Like walking on needles [2b/?]
anonymous
March 6 2011, 16:53:26 UTC
This is not a good idea...
England stood in front of Russia's house. He held the scarf out in front of him, almost like an offering.
Why did he think that it would be a good idea to actually visit Russia? He guessed that it was because he stayed up late, trying to make sure that the end result was satisfactory. It wasn't because the scarf was hard to fix, really, but because he really didn't want to get on Russia's bad side.
To add to England's uneasiness, it seemed that even Russia's house had the knack of intimidating people. England felt ant-sized next to the large house. He also felt like he was being watched, and he hoped that it wasn't General Winter or Belarus.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Russia peering out a large window. He saw Russia smiling when he saw his guest. In response, England forced out a smile.
Russia disappeared from the window. A second later, the door swung wide open.
"Hello, England! You came to visit me, da?" Russia still had that delighted grin on his face. His purple eyes shone with excitement.
"Er..." England glanced down at the scarf. Russia followed his gaze. His grin grew wider, if that was possible.
"You fixed it!" He exclaimed, gleeful.
Of course I fixed it, you git, what did you thin-kkk... oh, damn! England's angry inner monologue was interrupted when Russia grabbed his arm. The huge nation dragged England inside his house.
"I'm so glad!" Russia said happily. "And you'll stay for a while, da?"
"Let go of me, you wanker!" England exclaimed. He wiggled his arm, attempting to free himself- really, Russia was gripping his arm a little too tightly. "Don't you want your scarf?"
At the mention of his beloved scarf, Russia let go of England's arm. England scowled and shook his arm, in order to get rid of the numbness. As he did so, Russia grabbed the scarf from England's hands.
"Thank you, England." Russia wrapped the scarf around his noticeably bare neck. "I have some tea in the kitchen. Would you like some?"
England sighed. It didn't really seem like Russia was going to let him leave. Besides, he did love his tea...
Maybe he could tolerate a short visit.
*****************************
The tea was the Earl Grey's brand. England made it himself; he felt a little suspicious about Russia's hospitality, and he didn't want Russia to put something funky in there.
It didn't seem like Russia was planning anything, anyway. He sat at the table, sipping vodka from a glass; he had declined England's offer to make some tea for him. After a few minutes of silence, Russia spoke.
"I was just wondering, what kind of stitch did you use?" He asked. He was staring at the stitches in the scarf. It was towards the end of the article of clothing. England had used white thread to sew the rip up. The stitches formed small, neat X's on the fabric.
"The cross-stitch," England said, pouring out some tea in a mug. He moved on to add a little bit of milk. "it wasn't so badly torn." It really wasn't. It was little more then a rip.
"I know." Russia shrugged his broad shoulders. England sat down with him, instinctively leaning away from him a bit.
"I never learned how to sew." Russia said after another pause.
"Is that so?" England wasn't too surprised. Most people didn't learn how; America didn't, for example, despite the fact that England would try to teach him.
"Yes," Russia nodded. "It always seemed hard."
"Not really, once you get the hang of it," England explained. "When you do, it's- OH, MY GOD!"
Earlier, neither of them were paying attention to the door. However, when a furious blond girl ran through the door while screaming russian swear words, the men did more then just pay attention.
To be more accurate, they abandoned their drinks and ran out of the kitchen, screaming all the way.
Re: Like walking on needles [2b/?]
anonymous
March 10 2011, 00:18:28 UTC
Wah, this is so cute~! Lol, they’re both running away from Belarus? Who wouldn’t, yeah? I’m such a sucker for unconventional friendships, so I am absolutely loving this so far~ Looking forward to more in the future! Near future? *hinthint*
Like walking on needles [3/?]
anonymous
March 12 2011, 02:55:45 UTC
England firmly believed that the visit couldn't get any worse.
After Russia and England escaped Russia's house, they jumped into Russia's truck and made the perilous journey to the motel England was staying at.
It actually was perilous. Russia drove like a maniac; England was nervous that they might crash into a tree or something (which they almost did. Three times, in fact). England kept his eyes on the road, screaming out warnings and obscenities at Russia.
Towards the end of the drive, England wanted to hand himself over to Belarus and face the consequences. It would had been a better way to die.
Before he did, Russia had pulled up to the motel. England had flung the door open, grateful that he had survived the Car Trip From Hell.
