Stranded [England] [Complete]

[England]

England noted how America had accelerated his actions and speech, and let him be, because he recognized the guilt-like feeling that was causing his tone to shift. He didn't mind that America was apparently trying to force more food onto him, because it was such an America thing to do that England did not fight it anymore. Instead, he silently accepted everything that America gave him, including the chewy bar, which he kept in order to wash down the sugar-loaded taste of the cake he unwrapped first.

"I'm sure you'll be fine. If if it doesn't close by tomorrow, it should be healed enough to consider it being a large surface wound. It shouldn't bother you or your movements, though you really should not strain it." He glanced over to the side of the roof and sighed. "Though I'm not sure which part of 'not straining' we'd be respecting if I make you rock-climb down a three-story building. But, when in doubt, always tell yourself that the descent is easier than the ascent." He shrugged and bit into his cake with a wince. "You'll have to sleep a lot tonight, too. We'll check our situation tomorrow morning and then judge if we can make an escape."

The plastic crinkled as England fed the small, highly sweet treat to his gurgling stomach, and at some point, he found himself too hungry to care about appearances (or taste, for that matter), and took large bites of the cake until only crumbs remained on his fingers. He refrained from eating those, though, so that he would not have to ingest residue blood on his appendages.

"So if we do have a clear field tomorrow," he began again through a full mouth, opening the chewy bar before even having swallowed his cake, "we can build up our reserves in the morning. That means that we'd sleep a lot in the morning, lay down and conserve energy a lot. Then, towards noon, we'd start eating a few cakes or whatever pastries there are in there. The sugar rush, or whatever small bit of sugar rush we can attain, should hit in the early hours of the afternoon, which means that it'll be light out when we'll make our escape." He motioned his head at the side of the building they were going to use. "We'll most probably scale that side. Not many zombies have been there since the beginning, so I'l hoping that they're a manageable number, if any. I'll scout in the morning."

[America]

He finished the first cake rather quickly, and only felt a little bit embarrassed as he tipped the plastic packaging over into his mouth, trying to get the crumbs that were leftover. He was hungry enough not to care all that much about manners or appearances. Besides, every little bite counted in their situation, and he wasn't about to let a few crumbs go to waste just because he wanted to try and look cool in front of England.

Neither of them would look cool until they arrived back at the warehouse and fixed themselves up.

He opened his second cake, instantly stuffing it into his mouth as he listened to England's plan. By the time he had finished talking, America's cake was completely gone. He moved the plastic aside, trying to ignore the hunger that still gripped him. If everything went according to plan, he could get some food in less than a day. God, he really hoped he could. He needed food and drink right then more than he had ever needed it before in his life.

"That all sounds good to me," America agreed, nodding his head. It was the only plausible plan at the moment, after all. "I'm sure my leg will be good enough to climb down a building, and if it isn't, too bad. I can do it anyway. Shouldn't strain it too much. Besides, the sooner we get home, the better." He rubbed at his neck. "But, um, if there are still zombies down there, will we use guns to get rid of them? 'Cause won't all the noise just alert every other zombie in the area?"

[England]

"I don't know," England shrugged and took a gulp of water with a relieved sigh. "I'll probably try to find a way down to kill them with my blade weapons." He patted the trench knives sheathed at his waist. "And if they're too many, we'll have to wait a little longer. I mean, at this point, another day won't kill us. We're just sitting ducks anyway." The thought was a bit discouraging, and England could feel himself wither a little. Their siege was taking a toll on them, not just physically, but psychologically. If they didn't get out soon, their bodies would have a hard time supporting them, and their minds, even less. Despair was a dangerous affliction in situations like theirs.

"I can't wait to get back and have a nice, long shower. Or eat something, anything else than packaged cake," England mumbled to distract himself from the hopelessness of their situation. "And tea. It's going to feel so nice to have some tea to calm my nerves after this. I'll need some help getting good sleep for a few days after this." He hummed, closing his eyes, and trying not to think about their situation. At least he wasn't alone. That was a small blessing he couldn't overlook.

"I'm going to go crazy if I don't find something to do, though. I should have brought a book or something. Though if I'd known this would happen, I wouldn't have come at all," England grumbled, flopping down on his back and staring up at the orange sky. "Maybe we can do some exercise. Not too smart, considering we need to save some energy, but it's something to pass the time."

[America]

America nodded absently, mind wandering too far to be able to hear England's last few sentences. He didn't know how he would be able to sleep properly back at the warehouse, either. In just two days, his fear had shot straight through the roof (no pun intended). He wasn't protected by an abundance of ammo and other nations. He wasn't protected by thick walls and scouts. The zombies were literally feet away. He could smell their stench, hear their groans, and other than his conversation with England, that was it. His leg had been torn into by a jagged can lid, and his lover's own fingers had dug around through the blood and muscle. They had nothing of nutritious value, no water, to keep them healthy.

