DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers, otherwise I would...well, you don't want to know. Anyway. The main point is that. If you have any prompts, just let me know.

Prompt: Oranges

Pairing: America and Russia

"I know you hate tomatoes," America said, firmly (because whatever England said, the world's only superpower did not wheedle), "and strawberries and whatever, but you might like oranges."

Russia looked at him standing on the doorstep, and then at the oranges in the basket America was holding. There was a expression of deep consternation on his face. "America –"

"Come on, oranges are totally cool. Like, really." (No, not wheedling) "I like them. And these are specially imported from China. He calls them gum." America directed a slightly confused look at the small round fruits. "They don't look like gum, but whatever. Eat them for me?"

The consternation on Russia's face was overshadowed momentarily by a twitch of a smile around his eyes. "I believe that Yao means gam, not gum."

America nodded. That was what he had said after all. "Try one?"

"It's not that I do not appreciate the effort, dorogoy," Russia said, after a moment, looking again at the basket America carried in both hands. "But I do not think that these are edible. They do not look like oranges."

"Well, obviously. They're China oranges." Russia should know that. But, America appreciated that his intellect was sometimes hard to keep up with.

"Yes," Russia said. "They are oranges from China. That China gave to you."

America nodded.

Russia picked up one of the small, round things and held it up to America's face. America wondered if he was supposed to take some sort of message from it. He studied the orange. Small, round, orange, with little green leaves on top. Russia shook it. It made a rustling sound, which wasn't normal for oranges, once America thought about it, but these were China oranges, so that was okay right? He looked at Russia.

Russia sighed, one of those long deep sighs that he gave when he thought America was being particularly dim, and broke the orange in half.

America instinctively flinched back to avoid the juice spurting out and making him sticky.

And then stared.

The orange was empty. The inside was flat and brown, like paper. And the only thing that came out of it was a carefully folded paper. Give me back my money, America. In China's smooth calligraphy.

America snapped his gaze to the basket in his arms, and swore. "I bet all of them are like that. Damn fucker. I'll pay him back eventually, for God's sake."

But Russia was smiling. And that drew America up short, because there was amusement and exasperation and love in that smile, and America remembered why he had asked China for those oranges in the first place.

"You are an idiot," Russia said. "And you are right. You will pay China back."

And the confidence in his tone reminded America, also, of why he had decided, earlier that morning, to skip a meeting with Congress and fly to Russia for the very purpose of giving Russia oranges. Fucking budget deficit, fucking debts.

And then Russia pulled him into the house – "I will get us some real fruit" – and sat him down at the kitchen table – "don't do anything stupid" – and America smiled and stopped remembering anything. (Just sat and watched Russia and lived in that moment.)

And he was happy.

Thanks for reading.