Passion, not obsession
Serbia as Russia's other stalker, from the kink meme
Serbia felt lonely. Sure, he could always call Greece and there was several other nations he could hang out with without wanting to strangle them with their own entrails. But he missed being close with someone. Someone used to be Montenegro, until their union ended. Someone should be Russia. Sometimes Serbia doubted Russia's level of commitment was as great as it should be. And Russia never reacted well when Serbia pointed it out.
That was why Serbia didn't start this phone call by accusing Russia of not caring enough. He saved that for later.
"I have made a decision," Serbia said. "You are allowed to ask me out on dinner. I feel that is an appropriate first step. The kind of thing normal people do.”
"I can invite you for dinner," Russia agreed, somewhat hesitant. “First step for what?”
“Let's talk about that over dinner,” Serbia said. That would give him some time to sort it out to himself as well.
To Serbia's surprise and strangely, disappointment, Russia brought Belarus. Serbia had always been pretty fond of Belarus, except for when she was utterly out of her mind and you had to walk on egg shells to not offend her. Even worse, she had expressed similar opinions about him.
Russia had decided they should eat Indian food, which made Belarus's fists clench even harder than usual. It must remind her of how much Russia liked India.
“I've been thinking about how it might be nice to have a more serious relationship with you,” Serbia said and poked on the food he found disgusting because it reminded him of India. Male friendship traditions probably stated he should encourage Russia, India was an attractive woman, yet Serbia couldn't stop himself from reacting less than friendly.
“I thought you wanted to join EU. And be close with them.” Russia looked nervous of some reason.
“Don't think I don't know what you're up to,” Serbia said. “You want Greece and me and Montenegro as a trinity of minions doing your bidding there. That's not going to happen.”
Russia looked even more awkward, it must certainly be that. Belarus on the other hand looked angry.
"You crashed how many relationships in the past? My brother shouldn't be next.”
Serbia felt that was a bit unfair. He would have been willing to give those relationships another chance. He had even suggested they should invade Montenegro to show he still cared but his current bosses didn't take it well, even after he assured them he was only joking.
“How often do your own sister talk to you by the way? And how often do your brother call you back?”
“Please don't fight here,” Russia said. He was right, they were in a restaurant and people were turning their heads. “We are so loud everyone must think we are from America...”
“Sometimes my phone is off,” Belarus mumbled.
“My boss stole my phone after that last exchange of text messages I had with Montenegro...”
“And you called me ten times from your home phone to complain about it,” Russia said in a small voice the two other nations ignored.
“My boss took mine once too,” Belarus admitted. “I think he felt my enthusiasm about the Union State gave us a bad start for negotiation.”
“That's a good point,” Serbia said. Belarus had her moments, if he had thought about it more he should have realized he should have waited for Russia to call him first. He didn't like to come off as desperate. “You look pale Russia. Is there something wrong with the food?”
“No...”
“Maybe there is something wrong with the company?” Belarus suggested.
“I thought you liked my company,” Serbia said. “Remember that night in Minsk when you showed me your statue of Lenin?”
Belarus shut up and blushed.
“What did you do?” Russia asked with deep disapproval.
“I bought her coffee,” Serbia said. “And she read Pravda to me in an unbelievable smug tone.”
It was true. From a certain point of view.
“Really?”
“Yes!” Belarus said, loud enough to turn a few heads again.
Russia looked from Belarus's blushing to Serbia's hopefully blank face.
“We should get dessert now,” Russia said. He hadn't even eaten half of his own food.
Russia did... Serbia wasn't sure, maybe tried to hide from his clingy sister? But he disappeared from the table and the result was him and Belarus being alone.
“I liked... reading Pravda for you,” Belarus said. “But brother is mine. Remember that. We're practically engaged.”
“Yeah... You and Kazakhstan both. Why can't I join in too? Maybe I don't like being alone. You're Russia's sister for god's sake.”
“You call Russia your brother and you want him too,” Belarus replied. “Don't think I can't tell. It's even more disgusting.”
