Aftermath Plans || Amerus / Rusame

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 // ❝𝑺𝑪𝑬𝑵𝑬 : 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑨𝑷𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑨𝑪𝑯 ❞

Warnings at the end of the chapter, for those who don't want to get spoiled for them. For those who want to check it, scroll/slide to the author's notes section.

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Russia was starting to regret ever coming here.

𝑂𝑇𝑇𝐴𝑊𝐴, 𝑆𝐴𝑇𝑈𝑅𝐷𝐴𝑌, 𝑁𝑂𝑉𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅 25𝑇𝐻 1972

Yet it was his problem, come to think of it. Inviting his father over, bringing his sisters with him. Russia was aware of the situation he had put them in and how little time they had, and yet America did not seem to share the hard-work. He was not expecting Russia at all. Russia knew it he didn't go to him himself America would rather finish the day off without ever interacting with him, and that wouldn't do.
As he stepped into the room the chuckles and moans of the woman had become clearer since the music downstairs had become muffled. All of the bother of making his father agree to come, plot around his sisters and this was what America was doing? A whore on his lap, rubbing his scalp as America kissed her neck?

"Sir!" She chuckled, excited as America clearly brushed his fingers somewhere she liked. Russia could slightly see his hand going up and down her thigh. He was wearing gloves, Russia knew he did not like touching people. He had rolled his sleeves up, taken his jacket off. His white shirt's first few buttons have been opened and his tie was resting on his shoulders. The woman was more..indecent, as she was naked aside from the skirt she was wearing.

Russia cleared his throat.

The woman gasped as she noticed him, quickly hiding her breasts. America just raised his head at him.

"Oh." America raised his brows. "Would you look at that.."

"Hello, handsome." The woman chuckled. "Will you join us?"

She didn't realize how America looked at her like she was crazy.

"No." He quickly answered before Russia could. "No he won't. He is just a brat that doesn't know how to knock."

Russia did not answer him. Instead he just kept staring directly at his eyes. He was disappointed, he was angry and he wanted America to feel it. America laid his head to the side, waiting for an answer- a comeback, an insult, but it never came. The boy just stared.
He realized the answer wasn't coming, that Russia wanted them alone, so he hummed and patted the woman's hips. "Go on sweetheart. Your job here is over."

"But-?"

"Don't worry. You will still get paid." America elegantly flicked his hand, signaling her to get up.

The woman looked at them, her eyes going back and forth between him and Russia as she got up. She must've decided it wasn't worth it as she quickly gathered all of her clothes. She wore them as quickly as she could, leaving in under a minute. Russia waited a few seconds to make sure she wasn't coming. Then he watched as America took out his gloves and threw them into the trash.
They both felt the air in the room shift. It was as if they had gone right back to when Russia first came to his office seven years ago. Back to hiding the cards, back to making sure to keep a poker face. The sincerity dying felt bittersweet for a second. But it was fine. Russia had other plans with him anyway.

He didn't move, didn't pull his eyes away even a second. America smirked and raised his brow, questioning. If he had to be honest he was pissed because Russia had single-handedly ruined his chances of destressing. He felt like even the slightest unexpected move of the wind would make him snap.

"Are you looking for trouble, Ruski?"

Russia did not answer him. America had forgotten how thin of a line they used to dance on because of how perfect they had gotten on maintaining their balance. It was easy to forget that their bond was just an alliance, one that had too many risks. They both wanted the win more and they had disguised it behind the predictable yet peaceful actions.
Now, however, Russia looked like he decided on something else. His eyes had that cynical shine he last had seven years ago as he moved away from the door.