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Russia gritted his teeth behind his ever present smile as his eyes caught the movement on the other side of the conference table. As usual, he was by himself, sitting on one end, with two empty seats beside him. There were more seats than nations at the meeting, allowing the other countries to pick and choose.
They all chose to keep away.
No matter.
No, what bothered Russia was what was occurring on the other side of the conference table, where a select few nations were hovering around the coffee maker.
“Alf--America,” Canada was saying, catching himself quickly but not quick enough for Russia not to twitch. “Stop fiddling with it.”
“It’s clogged,” America huffed. He had his back turned but Russia could easily picture his concentrated face. The way his blue eyes would squint behind his glasses and his tongue would poke out the corner of his mouth. Everyone would find it silly. But Russia knew the complicated schematics that would be running through the nation’s head as he tried to come up with a solution.
Because America was much smarter than most of these idiotic nations ever gave him credit for. It’s what made him so entertaining to bother. So interesting to converse with. So--
“You’re going to break it,” England pointed out, leaning back with his cup of tea.
“Why do you care?” America snapped, “You don’t even use this thing.”
Russia smiled behind the papers he was shuffling.
England merely rolled his eyes, “I just know you’re about to make a mess all over your suit.”
“Am not!” America replied. He tugged at the back of the machine, and the freshly grounded coffee beans spilled out in a spray of brown dust, right on the two North American countries’ faces.
“America!” Canada shouted, rubbing at his face with the napkin he had to grope for.
“What did I just say?” England huffed. He licked his thumb, using it to wipe away at the residue on America’s frowning face.
Russia’s pencil snapped in half.
Italy scooted his chair further away (despite having a whole other chair between them already).
“Will you stop it!?” America groaned, trying to push England’s hand away. He wasn’t doing a very good job. Russia knew for a fact it would take little effort for America to knock England straight into the opposite wall if he wanted to. But he didn’t of course. And England never seemed to question that. Be appreciative of that. No, instead he kept pushing, touching at America’s face as if he still had an imperial right to do as he wished.
“Do you think we have time to go to the café across the street?” Canada mumbled, scrolling through his smartphone.
“Is it a Starbucks?” America asked, plucking Canada’s phone from his hands with an easy familiarity. Russia forgot, often, how easily those two could blend into each other’s spaces. Canada frowned, but made no move at trying to take his device back. Instead, he placed his chin on America’s shoulder to monitor what he was doing.
They were pressed so close. One against the other, just like they would look on any world map.
It wasn’t as though Russia didn’t border any countries. In fact he bordered many. Way more than either of those two did. He swallowed, feeling that familiar ache in his chest. He preemptively placed a hand over his heart, urging the organ to stay in place, just in case.
“I can order us drinks in advance and we can run over and grab them. No line. Germany can’t be mad with us then, right? We’re being efficient after all.”
“What do you mean, you’re ordering. That’s my phone and my account,” Canada snapped.
“Don’t be so stingy,” America snorted, “You’re not going to get yelled at.”
Russia laughed then. Loud enough to grab the other side of the room’s attention. Suddenly enough to bring silence into the air. All eyes fell on him, and his smile sharpened on his face.
America caught his eye and there was a flash there. Quickly masked, of course. They were in an official meeting after all. Wasn’t that the agreement?
Wasn’t that what you insisted on, yourself? A voice inside Russia’s head sneered.
“What’s so funny?” America asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You,” Russia replied easily, “You are always quite funny, Amerika.”
“Want to fill me in on the joke?” America continued flatly. He’d handed the phone back to Canada, who was still hovering quite close. England also straightened up, green eyes sharp. Watching.
“You are the joke,” Russia said easily, ignoring the sudden confused hurt in those blue eyes, “Have been since your last presidency. I think it’s funny how nervous you are of overstepping your boundaries with your boss still. What happened to all that talk of independence?”
There is a shift in the air of the room.
There were unspoken rules, now broken.
It was no secret how sensitive America was to references to his previous boss. To the blow the entire debacle had landed on his reputation and the continuing damage that reigned among his people and psyche.
America pressed his lips into a thin line.
Russia just smiled.
“Russia,” England snapped, stepping forward, “That was completely uncalled for. You of all nations should know how little control we have over our leader ’s behavior.”
Germany seemed to give an especially forceful nod in agreement.
Russia felt his molars grinding against each other.
“Still using your NATO allies to fight your own battles?” Russia asked, keeping his gaze on America.
“Dude, what’s your problem?” America shot back.
This time, Canada stepped forward, “Russia, maybe we should schedule a private meeting?” he asked, voice polite but edged in icy steel. “It seems you have things on your mind you would like to discuss?”
“No, we can do it now,” America snapped. He took his own step forward, and Russia grinned , excited for the verbal spar to come.
But it didn’t.
Because England put his hand on America’s chest, and the sight alone was infuriating beyond belief. Especially as Canada put his own hand on America’s shoulder to tug him back, pointing at his phone and presumably their coffee order.
And their hands didn’t move , speaking softly so that Russia couldn’t hear. Comforting words? Loving words? He could see France padding his way over to join them. Japan passed by to offer a word to America. Of support.
The entire world amassing around him.
Russia stood up, his chair screeching back with the abrupt force. He didn’t care that all eyes were once again on him. He simply stomped out of the room and down the hall.
America watched him go, frowning. He tried to follow, but another hand urged him to remain, telling him not to bother.
He bit the inside of his cheek.
Russia slammed the door behind him, caring very little if he damaged it. Germany had made the hotel arrangements after all. He could deal with it.
