Black Coffee :|: America x Russia :|: Countryhumans

Act II, Chapter Thirty-Five

You get 2 chapters at once because of this AMAZING milestone! And cus I love you all!

**PS: this gets pretty SPICY because i know most of you are just dyyyyyyying for something to happen. If you don't like the spicy stuff there's a summary at the end :>**

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"Tell some more thing about fanfic!"

"Well for starters, this is a prime example of a fanfiction cliche."

"What mean?" Russia asked, tilting his head which America found adorable. America also found his broken English adorable, something he only just noticed happened when he was drunk.

"You know, the alcohol. Being absolutely wasted. That sort of thing," America chuckled, his old british drawl peeking into his speech a bit.

They had both had quite a bit of alcohol, America having downed probably a whole bottle of whiskey and three beers with Russia in the lead at fourteen fucking cans laying empty in the recycling by the backdoor. He complained that he hated the taste of beer, but he kinda just stopped caring by his fifth can. America had told him to not have too many but it took a lot to get the guy drunk. Especially on beer.

America had wandered out here to find Morningstar, excusing himself from his friend and his sister, and stumbled across a pretty much wasted Russia floating about in the hot tub. So clearly, the right thing to do in America's  drunken state was to strip down to his underwear and cannonball in.

Like the safe and responsible adult countryhuman he was.

Currently they were lounging about in the hot tub, giving in to the fanfiction gods and going along with the plot. Although they were sitting five feet apart. Can't have everything, fanfiction gods!

"What else in fanfiction?"

America pondered the question, turning it over in his head before responding, "Well in hot tubs something usually happens where the top is established in the relationship. Typically because they trap the bottom under them, or the bottom gets too feisty and they make them straddle them. Depends on the type of bottom you have."

Russia raised an eyebrow, sipping his beer, "Top?"

America chuckled, nodding, "Yes, top. The one who takes control during sexual things."

Russia blushed, looking at his feet through the distorted surface of the warm water.

"Oh," was all he said.

"And that, my dear Russia" America mused smugly. "Is why I'm the top."

"You? Top?" Russia scoffed. "Right. I believe when pig fly."

America narrowed his eyes, "Oh? You think you are top?"

"Damn right," Russia growled proudly, finishing off his drink.

"I'm top."

"You bottom."

"No, I am top!"

"Bottom!"

"Top!!"

"Bottom!"

America groaned in frustration and swam over to him, trapping Russia underneath him and pinning him by wrapping his arms around his neck and his legs on either side of him.

"I'm the top," he breathed, staring at Russia from behind his sunnies.

"Whatever make you happy, кролик," Russia hummed, eyes darting to America's lips for less than a second. (Russian: Bunny)