**TRIGGER WARNING**
Homophobia, censored use of the F word (the gay insult one).
I'll put in little warnings when it comes up.
Also, this oneshot gets a little sPiCy so uh yeah. No lemon, don't worry, just heated stuff.
~~~~~~~~
He was here again.
Unsurprisingly.
He was here too often after it happened.
Pretty much every night, really.
He would drink, babble, drink some more, call someone, drink some more, maybe cry a bit and then, y'know, drink even more until he either got kicked out or the bar closed.
Whichever one happened first.
This time, however, was a bit different.
"Y'know what, Russ?" America mused, sitting on a red bar stool next to the ever-so-slightly tipsy Russian. "I think you have a bit of a drinking problem here. Just a hunch"
Russia just grunted in response, taking a swig of his transparent bottle of vodka.
America raised his hand to grab the attention of the bartender, ordering a glass of scotch for himself so he wouldn't get absolutely trashed.
"So, Russia, how ya doing? I noticed during the UN meeting today you seemed a little...on edge."
Russia clenched his teeth and chugged some more alcohol, staying silent. America grinned, knowing just which buttons to push to get the man all riled up and frustrated.
"Ya know," America drawled, taking a quick sip before continuing. "I get it. I really do. It must suck knowing you lost all those ships, I mean if that ever happened to me - "
"Do you ever fucking shut up?" Russia snapped, glaring at the shorter country.
America smirked, leaning on the counter with his elbows, "Only if there's a dick in my mouth~"
**HOMOPHOBIA STARTS NOW, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED**
Russia curled his lip and America smiled even wider. There it was, the money shot. The one thing Russia hated the most: gay people.
"That's disgusting, America," Russia growled, his brows furrowed. "Keep that shit to yourself, f*ggot."
**KAY, YOU SHOULD BE GOOD NOW**
America held up his hands defensively, "Hey, hey, no need to get all agro on me, Ruski."
"Don't call me that," Russia scowled, gripping the bottle harder.
America pouted, "You seem tense, Russia."
Russia raised an eyebrow but stayed silent. It wasn't like it wasn't true, he was pretty stressed. Nothing had gotten better since what happened, no matter how much work he had put into getting better.
Nothing had worked.
He chugged his vodka some more, there was maybe an eighth of it left.
"Well, I could totally give you a blow job if you want~" America teased. "They're pretty relaxing."
Russia shot him a dirty look, but the slightest blush wriggled its way onto Russia's cheeks - although it's not like America was really looking hard enough to notice such a thing.
"I'm kidding!" America chuckled. "Don't get your panties in a twist."
Russia just rolled his eyes and finished off his bottle, tapping the clean, polished wood of the bar to silently ask the bartender for another bottle, which he received without much delay.
"Why are you here, American?"
The striped country shrugged, lifting his glass to his lips, "Why is anyone here?"
"It was a simple question; do you really not have enough braincells to even give a simple answer?"
"I suppose so."
Russia snorted, "Using fancy words won't make you smarter."
"Dunno, Ruski," America grinned. "Seem's to have fooled the UN."
Russia glared at him, unimpressed once more.
"How many bottles have you had already?" America asked suddenly. Russia furrowed his brow, pausing to drink before answering.
"This is my third."
America winced, "Have fun with your hangover tomorrow."
Russia sighed, rubbing his eyes and running a hand through his hair, "Honestly, I don't even feel them anymore."
America raised his eyebrows.
"Really?"
"Really."
"Really truly?"
"What about 'really' do you not get?" Russia groaned.
America just chuckled, shrugging. Russia chugged his drink some more and smiled as he wobbled back and forth slightly. Maybe drinking with the North American country wasn't so bad.
"So, how's that girlfriend of yours?"
He spoke too soon.
"...She's gone," Russia whispered as his bottom lip quivered. The smile was wiped from his face as his shoulders slumped and his grip on his bottle tightened.
America winced, putting down his glass and swivelling in his bar stool to properly face the broken Slav, "Jesus, man I didn't mean to - "
"It's fine," Russia dismissed coldly, stealing another swig from his bottle. One third left.
America pursed his lips, leaning in slightly, "Do you...do you mind if I ask what happened?"
Another drink. One quarter (forth) left.
"...I dunno," Russia sighed, rubbing his temples and closing his eyes. "She just... left me. I wanted speak with her about something but she..."
