Blue Lips 40
anonymous
April 27 2011, 02:38:26 UTC
Russia continued to study America, watching with slightly narrowed eyes as he took a long breath, choking on it near the end. “You need more medicine.”
“I don’t.” America was still on the bed, but flexed his fingers slowly as he balled the old quilt draped over him. His glasses sat on his chest near his throat, glinting in reflected light. Turning his head slightly, Alfred looked away from his arm and to the dark ceiling. “Really. I’m fine. Russia, I’ll be out in a minute.”
“It is only six,” Ivan murmured back and came over to the bed, concern for the other man slowly filling him. “You’re never up before eight on a good day.”
“I am for meetings.” Alfred closed his eyes, head turned away from the crutches that lay in the corner of the small room.
“Nyet. You are not.” Ivan looked towards the door of the guest room. “What is wrong?” When Alfred did nothing he growled out, “I will take you back to the hospital if you do not tell me.”
That at least got a weak glare from America. His blue eyes were dark in the light, but encircled with red that Ivan could not tell if it was from exhaustion or crying. “I told you, I don't need any more of that stuff. Makes me loopy as it is,” Alfred murmured, dropping his hand to his side. He swallowed, looking back to the ceiling.
“And that still does not tell me what is wrong.”
“Because nothing’s wrong.” America frowned, matching Russia’s own. They continued to glare at each other before Alfred sighed and looked away again. He looked old and listless in the grey light. “Look, I’m fine. I’m just… I’m fine.”
“Frustrated,” the older nation supplied. Ivan’s eyes kept a steady gaze on Alfred, watching every small gesture for clues. He had glanced up at the word and then looked away as if he didn’t have the energy to del with Russia right now.
“Yeah.” He traced the corner of the quilt blindly. “You’ll think I’m just a kid. Look, I’m fine Russia. I’ll be out in a little for breakfast or whatever. Just, please leave me alone right now.”
“Nyet.”
“Russia, come on.” Alfred’s tone was neither playful nor gentle, but hushed and agitated. “Just go.”
“I will not.”
“Russia,”
“Alfred,” Ivan cut off, pausing to wait for him to meet his gaze. He hesitated, the words sounding better in his own mind then spoken aloud. When his hesitations finally lost America’s attention once again, he finally sat down on the edge of the bed, and murmured quietly in Russian, “It’s okay. Everything will be fine.”
Alfred stilled, not looking at him as Ivan moved further into the bed until they were nearly touching. Ivan once again hesitated, but then huffed before sighing. “It will all be fine.” His fingers came out and brushed gently through golden hair as a calming movement. It was something he had down to children to calm them down when they had been frightened and in his care. It seemed so instinctual that he had not really thought of it, but at the same time it felt right.
Alfred was tense and still on the mattress of the bed. When Ivan once again murmured to him, the young injured nation closed his eyes and let out a shuddered breath, throat tight from holding back tears of self directed anger and hopelessness.
The two men simply sat in the room, one brushing his fingers slowly through the others hair as the morning light grew stronger and became day.
--
What is this I see? A sign of affection! Nay, deny it Russia! Deny it! America, I should just send you to a miracle bathing waters so I can get on with this plot. In other news, thank you dearly for all the comments, they are so nice :)
Re: Blue Lips 40
anonymous
April 27 2011, 17:14:53 UTC
Oh I feel like my patience has paid off! I LOVE Ivan's insecurity about how to behave, it is so sweet ^.^ Quiet murmurs is Russian are as endearing as they are hot! Somehow I can't help feeling that Alfred is really lucky, lol.
Re: Blue Lips 40
anonymous
April 27 2011, 21:30:15 UTC
Sweet, funny and well paced. Don't worry. You're doing this right. *cards Al's hair too* Poor thing... I remember healing my leg. Forever feeling useless and like a burden. This fic makes me want to cry and laugh at once.
Re: Blue Lips 40
anonymous
April 27 2011, 21:30:41 UTC
Finally you two. I've been waiting for something since Alfred made that comment about thinking Ivan would have ask him out back then at the hospital. Not that I don't love the brotherly love from Matthew and Alfred and the budding frienship between Ivan and Alfred (cuz I really, really do), but I like some romance too. haha.
