His heart leapt and shivered, yet it was forbidden for anything to be seen. Every jitter that threatened to erupt as a twitch sank back down to the pulsating organ and cast it into further distress. The black gloves that barred pale hands from contact, curled and resisted the urge to tug on any clothes that did not need tending. All there was to it was to keep the expression neutral and posture full in the effort to hide his overwhelming fear.

Russia never let his gaze linger too long on any individual. When he entered the meeting room, he approached no one and held his tongue. Instantly a mob of eyes flickered over to trail his form as he strode up to an unoccupied spot on the wall. No one had taken a seat yet so he conformed and stood, although unlike the others, in a solitude. He leaned back and stared at nothing, listening to the change in respiration and the birth of whispers.

"I did not expect him to show his face…"

"What's going to happen?"

"He'll get kicked out…"

Familiar voices, all of them. European accents and some German murmurs that all discussed his entrance and relayed the tale although Russia knew that everyone was already au courant. He did not sigh or intervene; they would do nothing to him. His fingers tapped the wall to find a folk tone that reverberated into his bones in order to calm his internal trembling.

Russia let the words fade from his attention as he wondered where the star of the show was. To think this is America's meeting, yet he is not present… He glanced around and noted that not even Canada was here, who he expected would come only because the location was close enough. Because although he does not say much, he feels just as justified as America to be in a European meeting.

When movement advanced in his peripheral vision, Russia snapped his attention toward it. Ukraine strolled nearer clad in a black suit and adorned even with a tie. Matching the utter formality of her attire, she nodded at him curtly and greeted him.

"Russia."

He affirmed, "Ukraine."

She passed him and only then could Russia see behind her, Belarus entering the room. Her sharp eyes found his promptly and a flash of surprise overtook her face, before it forcefully fell and she marched to the opposite side of the room.

"Where is he going to sit?" Finland's breathed question was barely caught by Russia's attentive ears.

Sweden rumbled, "Not beside you."

A chuckle arose from somewhere to his left. Russia did not want to look in case that was what they were hoping for, but he wondered with a slow, vexed blink who would dare laugh in this situation.

More movement as Britain moved up and nodded at him. "Russia."

He nodded back and responded just as directly. Russia partook in this nodding and naming game with France, and when Germany decided to come forth and greet him as well, they did just the same. With him however, Russia did not wish to end it there.

"Germany," he repeated, more quickly. "I want to ask…"

Germany turned back to him. "What is it?"

"How is it with Prussia?"

A glint of suspicion marked his gaze. Germany replied, "Why do you ask?"

Russia maintained his composure as the room quieted and focused on their louder conversation. "Because you left him home again although he wants to come. He really wants to come to our meetings, Germany. I think it would be nice to let him."

"It is not up to you to decide," he muttered back. "And I would prefer that he stays somewhere safe."

Scorching pain cut deep, but Russia wondered if it was alright to feel it. He could not imagine himself as a victim to this treatment when he remembered how cruel he had been to Germany's brother. And yet, he remembered how the end had been and he despaired over this change.

It's back to normal, despite everything… It will never get better for me, I supp-

A boisterous yell cut through all thoughts.

"Alright, everybody! Let's get this meeting rolling!"

America marched in with energetic purpose but halted when he saw Russia. Russia kept his facial expression as blank as possible while he expected America to demand his departure. After a second though, all that came was a hearty, "Hey, Russia- wassup? So you came?"

America moved closer as Russia responded, "Of course… Hello, America."

Russia did not move towards him. America came no closer either but he had paused to hear Russia's words. When it was clear that no more would come out of this exchange, he turned back to the grand table. Russia nearly gawked back as he was left to think, Four months and this is all we have to say…! Why didn't you contact me? Why did you avoid me? It does not look like you hate me but… are we okay? Am I hated by your boss? Is anything going to happen? America. I want to talk to you, but not here. Not in front of these people.

America descended into the seat at the head of the table, crying out simultaneously, "Okay everyone, sit wherever!"

In secret, Russia panicked as peeved looks found him and people sank into their seats. It seemed that none of them wanted to be in his proximity. The Nordics stared in silence from across the table and the Baltics grouped together away from him. Romania tucked Moldova beside Belgium then sat down to trap him in between them. Switzerland copied this technique by encouraging Liechtenstein beside Hungary, although his warning glare towards Russia rivaled the hostile one of Czechia.

