One thing has always been clear about Russia and America: They hated each other. It was no surprise; after all, their parents had despised each other, so naturally, their children would hate each other as well.
Russia and America had just gotten ou...
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I am very much aware that my upload schedule is shit, and I am very sorry for that.
Also, as you could probably tell, English is not my first language, but I moved to the U.S. from my homeland when I was fairly young.
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-*Russia's POV*-
Both countries sat in the car in complete silence. The car had come to a complete stop moments before, but still, they sat, looking out the window at the beautiful, white landscape.
They both watched as the tiny snowflakes danced around gracefully before touching the ground. Although this was the view Russia was used to seeing every day, he still could not help but be amazed at it.
Russia's eyes flitted to the features on the other man's face. For some reason, he felt anxious to see his reaction. He saw America gaze scan over the snow covered landscape, and watched as he let out a soft gasp as he saw the mountains. Russia smiled.
After a few more moments of silence, America opened the car door and visibly shivered. Russia hesitated. He knew he had a spare jacket laying in the car, but he was debating whether he should tell America or not. After a few moments of thinking, he had finally made up his mind, but before he could hand him the jacket, America had darted off into the snow, completely ignoring the electric shock that was given off by the wristband.
Russia exhaled sharply and muttered something in Russian. He had been trying to seem unaffected by it in the presence of others, but the truth is, it hurt like hell. Of course, thanks to his childhood, hiding his pain was something he got really good at.
He watched as America darted to the entrance of his house in excitement, and looked at the wooden carvings by the entrance in fascination. All of a sudden, America's eyes widened and he looked back to where Russia had been sitting and watching him.
He knew it was a bit creepy, but for whatever reason, seeing the smaller country so interested in his homeland made him happy. Perhaps he was just glad that somebody else had also looked past the bitter wasteland and seen the pristine beauty of his homeland. Russia finally sighed and exited the car.
America was still staring at the wooden carvings that Russia had made over the years, but when he noticed that the shock had stopped, he glanced up at the taller man. Russia didn't say anything, opened the door and beckoned America to enter.
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Almost the moment after the door had been unlocked, Russia saw a familiar bluish-gray pelt and smiled as it started rubbing against him. "Привет, Мишка" Russia murmured softly to the cat.
