Chapter Text
America was so freaking bored. This UN meeting has gone on for two whole hours! TWO!! He could’ve watched a whole movie in that time! But noOOOoOooO, UN just HAS to talk about “equality,” or whatever it was that he was yapping about. Who CARES?! He was already the best at everything. You don’t live for 200 years without being goated at life!
Ugh. What makes it worse, is that Russia was disturbing his innocent peace by glaring daggers into his soul! Like, seriously! What had he ever done to him?? Nothing that wasn’t Russia’s fault, that’s for sure!
America tried to glare back over his sunglasses, but the big burly Russian man didn’t care at all. Please, care about me, that’s all I ask… Russia was the only one who didn’t see his greatness — In fact, he actively opposed it! How could someone be so blind?!
America slumped in his seat and resisted the urge to groan like a little five year old waiting for his mommy. He played with the gun holster on his hip as he tuned UN out. This was so stupid.
Apparently, UN was not stupid, because his head soon snapped towards him. “America,” came his stern voice.
America instantly fixed his abhorrent posture. “What! What, I’m not doing anything! Why are you antagonizing me—“
“Why have you brought a weapon to the UN meeting? You know that’s not allowed — I’ve told you like, a Brazilian times.” UN ran his hand down his face.
“You just hate me! It ain’t my fault I don’t feel safe here!” America defended himself, his hands in the air. He could feel Russia glaring at him harder now. “It’s actually Russia pookie’s fault I brought a gun here!”
“WHAT?!” Russia shouted, in his sexy gruff voice. “How is it my fault?! You’re the one that brought the pewmachine!” He couldn’t say gun because of excessive censorship in his country. Yeah, I just decided that.
“I blame it on you cause you’re just so scawy, pookie! I mean, just look at you, barking at me like a dog! Are you going to get down on your knees next? Am I going to have to call you a bad boy for barking at me? Will—“
“SHUT UP!!” Russia screeched, blushing loudly. “You know I’m not a dog, I’m a bear! And. I’m NOT GOJNG TO DO THAT YOU IDIOT!!!” He yelled louder, despite the other countries watching this interaction with puzzled faces. They look like they want to melt through the floor and leave this place. Which, valid, honestly. Not everyone can handle the fiery passion of this muscly alpha Russian~
UN wanted to end this madness, but America could not stop the wave of yappage once he’d opened the floodgates. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Your daddy insisted on being a bear too. But seriously. You don’t think I can have this little guy?” America pulled out his gun. Russia’s eyes widened to the size of the moon and he leapt at America over the table. America was knocked down, and Russia landed on top of him.
“What are you doing?!” Russia growled, his face still alight with redness. He pinned down his squirming prey on the floor (America hehe) with one large, strong hand on his chest.
America grinned. “Oh, you really are a bad boy~” He cooed flirtatiously.
“No! Pookies!” UN wailed, distraught. “This isn’t how the story goes! What is happening—“
“You’re just a pathetic little bug that needs to be squashed,” Russia’s voice deepened, his harsh accent shining through. Even though America had a death grip on his gun, Russia was still able to rip it out of his hand. He shifted on top of America, kneeling with his legs on either side of him as he leaned closer to the twink’s face.
America squirmed beneath him, feeling the pressure of Russia on top of him. He was blushing too hard to speak, his face practically the color of the Soviet Union’s. (Which would make this scenario really weird if he actually were Soviet, but yk he wasn’t so…)
America’s hand came up and caressed Russia’s shoulder, to which the man cringed and shoved himself off of America. He tried to stand, but when he did, the striped country felt an odd tugging on his wrist and was yeeted up with him.
“What—?” Russia’s eyes snapped down to their hands, and they saw a pair of shining handcuffs connecting both of their wrists. They glowed with magic blue light, way cooler than the handcuffs the police have.
UN giggled, his arms neatly crossed behind his back. “You guys are going to be chained together for a week. Now quit murdering each other and be at peace, you goobers!” He smiled, which was oddly unsettling with his blank white eyes.
“AIN’T NO WAY.” America couldn’t believe it! How was he supposed to function for a week with the allure of this man next to him?
Russia was just gobsmacked. “I— what? But I can’t work with him here! He’ll probably try to seduce me into capitalism!”
America smirked. He was quite right… “Something like that…”
“STOP! NO!” Russia scrambled away from him. “UN, you can’t do this! He’s going to eat me alive!”
“Eat you, I will!” America hungered for this man.
“That ain’t my problem!” UN turned away from them, his soul shining exuberantly. “Y’all can get right on out of here.” He waved away the countries in the meeting room.
