Rusger Oneshots

Minishots in a Oneshot

A few stories that I thought of that's not big enough to have their own oneshot so I stuffed them together :D

Options include: A Russian's Tale of Biting a Bear in the Butt, Russia and America Bonding Moment? In This book?, and "Okay. Language competition, right now, go."

They're all fluff I swear, with a mild splash of crack-

Although the first one brings back Russia's military past

It may be sad but without it we all wouldn't have our big buff rough and tough Russian it's essential to his character in my headcanon 

Blatant excuse to give him experience in weapons to be badass as well *wink wink*

Also it's a callback to an incorrect quote I did a long time ago so yes :D

(Additional quip I have from the last two chapters-)

Russia, after the wholabang that is his trauma: Oh emotional support ushanka we're really in it now

Also, would you guys like another oneshot of fluff first, or a oneshot titled Reunion, where Russia and Germany meet again in 1992 ;)

Okay I hope you enjoy reading!!

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A Russian's Tale of Biting a Bear in the Butt

I need to pee. But it's also cold as hell outside. But I really got to to go, but it's cold as hell outside. It's cold as hell outside, but I got to go. Did I drink too much vodka? Not enough definitely, it's still cold as hell outside.

Russia, or teenage RSFSR back then, roughly around the physical age of eighteen or nineteen, yanked off his blanket and wriggled out of his military-supplied heat-insulating sleeping bag, grumpily stomping (But not too grumpily or else he'll wake the other twenty soldiers he was sharing a tent with) out into night-time Siberia, in several inches of heavy snow, shoving his hands into the heavy jacket he had slept in and already missing the warmth of his sleeping bag.

Igor had better not bought the watered down vodka, not after we pooled so much money together to get some. I put nearly 40 rubles into that. This better be the real deal stuff, RSFSR continued to grumble to himself, even though he was quite visibly swaying on his feet and obviously not thinking very clearly, after drinking far more than the recommended amount for a teenager, countryhuman or not.

Siberia was cold as hell and he'll going to have to get used to it for the next 12 weeks because he thought it would be a good idea to sign up for military training a couple of years ago. It was still a pretty good idea, but he was slowly starting to reconsider after nearly getting frostbite twice last week. Either way, he's here now and at the edge of the forest further away from the camp where he wouldn't be disturbed.

It wasn't so much of a forest, more of many sticks of black trunks that maybe might be alive trees. He went about his business and was investigating what he thought was perhaps a pinecone in the dark when the sound of a branch snapping made him look up.

Head foggy from what was definitely Not the vodka, he narrowed his eyes in annoyance and turned towards the direction of the noise, squinting as he tried to see through the darkness of the forest.

"Igor, this better be not one of your stupid tricks." He said loudly in Russian, voice just slightly slurred (See? He wasn't That drunk), and cupped his hands over his eyes to hopefully see better. There wasn't a reply, and in its foggy state his mind started to wander.