Russia was in fact, struggling to figure out which of his acts were disturbing them. The incident in January was undoubtedly notorious, yet he did not know if the story of what had happened with Lithuania had spread to them all. If so, it might be the more relevant reason as to why they were ostracizing him.

I really hope they don't know about that… Russia thought. It is so easily misinterpreted.

Whatever it was, it left the smaller countries terrified of him. Even the quiet and forgettable Macedonia stared at him with horror from the corner. Russia's eyes swept over the rapidly filling-up seats and he decided that he did not want to be the last one standing. Then it struck him as he padded away from the wall, that he could sit beside America. With the corner between them and his already seemingly friendly attitude, it could suffice.

He committed but America said nothing and did not even acknowledge his presence. Russia then pretended not to be watching the empty seat beside him, just until Canada appeared at the doorway bearing a stack of boxes. Hardly anyone noticed him at first, although Russia did instantly and was quick to read the side of the identical pieces of cardboard.

Servants manifested behind Canada as he slipped in. America tossed his head back, smiled, then exclaimed, "Alright, pizza's here!"

Russia could not keep himself from furrowing his eyebrows. Is he serious? This is a formal setting and yet…

Then utter fear struck him and a burst of adrenaline dilated his pupils. Unless- this could be to get revenge on me! He has avoided me for so long. Perhaps he really hates me and is going to great lengths to get back at me!

There were paper plates going around and much of the interest for Russia was redirected. Some of the servants were offering beverages but Russia could only feel a flush of heat throughout his body. He spotted Spain gladly accepting something from off the cart, then he regarded another servant making their way down the opposite side of the table. When he heard America's voice rise up beside him, Russia looked over just as he took some Coca Cola.

"What would you like, sir?"

From behind his ear, the question had come upon Russia. Hoping that America would not notice his hesitation, his mind shot through his options as quickly as he could. I usually take water in these situations but that is what is most likely going to be drugged. The alcohol might be too because he thinks that is what I am always drinking, but then again his doubt might have made him drug everything. His own drink might be drugged.

"I will be fine," Russia answered.

Yes, I will have to watch him. He might not drink at all.

Shock lit up on America's face. Russia's heart skipped.

He wanted me to drink! I must have made him angry by refusing. What will he do now? But then Russia tried to calm himself down by deciding, No, I am clever, clever. I will outsmart him and get through this. Let's see if he has failed and everyone will fall unconscious soon.

When Russia finally noticed that Canada had appeared beside him, his pulse bounced again. When I was distracted, he snuck up on me. His eyes narrowed as he looked all over Canada. The other person had his head turned away as he spoke to a servant, so Canada was unaware of Russia's scrutinizing stare.

America saw all his reactions however, and frowned. He peeked at the other members of the meeting first to make sure that they were all momentarily distracted and that all servants were far from him. Only then did he sneak his hand under the table to try and find Russia's knee. He missed and hit the wooden leg, but began to mumble anyway, "Russia…"

He wanted to tell him that it was okay, but immediately the word Russia had caught attention. Everyone forgot their food and drinks instantly and snapped their heads up to him.

"Right, what are you going to do, America?" Portugal asked. "Surely, you can't let his actions go unpunished!"

Which actions? Russia wondered. How much do you know?

America's hand withdrew from the table leg and set itself onto the smooth, gleaming tabletop with the other one. Russia never noticed how close his hand had come to him, that America had been on the verge of revealing himself.

"He hurt nations!" Denmark threw out. "So what will you do?"

Slovakia said, "Strike him back, or he will do it again!"

A chorus of calls agreed, but many were asking for a nonviolent resolution.

"America," Germany uttered. "Something needs to be done. Sanction him. Sanction him, then let the meeting proceed."

A fierce glare of ice was triggered but Russia said nothing.

"That is good," France murmured. "Let's keep it at that."

America sat still and kept his hands clasped on the wood. His food and soda were ignored as he took in the cries of these smaller nations. He glanced at Russia to find him glaring at him with menace, those violet irises seeming to have a darker ring around them. When he was led to his pupils, he knew exactly what Russia was thinking.

Do not do this after everything we have been through.

America hoped that despite the severe face he was putting on, Russia could read his thoughts.

