Manpower [Russia x Reader Fluff]

The Meeting... and the Kids Too...

Russia and I waited outside the large wooden double-door entrance to the Imperial Throne Room. On the other side of the closed doors, His Majesty Czar Nicholas and his wife, Queen Alexandria, were waiting for us. Russia stood almost completely still, but his gloved fingers were fidgeting --rubbing against each other and twitching. He was nervous. He had a good reason to be, but that reason was out of its time. Russia had no reason to fear this king, but here he was, stopped just before the closed doors of the throne room. He lowered his head, cleared his throat, and took a deep breath. He was waiting for something, a signal of some sort, perhaps, or, he just needed some reassurance from a friend.

"Why do you stall?" I asked him, looking up at him.

He turned to look me in the eye. "Stalling?" he repeated. "I am not--"

I cut him off, not taking any bullshit excuses from anyone. "Yes you are. What's the matter?"

He sighed, his eyes closing and brows knitting together. "You know me," he said under his breath. "Ever since Ivan the Terrible I've hated my rulers."

"You've been afraid of them," I corrected him. I reached upwards and adjusted his collar. "Russia, he can't do anything to you. Just go in there and talk to him."

"It's obvious he wants to speak of the current rebellion," Russia stated.

"Then speak your mind. They're your people, not his, and whatever you think is best for the rebels is what he should think too." I snuck a hand to the back of Russia's neck and pushed down on him lightly, bringing his face closer to mine as I stood up on my tiptoes. I picked the tip of his nose gently. "You'll be fine," I whispered to him.

Russia sighed and looked at me with fear still embedded in his bright lilac eyes. There was nothing wrong with him being afraid. After all, ever since Ivan the Terrible's cruelty and abuse to the poor country, Russia had always been uneasy around his Czars. He placed two hands on my waist and supported me as I stood on my tiptoes. "You know, only two types of people scare me," he whispered, just barely being able to hide the tremors in his voice, "Czars and little sisters." 

I rolled my eyes. "Belarus is unimportant at this moment," I told him.

"I know, but--" I cut him off by pushing against his neck a second time and pressing my lips against his to shut him up and calm his nerves.

I know I mentioned that I love all the countries, and it's true, I do, but Russia is the only one that I've ever kissed with passion. Sure, I've given France a peck on the lips ever now and then along with Veneziano and Romano, and Britain has received a few cheek kisses from me, but Russia has been the only one that I've ever kissed so often with so much passion. Why this country specifically? He was lonely and loveless. Russia and I are not in a relationship, but we do kiss each other. (I'm not saying I wouldn't enjoy making out with him, however. I'm still hoping for the day when we can do that.)

When we pulled apart, Russia's eyes were calmed and rid of the fear they had previously held. "Spasiba, krasavitsa ," he whispered against my lips, his eyes closing. (Thank you, beautiful) 

"Don't thank me," I told him, my right hand caressing his face. His eyes opened as I patted his cheek and cocked my head towards the door. "Go. They're waiting," I added.

Russia looked towards the door, then stood to his full height of 5' 11" and reached a hand out to the door, ready to push it open.  He hesitated, then turned to look at me. With his left hand, the hand closest to me, he reached out to me. With a gentle smile, I took his hand and he brought it to his lips, gently kissing my fingers.

"Before we go in, I want you to know how beautiful you look," he told me with a smile. I blushed, not feeling very beautiful. All I was wearing was a plain teal skirt and white blouse with a matching teal tie around my collar.