The Assasination Game

This Shit Ain't Funny

America was in more pain than he would prefer when he woke up. His entire head seemed to throb, and he swore it pulsated(if that was possible). Blinking didn't help much with how blurry his vision was. He just wanted to lay down again and sleep through whatever pain he was feeling, and whatever was causing it.

Of course, that couldn't be the case. The moment he lay back down, some big lug walked into his room as if he owned the place and started shaking him awake.

"'m awake," America mumbled into his pillow.

"Okay, then get up. There's water and Tylenol for you right here. It'll help with the headache."

"F'ck. 'm fine."

"Sure, ok. Get up."

America yawned and very slowly sat up, not liking how his bones crack and joints popped as he did. He was a young country, why the hell is his entire body always giving out on him like this?

He tried again with the blinking, and this time his vision did clear. There were still some spots in his vision, but he could see at least.
He yawned again and looked at whoever was pushing a cup of water into his forehead.

"Wha' the hell? Russi?"

"Yes, who else would be in my house?"

"Your house? The hell do you mean? I'm in my house."

"Then whose room is this?"

America's mouth snapped close as he looked around, only for it to drop open again once he realized. 

"The fuck? This isn't my room," he said.

"Now you're getting it," Russia taunted.

"Fuck off, lemme think for a second," America groaned as he held his head in his hands. This time, he snatched the pills off the counter and finally accepted the water. He took another swig of it to clear his throat and leaned back a little on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. Suddenly, his head snapped back down to look Russia in the yes with wide eyes.

"Please tell me we didn't--"

"No," Russia said firmly, cutting him off.
He knew what he was going to say, and he really didn't want to hear it.

"OhthankPangea," America breathed, sighing loudly as he flopped down on the bed with his arms sprawled out around him.

While he laid down, he felt his body aching for another good stretch, so he did. He linked his hands together above his head and stretched, groaning at how nice it felt to release some tension in his muscles.

Russia tried hard not to stare at the way his body arched as America stretched out on the bed. He was practically purring, and the sounds were not helping him look away. But, he certainly did not look at the large amount of skin that was revealed as America's shirt lifted above his stomach in time with his movements.
He left the room with the glass America had drank out of, desperate to just leave already. By the time he was out, America had finished his stretch, and blinked heavily as he looked where Russia had just been. Groaning again, he heaved himself out of bed and trudged along, following the small clatter that sounded from the kitchen.

Russia was in there, just having finished cleaning the glass and placing it on the drying rack next to the sink.

"Soooo, why am I here?"

"What do you remember?"

"Tagging along with Canada to Mexico's place and--oh shit!"

"Oh shit," Russia repeated, just realizing.

"Please tell me my brother is here too?"

They'd forgotten Canada.

"...Nope. I didn't know he was with you."

That was kind of a lie. He knew America had mentioned him being there, but by the time he'd gotten in his car, he'd just remembered America. He'd only just now remembered him.

America rubbed his fingers against his brow, sighing more.

"Ok, all I remembered was going to Mexico's with Canada and downing every drink they offered me."

"Was that it?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you called me. You thought I was Germany but called me instead. So I asked where you were and drove over to get you."

"Why didn't you take me to my parents' house?"

"Would you want to show up on your parents doorstep, drunk off your ass?"

"Yeah that's fair."

Russia chuckled, "Trust me, I've had plenty experience. If it makes you feel better, I had Mexico leave them a message saying you were with him. I'm not sure how they still feel about me."

"It's okay. My mom doesn't mind you, and UK's opinion hardly matters anymore."

Russia hummed in acknowledgment. He and America fell into a comfortable silence. Both of them sat at the island in the kitchen. This time, Russia handed him a cup of coffee, which he gladly drank. Russia smiled as he nearly chugged it, and sipped his own.

"So why'd you ever come for me anyways?"

"You sounded like you were going to do something stupid. Plus, I don't really trust you drunk with Mexico."

"Yeah, but...why?"

"It's just that. Couldn't leave you to let yourself get into dumb trouble."

"It's just--"

"What do you want me to say, America? Do you want me to say that I did it to watch you stumbled around and act like an idiot? That I regret going out to get you?"

"Well--" he paused, "no."

"Good. I don't like lying."

America's eyes flickered over Russia's face, and smiled when he found him staring back with a kind expression that was also mostly neutral. The smaller nation smiled at him and sipped his coffee.

"Thank you."

"It's no problem. I thought it was only natural that I'd help you, since we've gotten closer these past few days. I would even say that we're friends now. And from my experience, friends help each other."

Once again, America stared at Russia. This time, his face held on of the most starstruck looks anyone could have. Russia grew flustered under the intense look and coughed awkwardly into his fist, blushing.

"Yeah," America chuckled, "friends help each other. Then thank you again. This time, for being my friend."