Russia, I have to. These people want justice and this is the best I can give you. They won't respect me if I let this go. They're all looking at me.

Turkey spoke up, "He's never been stopped by itsy-bitsy sanctions! He keeps doing what he wants in Ukraine after all, even though you kicked him out of the G8!"

"Give him something else." Lithuania shot his haunted eyes at America. "Something worse."

He brushed them off with a raised hand.

"I was there," America muttered. "I will decide what punishment goes with the severity of his actions."

We were close, Russia's eyes said, but not his facial expression. America held his gaze and willed his remorse to be reached by him while trying not to let anyone else see it. It was an impossible task. Russia's eyes grew wide as America lowered his eyebrows and turned his head away. More of the white became visible as America let out a long sigh that indicated an imminent, powerful statement.

"Russia, the following businesses will be affected…"

Instantly his heart dropped into his gut. Russia blinked slowly, caught up in shock until he remembered how to feel anything else. Anger sparked and crackled like electricity inside him. America could sense it all like tongues of flame tasting his side, and he could not bear to look at Russia. Before, he would have proudly stared him down. Now though, he felt Russia slipping away from him and the barrier between them growing higher.

Russia thought, So are you angry because I would not eat or drink? Is this how you get back at me? Or is it all because you don't care about me at all. Arrogant, controlling- back to the basics. We learned nothing, or at least, I did. I will change, but I don't think you ever will. But even if I fail, at least I tried when you didn't.

And because America never even looked at him as he relayed the list, Russia let out a pressured exhale and believed that it was all an act of haughtiness.

"Now…" America said. "Enough of that. That is not why we are here."

America flashed a quick look at Russia to check on how he was faring. He nearly jolted to see the amount of fury upon his face, when normally he would have taken his sanctions as though they were trivial and amusing. He felt betrayed, but America could say nothing to him.

Russia, I had no choice.

But Russia could not see it

I hate you, America.

It was over. Russia gave up on the glaring and sat back into his chair with his eyes falling shut. His heart rocked with its beats and Russia focused upon its spasms while the others proceeded. They forgot about him once Britain reintroduced them as to why they had come here, the true topic that had nothing to do with him. Russia had not prepared for it when all he could think of up to this meeting was how he would be punished. Now though, he thought of the two days that this meeting was booked for.

I should participate then, so that everything returns to normal if that is all I can do, Russia thought. I will try to follow along.

Already there had been responses to Britain's words. He now replied, "The lack of sharing technology is a hindrance to developing Europe. There are many of us who have high-quality technology, excellent and more efficient. Normally it would be sold for our own profit, but the nations that cannot afford it, cannot buy it."

"How much should we expect of them though?" Spain contributed. "I mean, how much should we give and how much should they be expected to do themselves?"

"There needs to be independence," America nodded.

"What do we need to do about education then?" Britain continued. "Because no matter what, the countries particularly in the East need new technology. Not only for development, but especially since new technology does not come with nearly as much environmental disadvantages. We all live on the same world, so their pollution is our problem."

Russia thought, They mean me when they say East. Are they implying that my place is not developed enough? They do not have the right to say this about me. And I cannot let everyone take these new things when they are currently relying on me for raw resources! I hate this meeting. They are acting concerned but it will harm me.

He could only listen for a bit longer until he broke into the conversation. He bluntly voiced his contempt for their ideas and claimed that it would harm the economical relationships existing between the Eastern European countries.

"Sacrifices will have to be made by all of us," Germany uttered. "The state of the environment is becoming more of an issue."

The points continued, but Russia was persistent here and there. He did not want to talk too much and win rancor from them, although it was inevitable in the end. The meeting was tough to proceed when even some had started to agree with Russia. He raised himself up and made his composure seem as professional as possible. He had even begun to praise himself for making themselves focus on the him of the now and not what he had done in the recent past.

Then, Russia noticed the bristling irritation in America. He was close enough to feel the vibrations of a tapping foot and see the rigidness of his muscles. When they took a pause, America caught up to Russia in the hall. He had heard him and had tried to quicken his pace, but swiftly a hand snatched his shoulder and whipped him around.

"Why are you being so difficult?" America hissed.

"Me?" Russia blinked, trying to appear cool-headed. "What do you mean? I am only saying my opinions like everyone else."

