RUSAME - one shots

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 [I]

America rolled over, groggy, the remnants of a strange and quiet dream clinging to the inside of his mind like cobwebs, and promptly opened his mouth to shriek.  He sat up so fast his head smashed against the headboard, muscles seizing up, and had to swear profusely several times before he managed to get coherent words out.  

"How— the HELL— did you get in here?"

Russia took a final drag on his small, elegant cigarette and stubbed it out in a can of Coke on the nightstand with a hiss.  

"Picked the lock."

"Wh— what the—" Clutching his head, America blinked several times, unable to shake the adrenaline from his systems.  Russia.  In his bedroom.  Sitting on the armchair, hands clasped between his knees, an expectant almost-smile on his face.  America squinted furiously at his alarm clock: 6 in the morning.  He let his face smash back into the pillow.

"Unbelievable.  I'm having a nightmare."

"Need me to pinch you?"

"Don't you dare.  What—" America lifted his head to scrutinize the other country through the dim light.  "What are you doing here?"

Russia stood with leonine grace, still wearing that maddening smile.  "Do you want to go ice skating with me?"

Actually, America did pinch himself, under the covers, where Russia couldn't see.  "Do I.  Want to go ice skating. With you."

"Don't ask me.  I am asking you."

"...Sure.  We can go ice skating.  Whatever.  Here's a better question— why did this excursion have to take place at ass o'clock on a Saturday?  Exactly?"

"Because."  Russia's teeth caught the scant light, gleaming as he grinned.  "We will be the first ones out."  

America blinked.  Weird.  He'd never known Rus had dimples. Nor how soft they'd make his eyes look.  Inconceivably, America reached for more irritation and found it utterly missing.

"Get dressed, then," Rus commanded, leaning over his bed.  "I will wait in the car."

He was tempted to let the dream take him once more.  His warm bed had never felt so sexy.  But something about that grin compelled him to push the covers back, to dig in the bottom of his drawer for the warmest clothes he owned.  A thought occurred to him.

Jamming his arm into the sleeve of the windbreaker still, Ame flung open the passenger door of Russia's ancient, Christmas-red beater truck.

"Are you asking me out?  Is this a date?"

How Russia managed to look so contemptuous and affectionate at the same time, America could never make out.

"Did it take you this long to realize?"

"Cut me some slack.  I'm three-quarters asleep."

Feeling buoyed up by helium, America swung a leg into the truck, but Russia held up a gloved hand, looking him up and down.  

"What are you wearing?"

"Um..." America peered down at his thin logo sweatshirt, trousers, and windbreaker.  "I don't see the problem.  Haha, is it the NATO hoodie, Russki?  Just because it's a sore spot for you..."

"No."  Russia chuckled, leaning back in his seat.  "No, I don't give a cow's tongue what it says on it.  But you will freeze to death and die."

"WELL, not everybody has army surplus military grade winter gear lying around," Ame mumbled.  Rus still hadn't lost his smile, and it was starting to get unnerving, as well as trip his heartbeat up a notch.  "What, should I go ask an Antarctican?"

"You westerners," Russia tutted, and turned to fish for something in the backseat.  "You can take mine."  A vast heap of furs and burlap sailed out and smacked America in the face, and he struggled to hold it up.  It smelled like Rus.  "Now get in!"  Russia slapped the seat beside him.  "We are burning daylight."

Russia was one of those loonies who drove in total silence.  America, having floundered with great difficulty into the massive coat, side-eyed him before reaching for the car radio— only to find a gaping hole in the dash.

"WH—"  he leaned forward to peer into its dusty depths.  "YOU TORE OUT YOUR CAR RADIO?"

"It did not play anything I liked."

"You're crazy!  What do you listen to in the car, huh?"

"My own heartbeat, usually."  He tilted his head.  "Or I could listen to you."

"Me?"  Ame turned to the window, where the first fingers of sunrise were beginning to stretch behind imposing snowy mountains.  It was hot in here, suddenly.  "You want me to sing you Top 40 hits a capella?"

"Stupid.  I meant talking.  That is how normal dates go, no?  Talking?"

"Oh, alright.  We can talk.  I'll start.  What compelled you to break into my house?"

"Break in... is very strong term."

"You picked the lock with a hairpin, Rus."

"Alright, alright.  Успокоиться.* I knew you wouldn't wake up if I just knocked."  Ame snorted.  True.  "And I haven ever seen where you sleep," he continued, staring very hard down the black road ahead.  "I was, ehm.  Curious."

America thought, ruefully, of all the cups on his nightstand.

"What did you think?"

"Very patriotic."  True again.  His bedspread was patterned with eagles.  "You also sleep like baby," Russia said, shaking his head.  "I would have guessed the nightmares would find you, no?"

"Um."  Clearly Rus had missed the half-empty pill bottle, stood open and waiting on the edge of the night table— and thank whatever was out there for that.  "This is lame.  Let's find something better to talk about."

"No."  Russia slammed on the brakes so fast Ame lurched forward.  "We are here."

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* calm down, settle down.  english alphabet: uspokoit'sya.  

A/N: ty so much for 1.2k views ! i suck at this one shot thing, i keep having to do 2 part stories