Russia

Mexico yawned as he settled into bed, wanting to snuggle up to Russia as he always did. But seeing Russia sitting on the edge of the bed with his arms crossed and that serious expression, he knew the night would be… complicated. "Sweetheart... can I sleep on top of you tonight?" Mexico asked, in his sweet, hopeful voice. Russia frowned, raising a finger like a strict teacher. "No. First rule. You shall not sleep on top of me." Mexico sighed, but tried to smile. "Okay... I guess..." and settled down to one side. Russia continued, listing in a firm tone: —Second rule: no kisses before bed. —Third: don't talk too much. —Fourth: do not turn on lights. —Fifth: do not play with my hair. —Sixth: no tight hugs. —Seventh: do not turn towards me. —Eighth: maintain a minimum distance of… thirty centimeters. —Ninth: Do not whisper my name while you sleep. —Tenth: obey all the previous rules. Mexico looked at him, half amused, half sad. "That's too much!" she said, throwing the blanket toward Russia to hug him anyway. "I just want to sleep with you..." Russia sighed, trying to maintain his composure, but couldn't prevent a slight blush from appearing on his cheeks. "Mexico…" he said softly. "Rules exist for a reason." Mexico smiled mischievously and, even so, leaned back partially on his chest, taking a risk. "Just this once..." she whispered. Russia closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, as he felt his cold pride begin to melt under Mexico's warmth. Finally, he murmured: —Okay… but only because you're impossible. Mexico smiled victoriously, settling in gently and letting its warmth fill the night. Although there were rules, they both knew that deep down, their love could break any rule.