A/N: I felt like there wasn't enough actual rusame content in the first part, so there's more here.
Enjoy!
~~~
Russia was sitting on the couch in his home, mindlessly watching Peppa Pig, not really paying attention, but just needing something to focus on.
"Russia! I'm back!"
"Hey Bela," he replied monotonously.
"Look who I ran into at the store!"
Russia didn't look up, at first, but the sound of other voices alerted him.
When he peeked over the back rest of the couch he was greeted by the smiling faces of England and America.
"Howdy, Ruski!"
"Hello, Russia."
"...Hi."
"What nice people, they helped me with my groceries. I invited then for dinner, isn't that fun?"
Russia narrowed his eyes, "aces."
Satisfied with that answer, she went into the kitchen to start preparing the meal. England and America went in to help her.
Not wanting to be the odd man out, Russia got off his ass and joined them in the kitchen.
America was sitting at the island, chopping vegetables. Russia sat next to him.
"Want to help, Russia?"
"Hm? Sure," he shrugged.
Belarus gave him some meat to cut and put some water to boil. England peeled the vegetables and handed them to America.
It was going pretty well, until Russia cut his finger. He was getting up to wash it off until America grabbed his arm and pulled his hand towards him.
And kissed his fucking finger.
What in the name of Pangea was he fucking...? What!?
Russia couldn't think of any way to react, but it didn't last long enough for him to. America licked the blood off his lips and smirked.
Fucking. Smirked.
"You should put a bandage on that," he said.
"A bandage...?" Belarus perked up, turning around, "Oh! Russia! You cut yourself? Here, let me get you something. It doesn't look big. Just wash it off and you'll be fine!"
"...uh...uh-huh," Russia barepy mumbled, still really confused.
America, meanwhile, had gone back to innocently chopping potatoes. England hadn't looked up the whole time, not paying attention to anything.
So Russia rinsed his finger under the water, and Belarus put a small band-aid on him.
When Russia sat down again, America didn't do anything. He just smiled and cut, like he hadn't put Russia's finger on his goddamn mouth. And Russia couldn't get around that. Should he just let it go? But why the hell...?
"Amerika?"
"Yeah?"
"What," he gulped and whispered lowly, "why'd you do that?"
America shrugged, "I don't know what you mean, Ruski."
"Yes you do," Russia frowned, "you just kissed my finger!"
"Can't say I recall, but sure, bud," America feigned confusion.
Russia slammed his knife into the cutting board, "Pangeadamnit, Amerika! You know good and well what you did, just admit it," Russia was growing increasingly frustrated with the Westerner's denial.
"Jeez, chillax, Big Guy! I don't know what you're getting so worked up about," America said calmly.
England started paying attention, and Belarus glanced over her shoulder, but neither said a word.
Russia was already standing. He stamped his foot and grabbed America by the front of his shirt, pulling him in close and growled in his face.
America gulped as his face got warm, but he held that cocky look.
"If you two are going to fight, do not do it in here. Go into the living room," Belarus said sternly and pointed out the door.
Russia dropped America's shirt and grumbled, walking out. America brushed himself off and followed. England rolled his eyes.
Belarus took over the left behind vegetables and meat. She grumbled as she cut and chopped.
"Honestly, sometimes, I feel like the older sibling."
In the living room, Russia had gone back to watching cartoons, although he was much more grumpier about it.
America hadn't sat down yet, standing a little ways away from the couch, closer to the kitchen door. He stared at the back of Russia's ushanka-clad head, and sighed.
Then he got another "genius" idea.
He walked up behind the couch, and shifted to a fox, standing on the backrest. Smoothly, he climbed down Russia's shoulders and down into his lap.
"What now?"
"Just getting comfy," America said.
"Not like this, you aren't."
"No? Would you prefer me like this?" America changed back, sitting up in Russia's lap now.
"I meant not in my lap. Get off."
America tapped his chin, "hmm, nope! I like it here."
"What is it with you and crawling all over people? You just sit wherever you damn well please."
"You damn right I do," America said smugly.
"I don't like it, get off,"
"Aw, but Russkiiii," America purred, "I like it here. Don't push me away, hon."
Russia shoved him off his lap.
America fell on his butt. His head shot up to look at Russia, offended(and maybe a little hurt). Russia snickered.
He changed back to a fox and shook himself off, before throwing his head up snootily and walking over to a spot far away from Russia to pout.
"Aw, don't be like that, hon!" Russia teased.
"No talk me," America huffed.
Russia clicked his tongue," Oh shut up, get over here."
"No."
"Amerika, c'mon."
"...."
Russia rolled his eyes, got up, and walked over to the upset fox. He picked him up, and America immediately tried thrashing around.
"No! Let me gooooo!"
"C'mon you baby, you're not hurt."
America tried clawing him, so Russia changed to a bear and flopped on the couch gain, crushing America under his large, furry body.
"Damn it, Russia! Get off! You're fat!"
"Words hurt, Meri," Russia faked a pout.
Russia rolled over so he could hold America on his belly, and wrapped his arms around the squirming fox. They were heavy enough to keep him down.
Eventually, America gave up the fight and relaxed. But he was still kind of upset.
"You're just an overgrown baby, aren't you, Meri?"
"No, I'm not!" America denied, "You're really mean."
"I told you politely not to sit on me, didn't I?"
"Didn't have to push me, though."
"Well, you got what you wanted, didn't you?"
~~~
A/N:
England - red squirrel
UK - lion(he wasn't even mentioned, but this is to clear up that England and UK aren't the same person)
