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"Wait—really? You'd watch it with me?"
America's eyes light up adorably at the prospect.
She had spent the last hour and a half of their night together going in depth on the lore of Star Trek. From the basic layout of plot lines (which dragged on forever, Anya imploring her to prattle on with millions of 'how's,' and 'why's'), to the overwhelming fanfare, all the way to the cultural impact, Russia feels she knows the franchise in and out.
She can't remember, exactly, what she said that set the United States into overdrive.
(Anya thinks she may have brought it up first,
"I'm a nerd—it's what I do," Amelia had said, after Anya had poked fun at her about something in particular.
"Like your Space Trek?" Anya had replied, after a moment's contemplation.
That, Amelia decided, undeniably, needed correction).
But even with about 80% of plot spoiled for her, Braginskaya still feels overly curious about the franchise—moreso enticed by the effect it has on the younger nation. "Да, I would like to," she flickers her eyes up from her embroidery project, smiling absentmindedly at Amelia's ecstatic expression.
"Oh, man! You're gonna love it." Amelia all but bounces off the couch, scrambling over to the TV stand in front of them. "Or, maybe not—I dunno, it's totally '60s," Amelia corrects, as though that explains anything.
As she begins working through her absurd collection of DVDs, Anna husks out a laugh, "On DVD? Old woman."
Amelia stops, looking back at her with an offended expression. "Okay, wow. Says the woman doing embroidery right now."
"Embroidery is perfectly sustainable and relevant. Have you heard of streaming?"
"Number one," Amelia starts as she holds her beloved copy of Star Trek: the Original Series in one hand, and holds up one finger with the other, "That was very capitalist of you. And number two," she puts up another finger, "You're a bajillion years older than me! You have no room to talk!"
Anya's scoff comes out more as a sigh, for neither point is exactly incorrect.
When she finally gets her beat-up DVD player to start, she throws herself back into Anya's lap, where she belongs.
Russia shifts a bit to make her more comfortable, tugging the couch-designated quilt over their bodies as they relax into the sofa.
Amelia taps the end of the remote against her lips as the first episode finally starts playing, cozying herself in further when the intro cuts in—undoubtedly after where a commercial break may have once been.
Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds; to seek out new life and new civilizations; to boldly go where no man has gone before!
Ten minutes into the first episode, Anya puts her embroidery down in favor of running her fingers through America's hair. Amelia relaxes into her touch, clearly enjoying the affection.
Thirty minutes in earns a low chuckle out of her.
Amelia looks up at her, "Was that a laugh?"
She ruffles Amelia's hair up a bit in defiance, before drawing up a curl to continue playing with, "Maybe."
The story unravels and the mystery reaches its climax and Anya finds herself genuinely endeared to the characters in the short amount of time the episode had.
"So, what'd ya think?" Amelia asks when the credits roll.
Anya considers her answer for a moment, running her fingers over Amelia's nose, then back to her scalp, "I enjoyed it."
"Really?" She beams. "I honestly didn't think you would—I mean, it's not, like, totally scientific, you know?"
Anya smiles softly, "It was fun—I can appreciate that."
"Let's keep watching! Season two has some of my favorite episodes."
Russia and America settle into an easy, comfortable rhythm as the show plays on. Anna watching while fidgeting with Amelia's blonde curls, Amelia answering any questions of hers that crop up, basking in the attentions from the older nation.
"Kirk or Spock?" Amelia asks at some point or another.
"Hm?"
"Like, who's more attractive?"
"…In what world would Spock be attractive?"
Amelia scoffs, "Okay, listen, personality wise—" "—Spock is cold! Why would I be attracted to that?" Anya interrupts.
"Well, that's someone's type."
"Are you insinuating I am cold?"
Amelia sidesteps that, "What about, like, in a fight? Could you take one of them? Both?"
Anna actually humors this; pausing to fully consider the answer, "Maybe. One. They make a good team, I do not think I could beat both of them on my own."
Amelia grins, "But with me you'd beat them both?"
"Certainly."
"Heck yeah. My brains, your brawn…"
"What brains?"
Amelia tries to hit her, but Anya catches her hand quickly, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckle.
At another point Amelia shifts onto her side, trying to get more comfortable. Anna immediately sees and seizes the opportunity to wrap her arms around her frame, hugging her even closer than was possible before. She tugs the blanket up even further—almost to Amelia's chin, which makes it fall at Anya's shoulders—feeling snug and mellow as she holds Amelia.
"I cannot believe you are not fighting me…" Anya says gleefully once she's fully secured Amelia, in reference to being big spoon.
"Don't push it," Jones says gruffly—but not gruffly enough to hide the fact she's clearly enjoying this as much as Braginskaya, sincere closeness and all.
The night stretches on, Amelia's excited chattering growing sleepier and sleepier, slower and slower, less and less, until she's almost completely limp against Anya, half asleep.
"We should get to bed, no?" Russia asks, in a soft moment between dialogue, the Enterprise plunging through the stars.
"Noooo, no… I'm awake…"
"Hmm," Anna hums, smirking at Amelia's attempt to hide a yawn. The sofa isn't exactly comfortable—while thoroughly loved and properly worn in during its years at America's residence, it's not exactly large enough for someone of Russia's stature, and certainly not with another nation on it as well, however close they press their bodies together.
A yawn slips past her own lips, just then, as the next episode begins.
Maybe she can work with the couch.
She pushes Amelia's bangs back with callused, tired hands, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
Suddenly, the idea of sleeping on the couch doesn't seem too bad.
With something so sweet, asleep and entirely trusting in her arms, Anya feels fully content to doze into slumber herself.