America wouldn't be able to sleep properly for a while, not without help, like England said.

"Coffee," he blurted out, glancing down at England's form. "Once we get back, I'm making me some coffee." That sounded perfect, and he nodded, already imaging bringing the mug up to his face to drive off the aroma of flesh and blood and sweat. "And grabbing something with meat. Anything with meat. Even if Scotland brought back another weird, mutated animal, I'll eat it. And then a shower." He glanced down at his clothes, splattered with blood and filth, and winced. "A nice...a nice hot shower. And I'll leave my clothes for someone else to deal with, because I'll be done dealing with things."

He laid down next to England, kissing his cheek. "And then I'll grab my pajamas and curl up with you in your bed and hope that we can both help each other sleep." He smiled softly, then followed England's gaze to the sky, humming. "In the meantime, maybe we could do some exercise. Just in case we have to leave soon and my leg might be too sore. You know. Just in case. I'll doubt we'll get down before it has time to heal, though."

He cleared his throat, and smiled nervously over at England. "If we ever get down at all, huh?"

[England]

"Oh please, don't be that way," England waved him off dismissively. "Of course we will. Anything is possible, as cliche as it sounds. I mean, at worst, we'll have an arm bitten off, and so what. As long as we can still run, who cares what part of our body is missing. We'll get a vaccine and wait for it to grow back. I don't think I am too eager to deal with the pain of having muscles torn right off my bones by humanoid teeth and then grow them back. Not my idea of a weekend well spent," he chuckled morbidly, turning around to look at America. "But... I guess beggars can't be choosers. We'll get out of here alive."

"I'll take you up on that meat. Actually, I need something hearty to eat, something somewhat heavy. I want to feel so full that I'll lay down and I'll have to roll to move someplace else," his stomach made a displeased remark at the mention of being fed. England pointedly ignored the embarrassing noise. "And I don't think that anybody would be willing to clean up after us, so maybe we could just leave our dirty clothing in a corner and take care of them once we're well-rested. It won't do to act undisciplined just because we just got back from a few days of siege." And he left it at that.

Pushing himself up into a sitting position after a moment of thought, he cracked his back and groaned as his spine regained its flexible properties. He then moved a little bit so he sat facing America, his feet touching his. Sighing, he laid back down on the ground, hands behind his head, and took a breath before suddenly pulling himself up into a sit-up.

"Count for me, and then I'll count for you," he grunted, eyes on his bent knees as he went up and down systematically. "We'll work on waking our muscles, considering that they've been taking a relative break so far. Can't let our bodies think we're done," he exhaled harshly. "Considering that we're just unveiling the tip of the iceberg."

[America]

America smiled when he saw England doing the sit-ups. His boyfriend was right; they'd get out of there alive, maybe scratched and bruised, maybe armless, as England said, but they'd still get out, and they could take care of everything when they got back to the warehouse. With his hope renewed, he, too, sat up, keeping his feet touching England's feet and counting the sit-ups in his mind.

"Well, one thing's for sure," he stated proudly. "We're gonna be a lot skinnier once all this is over." He didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. However, he soon decided it was bad. They couldn't afford to lose any weight these days, not when they barely had enough at the warehouse as it was. Losing weight in such a short amount of time would also make them weaker, which would make escape a lot more tricky. As America counted the sit ups, he realized that perhaps he shouldn't have said anything about being skinnier.

Trying to backtrack, he added, "I meant, just a little bit skinnier. Hopefully, though, we're gonna gain more muscle from doing all these exercises, and then from running from all those uglies out there, you know?" He grinned, patting England's knee.

"Doing good, by the way."

[England]

"I don't think I need to get any skinnier than this," England exhaled harshly as a small burn began developing in his lower abdomen. "You don't either. I mean, the more reserves we have, the better it is. It's not like we're so fat that it impedes on our energy levels and cardio, so we don't have to worry about getting skinnier. Getting more muscles, though, now that's different," his pace began to slow as the burn made itself more and more noticeable. "There's never enough muscle, especially when waging a war on the battlefield itself. You don't need much of it, though," his expression melted into a strained smirk. "You're very attractive with what you have now."

Laughing in a low tone, he did a few more sit-ups, upper body slightly trembling and neck aching, until the burn in his abs became too harsh for him to continue. That's when he did one last sit-up and then flopped down on the ground, boneless.

