Dumbed down and numbed by time and age

[buyan]

It's a secret, this little thing they have.

Silent glances in meetings, even quieter touches and murmurs when there's a break between speakers. It could pass for healthy, loving even, except for the part where they both know it's anything but. Canada wasn't the one Russia had wanted, he was a stand in, a person settled for because of the shape of his face and the span of his shoulders. 

They look alike, you see. Canada, and his brother.

But Russia could never have America, not the way he wants him and Canada.....well, the soft spoken young man shares features and figure. It's enough that Russia can press close and cover Canada's mouth with his own and forget that there's not a firecracker of an American nation underneath him, can press his face into the curve of neck and trick himself into believing that the two nations smell the same and that America's the one he's bending over a desk, America's the one who'll bear the shape of his hand prints on hips and the half-moon line of his teeth at his shoulder. 

And perhaps Russia wasn't the one Canada wanted either, not really. But Russia could see him, remembered his name and his position on the map, knew where their borders were separated by the span of ocean and ice and America's land. And perhaps the only thing Canada had wanted was the acknowledgement, the warmth of arms around him and the hum of conversation.

It's anything but healthy and for that, the secret is one that must never get out lest thing turn even worse for the two of them. But they are close enough in border and space for the little coffee 'dates' to go unremarked upon. For the little touch of fingertips to the back of hands, the brush of knees under tables. So perhaps that's where they are this time, dressed casually and seated close in one of the nooks hidden away in a coffee shop in the middle of one of Canada's cities. 

There's a warm mug of tea in Russia's hands, the turning of leaves outside belying the chill of the oncoming fall, but its cozy here, knees tucked against Canada's, scarf wound loosely about his neck. He's a bit preoccupied watching the people pass by and the leaves fall in solitary fashion. But it's okay, because Canada's tucked into his own drink and the newspaper in front of him. A pretense, perhaps, but one nonetheless.

"Do you think--" Russia pauses to sip at the tea in his hands, brows drawing heavily above his eyes and falls silent.

Comments

[maple_syrup_can]

It's a rather large secret, this thing they have.

Canada is known (for those who bother to notice) for his honesty, but if he were open about how close he and Russia had become, well... for certain England would be enraged. Perhaps a few others, too. But he tries to not think about the 'what if' very much. Instead he relishes this small rebellion.

He's under no delusion of what this is. It's not healthy on several levels, no matter how it looks on the outside. But damn, it satisfies a need that no one else is bothering to fill. A need to be paid attention to and talked to. To be touched, and loved. So he doesn't really care that he's just fuelling Russia's illusion. He doesn't even mind the bites and bruises, easily yielding to (and even enjoying) Russia's rough, controlling way with him. For however long they will meet each other's needs like this, he will continue on.

But Canada is (for those who get to know him) a country that forms loyal relationships. And as this arrangement carries on, Canada slowly finds himself enjoying this for himself. He wonders how soon the day will come that he will be jealous of his brother's image that Russia sees when they meet in dark rooms and shadowed corners.

For now Canada is enjoying this date, away from the other nations, away from the hyper-consciousness of every touch in that context. Here he can relax, the slight warm press of Russia's knees against his a comfort.

At the sound of Russia's soft voice Canada looks up from the paper and looks with faint concern at the way his face looks heavy with the thought he didn't finish. They have been too intimate for too long for him not to worry at those slight hints. Resting the newspaper on the table Canada boldly reaches over to lightly touch Russia's shoulder as he leans closer.

"Think what?"