Chained Together (Rusame)

Handcuffed

It was really hard to fall asleep at a UN meeting when Russia wouldn't stop glaring at him. Like, seriously! What had America ever done to him?! ...Uh. Excluding that entire war that had happened.

America tried to glare back at him over his sunglasses, but Russia seemed unimpressed. Darn. Has he really lost that skill? Or was Russia just immune?

He turned his gaze to the table, absently fidgeting with the small gun holster on his hip while United Nations blabbered on about some "equality" thing or something. Honestly, that was so... last century. America yawned, not noticing that UN had stopped talking and was now looking straight at him.

"America." UN snapped, and he instantly shot upright. "What did I say about bringing weapons to our meetings?" All the other countries' eyes were on him now.

America lifted his hand off of his holster. "...Don't?"

UN's eyebrows drew downwards. "You obviously know the rule. Why not follow it?"

"It's not my fault I don't feel safe here!" America exclaimed, scowling. "If anything, it's Russia's fault that I brought a gun here!"

Russia's posture immediately went stiff. "How is it my fault?! You're the one that brought the gun!" He snarled, his gruff voice harsh.

"You've been doing nothing but glaring at me this whole time!" America stood up, one hand on the table and the other pointing accusingly at the communist. It felt as if a raging flame had ignited in his stomach. "You obviously have something against me," He spat. He didn't care that the other countries were listening. He was too angry to care.

UN's patience was wearing thin, and he was tired. They all were, since the meeting has lasted over two hours now without a break. UN opened his mouth to say something, but Russia beat him to it.

"Of course I do! No one in their right mind would support you, capitalist pig!" Russia's accent grew stronger in his rage.

America slammed his fist on the table. "You—!"

"That's IT!" UN roared, effectively silencing them. His voice echoed throughout the room. "I'm absolutely sick of you two arguing all the time!" His white eyes glowed brighter, and America felt a cold finger of dread slipping down his spine. He had no idea what he was about to do.

UN pulled out a pair of shining handcuffs, and grabbed America's left wrist with one of his spectral, floating hands. Another one was on his shoulder, ensuring that he would stay put. UN closed the cuff onto his wrist, but did nothing with his right hand. Instead, he dragged him to the other side of the table, towards Russia.

"What are you doing—?" America broke off when UN put the other cuff on Russia's wrist, pocketing the key. America slowly turned his head towards Russia, his jaw slack. Russia's eyebrows were knitted together in confusion, and he stared at UN as if he would suddenly say that it was all a joke.

"You will remain handcuffed until you learn how to cooperate! I'll check back on you both in a week." UN crossed his arms, while his ghostly hands were doing a variety of other things.

"A week?!" Russia was dumbfounded. America could feel him grow even more tense at his side.

America couldn't believe it either. "You can't do that to me! How am I meant to do anything with him chained to my hand?!" America's growing panic shone through in his voice. He ran through his hair with his free hand, his mind reeling.

"You should have thought about the potential consequences before you started screaming at him!" UN turned, finally addressing the other countries in the room. "We're not going to get anything else done today. You all are dismissed." One of his floating hands waved them off. He looked back at the two red, white and blue countries. "Including you. Figure out what to do about this, but don't even think about taking that off." At that, he pivoted sharply and stalked away, seemingly uncaring about how they'd manage to get through their... situation.

They stood in silence for a moment, and then America turned to the taller country. "So, uh... whose house are we going to go to?"

Russia's once icy glare now blazed hot. "I'm going to fucking kill you, capitalist." He growled.

"You didn't answer the question."

America was sure that Russia would never let him into his home— He seemed to like his privacy— But he was full of surprises. "There's no way I'm going to your house." He wore a look of disgust. America would've been hurt by this if he wasn't so preoccupied by everything else. Maybe he should try to agree on some things, if it'd make his time with Russia feel shorter.

He was not prepared for this at all. What had UN done?

And that's the first chapter! This is the first Countryhumans story I've written, so I'd love to hear what you think!