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Whisper of Stars	By : tamasama Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 6255 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers or any of the characters. I make no money from the writing or distrobution of this story. This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to the lives of any person, living or dead, is purely conincedental.

Chapter List
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CHAPTER ONE
America sat in one of Russia’s office chairs, chewing a hamburger and listening to what the giant country had to say. After being stopped at the end of the G8 meeting, America tentatively agreed to meet with Russia at his large and brightly colored house in order to discuss some politics, such as revising some trade agreements and the like. While the large man distractedly talked of the snow, America finished his burger and gave a lop-sided smile. “Um, Ivan? We were talking about our trade markets….”
“…It gets so cold here, sometimes I worry General Winter will finally beat me and cover my whole house in his big blanket.” Russia finished, looking out the window at the sky, as if he expected a blizzard to begin at any moment. After a minute of awkward silence, Russia spun around to face America, the familiar smile on his lips. Spanning the distance between them in only two long steps, he came face-to-face with the young country and placed his hand onto America’s shoulder, his grip just a little too firm.
“How about we have dinner, then return to this, da?” He asked, tilting his head slightly and smiling a smile that could have been considered warm had it come from anyone else. When America acquiesced, the Russian lead him out into the decorated hall and to the left. A ways of walking, a few twists and turns, and a flight of stairs had them in the once grand dining room. Although huge, it was clearly in need of repair, like everything else in Russia’s house. After they seated themselves, Russia at the far end of the table, his back to the large window, and America at the other end, Latvia poked his head in from one of the doors.
“Russia, are you ready to eat, sir?” He squeaked, shaking. “Lithuania and I made borsht…”
Smiling happily, Russia clapped his gloved hands together once, “I love borsht! Come, come, bring it to us.” Practically bouncing with anticipation, Russia grinned gleefully as his servants wheeled in a large silver serving table. Along with the main course of borsht, it included cheese, caviar, abzhorka, a crystal pitcher of vodka, black bread, as well as baked pears and an extra pitcher of chocolate vodka for dessert.
“Is this your first time enjoying Russian cuisine, Alfred?” Russia asked, letting Latvia set his food out in front of him.
“Actually, yeah. It’s no hamburger, but it looks pretty good.” The young American said, sniffing his main course. “So, we were talking about your petroleum?”
“Oh, yes, right. Well, as you may know, my economy has been climbing steadily these last few years but it has been leaving the rural parts of me behind. Although I’m a city-boy at heart*, I cannot ignore my people’s needs for much longer, lest they decide to throw a fit again, da?” He said, already sipping his glass of vodka, seemingly savoring the flavor by rolling the liquid over his tongue before swallowing it slowly. After an extended time of vodka sipping and borsht nibbling, he finally began to speak again, “Those people are so ungrateful, I give them so much but do they care? Net, all they do is say ‘more, more, more Russia! Give us more!’.”
America looked up from his debate whether or not to try the gross-looking glob of little black balls on his plate, a little startled by Russia’s sudden darkening of mood. “Well, if we can come up with a compromise over the trade that could benefit us both, I’m sure you can-”
“And they just yell at me all the time and demand things… ‘No more czars!’ they say. I take away the czar, and what do they do? ‘We have no money now! We need the czar!’ Just looking at their stupid faces all day makes me so angry I can barely control myself….” The country was grumbling, wringing his hands and glaring out into nothing.
America sat in his chair, unsure of what to do or say. He was beginning to remember England telling him something about Russia being crazy. The disgruntled country’s movements pulled America out of his thoughts. “Where are you going?” He asked as the man walked to the room where his lackeys were. Jumping at a loud crash and shriek, America abruptly stood, debating whether it would be prudent to go and see if everyone was alright, or just go home.
“What am I thinking?” He declared, starting toward the kitchen door, “I’m a freaking’ hero, damn it!”
Almost immediately after the words had left his mouth, Lithuania popped out all sweat and stutters. “I’m sorry, Mr. America! Russia isn’t feeling well so he’s asked for us to show you to a guest room and prepare you to spend the night.” Behind him, the kitchen rang with what sounded like an angry growling and choking rasps.
“What- what’s going on in there?” America asked as Lithuania began hurrying him out the door he and Russia had arrived in only minutes ago. Seeing his dinner sitting on the table not even half-touch, he began to plead for it.
“Yes, yes, of course. I’ll bring it to you in a minute, just come with me!”
As the US was being shuffled out of the room, Russia proceeded to choke the life out of Latvia. The young male stood with his back pressed painfully against the counter, hands desperately trying to wrench Russia’s hands from his throat. Watching the boys red face intently, the large man didn’t release him until the light began to fade from his eyes. Slumping to the floor in a fit of coughs and gags, the smaller country kept his eyes on the floor lest he arouse Russia to more unpredictable anger. Although confused, he knew better than to question his ruler’s actions.
Straightening his scarf, Russia had regained his usual composure. “Sometimes, its good to take your aggression out somewhere that it doesn’t matter,” he said to himself, turning to walk away, “I really wouldn’t want to have to do something terrible to my own people. They just make me so stressed sometimes.” Returning to his place at the table, he flashed Lithuania a winning smile and returned to his dinner.
“This is very good, my little Toris. It is a good thing Alfred is such a svin'ya-sobaka**, I don’t want any of this going to waste.”
*The majority of people in Russia live in the cities, especially in the west.

**pig-dog.
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Whisper of Stars