Forget Me Or Forget Me Not | Countryhumans (RusAme)

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐩𝐭.𝐈𝐈

The newcomer made his way into the lobby, nodding to USSR and Stalin in greeting and not bothering to acknowledge the foreigner in the seat across. America, however, wasn't bothered by this. Instead, as he stared at this person, he couldn't help but feel an odd sense of familiarity. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but as he narrowed his eyes and scanned his face, foggy memories started to piece together in his head. This "stranger", with eyes like ice, skin red as Soviet's and a distinct blue stripe down the left side of his face matched with that same hammer and sickle ensemble tugged painfully at America's heartstrings. The physical appearance was the same of that boy he met that one night more than two decades prior in 1917 but his eyes were guarded with a steely look that matched that of the USSR. Eyes that still refused to meet America's gaze. Instead, the American was made to sit and watch as USSR and Russia spoke in their language - one America could not speak nor understand very well due to only a very small portion of his culture holding the Russian language.

After a few minutes of awkwardly sitting there as the two - and occasionally even Stalin - chatted, the Soviet leader made a motion and spoke to Russia as if offering him to sit with them. The Russian seemed like he wanted to refuse, but USSR and Stalin looked at him with expectant looks that even America could tell left no room for refusal. So with a reluctant sigh, Russia sat down in one of the single seats near America's spot. An awkward thing to take note of, but America didn't dwell on it too long as the attention of the original two was turned back to him again. This time, it was USSR that spoke first to the American.

"Amerrrika, zis is my oldest son and kurrrent defense generrral, РСФСР (RSFSR)," he explained. "But he also known as Россия. (Russia.)"

America glanced over at Russia, who kept his gaze firmly anywhere but in America's direction. Sighing, the striped country nodded and looked at USSR, offering a smile to him as he did.

"Well," he began slowly, wanting to choose his words carefully around all of them. "He seems like an impressive young country... I'd be glad to be working with him during my stay." USSR nodded, his stone cold face returning as he spoke to Stalin and out of the corner of his eye, America could just barely notice Russia watching him closely.

* * *

It was entering the early hours of July 2nd, four hours since America arrived and began his meeting with USSR and Stalin. His original plan was to stay in the inn that night, seeing as he was already there anyway, tired and didn't wish to bother his men over picking him up to bring him to their base setup. USSR and Stalin had gone to finalize the paperwork and said they would be back in less than two hours. Russia was left to basically babysit the American, though that wasn't what was directly said, America knew that's exactly what it was supposed to be. And he wouldn't have minded. Being able to catch up with his old childhood friend and reignite that old spark? Sign him up! If only said friend would at least even look at him.

The two stood awkwardly in the lobby, America's tired and muddled brain trying to think of ways to strike up some kind of conversation. He could only hope Russia was just as stumped as him, now that they were out of the watchful eyes of USSR and Stalin, only uneasiness of a reunion being left. But throwing a look over in the Russian's direction, seeing how stocky still and poised he was standing; like an ice cold stone statue. Face void of any nerves or awkwardness, he looked like a queen's guard. With that, America realized he was the only one being awkward between them. Maybe it was just the fatigue getting into his head that was making him feel so odd. That had to be it, what else could it be?

Hoping USSR and Stalin would return soon, America took a seat again and closing his eyes, being oddly at peace in the silence of the lobby.

"Правда? (Really?)" America opened his eyes and looked up as a voice spoke. For a second, he thought USSR had returned but soon realized the voice was not quite as rough as the communist country's. Instead, he was surprised to find Russia staring at him through narrow ice blue eyes, sending a slight shiver down his spine. He blinked.