He had stepped out of the truck... and promptly slipped on a sheet of ice.
Russia had carried him inside the motel bridal-style, despite England's protests. They had both gotten a lot of weird looks from the patrons, although some people had snapped pictures with their phones.
Currently, England was laid out on his motel room's bed, covered with a thick blanket. Russia was in the bathroom, doing God knows what.
Bored, England stretched his hand out towards the nightstand and grabbed his cellphone. He opened it. He stared at the screen in disbelief for a few seconds, then groaning as he tilted his head back.
He got a lovely bump on his head, thanks to the headboard.
That's it, America needs a hobby...
"What's the matter?" Russia came out of bathroom, carrying a pipe. England was pretty sure that the ash-blond didn't have it in the truck with him. He decided to ignore it.
"Nothing, really." England shrugged. Russia walked over next to England. The smaller nation eyed the pipe nervously as Russia leaned down.
Russia raised his eyebrows. "America sent nineteen text messages?"
"I... guess." Really, why was America on his speed dial?
Because he asked, and you can't resist his puppy dog eyes...
That was probably the pain talking. England was sure about that.
"He must be worried about you," Russia glanced down at England. His purple eyes looked soft, almost innocent. How they were able to look like that next to a (possibly stolen) pipe was any ones guess. "Did you read them?"
"Not yet," England said. "it's probably filled with heroic rants about protecting the innocent, or something."
Still, it would be rude to not read them. Besides, they were from America.
"Can I read it too?" Russia asked. Without waiting for a response, he walked to the other side of the bed. He sat down on the mattress, almost breathing down England's neck.
"Uh..." England was about to refuse, but then he remembered the pipe that was still in Russia's hands. "Sure. Why not?"
(Author's notes: Thanks for your help and reviews, guys! Seriously, you're all awesome!)
Re: Like walking on needles [3/?]
anonymous
March 17 2011, 23:46:45 UTC
I like how they didn't become instant friends, and how England is so paranoid about Russia. Poor guy, though, his sister is terrible! Though he was innocently curious, I hope his rivalry with America shows up at some point.
Like walking on needles [4/?]
anonymous
March 19 2011, 22:55:11 UTC
Hey, England! Canada- you remember him, right?- wanted to know if me and you wanted to hang out with him tomorrow! Text me if it's yes or no!
England rolled his eyes. Bad grammar. Git probably did that on purpose to piss me off...
Russia giggled. He stood up and started to walk over to the small refrigerator. "You didn't tell anyone about our visit?"
"It was a bit of a last minute idea," England watched as Russia opened the refrigerator. "Don't you have to pay for that?"
"I suppose so." Russia took out two vodka bottles. Great, so Russia was going to try to get them both drunk. England wasn't really that fond of vodka. Besides, if England did get drunk, Russia would probably try to force England to become one with him.
Okay, Russia hadn't tried that trick recently, so maybe he grew out of it. England doubted it, though. At least Russia tucked the pipe underneath his pillow, so maybe England had a chance for survival.
"Incidentally," Russia said as he sat down next to England, "what does Canada look like again?"
England wrinkled his brow as he thought. "Bloody Hell if I know." He finally said.
*****************
EnglandEnglandEnglandEngland! Dude, are you feeling okay? You usually text me back after, like, a minute! It's been over four minutes!
England sighed and moved on to the next message.
Hey, were you kidnapped by your imaginary friends? Haha!
He was on the third message. Normally, England would've been a bit more patient with the messages, but he had a rough day, he was cold and ached all over, and he probably didn't have any plumbing, thanks to Russia.
But America should never insult his fairies.
England looked at Russia. Russia was drinking vodka out of one bottle. The other bottle laid next to him.
"Excuse me," England said, "Can I have the other bottle?"
Russia grinned. "Da!" He exclaimed. He grabbed the other bottle and uncorked it. "This is so fun! We're bonding!"
England gave a small smile as he took the fresh bottle. "Sure."
***************************
Russia forgot how much of a lightweight England was.
England was barely halfway through the bottle before he slumped over, ranting about America.
"Bloody wanker can barely speak proper english!" England cried. He waved the cell phone in front of Russia's face, his green eyes blurry. "Look! See that! He used the word "yo!" YO! Who uses the word "yo", anyway?!"
