In The Trees

He Hates Tea

"Can I help you?" A gruff voice says behind me. I quickly spin around, the room wobbling along. I see Russia standing in the doorway of what I now realize is Russia's room. 

"There is no help for me, that's what my dad always said" I say with a chuckle, my words slurring. Russia sighs, waking toward me and holding out his hand for me. I push his hand away. I didn't need any help. I'm independent now. I walk past Russia and turn around.

"I'm really okay, perfectly sober!" I say with a chuckle and turn around, the world spinning for a moment. I try to focus on one thing, but everything looks as smudged as my thoughts do. Where was I again? I must be at home, where else would I be?

"Америка, let me help you." Great Britain says. I ignore the fact my dad is speaking Russian and that his voice is so low

"I don't need help, dad" I say to him, the last word with as much sarcasm and anger as I can muster. He looks at me, confused. His flag looks awfully strange... ah, Australia must've pranked him. I let out a chuckle,

"Good one, Aussie" I say and the ground starts getting bigger. Huh, weird. I feel my feet leave the ground and I look up to see my father. Wait that's not my dad. Oh, wait, I'm at Russia's house. My bad. Russia mumbles something about idiots and lightweights, his face slightly red. He then places me on the couch.

"Go sleep, Америка. You are going to feel bad in morning" he says and turns to walk off

"Wait" I say, impulsively. He turns and looks at me "uh, hi" I say. Russia grunts and turns away.

"Russia!!" I say and Russia turns to me, annoyed "Can you tell me a story?" Russia looks at me, very annoyed.

"нет." Russia says and turns away again. 

"Wait!!!!" I say and Russia turns back at me, agitation clear on his face.

"What?" He asks, anger in his voice, but I ignore it.

"Then I will tell you a story. Of why I ran away" Intrigue overthrows Russia's agitation, and he sits down next to me. I start the story.

lol now it's gonna be some 3rd pov, because I don't know what drunk people think about ok let's go

America remembered little of what he said, but now he was crying into Russia's shoulder, saying something about tea. Russia just sat there awkwardly. He was still soaking in the fact a drunk American just spewed out his life story like it was water in a water gun, and that said American was now crying on him, mumbling about how he hated Britain and his tea.

"Tea is just hot leaf water! I hate it! Why does he love it so much!" America says, bawling and clinging onto Russia's arm. Russia just stared at him. It had been 30 minutes, and Russia was counting down the seconds for America to be sober enough to stop crying.

"Ruski, do you like tea?" America asks, his words slurred and between sobs. Russia didn't know how to respond. He had never really had tea, but he also didn't want to offend the currently not emotionally stable America.

"No. I hate tea." Russia says bluntly and America smiles.

"I knew it! Tea suuuuuuuucks" America says and tightens his hug on Russia's arm.

"Russ, I really like you," America says, crying again, "You're just so handsome!"

Russia feels his face heat up. 'he's joking, he must be joking, that's a joke, he doesn't like me, he's drunk and I'm not gay, he doesn't look cute- where did that thought come from?! How would father think!' Russia thinks and looks away from the American.