"You're just mad about the sanction!" he exclaimed. "Now you're holding back the meeting!"

Some smaller nations passed them, looking back in concern before moving on ahead.

"The sanction…" Russia growled. "Why did you listen to them? Why didn't you message me, America? Why are you treating me like this?"

America caught sight of Britain stalking purposefully over to them. He would be in earshot, so he could only mutter, "You can't expect that I would let you go free after what you did. I had to do something. So just accept it and stop being so infuriating!"

Britain pulled on America's arm and uttered, "Back off, both of you. No more."

"Infuriating?" Russia breathed coldly. "This is what I feel about you, for the way you are treating me."

"Enough!" Britain barked. "Come on, America."

"Look, I haven't got any choice, so get off my back!" America snapped. "You were the one who brought this on yourself, drugging people and holding them hostage!"

Those that had remained in the meeting room looked up and peered into the hall.

"That's what you believe…" Russia spoke through gritted teeth.

"Believe? You did it!"

Britain was growing concerned by the frigid clarity of Russia's eyes. He tugged harder on America, only successful in moving his arm back.

"I thought you knew why I did it, America."

"Doesn't mean I can just excuse you for hurting people!"

"You ruined everything. We could have been moving on and improving."

"I ruined everything?" America huffed quietly. "With how you assaulted Lithuania? With how strange you are acting today?"

Russia's hands scrunched up into fists. His body quivered, then after the pause he breathed, "Why didn't you call me? I needed you but you weren't there... I didn't know what to do and I made mistakes because… But if it were not for China, I do not know how much worse I would have been now."

America gawked as Russia slipped past him down the hall. The annoyance faded and he tossed a troubled glance at Britain. Britain raised his brows as he watched Russia's departing form, then he looked back to America and said, "He is acting strange because he is lonely. He can't separate control and affection, and he is stressed because he has sort of realized this. We know this now but not everyone does…"

"Did I make the right choice today?" America whispered. "I feel like I made it worse."

"You took the most peaceful option."

"It never seems enough when it comes to him. Nothing really changes, except for our emotions. They just worsen."

Britain murmured, "You may have been obligated in public, but it does not have to be how you always treat him. As you can see, Russia does not know you worry for him. You should therefore see him in private, since you are concerned about how people will treat you for appearing to be his friend."

"It's hard though, talking to him without anyone finding out about it. Rumors fly around whenever I interact with him and people will distrust me if it looks like I am too close to him."

"Do something," Britain said. "If you can make peace with Russia, please do it. Everyone will benefit from it."

America dropped his shoulders. He looked down the empty hall where Russia had long since exited, then replied slowly, "Tonight then... I'll think of something."

The tedious crawl of the meeting passed when they finally reached five o'clock. Russia wanted to spring from his chair but he forced himself to slowly depart like the others, filing in out the door into the hall. In this way he managed to hear America's whoop, a call for an after-meeting party at a club whose name Russia instantly forgot. While they were some perks and agreeing sounds, Russia's face remained stone and his heart distant.

America raised himself up onto the tips of his toes to catch sight of Russia. He followed everyone else as the servants stayed and cleaned up the mess left behind. Trying not to make it obvious, America pushed past no one but kept Russia in his sights. When they dispersed throughout the parking lot, he stalked Russia to his car. Just after he had seated himself, America tapped at the window with a neat turn of his hand.

"Hey," he murmured after the window had slid down. "You should come with us."

"I do not want to."

"I think it could help you, to come," America continued softly, looking around to confirm if anyone could see them. For those that went by, America looked over with a concentrated expression to pretend he was only telling off Russia.

"No." Russia shook his head gently. "I do not want to get drunk and do something bad."

"About Lithuania…" America started.

Russia jolted. "I want that to be forgotten. I will go now."

He reached over and began to roll up the window. America's brows shot up and he gasped, "You don't have to drink! Dude, just hang out with us!"

Russia paused with the window still opened a wide crack. "No one wants me there," he murmured. "Me being there would ruin it, I know this… I will see you tomorrow."

America stood in disquiet as the window fully closed and Russia started the car. He turned his head and followed its retreat, eyes locked onto Russia's doleful form sinking back into the seat. Russia espied him in the rear-view mirror, strolling slowly across the parking lot just before he would turn onto the road. The body he saw had loose, hanging arms that swung, and a poor posture like one of an exhausted runner.

