RUSAME - one shots

𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭

By the third time that very month that Russia jerked from a deep sleep to see America standing over his bed with both hands clasped behind his back like Oliver Twist, he had stopped being jarred and started being irritated. Very irritated.

"Chto c toboi ne tak?" he growled, throwing a hand across his eyes like if he pretended hard enough, he could make Ame go away through sheer force of will. No good, though. His face, so pale in the cool blue darkness that he nearly glowed, remained, a ghostly afterimage, inside Russia's eyelids. Grimly, he euthanized the violent thoughts that this provoked.

"I don't know what that means," America whispered, bracing his hands on Russia's fur bedspread, digging his fingernails into its softness. "Holy sh-t, Russia, it's freezing in here. Why is it always so cold?"

"It is not." Stiff with reluctance, Rus leaned over the side of the bed to flick on the lamp on his nightstand, squeezing his eyes shut against the hiss of brightness that sizzled across his retinas like a cattle prod.

"It totally is."

"Okay, why—" he sat up, thumb and forefinger pressed deep into his sore eyelids, the world tilting whimsically in the dim haze of his mind. "Why in the name of all that is holy are you here?" He squinted up at America's wide, unblinking eyes, eerily large without his usual sunglasses. "You are always here. Why are you always here?"

"Hey, WOAH," America protested, wrinkling his nose in indignation. "I know you are not trying to break-in shame me right now. With YOUR track record—"

"Saints almighty, it was ONE time." Russia spread his hands wide, flexing every finger at the joint. "And notably, was not at one in the morning."

America grinned. "Actually it's two thirty."

A muscle jumped in Russia's jaw as he locked eyes with Ame through the cool darkness, a chilled breeze breathing through the cracked bedroom window that lifted strands of their hair in tandem. Rus made the executive decision to blame his inability to be angry— the vitriol turning cool, draining to give way to a curious lightness— on his tiredness. Probably it was calculated on America's part, he reflected. Terrifying, the lengths to which he had Russia figured out. Sometimes Rus felt pinned to the wall like a stag beetle.

"You did not answer my question," he murmured, gathering his wandering thoughts, driving a finger into Ame's chest. "You are tourist here? Or— why?"

"Because." Unexpectedly, America's fever-warm palms found their way to either side of Russia's face, cupping the bottom of his jawline, fingertips plunging with impunity through his hair. "I, uhh, definitely forgot to go grocery shopping for the thingy tomorrow like you told me to. So. We should go right now."

The moment between them stretched longer, thinner, Russia staring unblinkingly into the whites of America's eyes like there was nothing else in the room. It wasn't until he had pulled Ame's hands off of his face by the slender wrist that he realized he'd neglected to breathe, lungs kickstarting with a vengeance.

"You are joking. This is a joke?" It was a perfunctory question at best, Russia saying words out of habit. But America tipped his head to the side anyway, considering.

"Mmm... is it funny?"

"Absolutely not."

"Then c'mon!" America seized both of his hands and pulled. "Let's go!"

- [] -

Eight minutes later, sweatpants loose around his waist, hat jammed crookedly on his head, Russia was wiping sleep from his eyes in the overstuffed passenger seat of America's ridiculous little Jeep. The next minute and a half found him more awake than he'd ever wanted to be in his life.

"That was a f—king stop sign," he yelled, flinging an arm back into the yawning darkness. "S-T-O-P. Big as my hand. Impossible to miss."

"You've got to stop letting little things like that get to your head, Russki!" America shouted over the roar from his needlessly opened window. Russia's eyes darted between him and the pitch-black of the road— the Jeep's headlights being about as bright as an iPhone 4 flashlight— dimly registering the words still whipping from America's mouth on the back of the wind. "NOTHING can stop us! We have the power of friendship!"

"Excellent! Our bleeding corpses can be picked up by roadkill services together. Cannot wait!"

Whether America didn't hear or didn't care Rus never knew; the car's engine shrieked as he crushed the pedal to the floor, the speedometer needle trembling in terror across the far-right end. Flattening his palms together, Russia quelled his nausea and offered a prayer through gritted teeth.

The shrieking of tires set Russia's entire jaw on edge as America skidded into the near-deserted parking lot of the 24-hour mart, perfectly diagonal across two spots. Under the pale glow of a street lamp, they caught their breaths in unison— Rus dizzy and shell-shocked, feeling somewhat as if he'd just crawled from a war trench, and America exhilarated to the point of unhinged, scraping too-long fingernails through his windswept hair.

Russia observed him out of the corner of his eye. The stale fluorescents of the store before them cast his face in cool, celestial shades of white some kind of destroying angel, if the angel in question was only concerned with destroying sleep schedules and traffic laws. A laugh issued from Rus's nose as a snort, and when America whipped around to laugh at him, Rus reached across his lap to pull the keys from the ignition.

"On the way home, I drive." Ame frowned up at him, close enough that Rus could count the wrinkles between his eyebrows, catch the minute expansion of a pupil.

"Lame!"

"I do not feel like dying yet." Shedding the pull of America's gaze, Russia turned to throw the Jeep door open, inhaling the warm, summered night air. "So we are not going to. Da?"

"Definitely not da," America snipped, meeting his eyes over the top of the car. "I think you need to give me a little more credit. I didn't kill us at all."

Summer's signature scent— car exhaust and the humidity that rose off of sun-baked dumpsters— wafted on a florid breeze as Russia headed towards the glittering double doors.

"Whoever it was that you convinced to give you driver's license should be in jail," Rus murmured. True, but he couldn't muster any conviction behind it; especially not as America slid his arm through Russia's as if they weren't in a heated argument concerning life or death. I am still mad at you, he thought but did not say, their elbows knocking companionably together.

"You know, it's funny you say that, cause I— I lowkey bribed him. Laugh out loud."

"The hell," Rus muttered, but couldn't find it in himself to be too surprised. "With money? That awful weed you tried to grow?"

"Hehe. I'll never tell."

Russia glanced down at Ame's face through slitted eyes. Leave it to him, always, to set forth the most ominous statements out of clear sky. Then again, most of the things he said had a way of dwelling on Rus's mind.

"C'mon, luchik. Let us make this quick."

The doors slid silently apart to let them in.

—

A/N: i know all the readers of this story are intelligent possibly to aan alarming degree but . . . . i feel like i should put this out there (for posterity's sake) that some of these one shots have like a vague effort at historical accuracy/info or even an accurate dynamic but others of them do NOT lmfao like they are ...... just guys to m,e ........ so im encouraging you to seek information for yourself on current events !!!! like dont get me wrong CH can be an AWESOME way to get into political science/international relations but it can't really take the place of good old fashioned Reading the news and pulling up some Reputable sources to stay informed. I LUVE YUUO all...... probably vampire au next