"Ugh, how I hate exercising," he grumbled. "But it's a necessary evil, I guess. Don't want to end up looking like a bowling ball, nor a twig." His gaze balanced over to America, eyes raking appreciatively over his toned arms and flat abdomen. And he knew that if he turned around, there would be a firm butt waiting for him to appreciate. The benefits of exercising were many, after all.

"Right, well, your turn," he announced, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position and flicking America's calf. "I don't know how many I did, but I'm betting that you'll do twice that amount at least. If you do succeed in doing that much, which you probably will, maybe I can... reward you for your efforts?" he smirked deviously.

[America]

"So if I exercise, you'll reward me?" America grinned. "'Cause you know I'll do more than you did." As he got into position, he suddenly realized what exactly he said. "I mean, not that you did bad or anything, just that I can do more." He gritted his teeth and decided not to say much more. He knew England probably wouldn't take it the wrong way, but it was still dumb of him to speak without thinking about what exactly those words would mean.

He began doing the repetitive motions of situps, hands behind his head as he moved. "Exercising isn't all that bad, though," he said, managing to put on a smile each time he came back up. "I mean, it gets you strong and healthy. 'Sides, I'm only attractive with what I have now 'cause I do exercise. Otherwise I'd be some fat slob. You wouldn't want a fat slob as your boyfriend, huh?"

He then stopped talking, moving quicker in his movements now that he wasn't taking such deep breaths to allow his voice to be heard. The pain in his leg was only minor, he realized with pride, so he was able to do the same amount of situps he could on a normal day. Of course, he had to take into account that he was very hungry and didn't have much water to drink, so he slowed it down a notch, choosing not to show off as he originally wanted to.

Which, actually, gave him more of a chance to speak.

"Anyway, I think you're attractive, too. I really like your body." His face turned red, but he was sure he could blame that on the exercise. "No-Not in some creepy, sexual way. Even though I can like it that way since I'm your boyfriend. An-And, okay, yeah, I do like it that way, but I just meant in general. Like, you're not incredibly skinny, but I think you'd look real weird if you were big and buff."

He rolled his eyes as he moved. So much for being cool and composed.

[England]

"I didn't doubt you and your inhumane strength at all, love. Never have even once ever since the beginning." One demonstration of buffalo-swinging was all it took for England to recognize that he'd never be as physically strong as America. It disn't really bother him, either. As long as he could take care of himself with what he had, England was satisfied. Besides, he'd always admired psychological and intellectual strength a lot more, so not being as buff as America posed no problem in his everyday life.

Hooking his legs around America's ankles, he drew his bent legs into his lap and sat comfortably with his legs crossed, draping himself over his shins, and crossing his arms on his knees.

"I love my boyfriend, and I always will, even if someday, he becomes an overweight cow. But that would not make it easy for me to hug you, and I will have trouble finding your penis if I ever want to surprise you with sex. So for your own sake, keep up with those situps, alright?" England smiled at him, leaning forward and giving him a kiss when he came up.

He then patted America's thigh where the bloody bandages were tied, wordlessly warning him not to exert himself too much and waited for him to come up again before stealing another kiss.

"I'm glad you think I look good. I don't have to bother with change, then," he chuckled. "But in all seriousness, I'm glad. I haven't ever been too keen on working on my image, so I'm surprised you do like it nonetheless." He had given up somewhat after he'd failed to grow out his hair and had been ridiculed for his eyebrows. He didn't think he was an eyesore, but he never considered any physical trait of his as especially attractive. "You're always surprising me, you know."

[America]

England's new position was certainly beneficial to America. Not only did it keep his legs still (his wound kept making his leg twitch slightly, whether voluntarily or not), but it allowed him to kiss England each time he came up. That certainly raised his desire for exercise.

"Ha," he panted out, pecking England's cheek before going down. "I'm not gonna become an overweight cow. I like exercise too much. 'Sides, even if I do, wouldn't there just be more of me to love?" He winked then, letting England know he was joking, but still continued. "Probably more of my penis to love, too. If you could ever find it." He laughed, slightly embarrassed at their conversation topic, and was pleased when he could bring attention to England.

He stayed up for a few seconds longer than usual to grin and ruffle England's hair. "Nothing to be surprised over," he stated, going back down and continuing with his exercise. "I mean, you really are attractive. Don't know why you don't think you are. I mean, I think you've got the best face in the whole world, and the best body, and the best smile, and-" When he came up again, he poked England's eyebrows. "The best goddamn eyebrows in the history of man-kind."

He was glad he didn't even have to tease England to let him know just how much he meant. That was the good thing about being in a relationship with him; he was allowed to compliment to his heart's content and the both of them knew he was being serious about it.