"Um," Russia said.
"IDIOTS, that's who!" England snapped. "Bloody idiot, that America!"
Russia remembered when China used to get drunk. Whenever China drunk and talked about Japan, he would usually start to cry. Russia would try to make China feel better by asking China to join him. For some reason, that offer frightened China.
"'e can't insult my *hic* fairies," England mumbled. "Not with his talk of *hic* aliens! The *hic* fairies get *hic* really pissed off!"
China used to love dragons and kittens. Russia wondered if the asian country still did. They haven't talked in a long time...
Wait, was England still talking?
Russia was snapped out of his memories by England, who slumped on Russia's broad shoulder.
"To think that I'm *hic* still fond of that git..." England mumbled, his eyes sliding shut.
Russia gently ran his fingers through England's hair, like how China used to do when Russia got too drunk; Russia used to do that to China in return.
Still, England's hair wasn't like China's. England's hair was short and blond. China's hair was long, jet-black, and it was the silkiest hair Russia ever felt.
England's hair didn't feel the same.
Russia remembered the half drank vodka bottles. He shrugged it off; they would have enough trouble tomorrow, since Russia borrowed a pipe. England would probably have to vomit in the bathtub. He wondered if England would mind that.
XD Love the texts America was sending out. Poor England...
It was sweet that Russia was thinking about China while England was ranting about America o3o This is turning about to be such a cute fill~ I love it, of course :D Well done!
Like walking on needles [5/?]
anonymous
March 27 2011, 02:31:56 UTC
It was shaping up to be an awful day.
First, England had woken up with a hideous hangover. Russia was the poor soul who had to wake him up. England was halfway through growling swears at him before he remembered that the "damn wanker" he was referring to was also his insane former allie. He had then stumbled out of bed in a panic and had made his way to the bathroom.
Of course, there was a small problem with a stolen pipe. England couldn't use the toilet, the shower, or the sink, which was a bit of a problem, what with his hangover and all.
They had to go to a local restaurant in order to use a bathroom. They used the sinks for sponge baths, and England threw up into a toliet. The patrons were not pleased.
Currently, they were on an airplane to England's country. Russia had managed to book them two seats (thank God for connections). However, said seats were near a bunch of screaming children, which did not help England's pounding headache at all.
"England?"
England lifted his head to look at Russia. Russia had the seat near the aisle. He watched England with a cautious expression, probably remembering England's swearing rant from before.
"Mmmhmm?" England replied.
"I don't think that you finished reading America's texts."
"Oh." He probably didn't. His memories of the night before were a bit blurry. All he remembered was the strong vodka, America's texts, England's rants about America - oh, shit!
"Hey, Russia," England said, his voice a little high-pitched. "Last night, did I... uh... say anything embarassing?"
Russia wrinkled his brow. "No. You mostly complained about America-"
England breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, good. Nothing out of the ordinary-
"-then you mentioned how fond you were of America!" Russia finished with a pleased smile.
Dammit!
England let out a gentlemanly squeak. A couple of children giggled. Russia glared at them, which shut them up immediately.
"H-how fond did I say I was of-" England stumbled over America's name.
"I don't remember. You just said that you were fond of him." Russia smiled- a big, happy, sincere smile. "But I thought about China a lot."
"China?" Did he mention China last night?
"Yes. I was reminded of him a lot." Russia's smile faltered a bit. "I get reminded of him. Last night wasn't the first time." I get reminded of him all the time was the unspoken sentence.
"Oh." What could England say to that? Should he say that it was okay, because he was often reminded of America? Like how the sky is reminding me of his eyes right now? America loves airplanes so much...
Wait, what was he thinking? Maybe Russia just liked China as a friend.
Yes. And McDonald's hamburgers are considered healthy.
And than England thought of America stuffing his face with hamburgers, with that endearingly idiotic grin plastered on his face...
"You are now landing in France." A voice over the loudspeaker said.
"What?!" America was forgotten as England almost jumped out of his seat, his seat belt keeping him secured. "I thought this was the plane to England!"
Russia scowled. "They gave us the wrong tickets?" He murmured. "They will pay for this."
For a minute, England was glad that the airport had took away the pipe. The relief was short lived.
"I'm not seeing that damn frog!" He snapped.
It was offcial. It was going to be an awful day.
