Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
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“You okay, Toris?” America asked, half-rising from his seat.
“Fine,” Lithuania said in a strained voice. “My stomach’s just bothering me a little.” He winced again and clutched at the counter.
“That doesn’t seem like all,” America said concernedly. He got to his feet and walked over to Lithuania, putting one arm on the smaller country’s shoulder and the other around his stomach, so that his hand rested over Lithuania’s. He felt Lithuania shiver painfully again. “Do you it’s something you ate? Like, food poisoning or something?”
Lithuania shook his head, his hair gently striking America’s chest. “I don’t… think I ate anything that you didn’t over the last couple of days. Mm,” he stifled a little pained sound.
“Oh!” America cooed sympathetically. He began rubbing Lithuania’s flat belly. ‘When did it start hurting?”
Lithuania mumbled something incoherent.
“Hm?”
“A little after lunch, I suppose,” he repeated. “But, I’m sure it’s not-”
America spun Lithuania and pulled him into a tight hug. “Oh, I’m sorry, Toris.”
“No, it’s my-”
“Shut up, sweetheart” he repeated, kissing Lithuania on the forehead. Lithuania echoed his smile wanly. “You should get to bed.”
“It’s only a stomachache.”
“Toris,” America said in mock warning. “Do I have to carry you?”
Lithuania laughed aloud, finishing with a slight wince. He nodded. “Okay, Alfred.” He let America lead him out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the master bedroom they shared. America prattled on about whatever nonsense as they made their slow way toward the room.
“I shouldn’t have made you eat so much. I mean, you’re so skinny, I just thought-not that I’m complaining or anything. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with how you look. I like how skinny you are. Not that you shouldn’t eat or-”
“Alfred?” Lithuania said weakly.
“Uh-huh?”
“Shut up.”
Alfred grinned, clamping his jaw shut with an effort. He pulled down the covers to their bed, while Lithuania fiddled with the knot to his apron. America batted his hands away and finished undoing the knot, before pulling the garment up over Lithuania’s head.
He helped Lithuania into the king-sized bed and then pulled the heavy, crinkly, white comforter up to his chin. Lithuania’s dark hair contrasted with the light blue sheets and his pale skin. A bit too pale, America decided. He made a mental note to ensure that the other country got more sleep, did less work, and ate the best food that America could possibly muster.
Lithuania extricated a hand from the confines of the blankets and grabbed America’s sleeve. America suppressed a sigh and prepared to assure Lithuania, yet again, that he needed to lie down if he wasn’t feeling well.
“Thank you, Al,” Lithuania said quietly.
America crouched down and put his hands on both of Lithuania’s cheeks. “I think that’s the first time you’ve called me ‘Al,’” he said in a same low voice. He kissed Lithuania softly on the mouth.
Lithuania shuffled aside to allow America to slide into bed next to him. The smaller country rested his head in America’s lap, his fingers digging into the fabric of America’s pants. He allowed America to muss and pet his hair and rub his stomach like he would a baby’s.
“So,” America began slowly, “I suppose we’re gonna have to ease up on the fast food from now on.”
Lithuania groaned.
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