COUNTRYHUMANS ONESHOTS (COMPLETED)

soviet onion is 12 years old in this oneshot

951 words

9/23/2019

im tired uwu

As per usual, the Soviet Union was dreading Britan's visit to his house. He always hated when the capitalist stuck his nose in things that didn't concern him. But he still prepared food and dinner for him, Britan, and Britan's son. The only reason USSR hadn't turned Britan down was because of his son. He had never met America before and was curious. The country had gained quite a reputation.

"Sir," the Armenian SSR peaked his head into his room. "Britan and America are outside."

"Perfect. Take the kids and go out," USSR said, standing up. He felt excited to finally meet with America. Armenia scoffed before walking down the hallway to the nursery. USSR rushed downstairs. He reached the door, brushed off his medals, and opened the door.

"Hello, USSR," Britan said. The country was still in human disguise, despite USSR's home being in the middle of nowhere. Another country, he assumed America, was in his country form. He had a nice flag.

"Britan," the Union said coldly, still studying America. He was wearing black aviators, despite it being cloudy. Unlike Britan, and most of the allies, he was wearing something from his military. Just a green army jacket, being used more as an accessory than something a soldier would wear. "Come in."

Britan began to talk, and USSR nodded, not caring or paying attention to what Britan was saying. His eyes were fixed on America. He was dressed more like a teenager than a propper adult with a brightly-colored flannel shirt tucked into light blue pants. He had a slim figure, unlike Britan and USSR's, which only added to his childish appearance. It was hard to believe America was older than him.

"Follow me," USSR instructed. The two countries followed him up to his office, where there was paperwork scattered across the room. There were two chairs across from USSR's desk, which was the only moderately clean space in the room due to the large map spread across it. Britan swept a sheet of Nazi propaganda off his chair before sitting down. America followed suit, except he held on to the paper.

"You're probably wondering why we're here," Britan said, coughing to America for assistance.

"Yes," USSR said, moving around the desk to sit down at his chair. Even though he already knew, he might as well humor Britan.

"Well, I- We're here to talk to you about Third Reich's plan to invade you," Britan said. "A few Welsh spies found some interesting information in Germany regarding something called 'Operation Barbarossa'. Nazi is-"

"He isn't stupid enough to attack me," USSR cut off Britan. "He knows he will fail."

"Nazi's becoming cockier," America said. His voice was light and airy, his tone appealing. Soviet could tell he knew how to convince a man just from his voice alone. "He will attack either now or when he gets another ego boost."

"We are allied. He signed a treaty," USSR countered.

"It hasn't been the first time he's broken treaties," America said sweetly. USSR smirked a little.

"Young man!" Britan yelled at America. "Do not speak in that way towards-"

"It's fine," USSR said, returning a smile to the American. He was impressed. Nobody ever dared to talk to USSR like that, but America knew USSR couldn't touch him. If they fought, neither would win. "You two can leave now."

Britan shot a dirty glance towards America before looking back at USSR. "The car won't come back until 2. We'll just stay by the entrance. Come on, America." Britan walked out of the office, motioning for America to follow him.

"I think I'll stay up here and have a smoke with USSR," America said casually. USSR was taken aback. No countries had the guts to so much as talk to him outside of meetings, let alone invite themselves to have a smoke with him. "So," America said, leaning on his desk. "Do you have any cigarettes? Never tried Russian brand stuff."

USSR tossed a box of Sobranie's at America. The country pulled a lighter out of his pocket and lit the end. He puffed out a cloud of smoke. "Not bad for a bunch of Commies." USSR scoffed, lighting his own cigarette. "So, Soviet. Do you think Nazi is going to invade?"

USSR paused, puffing out some smoke. "I don't know. He might."

America chuckled. "He might indeed."

"It's just- damn," USSR sighed, running his hand through his hair. He hated how America made him question his most loyal ally.

America pulled the cig out of his mouth, tossing it carelessly on USSR's desk. "Don't you have colorful shit?"

"That's for women," USSR said, still staring off into space. "None of my girls smoke anyways. We don't have any in the house."

America chuckled. "What a shame. Ever tried one?"

"Hah. No," USSR scoffed. America regarded USSR, watching him look at his ceiling.

"Hey Soviet," America said, moving to USSR's side of the desk. "How do you think the war's gonna go down?"

USSR dropped his cigarette. "I don't fucking know. It's too early to see."

"You're losing," America smirked at USSR.

"Oh?" the Union questioned playfully.

"Sorry Soviet, but someone had to break the bad news," America leaned his elbows on USSR's shoulders, resting his hands on the soft ushanka. America sighed. "I just want this all to be over. I'm so tired."

"You and me both, Ameri," USSR said, resting his head in his hands.

"This is nice, though," America said, pressing closer into him. Soviet practically melted, whether from lack of physical contact or how charming the American was he didn't know. The two stayed like that for a while.

and then they fucking blew up because the author has been working on this for 7 days i need jesus