Taking Responsibility [4/10?]
anonymous
July 14 2009, 00:25:02 UTC
“Still,” she lowered her eyes to the promising bump in her stomach. “If you’ve only reached out to me now because be you feel responsible…”
“Katyusha,” Canada said slowly, choosing his words with care. He reached with his free hand and brushed a bit of hair away from her cheeks, taking note of how soft her skin was to the touch. “I want to take care of you. Both of you. If anything happened to you, I don’t think I could forgive myself. You’re…very important to me.”
“I see,” Ukraine said softly, giving his hand a squeeze. Her other hand rested on her stomach, and he cheeks were slightly red with a blush that Canada found outright adorable.
Suddenly, her expression changed completely, going from content to almost as white as the sheets in a matter of seconds. Dropping Canada’s hand as though it had burned her, she scrambled out of bed and lunged for the bathroom. Moments later, the sound of retching could be heard.
“Katyusha?” Canada called worriedly, coming to the door. “Are you all right?”
Ukraine half-lay on the ground, crouched over the toilet. She was panting heavily, sobbing a little with each painful breath as though she were trying very, very hard not to cry. Canada knelt beside her, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.
“Oooh,” she moaned, the sound echoing in the porcelain of the bowl. “I thought this horrid thing had stopped.”
Canada made a soothing sound, rubbing her back gently. With his other hand, he brushed the longer parts of her hair back and held them out of the way as she threw up again. Once she was done, he produced a wet washcloth, which she accepted with quiet thanks and used to clean her face.
Even red-faced, nauseated and smelling of vomit, she was beautiful, and the thought brought a smile to Canada’s face. “You know, I’ve read that watermelon is good for morning sickness. There’s some in the refrigerator, if you’d like that for breakfast?”
“I think, I’d like that,” Ukraine managed a small smile. “I love watermelon…”
“Watermelon it is then.”
As he was about to stand, she grabbed his hand again. “Matvey?”
“Yes?”
“Je teb’a l’ubl’u.”
Canada didn’t have a clue what the words meant, nor did he think he could reproduce the sound if he tried. So he smiled at her, kissed her hand and stood. “I’ll go get breakfast started.”
“…Okay.”
A flash of disappointment flickered across her eyes, but Canada couldn’t understand why.
(Also, I’m not fond of using Cyrillic letters in speech, because I can’t read them to save my life and therefore can’t imagine what the words sound like. So, whenever Ukraine or Russia speaks in their native tongue, I’m going to use the English phonetic equivalent.
“Katyusha,” Canada said slowly, choosing his words with care. He reached with his free hand and brushed a bit of hair away from her cheeks, taking note of how soft her skin was to the touch. “I want to take care of you. Both of you. If anything happened to you, I don’t think I could forgive myself. You’re…very important to me.”
“I see,” Ukraine said softly, giving his hand a squeeze. Her other hand rested on her stomach, and he cheeks were slightly red with a blush that Canada found outright adorable.
Suddenly, her expression changed completely, going from content to almost as white as the sheets in a matter of seconds. Dropping Canada’s hand as though it had burned her, she scrambled out of bed and lunged for the bathroom. Moments later, the sound of retching could be heard.
“Katyusha?” Canada called worriedly, coming to the door. “Are you all right?”
Ukraine half-lay on the ground, crouched over the toilet. She was panting heavily, sobbing a little with each painful breath as though she were trying very, very hard not to cry. Canada knelt beside her, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.
“Oooh,” she moaned, the sound echoing in the porcelain of the bowl. “I thought this horrid thing had stopped.”
Canada made a soothing sound, rubbing her back gently. With his other hand, he brushed the longer parts of her hair back and held them out of the way as she threw up again. Once she was done, he produced a wet washcloth, which she accepted with quiet thanks and used to clean her face.
Even red-faced, nauseated and smelling of vomit, she was beautiful, and the thought brought a smile to Canada’s face. “You know, I’ve read that watermelon is good for morning sickness. There’s some in the refrigerator, if you’d like that for breakfast?”
“I think, I’d like that,” Ukraine managed a small smile. “I love watermelon…”
“Watermelon it is then.”
As he was about to stand, she grabbed his hand again. “Matvey?”
“Yes?”
“Je teb’a l’ubl’u.”
Canada didn’t have a clue what the words meant, nor did he think he could reproduce the sound if he tried. So he smiled at her, kissed her hand and stood. “I’ll go get breakfast started.”
“…Okay.”
A flash of disappointment flickered across her eyes, but Canada couldn’t understand why.
(Also, I’m not fond of using Cyrillic letters in speech, because I can’t read them to save my life and therefore can’t imagine what the words sound like. So, whenever Ukraine or Russia speaks in their native tongue, I’m going to use the English phonetic equivalent.
Je teb’a l’ubl’u = Я тебя люблю = ‘I love you.’)
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Go Ukraine! You can make Mattie yours! <3
Can't wait for the next part!
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