seems nice. Start your day productive and all that.

Comments

[hoarfrosted]

Russia had been awake -- he actually had to wake himself up, because he was still feeling the after-effects of the drink, and that worried him a lot. He can drink vodka like water, back home, so why is it that he was easily consumed by the same drink in this place?

(If Russia was a little braver he'd know that this was because he was no longer a country anymore, and that is another question for him to ponder that he does not like. If he is no longer a country, does that mean he is no longer Russia? That Russia no longer exists, in that he is only a man with the same name as the country? So he was a shell! And how was he to explain that to himself? That he has failed, and here he is, a walking replica of what he should be? Russia shook his head furiously, tugging on his scarf to let him breathe. He never should have this problem. He shouldn't!)

He had tea ready and was just finishing the blini he made for breakfast (eat breakfast yourself, share dinner with a friend, but give supper to your enemy, he knows his lessons well) -- or as

[thebestandwurst]

The smile would be disarming on anyone else, but on Russland it made Germany quake a little where he knew Berlin must be (humans called it a heart, but he thought human hearts paled in comparison to capitals). It was pitiful to be this anxious over something to simple, but things had never really been simple since he became human, had it? Germany nodded, expressionless as usual if not for the downward twitch at the corner of his mouth

[hoarfrosted]

"We are to talk, yes?" Russia takes the bottle from his hand, looming, staring down intensely. "Purposes. Since we need to reach an end, comrade, and you will not hand over your brother. Even for a change of clothes." Red was a good colour on Germany. It was bright and a screaming kind of colour, the kind he's seen on his soldiers during his victories.

"I am glad you slept well," he said smoothly, and gestured to the table across him where he could sit. The knife lay silent in his pocket. Oh, it was so close, so -- "Tea? Or do you want something else, comrade, before we begin? I just had breakfast. Pity America's markets, sometimes they have what I need, sometimes they don't."

kolkolkolkolkol.

It was nice that the room was silent and almost bare. Even not in his house, it at least had to look presentable.

[thebestandwurst]

It was disconcerting when someone was taller than he was. Germany was a prime example of his race, tall and proud. It was just that Russland was taller and less sane.

But he steeled himself.

“No, I will not hand over my brother,” he agreed, not even bothering to wonder what change of clothes meant because anything Russland fancied was probably something he did not want to know about if he could help it. Germany took another breath, just a little shaky, and moved to the table even if it meant showing Russland his back. Tense seconds until he was seated, politely thankful.

“No, thank you, Russland. I breakfasted during training. Amerika’s markets at least has potatoes on a consistent basis.” Not to mention that Germany would not take drink from the other country if he could help it.