“What the frickerdoodle gumdrops…” America muttered, and looked to Russia. OMG, he was still so big and muscly and intimidating… especially with his tensed muscles and murderous glare. He was standing next to Russia! And he’d be doing that for a week straight… this is crazy. “So… wanna come back to my place?” He waggled his eyebrows.
Russia had the most intense grimace he’d ever seen. “Never. You are disgusting.” He began walking out of the room, yanking America forward.
America practically flew at the force of the handcuffs tugging on him. “OW, you bozo! Can’t you be gentle? My hand is going to be decapitated,” he complained.
“Just walk, and your hand won’t need to fall off.” Russia grit his teeth, continuing to pull America like a disobedient pet on a walk.
America grumbled and picked up the pace. He purposely bumped into Russia as he walked. Russia growled and harshly shoved America away, making him stumble and nearly lose his balance.
“Touch me again and I will rain all my nukes down on your face.” Russia looked like he was going to explode.
America poked him.
Russia shouted in rage and picked him up roughly, carrying him as he ran to his car. America squawked and kicked as he was picked up, but he soon gave in and let himself be carried by Russia. He leaned in to him, rubbing his face into his full chest. Russia tried to drop him outside the car, and America slid down as his clinging grip on him slipped from the force of gravity.
“NAY I was so comfy!!” He complained. Russia opened the car door and tried to shove him inside, but he just ended up being bent over the seat, the Russian pressing him down from a hand on his back. He felt all too exposed in this position, his face heating up, but it didn’t last as Russia soon lurched his hands back from him, the handcuffs jangling. He sat up, looking at Russia with hooded eyes.
“Get in there, сука.” Russia nudged him towards the passenger seat, and America awkwardly clambered over to sit down in it. Russia took his seat at the wheel, and soon started up the car. He was silent as he began driving to his home.
America took out his phone and began texting Canada.
dude I might die tbh
Can Man: What happened broski??
yeah so uhhh un handcuffed russia and I together. Which. Big womp womp moment for him
Can Man: And not for you? Hmm?
it’ll only suck if he murders me. There’s always that chance but yk being next to him like this is kinda worht it
Can Man: ur crazy im telling japan
Bro she was there, I bet she’s already writing a fanfic
Can Man: it’s awful how you’re right. Anyways dont die i might feel sadness and i don’t want that
no promises! <333
Russia stared out the windshield with his jaw set.
“Is bro moping??” America asked, raising his eyebrow.
“Nuh uh. I’m brooding.” Russia replied.
“Uh… huh. What’s the difference?”
“Brooding is showing deep unhappiness of thought,” he recited. “Moping is to be dejected and apathetic.”
“Did bro really just pull those definitions out of his ass…” America fought the urge to cackle at the display of nerdiness from the Russian.
“I’ve had to explain it more than once.” He said flatly.
“Ur so goofy ahh.” America leaned back in his seat. He smiled at the fact that they both had their hands on the middle armrest.
Russia was stubbornly silent. Still. Like an inanimate rock. Haha… hard as a rock too, probably…
They got to his house, a tall home that was primarily dark brown. It honestly looked like something he could build in minecraft. He could probably recreate that so easily… get some spruce and dark oak…
Russia got out of his car, pulling America out the same door with him. He looked like he was about to slam the door, before he stopped it right before it reached the body and gently closed it with a click.
He’s so insane… but ig that’s what happens when you’re hot. If we got married, could I stick him in a dress? Those moobs would probably fit so well.
They came up to the entryway, the colors of the sunset pouring down on them. When they entered, America’s blue orbs instantly gravitated towards the ceiling, noticing its height. He looked back at the door, and noticed it was also abnormally large.
America furrowed his eyebrows. “Why is your house so tall? These doorways are like. Big.”
“My grandpa was tall,” Russia said simply.
“????whahat pookie?”
“Look at me, America.” He gripped the American by the shoulders and stared at his sunglasses, where his eyes would be. “I am large. My predecessors were large. This house was built and passed down to me. Therefore, it is large. Now kys.”
“You large everywhere?”
“KILL YOURSELF.” Russia lifted him up and kneed him in the crotch, before letting go of him and letting him crumple to the ground.
America whimpered, his hands buried between his legs.
Russia smiled. “Oh, and remember to take off your shoes.”
America gave a strained grin from the ground.
Russia knelt down to untie and remove his own shoes while America existed in pain.After those few moments of recovery, he managed to get his stupid foot coverings off his feet and kick them into the corner.
Russia stood. “Good.” The short word sounded foreign on his tongue, but the praise made him blush harder than he already was. America was forced to stand as well, grabbing on to Russia to stabilize his still unsteady state. “Go on,” Russia nudged his back, prompting him to walk.
