Handling a Crisis

Chapter Nine: America Tries to Relax

Hey guys. I kinda got distracted by my urge to draw the picture above. Sorry about that.

Secondly, holy sheeb, how is this almost at four hundred reads wtf—

Also, trigger warnings before we start: blood, murder, shooting, and mentions of burning. Let me know if I've missed anything!

Anyways, like always, feel free to comment things I can improve on and translations are at the bottom!

Russia waited outside America's door, waiting for a reply. It's been three minutes since he arrived. He checked his watch. Nevermind, it's been four minutes. Russia held his hand up to the door to knock, but stopped when he got a text.

(Nazi) I'mReichYou'reWrong: Your father won't let me go.

Laughing quietly to himself, Russia texted back.

(Russia) Vodka_Man: He's just sorry.
And did you try using the spatula to scrape him off?

I'mReichYou'reWrong: We both know a spatula's not going to work.
Anyways, where are you? You left before breakfast.

Vodka_Man: Sorry, I had to do something.

I'mReichYou'reWrong: Well, you better come back soon. Kaz wants to fly out and shove food down your throat and Soviet's thinking of helping him find you.

Vodka_Man: I thought you wanted Papa to let go of you?

I'mReichYou'reWrong: The house is cold and he's warm. I swear, it's like a giant freezer in here.
Don't take away my walking heater.

Russia looked at the door. He should probably leave since it seemed that nobody was going to open it anytime soon. Plus, he really wanted to go back home. He didn't have the energy he did weeks ago because the amount of cases his country had was making him feel weaker and a little sick.

Vodka_Man: I'm done now. I'm coming home.

I'mReichYou'reWrong: Thank you.

Pocketing his phone, Russia walked back to his car and sat inside. Confederacy, who'd been staring out the window, turned his head to look at Russia. "Did ya talk to him?" he asked.

Russia shook his head. "Нет. Nobody's answerrring ze doorrr. He's prrrobably out."

Confederacy groaned. "Really? Now, of all times, Ame's outta his house?"

"Seems so. Ve'll trrry again anozerrr time, ладно?"

Confederacy let out a frustrated sigh and slumped down in his seat. "Fine."

The truth his, America wasn't out of his house. America was just sleeping. But, maybe it would've benefited him to have answered the door.

—————

Powhatan ran around the woods, laughing as he tried to escape his younger brother, Creek. The two jumped over fallen logs, wove between trees, and ducked under low-hanging trees and branches. Their laughter echoed throughout the woods, or, at least, that's what it sounded like.

Nearby, a woman with four horizontal stripes on her face— white, then black, then red, and finally yellow— watched the children chase each other. Native America held baby Delaware, who was sound asleep in her arms.

"Careful, boys," she advised. Powhatan frowned a little. What was the strange, new tongue she spoke in? And why could he understand it? He didn't recall ever hearing it before then.