He is troubled… It seems that he wants to do something for me, although all we did was hate each other for hours, Russia pondered. I really don't know how he feels about me and how I should about him. Such a strange relationship, but maybe something actually has changed since that time…

The evening became a lonesome experience, a dinner seated at a table for two under the low light of the restaurant interior. Russia peered out the window at the black world spotted with glaring lights, searching for stars but finding none beyond the dark clouds of stretched cotton. He sighed upon exiting the restaurant and stepping out onto the sidewalk, one clack following the other until he stopped and gazed around himself.

I want to walk…

He did not want to stay still. The powerful urge came suddenly to carry his heart away, to go and explore and forget the torment of today's meeting. And so he set off, keeping track of his route but also becoming entranced by the neon signs and buildings around him. He wound his way around the city and ended up in a park, lying on the grass and gazing up at the unchanging sky.

Such a peaceful, warm breeze rolled over him, easing him into closing his eyes. Russia lay and listened to the sounds of life around him, just as he always enjoyed doing. The sounds of people walking and conversing made him feel less alone, even if he did not know them. Eventually he rose and continued on, hoping all the while that he would not stumble upon the club everyone else had gone to and get caught on his walk. His head turned from left-to-right, curious and tranquil whether he was reading the names of closed shops or passing by alleys occupied by pairs of narrowed eyes.

Once the muscles in his legs began to feel weighted by lead, he returned to his car. Russia drove to the Days Inn hotel that everyone had been booked in, but saw no one familiar hanging around the lobby. He directed himself straight to his room and sighed in relief once the door was closed behind him. Once locked up, he brushed his teeth and threw himself into the shower. The wonderful feeling of his soft pajamas and the untouched sheets against his back soon came, forcing a trill out from him as he squeezed a pillow.

I am happy I did not go to a club.

Russia buried his smile into the pillow.

Tomorrow will pass. Today was not so bad. It could have been worse.

He breathed softly and wondered if he should call it a night, either going to sleep or staying up and watching some TV. He decided he would rest to better survive tomorrow, but first he opened up his laptop and checked for anything important. After, Russia packed it away then walked over to the door to turn off all the lights.

The door next to him banged just as the light vanished. Russia gasped and punched the light switch, then leaned forward to peer through the peephole. His eyelashes batted over the glass when he saw nothing there outside. Frowning, he unlocked the door and yanked it open, standing broad and staring fiercely into the night.

Over the pavement was a form half curled, half sprawled. Russia's eyes flew open and he exclaimed, "America!"

There was a groan and he fully curled up into a ball. Russia stepped forward, leaning down and gasping, "What happened? Why are you here?"

"Russ...ia…" he gurgled. "What…?"

"You are drunk?" Russia breathed. "Or something else?"

"M'room…"

"I do not know where your room is."

America shifted and pulled himself into a kneeling position. He swayed then focused his weary eyes behind Russia. "There… thanks…"

He lurched forward toward him, but immediately his feet twisted and he tripped. Russia gasped, starting to raise his arms before panicking and hopping back. There was a moment where he dreaded America would fall and bust his face off the floor, but fortunately America careened into the side of the doorway and pawed his way to balance.

"This isn't your room, America," Russia whispered. "Where is your key?"

America closed his eyes and touched his forehead to the door frame. Russia observed his hand clawing at his stomach before America emitted a pained groan.

"Ah, ah…" he whined. "It hurts so fucking much…"

Russia reacted when it seemed that America was about to vomit over the entrance. He stepped forward, fell back, then murmured, "Come inside, America."

He did not move. Russia did not want to touch him, so he repeated, "Come inside."

America rocked his head back then dragged his body over, spasmodic and with uncontrollable, zombie-like movements. Russia wanted to catch him and lead him, but he restrained himself, pointing him only to the bathroom and opening the door for him. He bid him to sit on the edge of the bathtub and there America waited until Russia took a styrofoam cup, filled it with water, then gave it to him.

"Drink this," Russia whispered.

America's hands shook but he was able to bring the cup to his mouth. The water vanished immediately and Russia soon refilled it for him. Then, he watched America's breathing as he hung his head and tilted.

"I do not think you have alcohol poisoning," Russia said. "But you had too much. You need to drink a lot of the water to feel better."

