Rusame/Amerus one shots

Just come home

Russia was seething.
How dare he!
It was despicable and horrible and..
And it hurt.
That women he slept with, the horrid acts.
Russia cried out and slammed his fist to the wall.

"Get out and never come back!" Russia yelled, pointing to the door.
"Ivan wait, let me explain." America took a step, but Russia stopped him short. He watched as America held his cheek where Russia's hand had left a stinging red mark.
Something died in America's eyes, and he turned towards the door. He didn't stop, he left and closed the door behind him. Russia heard the engine of America's car roar to life, and then fade to nothing.

At this point, Russia wanted to cry, but he couldn't. That was weakness and America did not make him weak.
48 hours later
Russia couldn't bring himself to drink. He stared at the bottle and waited.
America would come back. He would come back and apologize to Russia, those beautiful words would float and make everything better.
Russia's phone sat within arms reach.
And the owner sat and waited.
Minutes ticked.
Russia worried.
Finally, a call. Russia hurried to answer.
"America?"
"Russia? It's France." Came the other end.
"Oh, comrade France. It's nice to hear from you." Russia couldn't hide his disappointment.
France didn't reply right away. "Russia, I'm at the hospital."
"Oh? How come? Are you all right?" Russia was surprised to say the least. France sounded fine.
"Not for me."
Dread filled Russia's stomach.
He pulled the phone away and remembered why his heart jumped as written across the screen was: SUNFLOWER
"France?" Russia's vision was swimming.
"Russia, I'm coming to get you. He needs you here more than England or I."
"What happened?" Russia felt like he was in shock.
"There was an accident, America was hit head-on by a speeding vehicle. The other driver was intoxicated."
Russia shoved the vodka bottle away. "What hospital?" He asked standing and grabbing his coat.
"You can't drive, I will be there soon mon ami." France voice was so calm, Russia felt so out of control. The second that France hung up, Russia collapsed to the ground. The world spun around him. He wanted to throw up.
This is all my fault. I should have listened, shouldn't have sent him away.
Russia practically tripped over his feet when France arrived.
France drove too slow. Russia picked at his coat and stared out the window.
"What's his condition?" Russia asked nervously.
France shook his head, "No one was contacted until after he under went surgery. No one is allowed to see but family or those of close status. Like marriage."
Russia looked down. "I can't see him."
France reached over and touched Russia's hand. "England and I handled that already, mon ami. For all the doctors know, you two are happily married."
Happily married.
Russia felt sick again. "This is my fault."
France frowned at him. "This is not your fault. You couldn't have prevented this."
Russia shook his head furiously. The story spilled out of him faster than he could process it.
When he finished, France stayed quiet.
Russia wiped his eyes, trying to get rid of the shameful tears. France offered his handkerchief.
"Spasibo."
France sighed. "America can be difficult-I can imagine you know, but a cheater? Never."
Russia took a deep breath. They pulled into the parking lot. France guided him to the waiting room.
"I need to see him, where is he?" The nurse made eye contact with France and then gestured for Russia to follow. She led him through corridors to America's room.
"Please be careful, he is in pain at this moment. The doctor put him under a sedative to help with the pain." Her voice was also calm.
Why were all these people calm while his world was falling apart?
Russia pushed the door open. America was laying on his back arms laying across his torso, his lower body covered by a thin sheet.
His tan skin was glowing against the white, he looked like an angel.
Russia took soft steps forward.
He felt... did he know? There were so many emotions and right in the center of it was America.
He kneeled alongside the bed. America had cuts on his face and arms from the glass, his hands were bandaged. Russia could see the bulk of a cast on America's right leg.
The doctor cleared his throat. "You must be Ivan."
"Da, that's me." Russia said standing, he wiped at his tears again.
The doctor gave him a kind smile, "Go ahead and move the chair. You don't have to stand."
Russia looked around until he saw the chair the doctor spoke of.
Russia listened carefully as the doctor explained the fractures in America's wrists and hands. The cuts and burns all over his body. The doctor slowed down though as he talked about America's legs.
"There's a good possibility he will never walk again." Russia's heart seized.
No, this can't be.
"W-why?" Russia forced out.
The doctor gave him a soft smile. "A bone shifted in his back. If we are lucky we may get movement back, but possibly never enough to regain the ability to walk."
Russia felt like he was in shock. His head dropped into his hands.
"I'll give you some time." There was a click as the door shut and the sound of the doctors footsteps faded down the hall.
Russia lifted his head back to America.
Oh God, what have I done.
Russia reached out and touched America's head, following quickly with a soft kiss on him forehead.
Russia trembled, his worst fears coming true.
He had failed the person he cared for, loved, needed.
America was hurt and it was his fault.

