“ ‘M not dehydrated. I had a large coffee this morning.” America began to tap his fingers against his stomach, trying to pass both the time and the annoyance from being forced to stay still on the floor.
“That’s all?” Russia asked.
“Uh, yeah.” Blue eyes looked up, trying to understand just why the older man seemed so quiet, and at the same time, jittery.
“That could be it. It’s four in the afternoon,” Canada said and finally removed his hand from America’s chest. Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, he sat down on the flood and adjusted the slacks to his black suit.
“Brilliant theory, Sherlock. Why not just give me a glass of water then and let me be on my way?”
“For once in you life, shut your mouth and let us make sure you’re fine,” England snapped, stowing his cell phone in his breast pocket. His hair was sticking up in tufts from the numerous amounts of time he had furrowed his hand through the short wheat colored locks. America thought he looked a bit like a startled cockatoo and bit down on his lip to stop from laughing.
“Alfred, please.” It was only two words. So simple: a noun and an adverb, and yet he knew the deeper meaning behind Russia’s words. You were bleeding last night. I don’t know what’s going on. Stop making trouble. We’re just trying to help. What’s really wrong? What aren’t you telling me? All the questions materialized into his mind, sweeping through his consciousness and leaving a burning trail of guilt behind.
I’m doing it all for you.
Because I love you.
But there was no reason to say all these words, or voice anything. All it would do is complicate things. There was no reason to make Russia worried, and America knew his lover; he would be angrier than anything that he had invaded his dreams, even if it was for Russia’s own sake. But there was a dark sliver of dread that he would have to tell Russia and that he would make him stop, because now he had to know what had happened last night.
Nothing should have touched him outside the dreams. The corridor was supposed to act like a barrier, to separate the dreams and to keep them from melding. Now that America thought about it, that last part didn’t work so well as the dreams swelled and ebbed and changed like a stormy sea. The corridor was supposed to regulate an archaic type of order, rather than just drifting along like a piece of driftwood in a black sea and fighting every monster that charged him.
America pressed the base of his palms harshly against his eyes, watching the whorls of colors that spun from his retinas. His phone vibrated against his leg and he opened blue eyes to stare at the bland ceiling and the harsh white florescent lights. They buzzed like white noise and as he adjusted Texas he rubbed his temples. America could feel a migraine coming on from the myriad of questions from the unknown.
“How about this, because this is getting ridiculous. I’ll just go lie down in my room and one of you can make sure I’m alive every hour or so. Either that or I’m just up and leaving,” America finally said. And, if he wanted to he could simply overpower them and stroll out as if nothing had happened. But he didn’t want it to come to that and so he continued to lie on the floor in exasperation.
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Here and Now 30
(Anonymous) 2011-07-16 09:16 pm (UTC)(link)“ ‘M not dehydrated. I had a large coffee this morning.” America began to tap his fingers against his stomach, trying to pass both the time and the annoyance from being forced to stay still on the floor.
“That’s all?” Russia asked.
“Uh, yeah.” Blue eyes looked up, trying to understand just why the older man seemed so quiet, and at the same time, jittery.
“That could be it. It’s four in the afternoon,” Canada said and finally removed his hand from America’s chest. Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, he sat down on the flood and adjusted the slacks to his black suit.
“Brilliant theory, Sherlock. Why not just give me a glass of water then and let me be on my way?”
“For once in you life, shut your mouth and let us make sure you’re fine,” England snapped, stowing his cell phone in his breast pocket. His hair was sticking up in tufts from the numerous amounts of time he had furrowed his hand through the short wheat colored locks. America thought he looked a bit like a startled cockatoo and bit down on his lip to stop from laughing.
“Alfred, please.” It was only two words. So simple: a noun and an adverb, and yet he knew the deeper meaning behind Russia’s words. You were bleeding last night. I don’t know what’s going on. Stop making trouble. We’re just trying to help. What’s really wrong? What aren’t you telling me? All the questions materialized into his mind, sweeping through his consciousness and leaving a burning trail of guilt behind.
I’m doing it all for you.
Because I love you.
But there was no reason to say all these words, or voice anything. All it would do is complicate things. There was no reason to make Russia worried, and America knew his lover; he would be angrier than anything that he had invaded his dreams, even if it was for Russia’s own sake. But there was a dark sliver of dread that he would have to tell Russia and that he would make him stop, because now he had to know what had happened last night.
Nothing should have touched him outside the dreams. The corridor was supposed to act like a barrier, to separate the dreams and to keep them from melding. Now that America thought about it, that last part didn’t work so well as the dreams swelled and ebbed and changed like a stormy sea. The corridor was supposed to regulate an archaic type of order, rather than just drifting along like a piece of driftwood in a black sea and fighting every monster that charged him.
America pressed the base of his palms harshly against his eyes, watching the whorls of colors that spun from his retinas. His phone vibrated against his leg and he opened blue eyes to stare at the bland ceiling and the harsh white florescent lights. They buzzed like white noise and as he adjusted Texas he rubbed his temples. America could feel a migraine coming on from the myriad of questions from the unknown.
“How about this, because this is getting ridiculous. I’ll just go lie down in my room and one of you can make sure I’m alive every hour or so. Either that or I’m just up and leaving,” America finally said. And, if he wanted to he could simply overpower them and stroll out as if nothing had happened. But he didn’t want it to come to that and so he continued to lie on the floor in exasperation.