₩Ⱨ₳₮ ₴₮₳Ɽ₮ɆĐ ł₮ ₳ⱠⱠ /₵ØɄ₦₮ⱤɎⱧɄ₥₳₦₴/

Part 35

⚠️Warning⚠️
There is sexual content in here not full on smut because I didn't prepare for that maybe in another chapter but not right now. And Reich being a simp because he is a big simp. 😁👍

I am currently hiding from my mom because she is not happy with me right now. In fact she is really pissed at me so I'm hiding. I also don't think I will be getting dinner tonight so that's also great. Me being the American I am I decided to protest because I didn't want to do something. So that's why she isn't happy with me. If I wasn't the favorite child already I am definitely now. ;-; Anyways I hope that you enjoy chapter 35 and because this is 1,000+ words more then I usually write so yay.
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Reich's POV
October 1, 1938

I could hear the rain on the car window as we pulled up to my house. I'm happy to finally be home and not be in Munich anymore.

The car pulled up to the house and when the car stopped I opened the car door and opened my umbrella. I stepped out of the car with the umbrella over my head while the driver got my stuff out from the car and went to put it on the front porch. I closed the door with my foot and walked over to the front door and got my keys out of my pocket.

"Is there anything else you need, Mein Anführer?" (translation: my leader) I shook my head and pushed the key into the lock. "No, your free to leave now." the driver saluted and walked back to the car. When I knew the door was unlocked I grabbed my stuff and opened the door.

It was quiet in the house and I couldn't see anyone from the foyer. I put my stuff down on a wooden bench and took my boots off before walking out of the foyer into the living room. I walked to where the dip in the floor that held the couches and fireplace and saw Russia drawing with his crayons.

"What are you drawing?" Russia jumped a little and quickly looked at me. "Мать your back!" Russia gave me a big smile. A little smile made its way onto my face and I walked over to Russia and got onto my knees next to him. "I'm drawing a tank." Russia picked up the green crayon again and began coloring his tank again.

The tank didn't look like something I have seen before. It wasn't one of mine and wasn't one of Soviet's. "Did you design that tank yourself?" Russia nodded his head in response. "Yep, I want to make a tank just like this when I grow up." I watched as Russia colored in the tank that he drew then a question came to mind. "What are you going to call it?" Russia looked up from his drawing and started to think. "I think I will call it 2S25."

I was quite impressed with what Russia was doing. The drawing was good for a 6 year old and the fact he didn't give the tank some stupid name. This kid is very smart for being 6 years old.

"I like it." I put my hand on his curly brown hair and ruffled it. "I'm so proud of you." Russia's eyes lit up and his bright smile returned to his face. His hair then fell over his eyes and I then pushed his hair back. "Russia, we need to get your hair cut." Russia then shook his head and crossed his arms. "Нет, я не хочу, чтобы мои волосы вырезали!" (translation: No, I don't want my hair cut!") I let out a little laugh. "Russia, you're hair is starting to cover your eyes." Russia sighed. "But I like my hair long." "I know but can we at least get it trimmed?" Russia was hesitant before he nodded his head. "Only because it's starting to get into my eyes more." I smiled and nodded my head. "All right."

I took my hand off of Russia's head and looked around. I then noticed that Soviet was not here looking after Russia. A frown formed on my face and I looked at Russia. "Russia, where is your папа?" Russia got back onto his knees and took his crayon. "Папа is on the back porch, I wanted  to be alone so that's why he isn't here. Also GDR and FRG are upstairs sleeping." I nodded my head and got up. "I will be with your папа then." I started to walk over to the back door and when I got there I was hit with the horrible smell of cigarette smoke. I cringed at the smell and cleared my throat. At least it wasn't those horrible cigars Soviet would have ever so often.