Sunlight leaks through Russia's eyelids. Russia groans, trying to hide from it. His mind feels sleepy and slow. He tucks his face against some soft, warm cloth that bunches up under his cheekbone. He pays its source no mind.
He wraps his arms around the source and drags it to his chest. The warmth falls right against him, and Russia hums, burying his nose into the fabric.
'Very warm.'
Russia scrunches his face at being awake and nuzzles into the heat. His mind hums with contentment and happiness. Russia drifts back off to the drone of background noise from downstairs. He doesn't even register the person moving under him.
When Russia wakes up again, it is to applause.
Russia rubs his face groggily and yawns. He tries to ignore the clapping and the laughter that seemed to accompany it. But when it doesn't stop, he slowly sits up and reluctantly pulls away from his more comfortable position.
He stares around for a second and sees Canada and Dixie standing in the doorway, clapping. Sleepy confusion swirls through his mind. Dixie laughs and Canada snickers. Then, Dixie takes a deep breath and stands back with a smirk.
"What?" Russia mumbles.
Dixie raises an eyebrow.
"What?" Russia says a little louder, confusion clear in his tone.
"You gotta tell us what kinda magic you used to keep him sleepin'," Dixie chortles.
Russia glances to Canada for an explanation.
"Well," Canada explains, "America doesn't sleep much. I'd say he averages only a few hours a night, eh? So for you to keep him in here and asleep is something special."
America groans. He turns over onto Russia's leg and shoves his face into the cushions.
"This better be about food," he complains, his voice muffled.
Russia giggles at the comment. America quickly rolls off of him, hiding his face.
Dixie scoffs and mocks him, "You and food. Anyways, brunch is being served downstairs if you're interested."
"Brunch?" America asks, sitting up with his hands on his cheeks.
'Why is he holding his head like that?'
"Yeah, the kids and I made some breakfast casserole," Dixie proclaims proudly.
America hops up and hurries out of the room. Russia shoves his hat on and gets up to follow.
'What is breakfast casserole?' Russia wonders with a yawn.
Russia follows America down to the kitchen and sees countless steam trays filled with food lining the counters. Russia takes a plate from a nearby stack and looks around. He defaults to walking behind America.
"What is this?" Russia asks, gesturing to the trays.
"Good is what it is! This one is blueberry french toast, this one is just regular, and this one is pumpkin cinnamon roll," America replies enthusiastically.
Russia decides to follow America's example and got one piece of each. Although finishing all of it made him a little nauseous, he doesn't regret it.
Russia wanders into the living room and falls onto the couch. Alaska joins him, tucking herself under his arm.
'How odd,' Russia thinks, looking down at Alaska.
Ultimately, he leaves her be.
'She looks comfortable.'
YOU ARE READING
Book 1 - Puppets
FanfictionRussia is sent overseas to stay with America, but it isn't clear why until after he arrives. As soon as he steps foot on American soil, Russia is thrown upside-down into a family hidden from the world on a mission to protect everything he holds dear...