Author's note: Soul spilling is coming soon, guys! Don't worry! But, ummmmmmm... if this part gets maxed out, you guys will know where to find me, right? PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! *sob*.
Like walking on needles [6/?]
anonymous
April 19 2011, 18:07:54 UTC
The motel was very...France-like.
That was the only way England could describe it. Between both him and Russia, there wasn't enough money to rent a room in nice, normal-looking hotel. Instead, they were only able to afford a pretty sleazy-looking motel- one of those motels for cheap honeymooners or something of the like.
Usually, England would say that all of France's motels were like that, but he felt too tired to say that. All that he wanted to do was sleep.
However, that proved to be awkward, seeing how there was only one bed. They both didn't want the floor; if England wasn't feeling achy, he might have took the floor, but he wasn't in the mood for that.
Instead, England took the right side of the bed and Russia took the left side. There was a red silk pillow between them, to make sure that they didn't cross their boundaries.
England was trying to sleep, but he spent more time laying on his back; the room smelt too exotic for his taste, as if it was sprayed with perfume. The pillows looked nice, but he wasn't a huge fan of sleeping on silk. Of course, there was also Russia, who was still a little to close for his liking.
Although... upon reflection, hanging out with Russia hadn't been horrible. Sure, the settings weren't ideal, but Russia didn't try to get England to become one with the motherland or something like that. For Russia, that meant progress.
"England?" Russia whispered. With a start, England realized that Russia was staring at him.
"Yes?" England rolled to his side, in order to see Russia better. Russia was also laying on his side.
Russia was quiet for a while. England considered rolling back onto his back, but Russia finally spoke.
"On the plane. When I said that I was fond of China, what did you think?"
"Oh, umm...nothing much, I guess." England stuttered.
Russia giggled. "You know, during the second world war, we all thought that America and you would get together."
"What?!" England squealed-squealed, for God's sake, like a schoolgirl. He even blushed a bit.
"Yes." Russia sighed. He furrowed his brow, as if he was thinking. "Did you and America think that China and I would get together?"
"Well, I didn't really think about it that much. Why?"
"Because..." Russia paused until he found the words. "I guess that sometimes, I wished that we did." Russia blushed beet red, as if he was caught doing something wrong. "Don't you dare tell anyone." He sounded a bit like the Russia that England was more familiar with.
"I won't. Believe me, I won't. In fact..." God, don't get all sentimental with me, brain! "Maybe- well, perhaps I wished that...America and I had...that relationship." He blushed and quickly added, "Not-not quite like that! I meant-well-you're asleep, aren't you?"
Indeed, Russia was asleep. His face looked a lot more relaxed and less scary looking.
"Hell." Well, there were worse people to confess to, right? After all, Russia had told him first.
England stood in front of Russia's house. He held the scarf out in front of him, almost like an offering.
Why did he think that it would be a good idea to actually visit Russia? He guessed that it was because he stayed up late, trying to make sure that the end result was satisfactory. It wasn't because the scarf was hard to fix, really, but because he really didn't want to get on Russia's bad side.
To add to England's uneasiness, it seemed that even Russia's house had the knack of intimidating people. England felt ant-sized next to the large house. He also felt like he was being watched, and he hoped that it wasn't General Winter or Belarus.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Russia peering out a large window. He saw Russia smiling when he saw his guest. In response, England forced out a smile.
Russia disappeared from the window. A second later, the door swung wide open.
"Hello, England! You came to visit me, da?" Russia still had that delighted grin on his face. His purple eyes shone with excitement.
"Er..." England glanced down at the scarf. Russia followed his gaze. His grin grew wider, if that was possible.
"You fixed it!" He exclaimed, gleeful.
Of course I fixed it, you git, what did you thin-kkk... oh, damn! England's angry inner monologue was interrupted when Russia grabbed his arm. The huge nation dragged England inside his house.
"I'm so glad!" Russia said happily. "And you'll stay for a while, da?"
"Let go of me, you wanker!" England exclaimed. He wiggled his arm, attempting to free himself- really, Russia was gripping his arm a little too tightly. "Don't you want your scarf?"
At the mention of his beloved scarf, Russia let go of England's arm. England scowled and shook his arm, in order to get rid of the numbness. As he did so, Russia grabbed the scarf from England's hands.
