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

Act IV, Chapter Forty-Six

"I'm sure I deserve it, but tell me why you wanna murder me this time."

"I don't wanna murder you."

"Oh yea? Then why are you holding that knife so threateningly?"

Russia snorted, "What about cutting bread is threatening?"

Finland shrugged with a grin pointing towards the bread knife in Russia's red hand, "I dunno but that looks like a pretty big knife to me, Mr Non-threatening."

Russia rolled his eyes and set the freshly sliced bread onto the table along with some jam and butter in small glass bowls. Finland smiled at him appreciatively and grabbed a slice with no hesitation, stuffing his face with the homemade loaf.

"You're welcome," Russia said snidely.

"Fank kyou!" Finland said with food in his mouth and a big grin.

Russia chuckled, taking a bite of his own slice.

"This is delicious, did you make this?" Finland asked after he had swallowed his piece, reaching for another.

Russia nodded slowly, looking down with an embarrassed blush.

"Well great job, it might be the best I've ever tasted," Finland complimented, elbowing Russia with another boyish grin.

"Yea, yea," Russia dismissed, finishing off his slice and clapping off his hands to get rid of any crumbs stuck to his hands.

Russia had invited Finland over for a catch up since it had been a while since he had seen him. They were friends in primary school through to high school and while Finland he had kept in touch with Russia's siblings like his girlfriend Estonia, the two of them sort of lost contact.

"Hey Russia, pass the gravy."

"On bread? How about you go fuck yourself?"

"Only if you watch me."

Turns out they somehow still got along.

As Finland began buttering another slice of bread, he said, "So what's up? I know a sad Russia when I see one."

"What is that, your fifth slice?"

"Shut up, it's good," Finland retorted, stuffing his face once more. "You're lucky I don't burn this house."

"I'd like to see you try, сука," Russia chuckled. (Russian: bitch)

"As much as I'd love to burn your house down out of spite, you're dodging the subject," Finland pointed out.

Russia raised an eyebrow, "That subject being?"

"What's bothering you this time, big guy?"

Russia sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"I don't know...uh," Russia thought for a second as he turned his bread over in his fingers. " Well, it's the Obi Wan stuff, to be honest."

"...what?"

"I never really thought about it when we were kids - like - 'Oh he dies and the force brings him back as this weird...blue...ghost...thing. Cool.' But now I'm older, I can't help watching it and thinking--"

"Okay, I'm gonna stop you right there," Finland said, holding up a white and blue hand. "I know this. You're either gonna go into an existential spiel about how nothing matters or you're trying to change the subject - neither of which I'm willing to entertain for the sake of your bullshit."

"Eh, you caught me," Russia chuckled, popping the bread in his vermilion hand into his mouth. "But remind me to talk to you about that later though, it's some pretty heavy stuff I've been thinking about for a while."