That's not me in the mirror (RusAme)

Valentine Day Special//Chapter 19

oof this is late-

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America waited till he was certain Russia was asleep, which was at around midnight.Then, he got up from the couch, and explored till he found the kitchen. America looked through the cabinets and drawers until he found everything he needed. Next, he began his work, or as his mother, France, or brother, Canada, would call it: His chef d'oeuvre.

Russia was sleeping peacefully, and only woke up at around 11 am, the blow on his head having slightly affected his sleeping schedule. He walked downstairs, one hand clutching his head, his eyes blinking groggily. Just as he was about to enter the kitchen, a very busy looking America shooed him away. Russia groaned, confused, and walked to the couch,  and sat on it, resting his head on his hand. America brought him a sandwich, accompanied by a bottle of vodka.

After Russia had eaten the sandwich, he decided to take a small nap. America smiled, because this was a slight advantage to is plan. America checked in with Russia's siblings to make sure he had gotten the food and all ready, just the way Russia like his food. He texted Ukraine, who responded with an affirmative answer. And, when Ukraine asked for information on Canada, nothing to personal, he willingly answered, seeing as Ukraine had helped him.

When Russia woke up, he found himself sitting at a table with tons of food. How he got there, he didn't know. But, looking up, across the table, he saw America dressed up as 'fancy' possible with a hoodie and other casual clothes. He pulled it off rather well. 

America was starring at Russia.

"Food!' America gleefully exclaimed, proud of his hard work.

Russia looked at America in astonishement.

"How-"

America frowned.

''No questions. Eat." America tried saying in a commanding tone, obviously failing. Russia shrugged, and took some of the food.

Russia devoured the food, wondering how in the world America knew how to make customary russian foods.

After eating some food politely, and also cause it was well cooked, Russia spoke up. This time America didn't interrupt him though.

"Why did you make this food? And why particularly food I like, and usually eat?"

America grinned.

"Yeah... Ya know, since we're back in our own bodies? I decided to do a 'celebratory feast' "

Russia nodded in understanding, still not clear on the how though. America wouldn't respond to how, and so the two ate.

.-. timeskip .-.

Once done eating, Russia had insisted on doing the dishes, so America let the russian do the chore. Once done, Russia walked back to where he had eaten, and caught America half-way asleep, yawning as if his life depended on it. The russian sighed, and picked up America, and instead of walking to the couch to let the american sleep there, the slav walked to his room and set America an his red-blue-white bed.

America tugged on Russia's arm, hsving suddenly grabbed it, and so, Russia ended up in the bed too, the pitter-patter of the rain creating some sort of soothing melody, and America snuggled up tight, head buried in Russia's chest, who, speaking of which, was going though a mental combat. One side said; 'i love america' and the other side said; 'get away from me, or im going to murder you!".

Finally, Russia decided to say, on that day of February the 14th, as he was falling asleep;

"Я чертовски люблю тебя, Америка" (Google translate//Russian: I fucking love you, America)