Oneshots of Whatever (mainly Countryhumans) (Finished-ish)

70 - *cReAtIvE tItLe*🇷🇺 (Part 2) long boi

First part is #62
I forgot to mention, Soviet's kids' flags are the red and blue ones (idk what they're actually called). Russia's is a thin stripe of blue on the left side with a field of red and a sickle and hammer in the top left corner.
And Russia's young. Like, twelve, maybe.

I was at the table with Britain's family which consisted of a country Father fought with a lot named America, a nice country named Canada, two countries who were obsessed with animals and insects named Australia and New Zealand, and Britain's wife France. I was staring at my plate of food in front of me, my eyes wide at how much food there was.

"And this is for me?" I asked again. "Like, only me?"

Britain nodded, "Yes, son. Eat before it gets cold." I picked up my fork and picked up a piece of mashed white stuff.

"Are you sure I don't have to save it for the rest of the week?" I asked, looking up.

"Poor soul," America said. "Raised under Communism. I promise there will be just as much tomorrow night, and the night after that."

My eyes widened, "Wh—What?!" I looked down at my plate, "This much every night!? I— I— Thank you!" My stomach growled as I took a bite of the mashed stuff. Oh, my God. It was really good! It tasted like the potatoes Ukraine and Belarus make when dad's not home, but better! "What's this?" I asked. "It's really good!"

France smiled, "I'm glad you like it, mon fils (my son)! It's called mashed potatoes. Save some room for dessert!" I smiled and took another bite of these "mashed potatoes".

After the amazing supper was finished, France brought out a tray of bowls. She placed one in front of me and I looked at it. It was a bowl of white stuff with a golden-brown top.

"Rus," America said. I looked up at him. "There's a special way to eat these. Watch carefully." He took his spoon and tapped the outer shell lightly until it broke. Then, he scooped some up and smiled, "Easy!"

I nodded, taking my spoon. I tapped the shell lightly, like America did, and it broke. I smiled and scooped some up, eating it.

"Holy crap!" I said in russian so no one could understand me. "That's so good!"

France smiled, "Again, I'm glad you like it!"

After dessert, Britain told America to bring me to my room and teach me stuff. He said what to teach me, but I wasn't paying attention.

"Okay, little dude," America said, sitting on my bed with a wide selection of books. "I'm gonna be teachin' ya stuff. First, what do ya know already?"

I looked over the books, none of them reminding me of anything. "I know manners," I said, still looking at the books. "Father forced us to learn when we were four, whipping us if we didn't use them. He also made us learn a small bit of English, but I liked learning, so I snuck books into my room. When father found out... It wasn't pretty."

America hummed, like he understood. "I can't say I understand, which I don't. But, you're safe from him here." He pushed a book about history towards me, and said something, but I wasn't listening. I was looking around the room, fidgeting with my hands and swaying slightly.

"Rus!"

America snapped me into the real world.

I flinched, and covered my face, "I'm sorry! I won't zone out again! Don't hurt me!"

America gently put his hand on my back, making me flinch. "No one here will hurt you, Russia."

I looked up at him, "P—Promise?"