They exchanged a few more insults, if Russia was around he would have disapproved. Serbia's full concentration wasn't in it, he started to wonder if Belarus had a point. Hungary had said she thought he invited Russia to things like Turkish baths (one of the few things Serbia didn't despise about Turkey) and other activities involving undressing more eagerly than you should with someone you called brother. Serbia had told her she knew the health benefits of things like that very well and she should shut up now. Back then he thought it was a perfectly good explanation. Now he hesitated again. Sometimes the ways he thought of Russia weren't as brotherly as he would have preferred.
“Do you think we act a bit weird towards our brother sometimes?” Serbia asked.
“No,” Belarus said. Her decisiveness wasn't as comforting as it should have been. “I'm passionate about my alliance with my brother. That is a good thing. And Russia isn't your brother anyway.”
Belarus gave up first and went home. Eventually Russia came out from the kitchen where he must have terrified the poor kitchen staff. His expression was unreadable but Serbia assumed he was happy not both his dinner companions had left.
“That was a... strange dinner,” Serbia said.
“I thought Belarus would be happy, I thought you liked each other. And liked looking at statues of Lenin?”
“Belarus used to be really into things like that,” Serbia said with what he hoped looked like complete sincerity. “But now when she went home maybe we can talk more seriously?”
Russia sighed deeply. It sounded like a yes. He walked out of the restaurant very fast. Serbia had to almost run to keep up with him.
“Would you let me join a union with you under sane conditions? And before you start to nag me about EU again, I can do both, why not?”
“I don't know if that would be a good idea,” Russia said.
“But you want everyone else to be one with Russia,” Serbia muttered. “Isn't it good enough because I like you from the beginning?”
I'm not good enough? But that sounded to pathetic to ask.
“Your relationships always end badly. Even with Montenegro and you two are so much alike.”
That hurt, more than Serbia liked to admit to himself.
“That's rich. You, of all nations in the world. Because other nations line up to hang out with you, don't they? It's not like France always laughed behind your back, most of Europe walk in circles to avoid talking to you and your friends from the Baltic run like hell as soon as they get the chance.”
“I don't think everyone avoids me,” Russia said without conviction and stopped right in the middle of a step. Serbia felt like he just kicked a giant puppy when he saw Russia's expression in the dim streetlight. “Maybe they avoid you because you are always mean and they avoid me too because you always follow me around.”
Then Serbia regretted he hadn't kicked harder.
“I don't follow you around!”
And he regretted he hadn't protested the first accusation instead.
“You always want my help,” Russia said. “And you say you want to move in with me but then you get angry and say I try to boss you around.”
“Because you do! Learn the difference between a union or alliance and an annexation, it's like the fifties all over again!”
Serbia turned away, too upset to want to continue the conversation. Why did Russia always have to be like this? Russia didn't deserve that kind of devotion he and Belarus felt, he should invite Belarus over to look at his statues and tell Russia to go and fuck himself...
“No,” Russia said and grabbed Serbia before he could leave.
Serbia never saw Russia the way most of the rest of Europe did, but the firm grip Russia had on his wrist reminded him their fear might not come out of nowhere. Serbia was used to being the stronger one in his relationships. Russia... Russia was different.
If Serbia told him to let go he would, but if he had been someone else it might not been that easy. It was a strangely exciting thought.
“You should tell me you're sorry,” Russia said. “It's good for you to admit you are sometimes.”
“You told me no one would want a relationship with me ever because I'm a hopeless person! You should say you're sorry first.”
“I said that?”
“It was implied. But okay, I'm sorry, I guess there must be someone beyond me and Belarus who are stupid enough to not walk in circles around you.”
“I'm sorry too,” Russia said. “Maybe there is someone stupid enough to try to be in a relationship with you as well. Even after they get to know you.”
“Hey-”
Serbia couldn't finish the sentence before the situation took a very strange unexpected twist. Russia didn't let go of his wrist but grabbed his other as well, pinning him against his own body. Of all things Russia could have done, yelled at him, insulted him more, hit him, of some reason decided to kiss him. If Serbia had been thinking clearly maybe he would have protested over what a perverted psycho Russia was. Instead he kissed back, in an bizarre moment that both lasted forever and was over way too fast.
“Go home now,” Russia said and pushed Serbia away, smiling in a way that had given Lithuania nightmares for years.
That was when Serbia realized he wasn't dominating this dance, no matter how much he liked to pretend he did. He felt dizzy. If Russia didn't call tomorrow he would come over and demand explanations. In a sane way. After all, he wasn't Belarus.
