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America was woken up from his blessedly dreamless sleep by the restlessness of his lover beside him. At first he thought Russia was awake and just fidgeting to find a more comfortable spot, but the soft and pained whimpers snapped the rest of the sleep out of Alfred's head and told him otherwise.
He sat up, carefully moving closer to Russia, the massive nation tossing and turning in his sleep while a cold sweat broke out across his skin. America had to be careful, gently covering Russia's palm with his own, twining their fingers together. He was careful not to touch Ivan's wrists - wrists, face and neck were no-no places to touch when he was having a nightmare. Alfred had learned that the hard way and earned himself more than one black eye from the mistake. Russia's hand tightened its grip on Alfred's instantly, holding on like a lifeline. America was strong, though, and while it marginally hurt he avoided the broken hand that another would have suffered from it.
"Vanya, it's your Fredka, your Alik - c'mon baby, wake up." He ducked down and kissed Russia's chest, right over his heart, and the labored breathing of nightmares faded as Russia awoke to see his own dark room, to feel his young lover showering him with kisses and gentle caresses. America felt Russia's iron grip on his hand slacken, and he knew the other was awake.
"... I am sorry, did I wake you?" Russia asked gruffly. He turned his head to peer at the electric clock by his bedside - the numbers read 3:14 Am.
"Mmhmm." America hummed, leaning up to kiss Russia's cheek now that he was awake and America wouldn't get punched for it. "But I don't mind. Was it the Mongols?"
"Нет, the Soviets."
America knew Russia's typical nightmares after having spent so many nights with him. 'The Soviets' didn't just mean the Soviets. It meant the fall of the USSR, it meant hurting people he cared about in an attempt to help them, it meant waking up one day to find that the most terrifying monster was the one Russia saw in the mirror, over and over again.
The USA sighed, breath hot against Russia's skin. He was still holding on to Russia's hand, and now he tugged on it to urge him to sit up. Russia couldn't quite see in the darkness of the bedroom but he complied to America's silent request just the same, curious as Alfred let go of his hand then shifted to sit behind him, back against the headboard.
"The past is past." America murmured, warm hands going to Ivan's shoulders to rub soothing circles into the skin. "You did some bad things, yeah. A lot of us have done bad things."
America's hands were calloused but strong, and so very warm. It was summertime back in his country, and he radiated with the heat from it. He stroked Russia's broad back, traced the scars, found the lumps of tension and pressed hard on them to work them out. The heat sank into Russia's skin, chasing away the chill the nightmares had left behind while America's movements did the same to the painful memories.
"It is a great deal more complicated than that, мои возлюбленные." Russia protested, though the interjection was weak - One of America's thumbs was working out a knot of tension on his spine while the other hand caressed and kneaded the skin and muscle of his lower back.
"I know, but... it doesn't have to be. I love you, Russia." It was sometimes disorienting for America - for so long he couldn't say Russia's name without 'that fucking Soviet' attached to it, but now - at least when they were alone together - telling the other nation that he loved him was as easy as breathing, as easy as smiling. "I love you." America repeated, kissing Russia's neck and stroking his back.
It could have been because it was just them, alone in the dark, and that made so much easier. Things were far from perfect, the two were volatile by nature and knew just how to hurt each other.
But they tried. Didn't that count for something?
America continued to rub Russia's back, his sides, kissing his shoulders and neck while he repeated the affirmation in English and Russian. Ivan let out a deeply pleased sound, the fear of the nightmare being washed away against America's assault of warmth.
"Alik... I want you again." Russia moaned, pressing back against America's hands. "Черт возьми, we used the last condom earlier."
They had no need to worry about STDs or pregnancy, but condoms made clean-up so much easier. America kissed Russia again then shifted to sit across the larger nation's lap, arms over his shoulder. "Fuck the condom. Come inside of me."
Those words spoken at any other time and Russia probably would have laughed at him, would have made fun of the cliche phrase all the while calling America a greedy slut for wanting it so much. The darkness allowed for so many things, though. An honesty not yet present when they had to look at each other, look at themselves. It would come in time, but right now it was best left in the dark.
Russia kissed America, fierce and passionate, desire intensifying at America's demand. It was difficult to keep his focus and grab the lubricant where it was carelessly tossed back on the nightstand, especially with the way America was grinding his hips against Russia's torso so that Russia's cock was sliding against the cleft of America's ass.
His own prep was as quick as he dared, slicking himself up before his fingers trailed down to stroke America's opening. They had fucked quite enthusiastically earlier that night, and America moaned as Russia fingered his still slick and slightly loose hole.
"Just push in, I can't wait, I want it now!" America moaned right into Russia's ear. The larger nation flipped them so America was on his back and hooked one of those sun-kissed knees over his own pale shoulder.
"My beautiful Fredka - I love you so much." Russia pushed inside of America with one quick thrust, burying himself as deep as he could go. America shouted - a mix of pain and pleasure. Russia was big but rubbing him in all the right ways. He grabbed Russia's shoulders again, pulling him down to kiss him breathless while Russia moved inside of him. It didn't last long - they came at almost the same time, America wrapped around Russia and moaning slurred endearments in English while Russia held him close and answered in kind in his own native tongue.
Even after Russia pulled out they held on to each other, breathless and sated.
"Fredka, don't fall asleep." Russia whispered when he heard Alfred's breathing start to even out. He nuzzled at America's neck. "You should clean up, otherwise it will be uncomfortable in the morning." he warned, though he made no move to let America go to the bathroom to do as he advised.
"Mmm. I'll deal with the discomfort... I don't get to feel you inside of me like this enough. Go to sleep, Vanya."
"Да."
The nightmares didn't come again, but Russia wasn't worried. He knew there was someone to chase them away if they returned.