056. Danger Ahead

America grinned over his rum and Coke concoction, "Y'know, I think it's kind of funny how we ended up at the same bar," he slurred.
Ivan chuckled, "I think you have been here for far too long, America," he replied, taking a slow sip of what was only his second glass of vodka. He wasn't sure how long the blonde man across from him had been here, but judging by his condition, the answer was either a long time or Alfred drank very quickly.
"Why are you here? If I may ask," the Russian added, genuinely curious.
Looking away, America's characteristic smile fell from his lips, "You just want to take a stab at me while I'm down." he angrily replied, downing the last of his drink and reaching for another.
Taking the alcohol out of the younger nation's reach, Russia shook his head, "I assure you that I am merely curious as to what is going on in your head," he vowed.
Sighing in frustration, America sat back in his seat, "It's kind of embarrassing, not to mention unheroic… You better not make fun of me, if I tell you," he warningly slurred.
Smiling, Russia nodded, "I promise I will not laugh at you. That is agreeable, da?" he asked.
America chuckled, it had a slight drunken edge to it, "Da," he agreed, smiling a bit, but then it vanished once more. "It's this war…" he softly explained.
"What about it is troubling you?" Russia asked; he had never thought about how young America was in comparison to himself and the rest of the Allies. He supposed that the boy had not seen enough yet to be able to cope well with all the sights war brought to life, especially a war like this. Alfred had just barely seen WWI, but this time he was right in the middle of this new war, WWII, and what with all the new technology and innovations they were using, it was very different from its predecessor.
"What isn't bothering me really? This is all so messed up, Ivan. I helped free some folks from a death camp yesterday," America said, a mixture of anger, sadness, and nausea creeping into his tone. "You should've seen what was going on there…it was awful, just awful. I don't know how anyone could do something like that to anybody!
It makes me want to…" he stopped, trailing off; his gaze landed on the alcohol that Ivan was withholding from him and he fidgeted again.
"It makes you want to what? I will not tell anyone," Russia vowed, pouring the younger man another glass of his poison.
After taking a deep gulp of the liquid, America traced the rim of the glass with his finger, "It makes me want to hurt Germany…and that scares me because I don't like hurting people, but I think I'd enjoy making him sorry." he uncomfortably admitted.
"You want justice for those people, da?" Russia said. "I thought that is what your 'heroes' did? Deliver justice?" he quipped.
"I guess so…" America replied, giving in; Russia's explanation made the guilt ebb away.
"So, why feel guilty, da? Sometimes people need to be punished so that they can understand how to behave correctly." Russia continued, pouring America more to drink. "Punished so that they do not step out of line again… I am sure that England must have disciplined you at least a little bit as a child, da? That is what we must do to Germany and the rest of his Axis," he soothed; watching America down his drink.
"Makes sense when you put it that way…" America slurred; wondering why it was the he and Ivan were agreeing for once. Maybe he had had a little too much to drink…?
"Exactly, so no more of this guilt, da?" Russia asked.
"Yeah, yeah, buddy; whatever you say," America answered, frowning at his bottle of rum in confusion; when had it gotten empty?
"Good; I am glad that you are trusting me, comrade. After all, your Generals and President do not seem to have that same sentiment, da?" Russia prodded.
"Of course I trust you; we're friends after all," America lied, tracing the rim of his glass again. "Don't even give those guys a second thought, okay? They're just a little nervous, not having much experience with your people and all that," he smoothed over, giving the Russian a smile.
"Ah, I see; I had not thought of that." Russia replied, smiling his famously innocent smile at America.
Nodding, America tipsily got to his feet, "I better go…I think I drank a little too much," he admitted with a laugh.
Standing as well, Russia gripped his arm tightly to keep him standing, "Allow me to make sure you get back to your hotel, da?" he asked, smiling in feigned concern.
"Sure," America agreed; his people distrusted Ivan and his people with all they had and hence he couldn't trust the man either, but he was too exhausted, drunk, and mixed up inside from their discussion to care that he was being directed around a dark and mostly empty town by Russia.
"Russia?" he asked quietly.
"Da?" Russia questioned, raising an eyebrow at the young man.
"I hope when this war is over that we really are comrades; we could both use some friends, right?" America asked in a determined voice; he really didn't want to have to go to war with the man right after they defeated the Axis. He knew they would defeat the Axis because they were the heroes; it was just a matter of time, but when the time came, he wanted to be assured that Russia would behave.
Smiling eerily, Russia nodded, "Of course, America; in fact, when this war is over, I want to be comrades with everyone. Now, I believe this is your hotel, da? Please go inside and get some rest; I will see you at tomorrow's meeting," he said, watching the American stumble inside and then give him a tipsy grin.
"Thanks, Ivan; that just put my mind at ease," he drunkenly admitted, then turning to go, he waved over his shoulder and disappeared behind the closed door.
Russia smirked, "Kolkolkol, you are welcome, comrade. After all, when everyone is one with Mother Russia; how could we all not be friends?"