Serbia felt lonely. Sure, he could always call Greece and there was several other nations he could hang out with without wanting to strangle them with their own entrails. But he missed being close with someone. Someone used to be Montenegro, until their union ended. Someone should be Russia. Sometimes Serbia doubted Russia's level of commitment was as great as it should be. And Russia never reacted well when Serbia pointed it out.
That was why Serbia didn't start this phone call by accusing Russia of not caring enough. He saved that for later.
"I have made a decision," Serbia said. "You are allowed to ask me out on dinner. I feel that is an appropriate first step. The kind of thing normal people do.”
"I can invite you for dinner," Russia agreed, somewhat hesitant. “First step for what?”
“Let's talk about that over dinner,” Serbia said. That would give him some time to sort it out to himself as well.
To Serbia's surprise and strangely, disappointment, Russia brought Belarus. Serbia had always been pretty fond of Belarus, except for when she was utterly out of her mind and you had to walk on egg shells to not offend her. Even worse, she had expressed similar opinions about him.
Russia had decided they should eat Indian food, which made Belarus's fists clench even harder than usual. It must remind her of how much Russia liked India.
“I've been thinking about how it might be nice to have a more serious relationship with you,” Serbia said and poked on the food he found disgusting because it reminded him of India. Male friendship traditions probably stated he should encourage Russia, India was an attractive woman, yet Serbia couldn't stop himself from reacting less than friendly.
“I thought you wanted to join EU. And be close with them.” Russia looked nervous of some reason.
“Don't think I don't know what you're up to,” Serbia said. “You want Greece and me and Montenegro as a trinity of minions doing your bidding there. That's not going to happen.”
Russia looked even more awkward, it must certainly be that. Belarus on the other hand looked angry.
"You crashed how many relationships in the past? My brother shouldn't be next.”
Serbia felt that was a bit unfair. He would have been willing to give those relationships another chance. He had even suggested they should invade Montenegro to show he still cared but his current bosses didn't take it well, even after he assured them he was only joking.
“How often do your own sister talk to you by the way? And how often do your brother call you back?”
“Please don't fight here,” Russia said. He was right, they were in a restaurant and people were turning their heads. “We are so loud everyone must think we are from America...”
“Sometimes my phone is off,” Belarus mumbled.
“My boss stole my phone after that last exchange of text messages I had with Montenegro...”
“And you called me ten times from your home phone to complain about it,” Russia said in a small voice the two other nations ignored.
“My boss took mine once too,” Belarus admitted. “I think he felt my enthusiasm about the Union State gave us a bad start for negotiation.”
“That's a good point,” Serbia said. Belarus had her moments, if he had thought about it more he should have realized he should have waited for Russia to call him first. He didn't like to come off as desperate. “You look pale Russia. Is there something wrong with the food?”
“No...”
“Maybe there is something wrong with the company?” Belarus suggested.
“I thought you liked my company,” Serbia said. “Remember that night in Minsk when you showed me your statue of Lenin?”
Belarus shut up and blushed.
“What did you do?” Russia asked with deep disapproval.
“I bought her coffee,” Serbia said. “And she read Pravda to me in an unbelievable smug tone.”
It was true. From a certain point of view.
“Really?”
“Yes!” Belarus said, loud enough to turn a few heads again.
Russia looked from Belarus's blushing to Serbia's hopefully blank face.
“We should get dessert now,” Russia said. He hadn't even eaten half of his own food.
Russia did... Serbia wasn't sure, maybe tried to hide from his clingy sister? But he disappeared from the table and the result was him and Belarus being alone.
“I liked... reading Pravda for you,” Belarus said. “But brother is mine. Remember that. We're practically engaged.”
“Yeah... You and Kazakhstan both. Why can't I join in too? Maybe I don't like being alone. You're Russia's sister for god's sake.”
“You call Russia your brother and you want him too,” Belarus replied. “Don't think I can't tell. It's even more disgusting.”
They exchanged a few more insults, if Russia was around he would have disapproved. Serbia's full concentration wasn't in it, he started to wonder if Belarus had a point. Hungary had said she thought he invited Russia to things like Turkish baths (one of the few things Serbia didn't despise about Turkey) and other activities involving undressing more eagerly than you should with someone you called brother. Serbia had told her she knew the health benefits of things like that very well and she should shut up now. Back then he thought it was a perfectly good explanation. Now he hesitated again. Sometimes the ways he thought of Russia weren't as brotherly as he would have preferred.
