Forever | Countryhumans AU | RusAme/AmeRus

17

The four boys trudged into a public restroom with shower stalls, feeling the eyes of the public pinching their backs. America had gotten rid of his stained hoodie, but the bandage that had been wrapped around his shoulder could still be seen peeking out of his shirt.

America adjusted his shirt slightly uncomfortably, picking up his pace. Russia noticed, and moved to block him from the direct view of the public. Canada and Ukraine lagged behind. Canada had decided to keep the axe he found. Since it was kind of small, he could fit it into his bag. Ukraine had passed the rifle back to Russia, and it was now back in its case.

They dumped their bags and other carryon belongings on a wooden bench that was in the middle of the shower section of the restroom. Russia volunteered to watch their stuff and shower later. His offer was met with no resistance as the other three left gratefully to shower, feeling grimy and exhausted.

A few minutes after America and the rest were clothed and dry, Russia emerged from a shower stall, his hair tousled as beads of water slid down his neck and forehead from his wet hair. "Took you long enough..." America's voice trailed off when he looked up at the Russian. 

Russia smirked as America looked down at the floor and twiddled his thumbs in his lap. Russia continued drying his hair with the towel in his hands while a blush crept steadily onto America's face. Beside him, Canada and Ukraine snickered. "Shut up," America hissed, punching his brother softly on the arm.

"OoooOOOOoh," Canada ignored America's request, raising an eyebrow and teasing his brother. Ukraine laughed even harder, his face turning redder and redder from laughter. The smirk on Russia's face grew wider as he leaned forward and pecked a kiss on America's forehead.

Ukraine stopped laughing and Canada stared at the two of them. "Wait... wait, what? You guys are together?" Canada asked, his voice unintentionally high-pitched.

America cleared his throat and Russia half-smiled. "Um, yes." America admitted, scratching his neck. 

"AYYY, CONGRATS!" Canada yelled, pounding America and Russia on the back. America winced and exhaled, thanking his older brother. Russia tried out a small smile. "I thought, for a moment... I really thought..." America laughed.

"You thought I'm homophobic and wouldn't accept you?" Canada howled with laughter, clutching his stomach. "Of course I'd accept you! My people literally legalised same-sex marraige!"

"Well..." America chuckled sheepishly. Russia chortled as he folded up his towel and kept it in a plastic bag. "Let's go," he said, putting his ushanka back on his head. 

The four boys walked out together, feeling much cleaner and fresher, to find a clothing store of some sort.

"You might want to lose that ushanka of yours," America said. "Why?" Russia grumbled, sulking. "Because," Canada sighed, with the same calm mein of a teacher explaining to a child that two plus two is four, not two, "It's very obvious and you'd be easily identified wearing it."

"Fine." Russia gave in, snatching a black cap off the rack and swapping it for his ushanka. "Better?" he asked, scrutinising himself in the mirror. "Yes, thank you," Ukraine huffed. Although he'd rather wear his ushanka, Russia thought that the cap was pretty okay. 

"I think," America stopped, choosing a white hoodie and a blue T-shirt, "It's best to hide,"

Another pause as he grabbed a hat and placed it on his head. "In plain sight."

"Dramatic much?" Canada snorted, taking a black hoodie and white T-shirt for himself. "Haha, yes," America retorted sarcastically. They headed for the counter once Ukraine had taken his pick — a grey turtleneck — Canada and America still bickering.

The cashier barely looked up at them as he scanned item after item, placing them into a plastic bag. When he passed them their clothes, he looked up at them. "Miłego dnia! Have a nice day!"

Russia reached for the plastic bag. "Спасибо, thank you and you too." Then, turning to the pair of arguing twins, "C'mon you two, let's go."

America stopped long enough to glance at the cashier. "Poland? You work here?" The cashier — Poland asked in return: "America? Canada? Yeah, I work here part-time. I haven't seen you and your brother in school for quite a while. What happened?"

"We're..." America hesitated, looking for the right word to say. "Kind of on the run from our parents. Me, Canada, Russia, Ukraine. How have you and Germany been?"

"I see... Niemcy and I have been doing well, thank you! How about you? You guys look a bit battered up." Poland replied, looking the four boys up and down, especially America. America unconsciously rubbed his injured shoulder. "We'll be fine."

"You guys need somewhere to stay as of now?" Poland offered. "You guys can stay over at my apartment."

"That would be nice, but it may put you in harm's way," Canada cautioned and America nodded in agreement with Canada. "Are you sure about your decision?"

Poland nodded confidently. "It's alright, I live alone anyways, some company would be nice. I'll bring y'all there. My shift is ending in five minutes, anyway. Meet at the café nearby?"

"Alright, see ya later." America said, as another customer joined the queue, leaving the store with the rest. 

Five minutes later, the four boys had changed into their new outfits and Russia had bought a newspaper from a stand. "Anything interesting in the news?" America asked, peering over his shoulder. He couldn't understand the majority of it as it was in Russian. 

"Can't you understand Russian?" Russia inquired, surprised. America shook his head. "I can only understand a bit, since a very small percentage of my citizens are Russian."

"I see. To answer your question, no, there isn't anything worthy of interest. They're just about politics and some other local scoops." Russia said, closing the newspaper and folding it neatly on his lap.

"Hey! Sorry to keep y'all waiting," Poland apologised, hurrying over towards them. He was still in his work clothes, but his name badge wasn't on his shirt anymore. "Let's head over to the taxi stand, Germany'll be picking us up. He usually brings me to and from work, I'm sure he'll be alright ferrying y'all as well. Besides, we're all headed to the same place anyway."

"Germany has a car?" Russia asked, incredulously. "Third Reich allows it?" Poland flinched violently, almost knocking into some other shoppers. Russia extended an arm to stabilise Poland. "I'm sorry, I forgot, I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologise, it's just trauma, I'll have to get over it one day—" 

"Don't say that like it was a small incident, because it wasn't! Trauma's difficult to get over, it's not 'just trauma'!" America interrupted the Polish indignantly.

"Yeah, I... I shouldn't have said it like that, I'm sorry," Poland cringed, letting his hand touch his wings, almost gingerly. Although the white feathers hid it, there were long scars where his wings and back connected. Disturbing memories of his torn and broken wings flashed through his mind and he winced.

"No, no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been so abrupt on that topic—" America started.

"Germany moved out... Speak of the devil, he's here." Poland cut across, marching towards a black Volkswagen that just pulled up. Canada patted his twin brother softly on his shoulder as he passed while Ukraine shrugged at Russia and America.

"Give him some time," Ukraine suggested softly to them as he clambered into the car, Russia and America following awkwardly soon after.