Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia

Random little idea, coming from an online chat between my best friend and me. Now, important notice time.

While there is a character "Author" in here, there are no specifics given other than that Author is an author. No physical description, no name, no gender, no nothing. So go ahead. Insert yourself. Insert your cat. Insert your goldfish. Insert your friend who fangirls over Russia. Anyone can fit this description. Just please do not rant about how "Author" is an OC or an SI, because there is absolutely nothing "original" about Author's "character", and if anything, Author exists to insert anyone you want.

Have fun, enjoy my drabble.

Please Do Not Become One With the Russian

"America"

America turns away from his desk and his work at the sound of Russia's voice with a semi-curious expression on his face. He doesn't actually care, seeing as he's in the middle of working, but doesn't feel like fighting with Russia right now.

"Hm?"

"What is this?" The larger country asks, face and voice carefully neutral, handing a sheet of ripped paper to America. America takes it and skims over his own untidy scrawl.

Hey, Commie!

I decided that I needed to get rid of your villainy once and for all, so I set up a trap to defeat you here!

A very crudely drawn map, if it can even be called that, of the downtown of the city the current World Meeting is being held in, lies below the accentuated "here!", along with a huge red circle, X, and various other obnoxious annotations that make it impossible for even America to misunderstand his own intent.

I hope you enjoy fangirls, you dumbass evil overlord!

Sincerely,

America.

America sets it down and raises one eyebrow at Russia. "Yeah. What about it?"

Russia violently resists the urge to walk over to America's desk and beat his head against it enough times to knock himself out. He did not think his greatest rival could be so dense, but...

"Have you missed the several glaring issues with this letter?" Russia gestures at the letter. "First of all, I am not communist anymore, nor was I ever "evil". Secondly, why would you tell me where you were planting a trap if it's a trap? Thirdly, why would you sign your name, and finally, what the hell is a fangirl?"

America ignores points one and two, for obvious reasons, Russia notes, and it only raises his ire more. He also brushes aside points three and four. Russia attributes it to short attention span as America boisterously goes on another tirade.

"Hahaha! You'll find out soon enough, you evil commie!" he laughs in that annoying, loud laugh which isn't even his real laugh. "Unless you're scared. Chicken commie! Chicken commie!"

Russia cannot get another sensible word out of the young nation, even with his scariest face, scariest chants, and scariest threatening gestures with his pipe. He finally gives up and walks away, leaving a happy America still mocking after him, "Chicken commie, chicken commie, Russia is a chicken commie!" in a childish, sing-song voice.

The large nation rubs his temples irritatedly as he leaves the building. Some days... some days he would like nothing more than to tie America down and duct tape his mouth just to shut. him. up.

Russia goes to the place marked on America's pathetic excuse for a map for the sole purpose of seeing what ridiculous "trap" America had planned. He also thinks it would be wonderful to turn the tables and terrify one of America's "sidekicks" with an "offer" (read: order) to "become one with Russia". And maybe... he is a little curious. The why and wherefores of the strange oblivious nation never cease to pique his interest.

He sees a person inside, just at the correct time America noted on his map, and immediately identifies the person as an Author. The Author tires of waiting for some unknown cue, shrugs, gives up, and walks out of the building, crossing the city street to a small park and plopping down on a bench.

Russia follows close behind and looms over the person menacingly. "Hello."

The Author jumps and spins around, eyes wild and wary. Upon fixing on Russia, the Author relaxes.

Russia frowns at this. People always shrink away and fear him, never feel comfortable in his presence. He debates sending the Author to a mental institution to check for mental insanity, but decides that such a gesture really isn't worth it. Putting on his best creepy smile, Russia delivers his "ultimatum". "Become one with Russia, da?"

The Author blinks once, slowly. "...Okay."

And just like that, becomes one with Russia.

Now it is Russia's turn to blink slowly, not quite comprehending. "..."

"..."

He stares down at the Author firmly hugging him. "That was too easy."

"So?"

"No protests?" Russia asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No...?"

"No putting up a fight?"

"No..."

"No running away?"

"Nope."

Russia becomes exasperated. "Why?"

"Because all will be one with Mother Russia," the Author explains simply. "Oh, by the way, now that I'm one with you, you'll have to share your coat."

Russia stares down, dumbfounded, as the Author gently opens his coat and tries to shrug in. He looks up and sees several more Authors and quite a few thousand Fangirls staring pointedly at him with intense looks, and jealously directed at the Author who is one with him. Through instinct, Russia can sense that if he extends his "offer", all of them would accept. Heck, they might even accept even if he makes it clear that his "offer" is not meant for them. Even if he orders them not to.

Russia forces himself not to groan or panic as the crowd closes in, charged with electric excitement.

World takeover sucks.

*sits in meditation*

This is how I become one with Russia.

Russia: "You annoy me. I do not want someone like you to become one with me."

Shut up, Vanny.

Russia: ..."Vanny?"

Or Van-Van. Take your pick.

Russia: ... damn fangirls...

COME ON, RUSSIA FANGIRLS! LET'S ALL JOIN FORCES TO BECOME ONE WITH RUSSIA!