Russia detected the stink of alcohol and bodies on him. He fetched his travel-sized mouthwash and passed it to him. "Have some, but do not drink it. Swish it in your mouth, okay? Do not drink this."

Russia repeated it again just as America swung it to his mouth after he had twisted off the cap. He watched his throat but then after some time, America spat the mouthwash into the toilet and leaned back. Russia hurried forward just as it seemed he would fall, but then he pulled back once more nervously. America collapsed into the shower curtain and cried out when he crumbled into the tub with a resounding bang. Russia cringed and finally collected him, sitting him up and making sure he was alright.

He wondered what else he could do for him. He sniffed at America's dirty suit which he had worn all day, then murmured, "I will give you something to wear."

"Mmkay…"

"Do you think you could…" Russia dropped his eyes to the floor. "Actually, maybe showering is too much for you."

"Nahh..."

"Clothes should be enough."

Russia left him sitting and hurried, worried that America would fall back again. He found some of the extra clothes he had packed for himself, some track pants and a cotton shirt. He passed them off to America but paused before leaving. Russia turned back and reached out his hand to America's face. With minimal contact, he dragged off his glasses, folded them, then backed away cautiously.

The door was closed and Russia walked back to the two single beds. He set the glasses onto the nightstand between them then sat down and waited. When many minutes passed, Russia headed over in concern. He had just been about to call if he was alright, but then he heard the flushing of the toilet and backed off. He lay back down on the bed and listened to America washing his hands, impressed that he had not forgotten to do so. Then however, the stomping footsteps came over and America curved into the bed Russia was lying on.

Russia jumped out and walked around the bed. America clutched at the blankets and threw them over himself as he flopped back into the mattress. More water was fetched which he had America drink, then Russia left a filled cup beside him and one for himself.

"TV…" America drawled. "Put on… I wanna see…"

"No," Russia exhaled. "You should rest. The light might be hurting your eyes."

He seemed to have already forgotten his request. America sank back and lifted up his chin, all of his soft face closing up and going still. Russia blinked and looked over him, then wandered over to the air conditioning and turned it on.

The rumbles of the machine filled the room as Russia relocked the door and turned off the lights. He slipped into the other bed and lay on his side, staring across the grey to where America lay. Then after some seconds, Russia's voice arose.

"America?"

"Nnn…"

"Can you try to remember?"

"What…"

Russia said, "How you got here. I don't want to get in trouble in the morning."

"I c'n remember."

A sigh puffed past Russia's lips. "You won't… Ah, it is fine. We will deal with this later."

Russia took one of the pillows and tucked it between his knees. He snuggled into the blankets and soon was able to fall asleep from the day's exhaustion. At one point during the night, he heard movement when America trampled his way to the bathroom. Russia dozed again while he was in it, but was startled awake when a heavy weight plopped down beside him.

"America, your bed is over there..." he grumbled.

No answer. Russia let out a breath through his nose then crawled out, leaving him to this bed while he took his old one. He fell asleep and remained undisturbed until morning, where he naturally woke but soon picked up on the sound of the shower running.

Russia flashed up. He is conscious. America must know where he is but… what will he say when he comes out?

Russia discarded the blankets and shut off the AC. He marched through the chill of the room to his suitcase, where he searched for what he would wear at today's meeting. Embarrassed to be caught in pajamas, he swiftly changed into his suit and dress pants. He washed his face then snatched a comb as the water continued to cascade in the other room. There was a long mirror against the wall that he stood in front of to fix his hair, but just as he finished, the door to the bathroom swung open.

America stepped out with a white towel secured around his waist. Russia turned and watched him with a nervous glance, wondering how he would address him.

"I'll be right back."

Russia blinked as America then headed towards the door. He started to unlock it but as he opened it, he peaked out. Birdsong slipped into the room and the wind smelling of dew-covered grass washed over them.

"Where are you going?" Russia whispered.

"My room's beside yours."

Russia cocked his head as America hurried out. He stepped back towards the beds and affirmed that America's glasses were indeed still folded on the nightdesk, like a promise that he really would come back.

But why is he choosing to come back…?

Russia left the door unlocked but headed to the unoccupied bathroom. He was waiting on the bed checking his laptop by the time America came back dressed in formal attire. America set Russia's folded clothes beside the TV then spun around to meet Russia's unsure eyes.