Russia started tearing up, trailing off.
"Hey, hey, you don't have to tell me," America sputtered quickly, not wanting to be the reason the usually strong country was crying.
Another gulp of vodka. One sixth left.
"Was Friday," Russia drawled drunkenly, realising he was more drunk than he first thought - leaving out small words like it and a. "I come home late and she give lecture about drinking. I flip her off and head to room, but she stop me. She crying. She ask I cheat her, I say no, she does not believe me. She...she..."
The tears had finally broken the damns behind his eyes and streamed freely down his multi-coloured cheeks. America bit his lip and hesitantly reached out a hand and gently placing it on Russia's shoulder, causing the drunk country to cry more, holding his hand over his mouth to stop the whimpers and sobs. America moved his hand to Russia's back and rubbed rhythmic circles into it, leaning as close as he could to the taller country.
After a few more agonising seconds of memories, Russia stopped crying and roughly smeared away any remaining tears with the back of his hand and chugged the rest of his vodka. America continued rubbing his back, worried about inciting another breakdown if he were to pull away.
"She broke up with me," Russia hiccupped in a hushed tone, as though if he were to speak any louder the tears would come back. "House has been so empty since she left, so empty. So cold. So lonely."
Russia pushed the bottle forward and tapped the bar for another bottle. He was sufficiently drunk enough to hopefully not remember the rest of the depressing night, but he still needed more. The drinking distracted him, if only for a little while.
When the bartender moved to slide him another drink, America quickly piped up, "Sorry, but could we get the cheque (check)? I think he's had enough to drink for one night."
The bartender raised an eyebrow but complied of course, collecting the empty bottles and walking to the till to ring them up.
"Do you want me to call you a cab?" America asked Russia, removing his hand from the other's back. "I didn't have much to drink so I'll be fine to - "
"No!" Russia urged, grabbing America's hand in his own, forcing the other to stay seated.
"No..." he repeated in a much quieter tone as he stared down at their hands.
America sighed, but gave the taller a patient smile, squeezing Russia's hand, "Alright. I'll drive you home then."
Russia smiled happily and nodded, playing with America's fingers as the other payed the bill for the two of them. The striped country stood, dragging Russia along behind him as he went out the front door, leaving the rest of his scotch left abandoned on the counter.
-
"Drunk Russia trying to open his door is the best thing I've seen all day."
"ShhhhhhHhhHHHh," Russia giggled, still trying to stab the keyhole with his keys. America just rolled his eyes with a smile and grabbed the keys, slotting them in easily.
"Suck it, Ruski," America boasted playfully, causing the taller to poke his tongue out at him in retaliation.
America had originally just planned to watch Russia go inside from his car to make sure he made it in safely, but after watching him struggle for a good thirty seconds from afar, he decided to intervene.
He pushed open the door and chuckled as Russia stumbled inside, following him in and closing the door behind himself. He looked around the house, trying to make out shapes in the darkness before finally finding the light switch and illuminating the room. An old looking blue couch greeted the two of them and America grabbed Russia's hand, leading him to the piece of furniture and placing his hands on the taller's shoulders to push him into a sitting position on the couch.
"Alrighty, have a good night Ruski - "
America faltered when he felt a warmth encase his hand, stopping him from walking any further to the front door.
"You not going aaaaaaanywhere."
He turned his head back to see Russia uneasily stand from his seat, stumbling towards him, causing him to back up. Each step Russia took forward, America took backward until the drunken country had him pinned against the wall. He placed one arm just over America's head and kept the other stubbornly holding the nervous country's hand.
"Uuuuuh, ok, Ruski maybe back up a bit - "
"Shhhhhhhhhhh," Russia slurred drunkenly, not letting go of America's hand even when he placed his index finger over the smaller's mouth. "Jusssst lemme speak."
America raised an eyebrow, "uuuuuuuuummm, ok?"
"You," Russia began, poking America's chest. "Funny. I like when you speak and tell joke. You not know but you always make me laugh and happy. You nice, too. People think you selfish but you nice, you not mean. You care - I like when country care. You look after Canada and Australia and sheep one. And people, you take care people. And I not care you gay, just pretend to. I no hate you, just pretend."
America raised his eyebrows, legitimately confused, "Wait, why do you act like you hate me then?"
