Chapter Text
America watches as the man across from him takes a sip out of the coffee cup and how his freezing blue eyes close for a second, savoring the taste of the caffeinated beverage. The one America had practically begged to get him to try, despite the man not wanting to try one of his "frilly froo-froo drinks." America can't help but suppress a smile at the sight.
As Russia's eyes open once more, and they meet America's, the table suddenly becomes quite the spectacle. America's hand squeezes his cup, arm shaking slightly as he guides his own cup of coffee to his mouth. His stomach clenches yet feels light as air while also twisting itself into knots. His teeth hit the plastic top of the cup, and America continues to stare holes at the table while twisting the cup in his hand so he can take a sip of his "sanity juice," as he dubbed it years ago.
The tri-colored country sitting across from him finally looks away for only a moment, as the two teenagers behind the counter of the cafe goof off when the foot traffic slows to a trickle. America risks another glance up at Russia, who meets his gaze again. Both men quickly avert their eyes from the other's face. America's shaking continues as he takes another sip of the coffee, hardly tasting it as his nerves make him feel like a frayed wire still plugged in.
Why am I losing my cool... right now?! America tips his cup from side to side as he leans back in his chair. The hard metal backing provides some semblance of support even as his leg bounces wildly under the table, heel tapping rhythmically against the tile. He's just a guy, it's just Russia... You've been on dates with him before, so why does this feel so... real? America lets out a soft, shaky breath. Why am I freaking out? He takes a small, deep breath, almost as if he's scared to breathe wrong around Russia. Of course America already knows the answer to that...
Russia clears his throat, opening his mouth to say something when America looks back up from his drink. He sets it down, his hands fiddling with the pride ring his kids gifted him this last Pride Month. The black stainless steel feels cool to the touch, almost unbearably cold compared to his sweaty palms. America digs one of his nails into the small groove in the center of the ring, spanning the entire circumference. Another habit of his; he glances down for a moment, watching as his fingernail runs along the iridescent material.
"So..." Russia starts before he pauses, his mouth closing before opening again, eyes slightly narrowed as he searches for the words. "I... don't hate it." He pauses again, clearing his throat awkwardly.
America's eyes snap back up to Russia's face; his eyes widen just a bit before they narrow as his brow furrows. His mouth opens, and he's talking before his mind can fully process what Russia is talking about. "You don't hate wha- oh! The coffee? You don't dislike it?" He can't help the surge of... something shooting up from where his stomach is coiled tight and straight to his heart, which feels like it's already beating a mile a minute as Russia confirms with a stiff nod.
"Yeah, it's... surprisingly tolerable. You know, for a frilly, froo-froo drink." He murmurs, a slight dusting of pink makes its way onto his cheeks, though due to the red on his flag... it's easily missed by everyone except America. The two sit in silence that seems to span for eternity before America finally responds.
"Well... I'm glad you find it tolerable. What do you think would make it better?" America stops, thinking his own question over before venturing, "Less Caramel?"
Russia hums, his face hardly changing, though there's a thoughtful twitch in his cheek as he mulls over the question with surprising care. "I think... hang on." He murmurs, reaching for his cup and taking another sip. "Perhaps less of the caramel syrup... and a bit more whipped cream." He finally says, setting down the cup and gazing at America, awaiting his response.
"Y-Yeah, I do go a bit heavy on the caramel, but I'm a sucker for it, ha..." America looks down at the table again as he rotates the ring around the base of his finger, continuing to fidget. "I, uh- I'm happy you didn't immediately spit it out,"
Russia clasps his hands together, elbows resting on the small table. He chews his lip before looking away again. "It isn't too bad, just a bit too... caramel-y for my taste." He pulls at the straw in his drink a few times, an absentminded action as he shifts in his own seat. "Though... I might just get it again, with the modifications, of course. Uh..." He trails off, clearly wanting to say something, yet for the entirety of this date, words have continued to fail them both.
The two fall into another lapse of oddly tense silence, both sneaking glances at each other from across the table when they think the other isn't looking. And when their eyes meet, they both immediately look away. The pair of them must be an interesting sight to behold, two grown men acting like teenagers with crushes on each other.
It's America, for once, who breaks the silence by clearing his throat, the sound coming out more like a cough than anything else and causing him to nearly choke on his own spit. The need to say something, anything, to end the awkward, deafening silence is overwhelming. He lets out a soft breath, an almost inaudible sigh, as his mind mulls over things to talk about.
Why am I freaking out? God, I can't even say anything without getting frazzled. America takes a sip of his coffee only to taste air; he had already finished his drink. "Ha... uhm-" He starts swallowing back the anxiety that's crawling up his throat. His mouth feels dry, and he's all too aware of his sweaty palms he keeps wiping on his pants.
Feeling queasy, he takes another deep breath, this one obvious. "So, tell me to shut up if I start rambling, but... I think we should talk about us." America pauses, taking another shaky breath. "Us as in, a couple. I mean, we are a couple now, right? Unless I read the situation entirely wrong-!" He can't help the panicked tone in his voice as his back snaps straight and his body tenses.
Russia's eyes snap up to meet America's, his own posture stiffening like a metal rod was just slammed into his spine. "You didn't read anything wrong; I'd love to be your boyfriend if that's also what you want..."
America is nodding before he even finishes that sentence. "It is." He looks away from his cup as he fiddles with the plastic lid. "What I wanted to talk about regarding us is... well, what do we do now? Since we are together, I'm unsure what to do. The last time I dated anyone was in high school junior year. And it was hardly serious." He pauses before his voice drops lower. "I want us to be serious... I like you a lot." America sighs, whispering just loud enough to be heard. "I don't want to mess this up."
He can feel Russia's intense blue eyes boring into him, as if his soul is laid bare to be judged on whether he is worthy of this man's love. They both are silent for a long moment before Russia slowly responds. "I think that in a relationship, both people have to contribute to it. Like- like a plant and how it needs water and sunlight to grow? If we both tend to the plant, the relationship is more likely to flourish instead of just one person tending to it... ah, bad analogy. Sorry-" Russia cuts off, his cheeks burning as he stares at the table.
"No- No! I think it's a great analogy, actually. Like if only one person tends to the relationship, the plant will end up either overwatered or burnt from only the water or sun taking care of it. I get it." America hurriedly replies.
Russia pauses, rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb as he responds. "What I am trying to say is- is I don't think that you'll be the sole reason this relationship might not work... because in the analogy, if both people aren't there to tend to the plant... Then the other person overcompensates with the water or sunlight, and the plant dies." He pauses. "So how I see it is for a relationship to prosper is to talk about how we both care for the plant. How to take turns giving it the sunlight and water that it needs to grow and prosper."
America nods, his eyebrows lowering as he responds, "So, we need to work on communication and learn how to be honest with each other, right? That's how we... do this?"
Russia nods. "Yes, that is what I believe we should do... I also don't have much dating experience, so I assume this will be a learning curve for us both. But I believe we can figure it out and adjust to what works for us." He pauses before adding. "But to answer your question, I don't think there's a guide to how we do things. We can go at our own pace, you know? We can keep going on dates or do something different. It's our relationship, no? So it's up to us on how we want to nurture the plant."
America allows a small smile to form on his face, his heart simultaneously fluttering in his chest as it pounds like it's trying to break out of his chest. "Yeah, it is our relationship."
The two of them fall into another lapse of silence, this one more thoughtful, more comfortable, even -dare I say- relaxed. Well, somewhat.