"Thank you, England." Russia wrapped the scarf around his noticeably bare neck. "I have some tea in the kitchen. Would you like some?"
England sighed. It didn't really seem like Russia was going to let him leave. Besides, he did love his tea...
Maybe he could tolerate a short visit.
*****************************
The tea was the Earl Grey's brand. England made it himself; he felt a little suspicious about Russia's hospitality, and he didn't want Russia to put something funky in there.
It didn't seem like Russia was planning anything, anyway. He sat at the table, sipping vodka from a glass; he had declined England's offer to make some tea for him. After a few minutes of silence, Russia spoke.
"I was just wondering, what kind of stitch did you use?" He asked. He was staring at the stitches in the scarf. It was towards the end of the article of clothing. England had used white thread to sew the rip up. The stitches formed small, neat X's on the fabric.
"The cross-stitch," England said, pouring out some tea in a mug. He moved on to add a little bit of milk.
"it wasn't so badly torn." It really wasn't. It was little more then a rip.
"I know." Russia shrugged his broad shoulders. England sat down with him, instinctively leaning away from him a bit.
"I never learned how to sew." Russia said after another pause.
"Is that so?" England wasn't too surprised. Most people didn't learn how; America didn't, for example, despite the fact that England would try to teach him.
"Yes," Russia nodded. "It always seemed hard."
"Not really, once you get the hang of it," England explained. "When you do, it's- OH, MY GOD!"
Earlier, neither of them were paying attention to the door. However, when a furious blond girl ran through the door while screaming russian swear words, the men did more then just pay attention.
To be more accurate, they abandoned their drinks and ran out of the kitchen, screaming all the way.
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Anyway, great story!
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After Russia and England escaped Russia's house, they jumped into Russia's truck and made the perilous journey to the motel England was staying at.
It actually was perilous. Russia drove like a maniac; England was nervous that they might crash into a tree or something (which they almost did. Three times, in fact). England kept his eyes on the road, screaming out warnings and obscenities at Russia.
Towards the end of the drive, England wanted to hand himself over to Belarus and face the consequences. It would had been a better way to die.
Before he did, Russia had pulled up to the motel. England had flung the door open, grateful that he had survived the Car Trip From Hell.
He had stepped out of the truck... and promptly slipped on a sheet of ice.
Russia had carried him inside the motel bridal-style, despite England's protests. They had both gotten a lot of weird looks from the patrons, although some people had snapped pictures with their phones.
Currently, England was laid out on his motel room's bed, covered with a thick blanket. Russia was in the bathroom, doing God knows what.
Bored, England stretched his hand out towards the nightstand and grabbed his cellphone. He opened it. He stared at the screen in disbelief for a few seconds, then groaning as he tilted his head back.
He got a lovely bump on his head, thanks to the headboard.
That's it, America needs a hobby...
"What's the matter?" Russia came out of bathroom, carrying a pipe. England was pretty sure that the ash-blond didn't have it in the truck with him. He decided to ignore it.
"Nothing, really." England shrugged. Russia walked over next to England. The smaller nation eyed the pipe nervously as Russia leaned down.
Russia raised his eyebrows. "America sent nineteen text messages?"
"I... guess." Really, why was America on his speed dial?
Because he asked, and you can't resist his puppy dog eyes...
That was probably the pain talking. England was sure about that.
"He must be worried about you," Russia glanced down at England. His purple eyes looked soft, almost innocent. How they were able to look like that next to a (possibly stolen) pipe was any ones guess. "Did you read them?"
"Not yet," England said. "it's probably filled with heroic rants about protecting the innocent, or something."
Still, it would be rude to not read them. Besides, they were from America.
"Can I read it too?" Russia asked. Without waiting for a response, he walked to the other side of the bed. He sat down on the mattress, almost breathing down England's neck.
"Uh..." England was about to refuse, but then he remembered the pipe that was still in Russia's hands. "Sure. Why not?"
(Author's notes: Thanks for your help and reviews, guys! Seriously, you're all awesome!)
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Lol at England slipping on ice and having Russia carry him inside. I'd totally would have taken a picture as well o3o
Looking forward for more~
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England rolled his eyes. Bad grammar. Git probably did that on purpose to piss me off...
Russia giggled. He stood up and started to walk over to the small refrigerator. "You didn't tell anyone about our visit?"
