Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

America was late for a meeting. He cursed himself for skipping breakfast, a bad habit he’d been trying to fix, but with how things were going at the White House recently? He’d rather leave as soon as possible.

He parks his car in the meeting building. He was lucky enough that it was on his land today, or he would’ve been much later. The line to McDonald's was so long.

He gets out of his car, grabbing his lunch bag and soda, and speed walks to the meeting room.

Now, when I mean late, I mean he’s still early, the meeting hasn’t exactly started, but the meeting lets each country mingle and catch up before talking business. Late, for America, means that his family has already noticed his absence. And they're gonna give him hell for it.

He stops in front of the meeting room door. He didn't want to slam it open and give them even more reason to insult him.

He smooths his hair to the best of his ability and opens the door.

The meeting is going as he thought it would, people are sticking with friends and family, and he immediately notices Canada, standing above most of the other people, his antlers are short but big, and it makes America smile.

Most countries have a national animal, and if they want, they can have some features of the animal attached to them. Most nations forego this and opt to look more human-looking. The North American countries, for the most part, choose to let their national animal be a part of them.

America pushes up his sunglasses and shuffles his wings in greeting.

Canada smiles and walks up to him.

“America! I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up, eh?” Canada claps him on the back

Hah, hilarious, “you know UK would kill me if I were any later than this,” he smiles.

“He may just kill you now! He’s fuming already,” He says with a tense smile.

“You're kidding. He does realize that the meeting hasn't even started yet?”

“Oh yeah, but uh, yknow-” Unfortunately for me, my brother was all too right.

“America!” fuckk, I didn't even have time to eat my food, damn.

The man he’s known his whole life, doffing a flat cap, stomps over to him.

The UK, once a tower to look up to, stands in front of America and, looking up to it, still holds the same power over it.

“What the bloody hell do you think you're doing! You do realize you're late, correct? You understand that, don't you? So why are you trying to upset everybody?" I'm hit with a familiar wave of disappointment as he glares daggers. My eyes shift to Canada, his face is flushed, which is easier to see on the white part of his flag, and he’s awkwardly looking anywhere but at me, hm.

He looks away from his father and brother. Some of the other countries are pointedly looking away from him, and others are quite obviously looking at the commotion; his face warms in embarrassment. His eyes wander, as they always have, over to Russia.

He’s in a suit, and he is talking with Finland. But he’s looking over to America, his facial expression, as always at these meetings, is hard to read, he has one hell of a poker face-

“Are you even listening to me!?” I’m pulled out of my thoughts

“Yeah, dude! Whatever..” He glares at me.

“Whatever! You're making a fool out of yourself, and it’s whatever? Don’t you want anybody here to take you seriously?” his face is flushing in anger, I think. It’s a little harder to tell on him than Canada. What was I doing? Oh yea

“Yeah, it’s fine,e it’s…” ugh “just give me some space or something dude, I just got here”

“That's exactly the problem you-!” he looks down at the lunch bag I’m holding “you damn fatass! A respectable country always shows up right and early” he straightens out his tie.

“Uh, dude, I’m a superpower, I think I’m fine.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Canada walking away, good. More often than not, he takes his dad's side either way.

“And you think that’s all it takes for someone to respect you? You're an absolute divvy.” Before I could retaliate, UK knocked the drink from my hand, and it spilled on my shirt.

He grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me down to his level. “Go to the washroom and clean up. Now,” I nod my head, there's nothing else for me to do now anyway.

I turn around to leave, passing a trash can on the way out, and throw away my food, slamming the entrance doors back open, and going to the bathroom.

Chapter Text

As soon as the bathroom door closes behind him, he throws his sunglasses at the mirror, and a sob escapes from him, and he slams his hands on the bathroom sink, cracking it.

He hated this. He hated how easily he still folded under his dad’s stare. He hated how, even as the best he’s ever been, it’s still not enough. He may not have brought it up today, but he can feel the constant waves of disappointment radiating off of him. No, he didn't bring that up, but he did bring up something worse.

