Forever | Countryhumans AU | RusAme/AmeRus

1

"What's up? I'm America. I saw you sitting alone, so I decided to come over and join you." Russia looked up from his book to see another tri-coloured country peering at him. He ignored America and went back to his book. He was perfectly alright with being alone. After all, he almost never interacted with anyone. America frowned when he realised Russia was ignoring him.

"So.. I suppose you're Russia?" America prompted. Russia stopped reading long enough to reluctantly grunt a yes. America smiled slightly. "What are you reading, Rus?"

Russia almost dropped his book. Nobody ever dared to call him "Rus" before. People rarely talked to him, and even lesser people addressed him with his name. "What did you just call me, Amerika?"

America bit his lip. Did he offend Russia or touch a nerve? Good job, Ame. You just potentially nuked a friendship, he thought. I'd be lucky if Russia didn't hate me for that. "I... I called you Rus... Sorry if that touched a nerve, I didn't mean it." America tried explaining. He was pretty sure he screwed up, big time.

"It didn't. It's just that no one has ever called me that before." Russia muttered, turning back to his book. "You're not mad at me?" America asked cautiously. Russia paused. "No. I'm not."

"Can we be friends?"

Russia knew his father disapproved of Britain's family, but then his father also never told him not to talk to them. It was just disapproval. His father didn't really care about him anyway. What could go wrong?

"Sure."

"I made a new friend today." America declared over dinner. "He's taller than me and quiet."

Canada, his older brother, snorted. "Who isn't taller than you?" That earned him a glare from the American. "Well, Phil and Japan isn't. Why do you have to hurt me with your words?" America laughed, then fake pouted.

"Well, shall I use knives then?" Canada replied, holding up his steak knife and grinned. The two brothers and their two younger siblings, Australia and New Zealand, chortled as Canada went back to attacking his steak. "So, tell me more about your new friend," France asked, not unkindly.

"Well, he's tri-coloured, and he has a funny sort of accent. He calls me 'Amerika' but I don't mind. He also wears this funny fur hat on his head," America continued. Britain stopped short in his meal. Could it be? No, he would never send his child to the same school as his own children, would he?

Britain cleared his throat. "What's his name, son? When you were talking about your new friend, I thought of some people but I couldn't pinpoint anyone." He was lying to himself. He knew who exactly he was thinking about, and yet he didn't want to believe in it. He wanted to pretend that everything was alright. He needed to hear the name for himself.

America chewed thoughtfully on his food. "Let me try to recollect his name... yes, his name is Russia. I called him Rus and-"

America was cut off from the sound of his father's utensils dropping on the plate. UK's face was contorted in something that looked like rage and disbelief. "Russia? As in Soviet's oldest son?"

"Well, yes. What's wrong, Dad?" America paused, and looked at Canada, hoping for clarification. "What's wrong with being friends with Soviet's oldest son? What's wrong with Russia?"

For a while, Britain said nothing. He looked at his half-eaten meal, thoughts racing through his mind. What were the chances of Russia being in the same school as his four kids? America looked at his younger siblings, hoping they had the answer. Australia shook his head while New Zealand shrugged. France kept her eyes down. She'll let her husband answer America.

"Stay away from Soviet's family. You hear me? Don't try to befriend them. This means all of you kids."

Canada frowned. Did that mean he couldn't even talk to Ukraine? "Why?" America demanded. "It's not like Russia'll kill us all or something! Why can't I befriend him? He's a nice person!"

"Don't you question me, young man. I'm doing what I feel is best for all of you. I'm doing this for all of you." Britain growled.

"What you feel... like how you felt that you wouldn't lose colonies like Singapore and the rest of Malaya to the Japanese Empire during WWII?" Britain flinched as if America had hit him with his fists. "How is isolating us from them helping us?" America asked angrily.

Before Britain could open his mouth to reply, America pushed away his plate and stood up from the dining table. "I'm full. I'm going to my room to finish my homework." He turned his back on his father and walked back to his room without looking back.

"Come, Rover." America commanded, patting his thigh. The American Staffordshire Terrier obeyed, padding over silently to his master and following him to his room.

America collapsed onto his bed and sighed. Why did his father seem to need to control every aspect of his life? He wasn't a little kid anymore, he could do things himself! It wasn't fair, but when has things ever been fair when he was with his father? America thought bitterly, stroking Rover's grey head.

He could hear his parents talking at the dining table. He couldn't hear his siblings, so he assumed that Canada had left with Australia and New Zealand, probably to help them with their homework. He caught some phrases and words, and he listened carefully, hoping to find out why his father was forcing them to stay away from Russia and his family.

"...Russia...Soviet Union...son...kids..."

"...think...too harsh..."

"...it's what's best..."

America gritted his teeth and resisted the temptation to go back to the dining table to argue about how what his father was doing wasn't "what's best" at all.

"...still...should explain...maybe apologise..."

"...I don't know...okay..."

After a few seconds, the American heard the noise of the dining table's chairs scraping the floor and footsteps walking towards his room's closed doors. 

"Ame? Son?" He heard his father's weary voice, accompanied by some soft knocks on the door. He knew his father wasn't here to admonish or lecture him, but America tensed up and stayed silent. He wasn't in the mood to talk to his father right now. He was still upset and angry at what his father had ordered.

Britain stayed outside of his son's door for a minute or so, and after hearing no response from America, decided that he was probably sleeping early, and left.

America was wide awake and listened to the sound of his father walking away from his bedroom. He sighed again, stood up from his bed, and hugged Rover before switching off the lights in his room. 

Being the rebellious person America was, he knew he didn't give a shit about what Britain said. He was still going to befriend Russia. His father wasn't going to stop him; he'd only listen to his father's command about staying away from Russia when hell freezes over.