For days Russia refused to leave America's side. The nurses had to threaten to sedate him just so he would rest. Russia didn't want to sleep, he was afraid of missing America waking up.
Russia was currently laying with his head on the bed.
"I have so much to tell you. I haven't felt this alone in years. America come back to me." Russia was almost pleading.
Russia refused to give up on America.
He was strong, he would get through this.
Russia started to slip into sleep. Gently, Russia twined their hands together and gave into the darkness on the edges of his vision.

Russia was woken by the smallest twitch of America's hand. His eyes opened quickly and he quickly moved to study America's face.
America moaned and one blue eye opened. It shut quickly and America's face twisted in agony.
Russia tightened his grip, and then loosened it afraid of hurting America's hands again. America rolled his head toward Russia.
"Mhm, Ivan?"
"Da, Alfred it's me. You're going to be okay." His voice was filled with relief.
"Where am I?" America looked hazed, he wasn't thinking straight yet.
"The hospital. Do you remember anything?"
America was quiet for a while.
"I remember us fighting, and then I left and someone crossed the centerline and...." America shot straight up. "Oh my God."
Russia wrapped his arms around America, "It's okay, I've got you. You're safe now." America was shaking. "You aren't mad?" Russia could only manage a small smile.
"You scared me Fredka. I thought I was going to lose you."
We can talk about that later.
America relaxed into Russia's arms, his head on Russia's chest.
"I'm sorry, for everything. I've put you through a lot and that's not fair for you." America murmured to him.
Russia swallowed hard. "It's not over. Alfred, how are you feeling?"
"Uhm, numb. I can't feel my legs, probably from how long I've been laying here." America said, his hands brushing the sheets.
Russia's breath caught. "We will get through this."
America froze. "Ivan, what's wrong with me?" Horror grew in his eyes.
Russia gripped America's arms tighter, holding him tightly.
"Ivan.." Alfred started to say something, but stopped.
The two were quiet. America took shaky breaths.
"What did the doctor say, and don't lie to me." America pressed for an answer.
"I don't know if I should be the one to tell you." Russia said, picking at the seam of the sheet. America leaned against him.
"Please. I want to hear it from you. Not a stranger." America was almost begging, but heroes don't beg, so America won't admit it.
Russia sighed and rubbed circles into America's back. He gently told America what the doctor had told him.
America was quiet, he tipped his head further down.
"Alfred, I'm going to be here for you. I promise." Russia kissed the top of America's head. "I'm not going anywhere." He whispered into America's head. He heard the other take a shuddering breath.
"I'm so sorry Ivan. I'm putting you through so much. It's not fair." America's voice cracked. "It's not fair."
Russia let out a breath. "We will get through this."
America snaked his arms up around Russia's neck. For a long while the two sat there.
At one point the door opened, but quickly shut again.
Russia closed his, taking in America's smell and the feel of his skin. Russia could feel the bandages on America's hands catch on his scarf. Another pang hit the Russian.
"I'm sorry Fredka."
America hummed, "For what? This isn't your fault."
"Da, it is. If I hadn't yelled, hadn't kicked you out-"
"Ivan!" America cut him off and pulled away. "This is not your fault, you haven't done anything wrong. Okay? So don't blame yourself."
Russia dropped his head.
"Hun, we need to talk about what happened." America cupped Russia's face and lifted it back up to face him.
"I know how it looked. But I didn't do anything with that girl."
Russia pulled away, "It certainly didn't look like nothing!" He snapped.
America shook his head. "She advanced on me. I shut her down. Vanya I would never cheat on you. You are my world remember?"
Russia still didn't look at him.
The American sighed. "Also I'm a shitty liar."
Russia weighed the fact that America was right. He couldn't lie.
Gently, Russia turned back to him.
"Then I'm sorry, for not listening."
America smiled, "And I'm sorry for being brash. I should have tried harder to tell you."
Russia curled his fingers back around America's and leaned in, their lips brushing. America flinched slightly as Russia tightened the grip on his injured hands. The Russian released him and opted to hold around his waist instead.
They moved back together for a kiss. Smiling, Russia could finally relax knowing that America hadn't really cheated, and that the younger nation was still, and would only be his.
It would be difficult to work with his legs, and lord knows that Russia would probably lose his head a few times.
Russia was relieved, and mentally face-palming.
All he ever heard about was how much America adores him.
I should have more faith in him.
Russia stroked America's hair and frowned. America was staring at his legs sadly.
Russia nudged him. "Don't worry, sunflower. You are strong and will get through this."
America smiled and nudged him back. "Only with your help."
"I just want you to come home, fredka."
"And I will. Legs and all."