A Price to Pay

Are you okay?

"Oh dearest, I'm home!" he called into the foyer. He laughed, knowing that Russia absolutely hated it when he used his little pet names like that. America loved being called cutesy little names, though, so it worked out alright.

He frowned slightly when he didn't hear the regular snarky comment come back to him from one of the many rooms of their shared home on the west coast. That's always how they started their evenings. It was almost a ritual at this point, to be honest.

"Russia?" he called into the house again, a little quieter and more apprehensive this time. Where was he?

Alfred heard a shuffle come from the floor above his head. So he was here, that was for sure. But, was he avoiding him? The American stepped lightly up the stairs, brushing the light gray walls with his fingertips.

He heard the shuffling again, quieter this time, down the hall. He followed the sound to their bedroom door, which was slightly ajar. Not enough to see inside, but open just enough to know it's open and there's someone trying to be quiet in there.

Alfred sighed, rapping his knuckles against the hard wood frame. "Russia," he whispered, "Hey, you in there?" Nothing in reply. He sighed again, a little more frustrated this time. "Russia, Ivan, come on. Can I come in?"

"Nyet," came the whispered answer. The sunny blond sighed again, already getting annoyed by himself. Sighing shouldn't be something that happens so often on such sunny days.

"Okay, then. I'll be here if you need me," he said dejectedly. And with that, he leaned against the wall next to the door and slid down to the floor, resting his head against its hard surface.

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America must have dosed off, because when his eyes fluttered open once again, he found that he was not alone in the hallway anymore. A pair of warm arms circled him in a loose but secure hold. He smiled and leaned back into his lover's chest. Nothing could be too terribly wrong if he was still as clingy as ever...right? Oh well, it didn't matter, so long as he was here with him everything would be just fine.

"Fedya," he whispered lowly, "I love you." Alfred looked behind him, worry now clouding his eyes and etching fine lines into his face. Russia never said that he loved him, unless there was something special or wrong. And there was nothing special going on right now.

"Vanya? Hey, what's up? Are you okay?" the sunny American enquired quickly. He turned around fully, sitting on his knees. He cupped the other's face between his hands, gently forcing his gaze upwards.

There were dark marks and bruises covering his pale skin. There was a red gash below his left eye, which was blackened but thankfully not swollen. His cheeks were damp. Alfred gasped slightly, then his gaze darkened with fear and fury.

"Oh Vanya, what happened to you?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

told ya id fuckin do it

same rules apply: bold=a/n   italics=another language is spoken    ------=time skip