“You can’t give me a minute?” America grunted, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.
“I don’t have time for that.” Russia said coldly, walking forward through the hall.
America managed to distract himself with the pictures on the wall. “Lol you were such a cute kid. I forgot how twink you were, once upon a time!”
Russia punched the wall, the sound reverberating through the house. “Don’t be weird about it.” He removed the photo from the wall. “You’re the twink now.”
America burst out laughing at his actions. “Yes, and I love it! I get to be held by big guys like you~”
Russia growled like the bear he was. “That will NOT be happening.” He dragged him into the kitchen.
He pulled out various already prepared ingredients from the fridge, setting them on the counter. He then got out a large pot, filled it with water, and put it on the stove.
“What are you making?” America's eyes were wide with interest, seeing the cut veggies and meat on the table.
“What do you think?” Russia huffed as he began putting the ingredients into the water.
“Uhh… pizza?” He guessed.
“No?? It's borscht, дурак.” (stupid/fool) Russia looked at him like he was clinically insane. Which, unfair!!! America didn't actually think he was making pizza! Obviously! That's just what he hoped, instead of beet soup that made Russia look like a serial killer from how blood red it was…
“Of course it is…” America sighed, deflating. Russia stood there like a statue, staring into the water with America hanging off his wrist.
They stood there for like, two hours or something. America probably fell asleep, and Russia probably had the worlds worst handcuff injuries now from supporting America's weight. The Russian actually leaned him up against the counter so that he wasn't after he'd fallen asleep.
Russia had… seriously considered chopping him up and putting him into the soup as well, but then the amount of meat would be uneven, and it wouldn't be very good, so…
Anyways. America woke up, and could smell borscht so intensely he nearly threw up. Just kidding, he was drooling, because Mommy’s— he meant the Motherland’s— err, Russia's cooking skills were so fantabulous, and it was meaty just like him… America's favorite part about this whole ordeal was probably going to be smelling Russia the whole time. And like, existing next to him. Being able to admire him any time he wanted. Look at those moobs… frickin… delicious… delectable… palatable… edible… salacious…
“Soup is ready.” Russia picked America up by the back of his shirt and walked to his cupboard, setting him down and grabbing out two bowls. He ladeled the soup into them, the smell of borscht thick in the air. He then got some wonderful smetana out of his fridge and put it on top, and finished it off with… a spoon.
“Oh, haha, Russia added his cream…” America muttered. Russia promptly kicked his shin, not having any of it.
They picked up their bowls and sat at the table, America staring down at it dubiously. The thick red color really reminded him of blood, but it was a yummy color… just looking at it made him hungry, which must be a ploy just like all of his fast food restaurants…
Russia took a dignified bite of borscht before he could no longer contain himself and began devouring it. Frickin’ delicious, that's what it was. This was his life blood, after vodka, and he fueled himself with classic Russian meals every day. Next time, next time he'd try some foreign American meat, yes, very American…
America took a bite and moaned real loud. “Ohhh, Russia, this is bussin bussin fr, like, respectfully… aughhhhh… beets taste like dirt but you make me want to shovel this dirt into my mouth… mmmmmm!!!”
Russia wrinkled his face like a decomposing fruit. “What the actual fuck are you saying right nyeow. Now. Now. I said now like a man.” He hissed and grappled America’s spoon from his hand. He scooped up more of the soup and shoved it into America’s mouth, glaring with utmost dominance.
“Shut your damn mouth and eat before I give you more cock and ball torture.” Russia growled.
America swallowed so fast you could call him well-trained. “Mmh— daddy icetitties, nooo~” he whined. He grabbed Russia’s hand and guided the spoon (which Mr moobs still held) to feed him more. He ate it seductively.
“Quit making light of this, Amerika.” He scolded, though he didn’t let go of the spoon. America spilled some down his chin and on his shirt, making him look like the beginning of a crime scene. A crime Russia realy wanted to commit. “My babushka taught me this recipe in the famine. We pulled beets from the ground and made of into soup. Of course it bears the wonderful flavor of dirt.” Russia said. Sexily.
“You’ve even got a hot ice boy backstory… maybe ur beet boy tho. Russias got the funny vegetable things” America commented.
“Sure. You grow hamburgers in America, it is the same. I agree… borscht is really good. And addictive.” Russia licked his lips.
“Yessir, beefcakes.” America saluted with the hand he held his spoon in and spilled it down his forehead. “Fuck” he did an oopsie.
“Smh” Russia smhed. “Now I’m going to have to clean you off…” Russia grabbed America’s wrist and made him put down the spoon.
