My love in Siberia (RusAme)

11.

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

"Just checking if you're ready to apologise."

"I have nothing to apologise for."

"Oh really?"

"Unless you can prove me otherwise that is."

America sighed as he leaned on the wall. He was in the White House, in his office to be exact, watching his father and his younger self argue.

When will all of this stop? What is this all about?

"It's so sad to see what kind of an idiot you grew up to be," Britain calmly spoke, spitting venom with every word.

"Well thank you. I learned from the best."

Britain clenched his fists, unable to hide the anger. He was about to say something when he heard the door behind him slam open.

Both of them, as well as America, looked at the furious man pacing towards them. It was USSR.

He stopped about a meter away from Britain. His look sent shivers down everyone's spine. He was so damn close to killing both of them in the spot without thinking twice.

Young America sat up from his chair. The older one looked at his younger self and smiled to himself. It's one of the ways he used to show respect towards Soviet. He was more like a father to him than Britain. At least he was until then.

"Sit back down," Soviet demanded. He wasn't pleased with this gesture. He was more disgusted with it.

"What brings you here Soviet?," America asked, still not sitting down.

"That's none of your business kid! Your father and I have a lot to talk about."

"He's no father of mine..."

Soviet's facial expression softened a bit but soon turned back to it's primary state. Without warning he punched Britain in the stomach. Britain bent forward from the pain and got pushed to sit down on the chair behind him.

"Now tell me... what do you know about my son's disappearance?"

"I know nothing about it."

That answer earned him a punch in the face.

"Soviet-," America tried to warn him but got cut off.

"Shut your fucking mouth! Or do you want to tell me that you have something to do with this?!"

"Are you accusing me-"

"Yes I am. Now sit back down!"

While Soviet let his guard down Britain punched him across the face. Soon both of them were fighting, punching and kicking each other, breaking things all across the room.

Young America tried to separate them. He yelled for them to stop but it was pointless.

He got punched in the chest and knocked to the ground. All he could see was Soviet sitting on his chest in between punches he received from him.

He almost lost consciousness when suddenly Soviet stopped punching. He managed to open his eyes for a second only to see both Britain and Soviet with their hands in the air. Armed guards were standing around them with guns pointed at them.

That was the last thing he saw before falling unconscious. And the last thing America saw before everything faded.

He slowly opened his eyes, groaning in frustration. If these flashbacks and nightmares don't stop soon he'll freak out.

He tried to move but just then realised that he was literally stuck. Russia's head was making it impossible for him to move at all.