Black Coffee :|: America x Russia :|: Countryhumans

Act I, Chapter Twelve

Once again, Google Translate co-wrote this and it's probably wrong :D

Also, you guys better be happy cus not ONLY is this chapter out early, it's super long 

I feel like I need to show my appreciation for all the nice stuff you've been commenting :)

Also go check out  DatSmolBeanTho their RusAme books are so awesome and they deserve more credit!

Even though one of their books has like 4.5K views lol

Super excited for Football or Football btw!!! Gonna be AWESOME

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America grumbled to himself as he struggled to pop out his contacts. They were uncomfortable and itchy – but necessary. No matter how much he resented his father, he wore them for his sake. Well, not really; he just knew he'd get a whole lecture if he wore his sunnies. Why did it even matter? They were comfy and helped him hide, so what if they were informal?

But of course, formalities were everything to his father. Throughout his entire childhood, probably half of his memories consisted of stuffy suits and ballroom dancing. But he was lucky, he supposed – Canada was the one Britain always showed off. He usually just sat in the corner chatting with his sisters or pulling pranks with Australia while New Zealand covered for them by distracting their parents.

Good times.

A vivid memory for him was the first time he laid eyes on New Zealand – or Kiwi, as she preferred to be called – and Australia after their "transformations". As identical twins, Australia and Kiwi were naturally difficult to tell apart, and it was always frustrating for anyone who wasn't family or close friends to attempt to find the differences. They took great joy in pranking the hell out of everyone at school – students, teachers, even the principal. They would pretend to be the other or swap classes they didn't like or even swap test results if one of them really bombed an exam. By the time the girls were teenagers, the "individuality phase" really hit hard. The two of them went to a tattoo parlor and got their flags redesigned: Kiwi filling in her Southern Cross stars with red, leaving white outlines, and Australia adding an extra star – the Federation star – for each of her states and territories (clearly taking some inspiration from her big brother, America always assumed proudly). It was considerably jarring to see the two looking so dissimilar after years of matching flags.

Plus, America lost his bragging rights of being able to tell the two apart.

But they were happy, so he was happy for them.

Speaking of the two, America hadn't seen either of his sisters that night, and he was starting to get worried. He really missed them and their jokes, especially Kiwi since they weren't really close enough to warrant more than a monthly phone call and obligatory birthday money. Maybe after his little tantrum he would go inside and go searching around for them.

America sighed, basking in the glow of the moon as he leaned on the thick stone balcony railing. Perhaps he was being too childish; throwing tantrums and stuff. He watched his (well really Russia's) champagne glass as it danced gracefully with his fingers on its circular foot, twirling and pirouetting.

He should go back inside.

But as the breeze caressed his face with gentle compassion and the stars twinkled comforting words, America felt less and less inclined to return to the party. No need to rush right? The scenery and atmosphere were calming to say the least, and he really needed to focus on something other than the stupid headache he had developed from the bright yellow lights of the ballroom.