Handcuffs (RusAme)

Chapter 12

this will most likely be the last chapter...

sorry...

.

.

.

After the Korean left the room, leaving the dazed american and the russian, Russia being  tomato colored- no, even redder than a tomato- sitting on the floor, a rosy ray of light shone through the window, indicating the night had been replaced by day, and that the next country meeting was now in no less than two days, counting today. Now that the description- which, in my opinion; is confusing as hell- is finished, i have one question...

What the flickering fuck is redder than a tomato?

And dont you dare say fire truck..

or 'petite voiture rouge!'

(sorry, thats a french joke... petite voiture rouge means little red car)

Anyways, carrying on;

America, quite dazed, but having a naturaly flirtatious habit when it came to these sorts of situations, slowly and feebly sat up, ignoring the small protests Russia made using his hands, to hold America down to rest, turned to face Russia, and kissed him.

However, Russia pulled back.

America pouted, clearly sad that Russia didnt kiss him back. He was also sad because a nagging suspicion that Russia had lied (when he admitted he loved him) gained strength.

Russia hesitated, then put his hands on America's cheeks.

Russia pulled the adorable, pouting, face forwards, and eventually, America leaned forwards as well. The American kept leaning forwards until the two' lips met.

Russia had really not expected their first 'real' kiss, where him and America both consented for a kiss, with clear minds and thoughts, to be in his bathroom, with a puddle of water pooled around the two, and maybe- just maybe- a few drops of blood, from former injuries such as scratches that had not been bandaged up yet, on their shirt sleeves and on the pale white bathroom tiles.

But of course, nobody is capable of predicting the future, eh?

And then, when the need of a silly, stupid, idiotic thing called 'air' grew much to strang to resist, the two former enemies pulled away.

Russia was first to speak, of course.

"So... arrre we dating now?"

America, for a change, stared at Russia, calling the Russia an imbecile with his eyes.

"No."

Russia immediately was sad, a sad puppy like frown larger than the universe taking place on his face.

He clearly hadnt caught on to the sarcasm.

"You bitch! Of course we're dating, ya son of a gun!"

Exclaimed America, leaping back on Russia, intiating a round two for kisses.

. two .

. days .

. later .

Heres a quick resume of the events that transpired between those two days:

-tons of kisses

(The kisses had started out with once or twice per hour, and gradually grew to seven or eight per hour, cause Russia hadnt been shown love like this before.)

(Also, Russia was still slightly uncomfortable asking or starting a kiss in a direct manner, so he made up excuses to be kissed, like if he cut his finger on a slip of paper, he would have America kiss him to make him stop complaining and destroying the 'evil' paper, and if he was working, he wouldnt go to bed unless America kissed him. America easily caught on whenever Russia wanted a kiss, and quickly complied, even if their was no request for a kiss made by the russian using words)