Chained Together (Rusame)

Nothing

America woke up the next morning, already dreading the entire day. And the next day too. And the next week.

He laid there on the floor, wanting to move, but not wanting to disturb Russia, who was still sleeping soundly on his bed. America couldn't help but be jealous of the bed. Some of his joints were aching already, and it had only been one day! Sometime in the middle of this, America was making them go to his house.

It only took these mere moments of his wakefulness for him to realize something. A thought that he had been putting off since the beginning of all of this.

He had to go to the bathroom.

Why did UN have to do this to them?! He probably didn't think at all before deciding to do this.

America rolled over, careful not to move his arm that was connected to Russia. When he got settled again, he thought that maybe it would be better if he did end up stirring him. He couldn't sit here forever.

Stupid mortal bodies and their stupid mortal needs. This entire week was going to be awkward as heck.

He tried to go back to sleep, but the pressure in his bladder wouldn't let him. He sat up to look over at the clock on Russia's nightstand. It was 7:46 AM. Since when did he wake up so early? When he laid back down, he accidentally jostled Russia's arm. Russia broke out of his rhythmic, shallow breathing, indicating that he had woken up.

America wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

Russia rolled over in his bed, now facing America. His eyes widened when he saw him, and he instantly shot upright.

"What're you doing here?!" His voice was gruff from having just woken up. America sat up as well.

"UN handcuffed us together. Remember, Russia?" America held up his chained hand, which was connected to Russia's.

Russia stared at it as the memories flooded back into his mind. "...Right." He slumped over, smoothing his hair with his free hand.

They were just sitting there, staring at each other. America was suddenly aware of the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Was he going to be able to wear one at all for the rest of the week?

America suddenly remembered why he was awake right now. He anxiously rapped the floor with his fingers, unsure about how to go about telling Russia. He really didn't want to do this.

Russia's eyebrows drew downwards. "What is it? You obviously want to say something, so spit it out!" He barked.

America flinched in surprise. "Uh... I kind of have to pee," he uttered. No point in stalling.

Russia's eyes widened, and then he buried his face in his hand, groaning. "I fucking hate this..."

Russia stood up, and America did as well. "Let's get this over with," Russia sighed.

Russia shoved America into the bathroom, and they stood as far away from each other as possible. Russia faced the wall, hating this entire ordeal. He should probably go as well, after America.

After they had both relieved themselves and washed their hands, they went back to the kitchen for breakfast.

Russia grabbed a random cereal and poured a bowl for himself. America then poured his when Russia didn't do it for him.

While Russia was pouring the milk into his cereal, America said, "You know, I was kind of worried you'd pour the milk first."

Russia wrinkled his nose. "Why would I do that? Who does that?!"