Drabbles And Things

Don't It Hurt, Honey? 2

Desc: A continuation of my last Rusger story, because I had a lot of fun with it. Honestly, I love unrequited Rusger. This one has America being a supportive stepfather hehe....(Yes this is within my LJBH universe.)

Russia had managed to calm his sobs down enough that he looked presentable. Outside, he had the same cold exterior he usually did, but inside he was falling apart. Piece by piece, shard by shard. He had no doubt that Poland would say yes, and that the next time he'd see Germany he'd hear of nothing but Polen Polen Polen.

God, Russia wanted a hug. From his father specifically, but Soviet was back home at his dacha. He hadn't been allowed to come to this meeting in Switzerland, deemed unnecessary because he couldn't affect world politics. That was all fine and dandy, if it wasn't for the fact that Russia felt like he was dying.

He sighed and walked back into the Embassy building, his only intention to grab his stuff and leave for the nearest bar. He didn't want to talk to anyone, lest someone say something of him.

It was easy to avoid people when they avoided you first. Russia was a tall, imposing power, made even scarier by his nuclear arsenal capabilities. People avoided him for fear of starting a conflict. He didn't mind, but sometimes the terrified looks stung. More than he'd like to admit.

When Russia entered the office, he'd expected it to be empty. Instead, he was greeted by America, who waved from his seat at the round table. His MacBook was open on the table, glasses sliding down his face. "Oh, hey Russ- Is everything okay?"

Russia shook his head. He'd been trying to be more open with America since him and Soviet had gotten married, but it was hard. "I don't want to talk about it."

America seemed to sense that this was a lie and gestured at his briefcase, which was on the floor. "I've got a small bottle of brandy. Wanna share?"

The word share had a double meaning and Russia knew that, but the prospect of alcohol without attracting stares was too much. He sat down across from his stepfather, and they took turns passing the bottle back and forth. They sat in thick silence, America typing rapidly on his laptop. How Russia had ever thought he was lazy was a mystery. The man threw himself into his work, ever the workaholic.

Russia grimaced. He didn't want to think about workaholics, specifically a German one. Not now. He took another swig of the brandy, relishing the warmth it brought.

America shut his MacBook with a snap. "Alright, what's wrong?" He said, voice soft with paternal concern.

"I..." Russia hesitated, unsure of how to word things in English. It seemed easier to talk about his problems in his native tongue, so that's what he did. "I've had feelings. For Germany. For a long time. I've never...I don't know, never acted? But today he told me he's asking Poland on a date and I just...I don't know, I wish he wasn't."

America nodded, and to Russia's surprise, responded in Russian just as good as his. Honed in to perfect syntax and grammar, almost surgical. "I understand. Unrequited feelings are hard. Unfortunately there's nothing you can do."

"I know, I just...I want him so bad it hurts. I've been so kind to him for years, even when we were kids. Why can't he like me?" Russia cried, pawing at the tears that had somehow escaped.

He reached for the brandy, but to his dismay, America confiscated it and put it away. His stepfather gave an apologetic shrug, eyes soft with sympathy. "Sorry, your father would kill me if he knew I let you drink at work. I can't have you getting drunk."

America paused, reaching across the table for Russia's hand in a fatherly gesture. Russia wasn't sure how to feel about it. It was nice, but foreign, like a new car. "Look, Russia, if it's been so long and he doesn't like you back, he just doesn't. I know I'm being blunt here and I'm sorry. But you should tell him. It does no good keeping feelings like that bottled up. God knows I did that for decades."

"But you're married to him now. If I tell Germany, I'll just get my heart broken even more."

America sighed. "I know, but if you keep the feelings bottled they'll explode in more harmful ways. Just...tell him. Doesn't have to be now, but soon. I don't want to see you hurting yourself."

Russia paused at that, surprised. He'd never thought that America cared. It was nice. Sure, him and America had always bickered. He'd been hesitant when Soviet asked Russia if it was okay to marry him. Had he wanted the greedy, slimy pig in their family? No. But he'd said yes, to make his father happy, and he was glad he did. America was so much more than he let on. He was caring, if blunt. He was a great cook, and an even better stepfather, caring for each of Soviet's kids as if they were his own.

"I...I'll tell him. I don't know when, but I will." Russia murmured. The thought of telling Germany was terrifying, a bolt of fear in his heart. Was he scared of getting rejected? Or was he scared of the opposite, of being accepted?

America smiled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Slight crow's feet wrinkles. America was an older country, but it was still strange to see him with the slight crow's feet and the slight laugh lines. Evidence of age shining through. He wasn't that old, but he'd been letting his appearance age to more match that of his husband's. It was odd to think of America as a married, older man. Russia had always seen him as closer to his age.

"I'm here for you, okay? If you need help again I'm right here." America said, tousling Russia's ushanka.

"Thank you," Russia said, staring at the table. "It means a lot to me."

"Of course. I'm always here for you."

Russia smiled, feeling better than he had for weeks. Maybe having America in the family wasn't that bad.

All he had to do now was confess his feelings to Germany...which couldn't end well.

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Author's note:
Do you guys want a part three to this? I wasn't originally going to have a part two but I guess it's too late. Oops.