"It was a bit of a last minute idea," England watched as Russia opened the refrigerator. "Don't you have to pay for that?"
"I suppose so." Russia took out two vodka bottles. Great, so Russia was going to try to get them both drunk. England wasn't really that fond of vodka. Besides, if England did get drunk, Russia would probably try to force England to become one with him.
Okay, Russia hadn't tried that trick recently, so maybe he grew out of it. England doubted it, though. At least Russia tucked the pipe underneath his pillow, so maybe England had a chance for survival.
"Incidentally," Russia said as he sat down next to England, "what does Canada look like again?"
England wrinkled his brow as he thought. "Bloody Hell if I know." He finally said.
*****************
EnglandEnglandEnglandEngland! Dude, are you feeling okay? You usually text me back after, like, a minute! It's been over four minutes!
England sighed and moved on to the next message.
Hey, were you kidnapped by your imaginary friends? Haha!
He was on the third message. Normally, England would've been a bit more patient with the messages, but he had a rough day, he was cold and ached all over, and he probably didn't have any plumbing, thanks to Russia.
But America should never insult his fairies.
England looked at Russia. Russia was drinking vodka out of one bottle. The other bottle laid next to him.
"Excuse me," England said, "Can I have the other bottle?"
Russia grinned. "Da!" He exclaimed. He grabbed the other bottle and uncorked it. "This is so fun! We're bonding!"
England gave a small smile as he took the fresh bottle. "Sure."
***************************
Russia forgot how much of a lightweight England was.
England was barely halfway through the bottle before he slumped over, ranting about America.
"Bloody wanker can barely speak proper english!" England cried. He waved the cell phone in front of Russia's face, his green eyes blurry. "Look! See that! He used the word "yo!" YO! Who uses the word "yo", anyway?!"
"Um," Russia said.
"IDIOTS, that's who!" England snapped. "Bloody idiot, that America!"
Russia remembered when China used to get drunk. Whenever China drunk and talked about Japan, he would usually start to cry. Russia would try to make China feel better by asking China to join him. For some reason, that offer frightened China.
"'e can't insult my *hic* fairies," England mumbled. "Not with his talk of *hic* aliens! The *hic* fairies get *hic* really pissed off!"
China used to love dragons and kittens. Russia wondered if the asian country still did. They haven't talked in a long time...
Wait, was England still talking?
Russia was snapped out of his memories by England, who slumped on Russia's broad shoulder.
"To think that I'm *hic* still fond of that git..." England mumbled, his eyes sliding shut.
Russia gently ran his fingers through England's hair, like how China used to do when Russia got too drunk; Russia used to do that to China in return.
Still, England's hair wasn't like China's. England's hair was short and blond. China's hair was long, jet-black, and it was the silkiest hair Russia ever felt.
England's hair didn't feel the same.
Russia remembered the half drank vodka bottles. He shrugged it off; they would have enough trouble tomorrow, since Russia borrowed a pipe. England would probably have to vomit in the bathtub. He wondered if England would mind that.
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It was sweet that Russia was thinking about China while England was ranting about America o3o This is turning about to be such a cute fill~ I love it, of course :D Well done!
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First, England had woken up with a hideous hangover. Russia was the poor soul who had to wake him up. England was halfway through growling swears at him before he remembered that the "damn wanker" he was referring to was also his insane former allie. He had then stumbled out of bed in a panic and had made his way to the bathroom.
Of course, there was a small problem with a stolen pipe. England couldn't use the toilet, the shower, or the sink, which was a bit of a problem, what with his hangover and all.
They had to go to a local restaurant in order to use a bathroom. They used the sinks for sponge baths, and England threw up into a toliet. The patrons were not pleased.
Currently, they were on an airplane to England's country. Russia had managed to book them two seats (thank God for connections). However, said seats were near a bunch of screaming children, which did not help England's pounding headache at all.
"England?"
England lifted his head to look at Russia. Russia had the seat near the aisle. He watched England with a cautious expression, probably remembering England's swearing rant from before.
"Mmmhmm?" England replied.
"I don't think that you finished reading America's texts."
"Oh." He probably didn't. His memories of the night before were a bit blurry. All he remembered was the strong vodka, America's texts, England's rants about America - oh, shit!
"Hey, Russia," England said, his voice a little high-pitched. "Last night, did I... uh... say anything embarassing?"
