RUSAME - one shots

𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 [𝐈]

"I've asked everyone at this party except for you."

Russia registered, a few seconds late, that these words, distinct from the nauseating, deafening pulse of conversation of Scotland's miserable Halloween party, had the nerve to be directed at him. He looked up at a figure that wavered before his eyes, refusing to solidify, and took a fortifying gulp of mead.

"Asked what."

"What they think my Halloween costume is!" Rus shut his eyes, opened them again, and the United States of America materialized from blurry shapes into distinctive stars and stripes, indoor sunglasses shoved high up on his forehead. Yebat. He shut his eyes again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"So?"

"Fuck do you want from me, Amerikos¹?"

"I want you to tell me what I dressed up as." America put two hands on Russia's cheeks, forcing his head downward to lock eyes. "FOR HALLOWEEN."

Resigning himself to the indecency, Russia heaved an intoxicated, drafty sigh and let his gaze move slowly, sea-sickly, down America's person. He was dressed in black— tight, shiny material, clinging to his body, obviously America would take any chance to dress like a nochnaya babochka²— with two printed-out paper circles taped down, one over his chest and the other over his navel. A loop of ribbon dangled from his belt, and a couple of painted bottle caps or something were affixed on his other side. Russia dragged a hand down his face.

"I don't— what. Machine with chips? Vend machine?" America buried his head in his hands.

"No. It's hopeless. Nobody guessed my costume. Oh, the humanity."

Russia poured the last inch of mead in the beer stein down his throat. "How will you survive such trials. You will leave me alone now?"

"Heck no! You haven't told me your Halloween costume."

Rus clicked his tongue, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall, exuding lethal amounts of bitter sarcasm. "Guess."

"Ooh, ooh. I know this one." America bounced two steps back and held up his fingers in a picture frame around Russia, squinting with the intensity of an artist. "Functional alcoholic."

Russia snorted, sharp. "Ach. Idi nakhuy³, you are not funny."

"That's really not it?"

"No."

Ame grinned. "Then it's gotta be dysfunctional alcoholic." He cackled like a witch while Russia looked to the side, pressing his tongue into his cheek and convincing himself he was too drunk now to get into a fight with America.

"I am not an alcoholic," he replied at last, nudging the empty beer stein he'd just finished further down the table. "And I did not dress up. Halloween is for heathens."

"WHAT?!" America stuck his finger in his ear and wiggled it. "I did NOT just hear the scariest person I know say that he doesn't celebrate HALLOWEEN."

Rus blinked. "Scariest, really?" Flattering.

"First of all, Halloween is the best holiday on the calendar, okay?!" America leaned against the wall, far too close to Russia, gesticulating emotionally. "You can't just NOT celebrate it. Second of all—" he flung an arm outward at the room at large— "you are attending a Halloween party RIGHT this very second. Maybe you missed the pumpkins on the front doorstep or the fact that Australia queued Monster Mash 38 times and no one is sober enough to figure out how to change it."

"You are telling me holidays I can and cannot celebrate?" Russia clicked his tongue sardonically. "Not very First Amendment of you."

"I think Halloween might be better than democracy," America said fervently.

A rusty chuckle rumbled through Russia's chest, surprising himself more than anyone else. "Piss me off again, and I will tell U.N. you said that."

"I don't think U.N. is here. And I still don't know why YOU'RE here either."

Ladling himself another stein full of golden, bubbling mead, Russia shot America a flat look. "Tell me, why do you think I am here?"

Crossing his arms, America smirked at the opposite wall. "The charming company, no doubt."

"Mm." Russia nodded dubiously. "Once I finish this drink, then perhaps 'charming' will be closer to right word."

"Sounds like something an alcoholic would say," America commented, spreading his hands out in front of him like a sage.

———

translations:

¹ Amerikos [Америкос]: mildly derogatory term for "American"

² nochnaya babochka [ночная бабочка]: literally "night butterfly," slang for pr0st¡tute 

³ idi na khuy [иди на хуй]: literally "go to the d¡ck" but has the meaning of "piss off"

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A/N: hey guys your girl nee is in five college level classes this year and I procrastinated so much AP stats to make this 😭😭 IM ACTUALLY DYING but I missed u guys sm and I missed writing ksjsdjnss  sorry the Halloween special is late but the thanks giving one 💯💯 the thanksgiving one is going to SLAY I promise anyway I love u guys and im definitely writing this in church so I gtg. thank u for all the support I see your kind comments & appreciate them so much 🫶🫶🫶