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"..."
"So... you excited?" America asked, attempting to break the awkward silence punctuated by the rolling of suitcase wheels down a hotel hallway.
"About what?" Russia countered. There was a smidge of interest in his inquiry, but most of it was dry sarcasm.
"I... I mean, we're in Chicago! New sights are always nice!"
"Ah, yes. Hunks of metal poking up into these gray-ass clouds is very exciting."
"...well-"
America wasn't normally like this. He really just wanted to lighten the mood between him and the person he was going to be sharing a hotel room with for the next week. He and Russia didn't know each other at all - had they even talked before? Maybe a few thank yous or sorrys or whatever, but... yeah, nope. Complete strangers. And it probably would've stayed that way if they didn't have to stay in the same room for a business trip.
It wasn't like they disliked each other, though, so they both agreed to be roommates for one week.
Unbeknownst to America, Russia was also trying to lighten the mood, in his own dry, sarcastic way. He'd never been good with social interactions - he heard from somewhere that people who joked around a lot were well liked by others. Too bad his style of joking tended to make him look standoffish.
Neither of them really tried to initiate a conversation again after that.
"We're here." America said abruptly, scanning his key card on the door. With a satisfying click sound, the door unlocked.
"..."
To set the record straight, America and Russia knew that there was only going to be one bed.
They just didn't expect it to be that small.
America stared at the tiny bed, innocently covered with a plaid blue duvet, wondering how the two of them were going to fit on it. Did the surface area of the bed even upsize the combination of America's 6'1"(185cm) and Russia's 6'8"(203cm) frames?
He turned to Russia, gesturing to the bed. "How do you think we should-"
"Which drawer do you want?" Russia asked, completely barreling over America's question, as if he didn't hear it at all. "I don't really care which one I get."
"... the one on the right is fine, I guess."
After unpacking their clothes, America closed his suitcase, then attempted to broach the topic of the bed again. "So, uh, what would you be comfortable doing with-"
"The laundry?" Russia interrupted again. "Throw it in a bag, I guess. But not in the same bag as mine."
America blinked. "Okay, cool. And, the sl-"
"There's a notepad on the floor." Russia walked over and picked it up, then after a moment's deliberation, set it beside his computer.
"Russia-"
"I'll shower first." Russia commented nonchalantly, walking to the bathroom.
As soon as Russia disappeared into the bathroom, America rolled his eyes.
In the shower, Russia scrubbed his hair a little too intensely, trying not to cringe at the thought of sharing a bed with the American. Of course he knew that America was trying to bring up the subject of them sharing that small-ass bed. It's just, sharing a bed with a person who's practically a complete stranger to you is one of the most awkward things in the planet. And Russia did not like awkward things.
Once the two of them had both gotten ready for the night, they stood by the bed, trying to decide how to make the arrangement work. "Pillow barrier should be fine, right?" Russia asked.
"...sure."
No way the pillows would serve any practical use, but, whatever.
"G'night." America said, climbing into bed and facing the wall.
"Night." Russia replied, facing the other way.
"..."
"..."
"...get your cold feet off my leg."
Russia grumbled and shifted away from America, and America sighed in relief when the clammy sensation of Russia's cold toes left him. Then he realized another kind of chill had overtaken him, since Russia had taken most of the blanket.
America yanked on the sheets, trying to pull some portion of the blanket over himself.
Russia pulled back.
It went on like that for some time until America muttered "Fuck you" under his breath and pulled on the blanket really hard, rolling part of it under himself so that Russia couldn't take all of it.
Russia still pulled on it.
"Okay, dude, what the fuck." America exclaimed, sitting up. "This is not working."
"Thank you, Sherlock." Russia snapped back, glaring at America with the one eye that was not obscured by his pillow. "I bet nobody else in the world could've reached that conclusion by themselves."
America rolled his eyes. "I heard of this one thing where it's easier to share a bed if the two people sleep in opposite directions, like, I turned around so my feet were lined up with your head and vice versa. How's that?"
"... okay?"
Russia fell silent after that. Seeing as the discussion seemed to be over, America took it upon himself to get out of bed and lie back down the other way, deliberately facing away from Russia's feet.
There still wasn't enough blanket for the two of them, but neither of them really had the energy to fight over the blanket anymore. It had been a tiring day. Once settled, America drifted off to sleep pretty quickly.
After a couple hours, Russia woke up, feeling a disturbance in the air around him. He blearily opened his eyes, just to immediate recoil in shock, and scoot away from the sight in front of him. He accidentally scooted a bit too far and knocked over a few things on his desk.
Okay, it wasn't that disgusting. Just strange.
America's foot was... on his pillow.
This is not what I had in mind when I agreed to his weird sleeping arrangement.
Grumbling, Russia pushed America, intending to get America's toes a little further from his face.
America slowly rolled away a bit, and Russia was satisfied until he noticed that America was rolling a bit faster. Before he could really process what was happening, America nearly fell off of the bed.
Mildly panicking, Russia quickly rolled over to face the opposite direction, pretending he was asleep. He didn't want America to suspect that Russia had been the one to push him off.
America woke up, blearily wondering why his midsection felt so heavy. Ugh, he thought. Why - AAGH!
WHY IS MY BUTT IN THE AIR?!
America's feet, arms, and head were still somehow on his bed, but his entire core, from his abs to his knees, was hanging from the mattress? America could swear that his butt was two inches from touching the floor.
What the fuck?
Did Russia kick me into falling?
Groaning, America pulled himself back up, having to push Russia's knee out of the way to lie back down. Not only had the Russian appeared to knee him off the mattress, that goddamned bastard took the rest of the blankets! America tried to pull some of them back, to no avail.
Russia tensed, sensing that America was still awake. He pretended to snore, just to further sell his guise of being asleep.
Oh great, he snores too... America groaned.
Crap, crap, crap, what should Russia do? He really needed America to believe he was asleep.
Sleeptalking? That could work! Russia wracked his brain for any random thing he could say that would sound like sleeptalking. "Сыр... mmpf... the smell from cheese... comes from the same bacteria that produces the smell of unwashed feet."
America sat up, disturbed. What? Not only was Russia a sleeptalker, America had just learned a new... thing that just about gave him an existential crisis. He had to pull out his phone to check that Russia wasn't just spewing random words in his sleep.
Well, Google confirmed it.
Once Russia sensed America's grudging relaxation, he allowed himself to go back to sleep.
Couldn't say the same for America, though. America laid back down, staring at the ceiling, questioning his whole life.
1 am.
2 am.
3 am.
America was still awake.
Ugghhhhh. Had he even gotten any sleep that night?
Why had he not fallen asleep?
Maybe because Russia was snoring like some tank machine and the noise was completely grating at America's ears?
That's it, I've had enough. America thought, before sitting up in bed, eye ticking. Mind foggy from his half-asleep state, he grabbed his pillow and clocked Russia in the head with it.
Russia's eyes blinked open. "Что за херня?" He cursed, staring at America in confusion.
"Stop snoring or you're gonna have a bigger problem than your sanctions." America snapped.
Suppressing a nasty comeback, Russia rolled over on his side and went back to sleep for the next hour before his alarm rang.
But America did notice that Russia made a point to kick him off of the bed at some point each night for the rest of that week.