Dispute | Countryhumans AU | RusAme/AmeRus

5

"Didn't you call him a commie and make a big fuss out of it just days ago?" Canada snickered, elbowing his twin. "Shut up," America hissed, flustered. "I admit I was wrong."

"Sorry, didn't hear that," Canada feigned deafness. "Care to repeat that again?"

America pushed Canada lightly. "Hey, he admitted his faults too... I'd be an asshole not to apologise for going too far. Besides, it may be good to be a little more open minded... Hey, tell me, how's it going with Ukraine as your roommate?"

A small blush crept over his cheeks. "He's... uh, he's a really nice person. Really good at art... but pretty quiet."

Canada cleared his throat. "Well, uh, I guess it's good to see him again... it's been a while since I last saw them... a lot of things have definitely changed."

"Do you remember the last time we saw them before our parents had that major disagreement?" America asked, a soft smile playing on his lips. Canada laughed. "Of course, we always liked to sneak out at midnight to hang out, it was fun, how could I forget?"

--

America tugged on Canada's hand. "Nada, hurry up! I don't want to be late." Canada giggled softly, picking up his pace as they slipped out of the house quietly.

Running barefooted to the neighbourhood playground, they raced each other and carefully avoided sharp rocks on the ground, their arms laden with fairytales and candy. They got there slightly winded, waiting for the rest to arrive.

Their parents had disagreements sometimes, but not even that would stop them from meeting each other every Friday at midnight.

Russia and Ukraine, his younger brother, arrived a little later. "Америка! Канада!" Russia greeted, a torchlight and a book tucked under his arm. Ukraine grinned, holding up a jar of cookies. Though Russia was a year older than Ukraine, they grew up together like twins. "We baked these together," he declared proudly.

As they took turns on the swing, Russia read the books with the help of the torchlight, their silhouette illuminated by the moonlight. Ukraine almost fell asleep on Canada's shoulder and that was when they decided to pack up and return home. It was around 4 am in the morning, three hours before their parents would probably wake up.

None of them knew what was going to happen before the next Friday, but perhaps they were better off that way.

--

Russia's warm hand enveloped America's hand easily, gently guiding him as they kneaded the dough. America felt warmth flush up in his cheeks, and tried to concentrate on the task of making the dumplings.

Russia continued speaking, unaware of his thickening accent as he got more comfortable and oblivious to the blush on America's face. When he finally let go of the other's hand, the American let out a small relieved sigh.

As they plopped the completed dumplings into the pot to cook, America complimented, "Thanks, Rus. You're really good at this-"

Then he covered his mouth.

Shit- you fucking fool! He berated himself silently. Have you forgotten what happened between the two of you? Are you out of your mind, calling him by his childhood nickname?

He looked up slowly, expecting an uncomfortable stare or a confused scowl— or maybe both. Instead, he was met with Russia's crooked half-smile— the one he thought was cute when they were kids— and soft, non-hostile eyes.

"Thanks," Russia rumbled quietly. "You're not too bad yourself."

America struggled keeping his composure, fighting the urge to pull Russia into a hug. He didn't want to make the Russian uncomfortable and ruin the moment.

Instead he stood almost perfectly still, averting his gaze every few seconds as it lingered to Russia's hand, recalling the little bumps of scar tissues he remembered on Russia as a kid.

That little scar at the base of his right thumb— when Russia had picked up a piece of blue chalcedony he realised America had been staring at and accidentally cut himself on the sharp edges of the surrounding rocks as a kid.

He laughed it off then, washing the blood off with a little water from his water bottle. America still had the stone, despite the end of their friendship. Russia said the blue of the stone reminded him of America's left eye.

Another scar, this time on the palm; that was when Russia spotted a piece of petrified wood and it reminded him of America's right eye. America had kept that too.

It gave America confidence. Someone other than his family liked his heterochromia eyes. Someone found them beautiful, akin to gemstones on the beach.

But then it was gone and he hid his eyes from the world behind black glass, away from scrutiny and criticism.

He must have stared for a second too long, because Russia drew his hand away and put it into the pocket of his hoodie out of pure reflex. "I think they should be done," he cleared his throat, straightening up and turning towards the stove.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable," America murmured sheepishly. "'Is nothing," Russia muttered back, awkwardly.

"So, uh, how can I help?" America asked.

"Let's just sit down and eat," Russia replied, plating the pelmeni. "Maybe you can wash the dishes later," he joked, trying to dispel some of the tension hanging in the air.

"All of them? Even the pot and the rolling pin and all?" America laughed. "Yes, and I won't help you unless you sit your ass down right now and join me in eating the pelmeni we made— want any mayonez?"

"I'll pass," America said, curling his lip in undisguised disgust as Russia dumped a big portion of it onto his pelmeni and sprinkled dill over the dumplings. "Your loss," Russia shrugged.

"Jesus, you're just like Nada with his pancakes and maple syrup," America complained. "Hey, I didn't say anything about your peanut butter and jelly sandwiches— you've got to let us enjoy our quote weird unquote food choices." Russia refuted, digging in.

"I've never been more mad at the truth before," America grumbled, spearing a dumpling viciously with his fork and bringing it to his mouth.

"Why don't you give pelmeni a try?" Russia coaxed, nudging the jar in America's direction. "A little bit of mayonez to taste won't hurt anybody."

"Fine, I guess you're right," America relented, caving in to the desire of trying new things.

Russia smiled lopsidedly again.

Their friendship seemed to be fixing itself, nowhere near to its former glory as of now, but better than either one of them would have guessed. Nostalgic memories relived, emotional wounds healing.

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I'm back :D

Sorry for disappearing and putting this book on hold for so long! I'll probably be going back to my regular schedule of posting at least one chapter a week now! Thank you for your patience!!

Note: fixed a spelling error