"What made you change your mind about touching people?"

Russia furrowed his eyebrows at the question. America continued.

"You wouldn't touch me or anyone else at the meeting."

"I didn't want to do something wrong," Russia murmured. "And then… I listened to what China told me. He came over some times and reminded me of January, then he gave me more of the tips."

America moved forward and sat on the bed beside him. Promptly, Russia created distance between them and looked uncomfortable.

"What did China say?" America asked.

"Mmm… He told me everything that bothered him when people unexpectedly touch him. He said that is how other people feel around me..." Russia sighed. "And after Lithuania… I really wanted to listen. He also said something that I am trying to listen very closely to: 'Don't hold other people. Let them hold you until they want you to touch you.' So I think that if I am not starting anything, then it will get better."

"It sounds good," America agreed. "Just… why wouldn't you let me touch you last night? You kept avoiding me."

"So you remember?"

"Oh no. Russia, I was not drunk. I was just pretending to see what you would do."

"What?"

"I only had like one drink then I left. Everyone made fun of me for calling it quits, but I wanted to find you. I wondered about how much Lithuania was exaggerating or if you would use my 'drunkenness' to get some information or revenge."

Russia replied, "I was worried that if something happened to you, I would get in trouble."

America dropped his head, appearing disappointed. "Really? Is that your reason?"

"One of them…" he mumbled.

"Oh?"

Russia asked, "Does everyone know about what happened with Lithuania? What did he tell you?"

"Ah." America shrugged. "That you got him drunk on purpose then sexually harassed him. I made him explain more, then when I found out you had only kissed him, I relaxed. I got him to breathe and calm down, then I told him to sleep and not worry about it. I said I would take care of it and that I didn't want him doing anything else. So, no one else knows I think. Just us, him, and whoever else you told."

"Okay, this is relief. But why did you relax? Did you trust me?"

"I thought your intentions were good. I heard you spent the whole day with him, so it was interpreted wrong. And if Lithuania could drive you out of his house, it means you weren't really trying to fight him back."

"Mm-hmm…"

America scooted closer. Russia looked to the edge he was near, then moved up the bed.

"So then… why is it that you are avoiding me now?" America inquired.

"I don't know what kind of relation we should have. No one wants us to be friends. It might not work out."

"They don't have to know."

Russia turned his head as America moved closer. "What do you mean?"

"You know. Hating each other in public, but actually buds in secret."

"They will figure it out," Russia murmured. "They will suspect it."

"But they will never be sure. All they can do is speculate."

"I suppose this…"

America smirked. "So...?"

Russia put his laptop onto the floor but insisted, "This is too strange, isn't it? I started to think about it and I do not think it is right to treat men who are not related to me like I did."

Yet when America slid his arms around him, he did not resist. Russia sank into him, breathing feebly, "I can't…"

"Shhh…"

"I shouldn't do this."

"You can't expect that depriving yourself will do any good," America told him. "And I can't let you go off and do crazy things. I also won't let you cry anymore. So, I need you to rely on me. Whether you are sad, lonely, or whatever, we can talk when no one is around."

Russia hesitantly held him back. When he did not push him away, he squeezed a little tighter.

"Not so hard," America advised him.

"Okay."

He let off a bit, embracing very gently then setting his face into his neck. After some time, Russia worried that he was hugging for too long. He retreated. "We should go down for breakfast now."

"Breakfast just started… What's the rush? Stay here, Russia. I am giving you a chance."

"I am afraid to be too affectionate… It cannot be right. Now I think about these things because of what Lithuania yelled at me. And I do not want to be called what he called me."

America dropped his arms. "The affection is only dangerous when it hurts people. That's what you should worry about."

"Hmm…"

"Stay with me. If you do it, I will take you to IHOP after. That'll be much better than the hotel breakfast."

"I hop?"

"Pancake place."

Russia's forehead wrinkled.

"No then?" America asked.

"I want this, but…"

America snatched the remote and powered on the TV. Russia had about a minute to relax as America searched for a cartoon to put on. He tilted towards him, eyes closed as he debated over what to do. An arm was felt around him and Russia completely submitted, letting himself be gently pulled back. They lay on the bed and Russia's head was guided to set itself over his chest. Russia hung a loose arm around him and peeked over at the shenanigans on the screen, before he ignored it all and nuzzled into the suit.