“Do you think we act a bit weird towards our brother sometimes?” Serbia asked.
“No,” Belarus said. Her decisiveness wasn't as comforting as it should have been. “I'm passionate about my alliance with my brother. That is a good thing. And Russia isn't your brother anyway.”
Belarus gave up first and went home. Eventually Russia came out from the kitchen where he must have terrified the poor kitchen staff. His expression was unreadable but Serbia assumed he was happy not both his dinner companions had left.
“That was a... strange dinner,” Serbia said.
“I thought Belarus would be happy, I thought you liked each other. And liked looking at statues of Lenin?”
“Belarus used to be really into things like that,” Serbia said with what he hoped looked like complete sincerity. “But now when she went home maybe we can talk more seriously?”
Russia sighed deeply. It sounded like a yes. He walked out of the restaurant very fast. Serbia had to almost run to keep up with him.
“Would you let me join a union with you under sane conditions? And before you start to nag me about EU again, I can do both, why not?”
“I don't know if that would be a good idea,” Russia said.
“But you want everyone else to be one with Russia,” Serbia muttered. “Isn't it good enough because I like you from the beginning?”
I'm not good enough? But that sounded to pathetic to ask.
“Your relationships always end badly. Even with Montenegro and you two are so much alike.”
That hurt, more than Serbia liked to admit to himself.
“That's rich. You, of all nations in the world. Because other nations line up to hang out with you, don't they? It's not like France always laughed behind your back, most of Europe walk in circles to avoid talking to you and your friends from the Baltic run like hell as soon as they get the chance.”
“I don't think everyone avoids me,” Russia said without conviction and stopped right in the middle of a step. Serbia felt like he just kicked a giant puppy when he saw Russia's expression in the dim streetlight. “Maybe they avoid you because you are always mean and they avoid me too because you always follow me around.”
Then Serbia regretted he hadn't kicked harder.
“I don't follow you around!”
And he regretted he hadn't protested the first accusation instead.
“You always want my help,” Russia said. “And you say you want to move in with me but then you get angry and say I try to boss you around.”
“Because you do! Learn the difference between a union or alliance and an annexation, it's like the fifties all over again!”
Serbia turned away, too upset to want to continue the conversation. Why did Russia always have to be like this? Russia didn't deserve that kind of devotion he and Belarus felt, he should invite Belarus over to look at his statues and tell Russia to go and fuck himself...
“No,” Russia said and grabbed Serbia before he could leave.
Serbia never saw Russia the way most of the rest of Europe did, but the firm grip Russia had on his wrist reminded him their fear might not come out of nowhere. Serbia was used to being the stronger one in his relationships. Russia... Russia was different.
If Serbia told him to let go he would, but if he had been someone else it might not been that easy. It was a strangely exciting thought.
“You should tell me you're sorry,” Russia said. “It's good for you to admit you are sometimes.”
“You told me no one would want a relationship with me ever because I'm a hopeless person! You should say you're sorry first.”
“I said that?”
“It was implied. But okay, I'm sorry, I guess there must be someone beyond me and Belarus who are stupid enough to not walk in circles around you.”
“I'm sorry too,” Russia said. “Maybe there is someone stupid enough to try to be in a relationship with you as well. Even after they get to know you.”
“Hey-”
Serbia couldn't finish the sentence before the situation took a very strange unexpected twist. Russia didn't let go of his wrist but grabbed his other as well, pinning him against his own body. Of all things Russia could have done, yelled at him, insulted him more, hit him, of some reason decided to kiss him. If Serbia had been thinking clearly maybe he would have protested over what a perverted psycho Russia was. Instead he kissed back, in an bizarre moment that both lasted forever and was over way too fast.
“Go home now,” Russia said and pushed Serbia away, smiling in a way that had given Lithuania nightmares for years.
That was when Serbia realized he wasn't dominating this dance, no matter how much he liked to pretend he did. He felt dizzy. If Russia didn't call tomorrow he would come over and demand explanations. In a sane way. After all, he wasn't Belarus.