With a near inaudible sigh, England leans against the side of the tub, too worn and tired to do anything but listen to the sound of America’s steady breathing and feel the gentle touch of the towel rubbing dirt from his face, to wince as it occasionally brushed over an open cut.
“Too tired to even think, or pay attention to common sense!” He scolds himself halfheartedly.
England knows he should feel something, ashamed, perhaps.
Ashamed that he is sitting here like a rag doll, letting America, of all people, strip him naked and wash him without even so much as a protest.
Ashamed to be showing such weakness.
But he just can’t seem to be upset with the situation. As he glances up at America every so often, watches the younger nation wash him with steady hands, dancing around the maze of cuts that run over his chest, he feels…
A bit mushy inside.
Not that he would ever let himself admit it, of course.
England wonders if the long running battle has finally gotten to him, or if he is possibly going senile.
As often as he had those “Where did I go wrong with the boy?” moments, for the time being, all England can think about is “What did I do right?”, lost in the feeling of his once-colony’s strong hands touching him so gently, though they could probably tear books in half.
Nobody in his life has ever touched him like that, and it makes him want to cry, to sob and wail and hug America so tightly he would never be able to go.
“No!”
England mentally berates himself, cursing the thought for even entering his head.
He’s certainly not going to do that.
As beaten as he is, he’s still England.
Stiff upper lip, a gentleman through and through.
“Though…” He thinks, trailing a hand slowly through the water.
“It does feel awfully nice…”
Betraying no emotion, but scowling inwardly, England shakes his head slowly, and tries not to think.
Only to listen to the quiet “drip…drip…” of the water, and the soft brush of the towel against his skin.
Re: Lend-Lease (4/?)
anonymous
March 18 2010, 15:07:14 UTC
OP!anon is very sorry she's late replying! RL stuff has got in the way a bit. :S OP loves this fic so damn much, it's just giving all the angsty goodness she hoped for. Love England wanting-needing to cry but struggling for control, and Gentle!America... GORGEOUS.
Re: Lend-Lease (4/?)
anonymous
April 5 2010, 19:36:53 UTC
\o/ ILU. You... This... *happy wriggle* Broken(ish)!England and StrongandProtective!America make me HAAAAAAPPYYYY. This is by far my favorite Battle of Britain this EVER.
When England went 'No!', I thought he had said it OUT LOUD and I freaked out for a moment before figuring out I had failed. XD
...........................................................
With a near inaudible sigh, England leans against the side of the tub, too worn and tired to do anything but listen to the sound of America’s steady breathing and feel the gentle touch of the towel rubbing dirt from his face, to wince as it occasionally brushed over an open cut.
“Too tired to even think, or pay attention to common sense!” He scolds himself halfheartedly.
England knows he should feel something, ashamed, perhaps.
Ashamed that he is sitting here like a rag doll, letting America, of all people, strip him naked and wash him without even so much as a protest.
Ashamed to be showing such weakness.
But he just can’t seem to be upset with the situation.
As he glances up at America every so often, watches the younger nation wash him with steady hands, dancing around the maze of cuts that run over his chest, he feels…
A bit mushy inside.
Not that he would ever let himself admit it, of course.
England wonders if the long running battle has finally gotten to him, or if he is possibly going senile.
As often as he had those “Where did I go wrong with the boy?” moments, for the time being, all England can think about is “What did I do right?”, lost in the feeling of his once-colony’s strong hands touching him so gently, though they could probably tear books in half.
Nobody in his life has ever touched him like that, and it makes him want to cry, to sob and wail and hug America so tightly he would never be able to go.
“No!”
England mentally berates himself, cursing the thought for even entering his head.
He’s certainly not going to do that.
As beaten as he is, he’s still England.
Stiff upper lip, a gentleman through and through.
“Though…” He thinks, trailing a hand slowly through the water.
“It does feel awfully nice…”
Betraying no emotion, but scowling inwardly, England shakes his head slowly, and tries not to think.
Only to listen to the quiet “drip…drip…” of the water, and the soft brush of the towel against his skin.
He has to be strong.
............................................................
Sorry for the fail, so very sorry TTATT
I promise i'll have something better up pronto.
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When England went 'No!', I thought he had said it OUT LOUD and I freaked out for a moment before figuring out I had failed. XD
Catpcha declares 'port crummy'.
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