Trust is Dangerous- Russia x Germany

Warmth

"Oof. Must've been super horrible." America grimaced. "Are you okay now though?"

"Mhmm. Still a bit disappointed, but what could I expect?" He shrugged. "But I did lie on the floor for five minutes. That sort of helped."

"Oh. I would've been super sad. Like, if my granddad told me to just 'get over it', I wouldn't be in class that day or for the next week actually."

"Well, we're all different." He pointed out. "But I think that staying inside and moping can't help me."

"Sure it can't. Glad you could join us in spite of your...."

"Little problem?" Germany giggled. "Yeah, it's not a big deal. I definitely feel better now that I told you all." He looked at me with gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks for covering for me that time."

"Sure. Looked like you just needed space." I looked away like it was nothing, but I knew my face heated up from embarrassment. America led us into a modern cafe with large glass windowfaces and wood panel tabletops. A place that people pay to just sit in. He led us in, and we sat at a table by the window that looked out onto the street. Germany sat down next to me, and America faced us from the other side.

"This is a nice place." Germany commented, flipping though the menu that sat in the middle of the table. I unzipped my coat and placed it on the back of my chair, while America sighed happily for the warm atmosphere. There weren't many people in the cafe but I recognised some students from the university. One teenage boy waved to Germany, who smiled at him half heartedly. "Switzerland. Distant family." He took off his own coat, and revealed a red woollen sweater with a high neck.

"He looks rich." I noted. The boy, Switzerland, had so many of the key things that my father always looked out for when targeting rich people. The clothes, the walk, the looks, the way he tilted his chin and the watch. Don't forget the ever present little frown when he saw me, some proletarian in his comfy little cafe. How sad that he'd have to share.

"Russ! Be quiet!" America hissed, but he was smiling. "Any other adjectives that you can describe people by?"

"Yeah. Fussy, egotistical, haughty, annoying, whiny and hypocritical."

"I'm all that?" America rounded his eyes, the effect slightly ruined by the fact that he couldn't make his mouth cooperate.

"No. You're a different type. A better type."

"Good. Found anything, Germany?" America asked, as Germany counted something on his fingers.

"Um, what's cold brew? Is that like cold tea?" He pointed to the menu.

"No, it's brewed in th cold for more than twelve hours."

"Ew." I shook my head.

"I think I'll take something hot. What would you recommend?" Germany gave the menu to me. I scanned through the drinks and all my eyes wanted to do was look at the prices. How can you pay 6£ for a coffee? Granted it was some sort of rare and wanted coffee bean, but six pounds is six pounds. I've gotten quite adjusted to the currency change from Russian rubles to the British pound. I even started to switch my own meager notes for some small amounts of the British currency. America, on the other hand, was busy taking out bills of US Dollars and I wondered how picky exactly can people get with money.

"I would recommend a cappuccino. Those are warm and sweet usually." He offered absentmindedly. "What do you want, Russ?"

"Six pounds, I mean I don't know." I said quickly.

"Don't know?" He smirked. "Look at the description!"

"All I see is prices." I admitted.

"Fine. I'll get you something. You'll like it." He called a waiter over and ordered. When the latter told him the wait time, the American muttered under his breath as the waiter walked away. "Ten minutes? How long does it take to make some coffee?"