wishes // a CH rusame story

#3

Laughter echoed in the kitchen, America sitting at the table in pure embarrassment as he looked over his wheezing brother, tears at the corner of his eyes.
"I can't breathe—" Canada tried to speak, his hand on his stomach to try and calm his euphoria. The American rolled his eyes. "Good. Die. I'll learn not to trust my brother again."

Canada tried to imitate his twin's accent with a grin. "What if I want to touch you Russia~?"

America's face turned red and he buried his head in the sleeves of his sweater. "I get it, that wasn't a good plan, oh my god, leave me alone."

Indeed, he messed up that other day. Not only did he make a fool of himself, practically acting like he wanted to woo the fuck outta Russia but he also practically made his dormmate despise him. He'd bet he was being ignored.

He couldn't even be mad at the guy. He completely destroyed the bit of trust that was forming in their relationship. Everything. Gone.

America turned his head to face his brother, with still the same shitty face-eating grin on his dumb face. He got a pat on the hair in answer to his sigh.

"I thought you were good at making friends Ame."

The grumpy guy frowned his eyebrows. "I'm good at making friends, when those same friends are eager to talk to me." He waved a hand in the air in despair and gave himself a push with the other to stand up. Canada just placed his chin on his palms.

"I still want to be his friend though. God, I'm so dumb." He continued, grunting. "This guy already feels bad enough and I just...made it worse."

The twin nodded, sipping on his glass of coke. "Maybe it wasn't the best option but it's alright, just give it some time, apologise and just learn to talk to him keeping your distance. It should be fine."

America slid to the fridge, opening it to reveal what was left until he grabbed some leftovers and basically threw them into the microwave. "I mean, if he was coming home when I was there, I could. I barely even see him now." He gripped the counter, then slid one of his hands on his forehead.

"We weren't seeing each other much before, but it seems worse." He shrugged, his pupils focused on the food turning. "I don't blame him, I was being a weirdo."

America sat back next to his brother with his hot plate and already opened a big mouth to let a depressing tasteless bite in. "I really suck at cooking, bro."

Canada chuckled for a bit. "That's probably why mom never let you cook by yourself."

The Canadian ruffled his brother's hair and tapped him on the shoulder. "I'm gonna go back to mine's., it's starting to be late. Talk it out with the big guy, alright?" He waved before quickly stepping to the door and softly closing it.

America ate another bite.

Then, the door opened again.

"Did you forget something Can- oh. Russia. Hi." His cheeks darkened as he took an even bigger bite to hide his face. "Sorry I'm eating so late, my brother was hanging out with me." He wiped off his mouth as he saw Russia going one slow step closer to his room.

"No."

Russia was sliding a little bit closer to his own bedroom.

"Russia I'm sorry, please have dinner with me." The tall guy stopped for a bit, his hand reaching for the hem of his pullover.

He dropped his bag in front of the door and looked at America.

"I don't want friends."

America tilted his head on the side. "I think you need a friend."

He then pressed his two indexes together and shyly added. "And I can't cook for shit, I need help."

He looked up for a bit, expecting a pretty negative answer when he encountered a slight, very discreet smile on the other lips. The face quickly turned back to the usual deadpan one though.

America smiled back. "Pretty please?"

Russia finally opened his mouth to let a quick, quiet sentence slip. "No more of that stuff you did the other day?"

"Nope, nothing, zero, nada."

"You won't get close to me?" Russia demanded.

"I can't promis- FINE! No close, no whatever."

The slav then passed his fingers through his hair, letting light blond strands decorate his face. He tied them up into a quick bun. He seemed to be thinking before he approached America, sitting down at the opposite chair of the table.

"Let me taste."

The American winced and pushed the plate towards Russia.  "I'm not sure you wanna taste that..."

Russia shrugged for a bit, putting the food in front of him and pushing the fork into what seemed to be the meat. He quickly placed it in his mouth and started chewing. It took a long minute before Russia swallowed it.

America tilted his head to the side and waited for an opinion of some sort. "Be honest."

The Russia looked at the food, then at him, pushing back the plate a few inches.

"It's disgusting."