Two Timed

 Prologue

WARNING: THE SMEXY HAPPENS IN THIS CHAPTER- MINORS GET THE HECK OUT!!

"Hey..."

Two broken, sparkling blue eyes glanced back towards their lover.

"..."

"Soviet?" The shorter male's strong voice wavered for the first time in his life.

"Ame...." The huge man before America fell to his knees with a heavy thonk. His immerse blood red hands clung to his own skull.

"Soviet!" America ran desperately towards the man hunching over the wooden floor of his bedroom. The worried country slid down onto his knees while wrapping the Russian in a warm and gentle embrace of comfort. "What's wrong, Sovi? Please tell me!"

A terrible guttural growl rumbled from his lover's  throat.

"Soviet?"

Blazing, ice cold eyes landed on the small American. "Who the hell is Soviet?" The man snapped at the little being wrapped around him. "And who the hell are you?" A mighty roar ripped from his chest as he violently pushed America off of him.

"S-Sovi! It's me!" America's tears silently slipped quickly from his red and white cheeks to the gritty wooden floor below. His heartbroken eyes focused on the immense changes of his longtime lover.

The Russian now sported a white, blue, and red flag. His eye was magically healed and his infamous eyepatch was discarded onto the floor below. His body structure was even quite different. His muscles were just as strong, but his frame was a little smaller in size. As the stranger before America stood up with a unmistakable sneer on his sharp face, he noticed that he was a tad shorter as well.

"Again, stop calling me that, сука!" The angry Russian man spat down hatefully at the distressed American. "My name is Russia..." The cold and distant man crouched over the American while trapping the smaller male's chin in his iron-like grip. "Now, I'll ask this again. Who. Are. You?"

More and more hot, wet tears fell from the American's eyes. "I'm... I'm America. Y-your husband."

The Russian's cold demeanor cracked from intense shock. "W-what?" He quickly backed away from the American with confusion swimming in his dark eyes.

"Yes! I- I don't know what's happening, b-but you are my husband... see?" America hesitantly lifted his pearl white hand with a very shiny golden ring latched onto it which in turn made Russia look at his simple golden ring wrapped around his left wedding ring finger.

"Huh?" He whispered his deep confusion into the symbolic piece of jewelry.

"Here's s-some pictures of us! You look very different now though." America muttered the last part very sadly as he showed the Russian their wedding pictures from afar.

A piece of him felt a bubble of warmth from how happy the man in the photo seemed to be. The nostalgia it brought him made him certain that the man before him wasn't lying at all. "I-I don't remember anything..." He looked up mournfully at the American.

That simple look nearly broke America into tears. "I c-can tell you more if you like."

The Russian nodded and took and uneasy seat on the small bed they shared.

America turned away to pick up a few picture books for them to look through and then joined the Russian on the bed. "Here's you winning the Country of the Month award." A soft chuckle came from America. "You were so proud about it that you would rub it in my face every time you saw me. We were just dating at that time you see." America blabbered on and on about the stories behind each picture. "And here you are in your work uniform. I always teased you about how formal it is." The America smiled at the highly decorated war uniform his beloved used to keep so clean and polished.