Russia threw off his coat onto the bed, kicking off his boots and letting out an aggravated sound through his clenched teeth. He pressed his hands into his eye sockets as if he could force his emotions back down that way.
Of course there was a better method for that, tried and true.
He dug through the mini fridge for his bottle of vodka and started drinking.
Russia did not know how long he wallowed in his room alone nursing his bottle. It was long enough for the sky to darken to match his mood. But not long enough for him to slip into his bed for the night.
There was a knock at the door.
Russia glared at it but did nothing else.
The knocking grew louder. He ignored it.
“Russia! Open up!”
Russia cringed at the familiar voice. He wrapped his lips around the neck of the bottle and took another large swallow. He barely batted an eye as the door was ripped from its hinges effortlessly. America held the door with one hand, frowning at him. Then he stepped through and awkwardly tried to lean the door back against the frame to give them some semblance of privacy.
“Germany is going to be angry,” Russia noted, finding the ingredients listed on the vodka bottle suddenly very interesting.
“I’ll fix it later.”
“Like you fixed the coffee maker?” Russia asked dryly.
America stomped over and Russia lazily looked up into his eyes from where he was seated. America’s hands were crossed over his chest, “What the fuck is your problem today, man!?”
Russia sneered.
America glared at him, “ I’m the one who should be upset,” he continued, “That was a fucking low blow you pulled back there.”
Russia pressed the bottle back to his lips.
America grabbed the bottle and Russia growled. His hand eye coordination wasn't the best when he was buzzed, so America had an easy time playing keep away.
“What has got you so upset?” America insisted, “Did you want coffee too? Thought you were a tea guy--”
“Go away!” Russia shouted, “Why are you here?”
“You know why I’m here,” America huffed, “Stop being difficult. The meetings--”
“Wouldn’t you rather be with them ,” Russia hissed.
“Who?” America paused, eyebrows furrowing.
“All of them. Any of them,” Russia stood up, glaring, “They touch you so easily. So openly. I say one thing and they all clamor to your defense. You have--” he choked, quickly covering his face with a hand as he felt those damned tears begin to fall from his eyes.
“Woah,” America said, reaching out, “Hold on. You know that’s because--”
“I know! I know why!” Russia growled out--or at least he tried to. It sounded more like a pathetic whine to his ears however. He turned away. Angry at the world. Angry at himself.
America faltered. He bit his lip before saying, “Just, just hold on! One second!”
And then he…left. He simply left.
Russia had never felt more alone. How could he just leave him? Just like that? But why wouldn’t he? Everyone else did. Why would he ever think that America would be different, that--
There was another knock at the door.
Russia sniffled, trying to wipe at his stupid eyes.
America picked up the door once more, shifting it back into place as he stepped into the room again. He looked a bit sheepish now, as Russia stared at him through his tears, dumbfounded.
“Hi,” he offered.
Russia squinted at him, which only made him blurrier through his tears, “Ameri--”
“NO!” America shouted. Then he blinked, looking down and tearing the American flag pin off his lapel. He held it behind his back. He looked up at Russia with a tinge of an apology in his eyes, “My name is Alfred .”
Russia stared at him.
“And,” Alfred continued, “I’m here to see if my boyfriend Ivan is okay.”
Russia blinked at him. And then he felt his heart squeeze so impossibly tight in his chest. Something bubbled within him, and soon he was laughing. Hard. Laughing at the absurdity of the moment, of the sincerity in Alfred’s voice and his expression.
Alfred gave him a smile.
And soon enough the laughing gave way, the tightness in his chest overpowering him entirely. More tears fell from his eyes and he sobbed out, turning away desperately to shield his explosion of emotions. But Alfred wasn’t having it. He tugged him down, wrapping his arms around him.
And all Russia wanted to do was sink into him.
He maneuvered the two of them easily, until they could both sit on the edge of the bed, Ivan practically buried in Alfred’s tear-soaked chest. Alfred simply pet his light colored hair, fingers roughened by callouses but touch all the more gentler to account for it.
Ivan sniffled.
“You gonna tell me yet?” Alfred murmured, lips so close to his forehead he might as well be kissing his skin.
Ivan squeezed his eyes shut.
Alfred sighed.
But then Ivan spoke up, voice barely above a whisper, “Nobody likes me.”
It sounded childish out loud, something more akin to coming from Alfred’s lips than his own. But it was the truth. And the two of them weren’t as different as the world tried to paint them to be.
“I like you,” Alfred said easily, nuzzling his face into his hair as if to prove his point.
Ivan sighed, turning slightly to press his face deeper into Alfred’s jacket, “Your people don’t.”
Alfred pulled back, pursing his lips, “Not all of them don’t,” he said carefully. “After all, I got a lot of you in me, too.”
Ivan rolled his eyes, sitting up and trying to regain some of his dignity. He’d always hoped his proclivity to burst into tears would die along with his childhood. Alas. “That only means even some of my people like you more than me . ”
Alfred grimaced, “That’s not--Look, I’m not America right now, okay? I’m just Alfred. And I think you're the coolest dude in the world. And not just because you live in a winter wonderland.”
Ivan snorted, but he could not help the small smile forming on his lips. He leaned his head against the shorter man’s shoulders. He let himself relax fully. Alfred was the only person he could trust to carry his full weight.
“I wish we could be like this at meetings too,” Alfred murmured.
“The world would throw a fit,” Ivan chuckled, leaning further down until he could pillow his head in Alfred’s lap.
But he couldn’t help but wish for the same.