With his other hand, Russia grabbed on to the side of America’s face.
“Uhh…” America flushed madly at being held by Russia’s strong hands!! “No napkins?” He said in anxiety. Super scared. Super gay.
“I do not believe in napkins. And I could dunk you in the river, but it would be a crime to waste borscht.” Russia leaned in and licked America’s forehead, lapping up the thick red liquid that was spilled.
America was quiet for 1 second until he SCREAMED. “HOLY CDAP YOU UST LICKD ME YOU WHATATAGAHATATT”
Russia pulled away, smugly. “Worth it. Now don’t spill it again.”
America dumped the borscht on his lap.
“Uh—“ Russia’s gaze trailed down to the wetness in America’s lap. Not only was it a waste of food, but a deliberate attempt to get him to lick him off again… uh… hmm.
America’s face was as red as the borscht. “Please” he begged “you’re such a good russian boy please lick it up.”
Russia didn’t know if he could resist that. He was a good boy! But— but did America deserve to be cleaned like that?
Russia was kneeling before he could make a decision.
“Good boooyyy,” America praised.
America guided Russia’s head to his lap.
“I can’t do this nvm” Russia stood. He grabbed his borscht and chugged it before he picked up America by his dainty wrist and walked him upstairs. America’s soup crotch dripped like he was on his boy period.
“WHAT!!” America screeched as he dangled from Russia’s hand. “NO NO NO IT WAS SO CLOSE YOU JUST GAD TO EAT EAT THE BORSCHT FRKM MY PENITS RUSSIAAAA”
Russia shoved America into the bathroom. Into. Into the SHOWER. and turned on the water.
Icicles came out. Not actually but it felt like it lots. Very cold like icy sickles.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH” America screamed. “R-R-R-R-R-R-R-RUS-S-SIA-A-A ITS T-T-TOO COLD” he shivered kinda hard, making him stutter a little.
Russia stripped, handcuffs catching as he did so. America’s hand kept touching his thigh and Russia barked at him “STOP TOUCHING ME GAYBOY” and clenched America’s hand until it crunched.
America whimpered. “P-P-P-P-P-PLEA-EASE T-T-TURN UP-P THE H-HEAT-T” America begged with pleading eyes like a puppy in one of those sad puppy commercials.
Russia turned it up and said “light em up up up you’re on FIREEE!!”
and america finally was comfortable with the scalding heat. “THANK YOU” he yelled without stuttering, for once.
“:(“ Russia said when he didn’t burn and took all his clothes off.
NAKED. NAKED. NAKED.
America’s brain said “GAY GAY GAY GAY GA” and his eyes could not stop looking at him like… a second head sprouted from his… pubic bone…
“MY EYES ARE UP HERE” Russia blushed every color of the rainbow (I think he’s gay). His muscles flexed bc he was a tense boy
America with great effort, like he was pushing a boulder with his eyes, moved his gaze up. Up to Russia’s bare chest, aka his broad pecs, aka his juicy moobs, aka his marvelous manmaries.
“Close enough. Welcome back eye contact!!” Russia said (pretend he’s in an instagram comment section)
“Russia how do I turn off the clothes setting?” America asked like a stupid chronically online dude.
“What?” Russia was confused because he touches grass.
America frowned. “I can’t find the toggle in the settings”
“Fine I’ll just do it for you. Idiot.” Russia grabbed America’s wet and still slightly borscht-stained shirt and ripped it off, revealing his twinky chest and WOAH HE HAS ABS??? I didn’t know hamburger eaters could have those!!
America felt like he found what was at the end of the rainbow. Obviously not gold, but something close! Homosexuality.
“Russia that was so zesty of you.” America blinked his wet eyes in disbelief.
“Government mandated that Russia is gay now. Just for commie sympathizers.” He blinked his own wet eyes back to America in very slow Morse code that told him that he wasn’t lying.
“That’s cray cray.”
“Ikr” Russia giggled. He then took off America’s pants.
“I KNOW YOU JUST TOLD ME YOURE GAY BUT I FORGOT THAT MEANT THIS.” America. America fainted.
“Oh snap” Russia caught the pathetic American in his big muscly manly bear arms. “Dw bbg i gotchu”
“Awwww thank u” America resurrected, just to be polite.
Russia grabbed the bar of soap and lathered it on himself ✅
This offended America because uh. “Aren’t those gay hands supposed to touch ME???”
A raised eyebrow in response. A critical, bombastic eyebrow. Then a sigh…. “Yes…”
And Russia rubbed soap on America as well :3
Dude what am I writing right now what the heck