"It won't be secret forever," America sighed then looked toward the carefully brushed, ashen hair. "One day, they will accept you."

He lay his hand over his head and felt the silkiness. America followed the direction of his hair then restarted, caressing the back of his head until Russia whispered, "Why don't you hate me, even when we fought so much yesterday?"

"Why don't you hate me?" He turned the question back onto him.

"I could never hate you completely, America. Throughout history, there was always some part of you I did not mind."

"Same," he replied softly. "No matter how much you irritate me sometimes, whether I want to punch your face in… I don't really hate you. Your culture's cool, for one. It has its own power and pride and I dig it."

America's hand drifted down to his neck. Russia went limp, but America observed, "Your pulse is fast."

"Because I am still worried."

"I won't hurt you."

Russia inhaled slowly. "I mean about what will come. The result of getting close to you."

"Whatever… Don't worry 'bout a thing."

When America's fingers pressed into the scars on the back of his neck, Russia finally realized that for the entire interaction he had been scarfless. He did not grow distressed however, but in fact because he had forgotten, happiness sprouted within him. Russia pressed into him more and smiled, letting him massage his neck for as long as he liked.

Both gasped and shot up at the knock at the door. Russia snapped his head to America, who soon rolled over the side of the bed and disappeared.

"Who is it?" Russia stood up, calling and walking into sight of the door.

The unlocked door was pushed open and Germany revealed himself.

"Ah, good morning," he announced. "I was told to check if you had made it back alright since no one knew where you had gone after the meeting."

"Who asked this?" Russia wondered.

Germany dipped his head and turned it to the side. "Anyway," he went on, ignoring his question. "We will see you at ten."

The door closed again and Germany left them. America popped up from behind the bed with a laugh, crossing his arms and setting them onto the mattress. Russia smiled but could not help himself from feeling disappointed.

"If they were worried…" he exhaled as he backed up toward the beds. "Why didn't they ask last night?"

"They were probably tanked," America quipped from behind him.

Russia still brooded, "And who was wondering…?"

"Oh, that one's obvious. Germany wanted to know."

"Him?"

"Some of them do care about you but don't want to express it openly. Germany was there with us too, after all."

Russia dropped his sorrow and beamed. He turned back to America and gasped when he was already kneeling on the bed beside him. He tackled him them yanked him back, forcing Russia to fall partially on him, smiling and already squirming to hold him. Russia resumed his previous position but felt now a lot more relaxed and peaceful doing it.

"It feels like there is nothing wrong with the world when I am here," Russia admitted. "I was worried to think like this, but I cannot be helping it. It feels safe here."

"It is. No matter how we fight, let's always come back to this, okay? I want you to always have a person there for you, so I'll be that person."

Russia's fingers curled over America's ribs. "Thank you… I want to say that I love you but…"

"Hey," America prodded him. "The interpretation is up to us. As long as you don't say that to me in front of other people, there shouldn't be a problem."

"If you do not mind then…" Russia sighed. "Then I love you. Right now at least, and again and again."

"We'll put on a show for them," America said. "And for times like this… Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu."

They rested there together for many more long and harmonious minutes. Then, with regret lowering his voice, America murmured, "We have to get going now or else we'll be late for the meeting."

They slid out of the bed and Russia grabbed the essentials. As he wrapped his scarf around his neck, he asked America, "You have everything already?"

"Yep." America slipped on his glasses then moved ahead to the door. Russia headed after him quickly to catch him one more time before they would have to separate themselves in public. America turned and hugged him, dragging his fingers down his back and feeling how once again, Russia instantly relaxed into him.

"Pancakes?" America murmured after enough time had passed.

Russia stood back and smiled at him. "Yes, I would like this."

They checked if anyone else was outside, then they snuck out. Russia crept into America's car and hoped that no one would notice them, all the while hoping that someone would see them. Just as they sat beside each other and fastened their seat belts, America grinned.

"You know, they have so many different kinds of pancakes and I am curious about what you will chose."

Russia leaned towards him and smiled again. "Is America trying to get to know me better?"

America set down his keys, deciding not to start the car just yet.

"We'll get there, comrade," he smirked. "Just you wait. Pancakes is just the start!"