"I scared. My stomach always go bleh," Russia made an unimpressed face. "But around you my stomach go gurgleblarglewarblarbil," Russia looked down at his stomach and poked it with a hand, trying to make a point.
"Ooooooooooooooooookaaaaaaaaaaaaay?"
Russia looked back up to America, narrowing his eyes at the glasses preventing him from seeing America's eyes.
"'Meriiiica."
"...yes?"
He moved his hand to grip the side of the shorter's glasses, causing him to tense up instantly.
"Theeese go."
America bit his lip, lowering his head so that his chin was almost touching his neck; as though he were crumbling in on himself. Russia frowned deeply, a horrible sinking feeling settling in his stomach as he watched the country under him. The arm he had leaning on the wall balled into a fist as he clenched his teeth. Russia finally let go of America's hand and instead used his hand to gently slip two fingers under America's chin, lifting his head to force their gazes to meet. Russia glanced down at America's slightly parted lips, admiring how plump they were - and in his drunken state he leant in closer as his eyelids slowly began sliding shut.
America's eyes widened behind his glass shields and his heartrate rapidly increased, causing his cheeks to darken a shade or two. He could see where this was going - did he really want this?
But before he could even think about protesting, Russia closed the gap, connecting their lips in an instant. America's eyes only widened as he felt Russia's hand move to cup his cheek and his lips clash with his. But he slowly succumbed to the kiss, shutting his eyes and hesitantly lifting his arms from their slumped state by his sides to wrap around the taller's neck, deepening the kiss.
Russia took this as a good sign and smiled into the kiss, slipping his arms around America's waist and pulling him in, pressing their bodies together. America pressed back harder, moving one of his hands to tangle is fingers in Russia's fluffy hair, tugging on it slightly, earning himself a surprised groan. America took the opportunity to slip his tongue into Russia's mouth, exploring every crevice to Russia's delight. He could taste the traces of vodka from the evening, but the kiss was far more intoxicating than the alcohol.
Russia sucked on America's bottom lip before breaking off the heated kiss, creating a strange noise that surprised the both of them. Russia took a second to admire America's half-lidded stare and cherry-red face before tugging down his shirt slightly and lowering his head to sink his teeth into America's neck. The striped country gasped, gripping Russia's hair harder, causing the taller to moan into his skin. America shivered lightly as Russia sucked on the slight bite mark he had made, burying his face in the side of his neck as he worked on littering hickeys all over America's shoulders.
"Oh, God, R-Russia~" America moaned, tilting his head to the side so that the Slavic nation had better access to his neck. Russia chuckled and pulled away, causing America to whimper slightly.
"You want more?" Russia asked, America internally swooning at how hot his accent was, considering it was thicker than usual due to his drunkenness. He nodded eagerly, pulling at Russia's hair and pulling him down slightly to nibble on his red skin to leave some marks of his own.
Russia bit his lip to muffle his moans and nuzzled his face into America's soft hair before managing to control his impulses long enough to peel America's arms away from him.
"Those go," Russia repeated his earlier statement, rubbing his thumb over America's knuckles as he held his hands in his own.
America thought for a second, biting the inside of his cheek.
"I mean...you're drunk enough to not be your usual homophobic self and actually compliment me," America admitted, more to himself than Russia. "I...I guess I could show you..."
He sighed defeatedly and slid his sunglasses off his face, hesitantly looking up at Russia. At first, Russia didn't notice any eyes at all, but then he realised what he was seeing when America blinked anxiously.
Black.
His eyes were pitch black.
America frowned, letting his eyes close and his posture slump, "I know, they're weird - "
"They're pretty," Russia interrupted, causing America to look up at him with wide eyes. Russia smiled, grateful to finally see eyes instead of stupid shades - and that America had opened his eyes so that he could admire them some more.
"...Really?"
"Really."
"...Really truly?"
Russia rolled his eyes affectionately leaned in again, linking their lips once more and pressing passionately against America, trying to silently show his acceptance. America kissed back immediately, squeezing Russia's hands and trapping the tears that threatened to bubble over by shutting his eyes tight. They broke away after a few more blissful moments, puffing ever-so-slightly.
"What about 'really' do you not get?" Russia chuckled.
America only smiled back, laying his head on his chest and wrapping his arms around his waist, leaving Russia to do the same.
"...Thank you."
~~~~~~~~
Not to ruin the mood or anything, but can you tell how obviously new I am to describing make out scenes?