Prove Me Wrong (Rusame)

Getting Closer

America's POV

Russia wouldn't let us leave his bedroom. And for all the wrong reasons.

Instead of having fun, we were sitting quietly, keeping a focus on the bedroom door. The sun had risen already, my stomach was grumbling but Russia wouldn't let us leave.

Once he yawned for the fifth time, I sighed and set down my gun. "Russia, you need to sleep."

He didn't answer me and kept his eyes trained on the door. His eyelids hung heavy, darkened circles starting to deepen under his eyes. His gaze was focused but hazy, drifting off but then snapping back into place.

"Russia, " I set my hand down on his arm and he grunted. "Sleep. You need it, look at you."

"I'm fine."

"Russia."

"You sleep. You need it morrre."

Well America, he's got you there. I did feel exhausted, but it was the dumb kind. The kind of tired you feel but as soon as you try to sleep, you suddenly have the energy to run around the world three times and paint Oregon. I was stuck in that. And since we couldn't paint Oregon, I could defiantly watch the door for Russia.

"We alrrready took nap, I'm fine."

"Yeah, but it didn't feel like it."

"Must have voken up durrring RRREM."

"I don't care, you're tired go to sleep." I tried to get him to let go of the gun, but he held his death grip on it. "You cleared the downstairs, didn't you? Maybe whoever came in left. Or maybe there wasn't anyone at all."

"Nyet."

"Russia, we haven't heard anything."

"Zat doesn't mean someone isn't zerrre."

"Dude, you are paranoid."

"Betterrr parrranoid zan dead."

I sighed and hung my head, rubbing my eyes. "Ruski, just fucking sleep. I can keep an ear out."

"Nyet."

"Well, why the hell not?"

Russia glanced down at me and for a moment his stoic expression softened. He looked almost shy and for a moment I remembered him looking down with a shy uncertain expression but as soon as I remembered it faded away.

"I don't vant whoeverrr it is to attack you."

"I'll be fine," I set my hand on his shoulder. "Sleep. You can't help me if you don't help yourself."

"But-"

"No buts, just sleep."

He hesitated, looking down at me and I saw his eyes study mine. He shut them and sighed and I smiled, knowing I had won.

Without words, he laid down and crossed his arms over his chest, holding onto the gun. He grumbled something but I patted his leg and said, "good boy."

For a while everything was quiet. My eyes wandered around the room but after a moment I would look back at the door. Nothing was happening and I knew nothing would. And damn I was hungry. Like really fucking hungry.

When I knew Russia wouldn't wake up, I slowly began to inch my way off the bed. Every time it squeaked, I froze and waited a few minutes then began to try and get up. Once I could I tiptoed to the door, picked up the vase and moved that and the chair somewhere else then left the room as quietly as I could.

"Whoo," I breathed out deeply and walked slowly and lightly down to the kitchen. I didn't know what I wanted to eat, just fucking something. I settled for some weird looking porridge. The box was in Russian and I held it up to my face, trying to make out the words. It was either some oatmeal kind of shit or weird cereal. Either way, I had seen Russia make it once. I'm sure I can do it again.