Russia wrinkled his brow. "No. You mostly complained about America-"
England breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, good. Nothing out of the ordinary-
"-then you mentioned how fond you were of America!" Russia finished with a pleased smile.
Dammit!
England let out a gentlemanly squeak. A couple of children giggled. Russia glared at them, which shut them up immediately.
"H-how fond did I say I was of-" England stumbled over America's name.
"I don't remember. You just said that you were fond of him." Russia smiled- a big, happy, sincere smile. "But I thought about China a lot."
"China?" Did he mention China last night?
"Yes. I was reminded of him a lot." Russia's smile faltered a bit. "I get reminded of him. Last night wasn't the first time." I get reminded of him all the time was the unspoken sentence.
"Oh." What could England say to that? Should he say that it was okay, because he was often reminded of America? Like how the sky is reminding me of his eyes right now? America loves airplanes so much...
Wait, what was he thinking? Maybe Russia just liked China as a friend.
Yes. And McDonald's hamburgers are considered healthy.
And than England thought of America stuffing his face with hamburgers, with that endearingly idiotic grin plastered on his face...
"You are now landing in France." A voice over the loudspeaker said.
"What?!" America was forgotten as England almost jumped out of his seat, his seat belt keeping him secured. "I thought this was the plane to England!"
Russia scowled. "They gave us the wrong tickets?" He murmured. "They will pay for this."
For a minute, England was glad that the airport had took away the pipe. The relief was short lived.
"I'm not seeing that damn frog!" He snapped.
It was offcial. It was going to be an awful day.
Author's note: Soul spilling is coming soon, guys! Don't worry! But, ummmmmmm... if this part gets maxed out, you guys will know where to find me, right? PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! *sob*.
Just kidding (sorta). Thanks for reading!
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Nice job, though.
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However, I feel like reading Russia/England now...
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That was the only way England could describe it. Between both him and Russia, there wasn't enough money to rent a room in nice, normal-looking hotel. Instead, they were only able to afford a pretty sleazy-looking motel- one of those motels for cheap honeymooners or something of the like.
Usually, England would say that all of France's motels were like that, but he felt too tired to say that. All that he wanted to do was sleep.
However, that proved to be awkward, seeing how there was only one bed. They both didn't want the floor; if England wasn't feeling achy, he might have took the floor, but he wasn't in the mood for that.
Instead, England took the right side of the bed and Russia took the left side. There was a red silk pillow between them, to make sure that they didn't cross their boundaries.
England was trying to sleep, but he spent more time laying on his back; the room smelt too exotic for his taste, as if it was sprayed with perfume. The pillows looked nice, but he wasn't a huge fan of sleeping on silk. Of course, there was also Russia, who was still a little to close for his liking.
Although... upon reflection, hanging out with Russia hadn't been horrible. Sure, the settings weren't ideal, but Russia didn't try to get England to become one with the motherland or something like that. For Russia, that meant progress.
"England?" Russia whispered. With a start, England realized that Russia was staring at him.
"Yes?" England rolled to his side, in order to see Russia better. Russia was also laying on his side.
Russia was quiet for a while. England considered rolling back onto his back, but Russia finally spoke.
"On the plane. When I said that I was fond of China, what did you think?"
"Oh, umm...nothing much, I guess." England stuttered.
Russia giggled. "You know, during the second world war, we all thought that America and you would get together."
"What?!" England squealed-squealed, for God's sake, like a schoolgirl. He even blushed a bit.
"Yes." Russia sighed. He furrowed his brow, as if he was thinking. "Did you and America think that China and I would get together?"
"Well, I didn't really think about it that much. Why?"
"Because..." Russia paused until he found the words. "I guess that sometimes, I wished that we did." Russia blushed beet red, as if he was caught doing something wrong. "Don't you dare tell anyone." He sounded a bit like the Russia that England was more familiar with.
"I won't. Believe me, I won't. In fact..." God, don't get all sentimental with me, brain! "Maybe- well, perhaps I wished that...America and I had...that relationship." He blushed and quickly added, "Not-not quite like that! I meant-well-you're asleep, aren't you?"
Indeed, Russia was asleep. His face looked a lot more relaxed and less scary looking.
"Hell." Well, there were worse people to confess to, right? After all, Russia had told him first.
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