America looks at himself in the mirror, ignoring the flush on his face, he stands upright. His shirt was a mess, so he lifted it slightly. Enough to see his stomach. America grimaces. His stomach was chubby, maybe more than that, he hates to admit that this is what's been upsetting him recently. He moves one hand to his stomach and he sucks in.

He can’t help it. He runs to the toilet and pukes up nothing but coffee and stomach acid, and it burns his throat.

While he’s still gripping the toilet seat, he hears someone walk in, and he groans. Of course, he can't even do this without being interrupted.

“Amerika? Are you here?” Oh god. Of course “It is Rusiya” for fucks sake.

America swallows back whatever was still in his mouth and cringes, but after a second or two, finally answers.

“Yeah… I'm here.” Russia responds quickly, “Oh good.”

America rolls his eyes as he hears Russia stand right outside his stall door. “Go away, Russia.”

He doesn't hear anything on the other side, but he stresses Russia's shoes under the stall door, and he sighs,” You better not be peeking on me, man.”

Hdoesn'tnt hear anything on the other end, so he takes this time to clean himself up a bit, using toilet paper to wipe his mouth, and then wiping the toilet bowl, and then flushing, he opens the stall door.

“What.” He's face to face with Russia now, the tall figure, looking a bit awkward for some reason.

“I was just.... Worried, I heard UK yell and-”

“Yea so did everyone else in the damn meeting room.”

“And… I was a little worried..” Russia looks away as he says it, america squints his eyes before he realizes he’s not wearing his sunglasses anymore, he slams his hands over her eyes “fuck! Dude, could you hand me my glasses??”
He feels so fucking stupid, Russia is his fucking enemy, he needs to be more careful, they arnt friends. They aren't.

Russia taps his shoulder, and hands America his glasses, who hurriedly puts them on. And sighs.

“So what do you ?” he looks over Russia, who scrunches his eyebrows.

“What do you mean? I was worried about you,” and he sounds so sure when he answers, it makes me sick.

Yeah sure dude, after all our quarrels and antagonizing, you suddenly care about me out of nowhere, yeah right.” he rolls his eyes and looks away.

The Russian stays silent for a moment before he talks again, “I think you should take a break.”

America doesn't say anything for a moment. “What the hell are you talking about? I can’t take some time off, asshole, WE can’t take time off, we are countries” he's pissed off now. How dare he?

The Russian man gives a long, almost irritated sigh. “Maybe not. But no one can force us to come to these meetings, Amerika. We don't have to show. Why do you think I don't go to meetings in Poland?”

America grunts, Because it’d be awkward as hell?” and he’s surprised at the hefty laugh from Russia.

“No, no, because it is close to home, and I usually need a break during that time, I usually make an excuse of paperwork from home.”

America is reeling. Has it been so easy? America was still young for a country, but he had never taken a break before. Hell there have been times where UK himself had missed meetings for ‘more important work’, was that just a lie? He had seemed much more energized by the time they saw each other. That hypocrite sings the praises of 8 hours of sleep being enough, and to put all your effort into these meetings, and the responsibility of being a country. What a load of bologna.

“So, we can just. Not show up?”

“Da, there is no harm in skipping one meeting.” Well, with how long I've had no breaks, I think I deserve a break from more than just one…

“Are you ok to come back, Amerika?” He sounds sickeningly sweet.

America stays silent for a minute. Whenever he’s around Russia for too long, he feels icy, like he radiates coldness.

For whatever reason, though, in just this moment, he feels warm.

“Yeah, just.. Give me a moment.”

The Russian smiles at him, it's foreign and weird.

“I’ll see you in a minute then, da?” America grunts, “Sure.”

The Russian leaves and America finally relaxes, the burning feeling in his throat is back, and his posture makes his belly more prominent and disgusting, he refuses to look toward the mirror one last time.

“A break, huh?” The American fluffs his feathers up. He could use a long and good one.

He leaves the bathroom.