Anyway, you could use your creative license and sprinkle some miracle water on Alfred, but that would ruin the fun of having him go through PT! :P
Looking forward to the next5 update as usual. Maybe you could take some more pity on us and give us more sweetness for the two? XD
Re: Blue Lips 40
anonymous
April 29 2011, 21:12:45 UTC
I absolutely love this fic! I love your emotionally awkward Ivan and he is soooo cute with children! The relationship between him and Alfred is subtle while still being adorable, love it and can't wait for more:P
Re: Blue Lips 40
anonymous
May 2 2011, 22:22:08 UTC
Dearest writer!anon... you've done it again. Gods, this is my favourite Russia/America fic on the meme by far, and every new chapter just goes and proves that even more. America's strong stubbornness and Russia's quiet concern seem so perfect to me, sidling right up next to my headcanon and making me nearly clap for joy. Please, please keep up the good work, anon. <3
Russia continued to study America, watching with slightly narrowed eyes as he took a long breath, choking on it near the end. “You need more medicine.”
“I don’t.” America was still on the bed, but flexed his fingers slowly as he balled the old quilt draped over him. His glasses sat on his chest near his throat, glinting in reflected light. Turning his head slightly, Alfred looked away from his arm and to the dark ceiling. “Really. I’m fine. Russia, I’ll be out in a minute.”
“It is only six,” Ivan murmured back and came over to the bed, concern for the other man slowly filling him. “You’re never up before eight on a good day.”
“I am for meetings.” Alfred closed his eyes, head turned away from the crutches that lay in the corner of the small room.
“Nyet. You are not.” Ivan looked towards the door of the guest room. “What is wrong?” When Alfred did nothing he growled out, “I will take you back to the hospital if you do not tell me.”
That at least got a weak glare from America. His blue eyes were dark in the light, but encircled with red that Ivan could not tell if it was from exhaustion or crying. “I told you, I don't need any more of that stuff. Makes me loopy as it is,” Alfred murmured, dropping his hand to his side. He swallowed, looking back to the ceiling.
“And that still does not tell me what is wrong.”
“Because nothing’s wrong.” America frowned, matching Russia’s own. They continued to glare at each other before Alfred sighed and looked away again. He looked old and listless in the grey light. “Look, I’m fine. I’m just… I’m fine.”
“Frustrated,” the older nation supplied. Ivan’s eyes kept a steady gaze on Alfred, watching every small gesture for clues. He had glanced up at the word and then looked away as if he didn’t have the energy to del with Russia right now.
“Yeah.” He traced the corner of the quilt blindly. “You’ll think I’m just a kid. Look, I’m fine Russia. I’ll be out in a little for breakfast or whatever. Just, please leave me alone right now.”
“Nyet.”
“Russia, come on.” Alfred’s tone was neither playful nor gentle, but hushed and agitated. “Just go.”
“I will not.”
“Russia,”
“Alfred,” Ivan cut off, pausing to wait for him to meet his gaze. He hesitated, the words sounding better in his own mind then spoken aloud. When his hesitations finally lost America’s attention once again, he finally sat down on the edge of the bed, and murmured quietly in Russian, “It’s okay. Everything will be fine.”
Alfred stilled, not looking at him as Ivan moved further into the bed until they were nearly touching. Ivan once again hesitated, but then huffed before sighing. “It will all be fine.” His fingers came out and brushed gently through golden hair as a calming movement. It was something he had down to children to calm them down when they had been frightened and in his care. It seemed so instinctual that he had not really thought of it, but at the same time it felt right.
Alfred was tense and still on the mattress of the bed. When Ivan once again murmured to him, the young injured nation closed his eyes and let out a shuddered breath, throat tight from holding back tears of self directed anger and hopelessness.
The two men simply sat in the room, one brushing his fingers slowly through the others hair as the morning light grew stronger and became day.
--
What is this I see? A sign of affection! Nay, deny it Russia! Deny it! America, I should just send you to a miracle bathing waters so I can get on with this plot. In other news, thank you dearly for all the comments, they are so nice :)
Reply
Continue your amazing work author!Anon, adhkjdhsjadh those last paragraphs ! Finaly some signs ! ~~
Reply
Reply
Reply
Anyway, you could use your creative license and sprinkle some miracle water on Alfred, but that would ruin the fun of having him go through PT! :P
Looking forward to the next5 update as usual. Maybe you could take some more pity on us and give us more sweetness for the two? XD
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment