Prove Me Wrong (Rusame)

Fluff With a Dash of Angst

Warning, I briefly spell-checked this. I'm relying on a very glitchy Grammarly. Watch this have the least amount of mistakes tho.

Narrator's POV

"Stop it don't you dare!"

America grabbed the wheels of his new wheelchair and stopped it at the edge of the stairs. He looked down at the marble steps where the only cushioning would be the thin decorative carpet.

"Vroom vroom motherfuckers," America whispered as he pushed forward.

"Gotcha!"

New Zealand grabbed the back handles of the wheelchair just in time to pull him away from the stairs. He sighed and turned the complaining country around.

"Zeeeeeeee," America whined, his voice quiet and strained. "I want to go downstairs."

"You have to wait, we don't have a way for you to go down the stairs right now, dumbass."

"Yes, you do. Push me down them, you coward."

"You know what I just might."

Despite saying that, Zee continued to walk America to his room. When their mom and he went shopping for a wheelchair for America, they considered getting a motorized one. But, they realized that would lead to more issues when America tried to compensate for his lack of walking with more wheelchair-related hijinks. So, a simple handheld that way they could have some way to physically stop him from doing something stupid.

Like trying to go down the stairs.

"Maybe I should try it backward. It worked for that old lady in Alvin and the Chipmunks."

"She ended up in the hospital."

"So? She still made it to the bottom of rhe stairs."

Zee sighed and wheeled him back into his room. He was supposed to stay there for now anyway. Just until they found a better way for him to properly move around. Australia offered to give him a piggyback ride down the stairs when he needed but he declined. Said something about his dignity like he has any of that left.

"Maybe we should take this as a sign to get a slide next to the stairs."

"Yeah, you'd sooner convince dad to let you bring your birds back."

America sighed and grabbed the wheels and pushed himself to the bedside. Zee let him go and watched him make sure he didn't hurt himself. He could walk slightly, but not well enough to conquer stairs.

To prove his point, America struggled to stand for a moment, his arms shaking as he pushed his body up. He managed to get on his feet for two seconds before collapsing onto his bed. He hated this. He hated this a lot.

"You know, Russia should—" he coughed a few times, tears forming in the corners of his eyes "—he should be here soon. If you want you can check up on Canada. He needs way more help than me, anyway."

"I will, but you both need help," Zee said, grabbing a glass of water and handing it to America. "You more physically than him. He's not bedridden like you."

America didn't respond and just drank from the glass. Out of the two of them, America felt like Canada was the best. He was nicer, seemed happy wherever he was, and everyone in the family let him do his own thing. He wasn't bothered, they just trusted him to not fuck up.

He was the better sibling, essentially.

So what tripped him up was how he got wound up in this curse too. It made sense if it was stuff in the past, Canada was a little monster then. A lot of countries where. It's easy to condemn the actions of the past through the lens of the present. Or maybe that's just an excuse to be rid of the consequences.