He laid down for a minute or two, taking deep breaths and glancing at his bandaged leg. "Think I'm pushing it too much, or can I keep going?"

[England]

"More of you to love, yeah. I'm not... so sure it works that way," England rolled his eyes. "But, if it makes you feel better about swallowing junk food on a regular basis, then sure, yes, why not tell yourself that." Of course, America had been constrained to stop such behaviour ever since he got to the warehouse, considering how low their food supplies were and all, but once they got back to normal, England was sure that America's appetite would go back to normal, too. Whatever his normal was. "Though if you're going to get fatter just so you can attempt to make your dick larger... I'd much rather you stay fit and have a magic blue pill to compensate," he laughed. "But between you and me... I enjoy your penis up my ass just the way it is. It's not exactly tiny, either, if you were considering that."

He chuckled again, and let the subject settle before even thinking of continuing. Of course, he didn't get embarrassed, since he was a grown, rational, adult man talking seriously about his sex life with his fellow adult partner, but he knew that America has still a little bit of trouble talking so openly about his sexuality, even when in private, which is why he let the subject drop.

"In any case. I heavily doubt you'll ever be so fat. You don't have to worry about your looks," he sighed and took a tuft of his choppy blonde hair with his fingers. "Now me... I've always looked rather bland, if I could put it that way? I've always been of the opinion that I look like anybody else. Not particularly handsome, and definitely not what you've described me as." He was warmed by the compliments, though, and took them very seriously. He loved being so loved. He'd never been the apple of someone's eye, not even in his wildest dreams, and now, he'd found himself in love with the biggest, most romantic fool on the planet.

"Anyway. I... Thank you, I guess, for loving every part of me. I hardly believe I am worthy of such high praise, but I admit that under the spell of love, I would not hold back on my compliments either." He then patted America's abs encouragingly and smirked. "And I stopped counting the situps after fifty. Keep going if you please, and if you think you can do it. I got what I wanted out of it, anyway."

[America]

America laughed as he continued with his situps, shaking his head when he came back up to England. "Oh, no, there'll be more of me to love, of course! I mean, if I'm that fat, you'd have to figure out how to hug all that fat, you know? And that's more to love." He raised an eyebrow, thinking it all over. "Not considering making my penis larger. I think men who do that are idiots. Is there any point to it, honestly? Sure, it might make sex a little bit more enjoyable, but why can't they just let their partners enjoy their body the way it is? That's love right there." He grinned. "So, nope, my penis will stay the same size, baby. And so will I. No getting fat over here."

There was the fact that he was terrified of getting fat, of course, which contributed to him not wanting anything to do with any sort of enlargement. England would probably still love him, since America trusted his word and knew his boyfriend wouldn't lie to him in such a manner, but America wouldn't feel comfortable with himself if he was fat. And he did want England to have an attractive man, because England deserved nothing short of attractive.

Then it occurred to America that he was a lot more vain than he originally thought.

"Bland? Hah!" America snorted, glancing up at England. "Saying you're bland is just like saying France isn't flirtatious, or Germany isn't strict." He came up and let himself sit there for a little bit, just so he could explain to England how far from bland he really was. "You don't look like anybody else, baby. You look like England, one bad-ass dude who isn't afraid to beat up anyone, but who also isn't afraid to be kind and caring. You've got the best smile ever, and I already mentioned your eyebrows- seriously, these eyebrows could gain looks from miles away. And I hate it, because I want to be the only one to look at you, but, guess what? I have the most attractive boyfriend ever and I also wanna show him off to the world, because he's wonderful in every way." He kissed England, a bit longer this time, and went back down to continue his exercise.

"Anyway, what were you trying to get out of this, huh? Compliments? Assurance that I won't grow fat? Relief of boredom?"

[England]

"Relief from boredom is a good guess. I wouldn't think of fishing for compliments either, considering I never asked for them and you just threw tons of them at me nonetheless." America was just too cute. "No, something a lot simpler," England laughed at America's childlike innocence. "You're thinking too much into it." Waiting for him to come back up again, he leaned in and kissed him, biting his lip and coming forward to ease his descent momentum and as not to hurt his lip.

Tugging playfully at the reddened skin, England smirked, a bit awkwardly considering that he was pinching America's bottom lip between his teeth, and let go, pressing an apologetic kiss to the bite mark before drawing back.

"I just wanted to kiss you and not make it look like it's the only thing I want to do with you. Figured I may as well stuff exercising somewhere in there, to pretend I was being constructive," he shrugged, smiling. "You can stop doing your situps now, you know. You've already done a crazy amount. I don't understand." He shook his head.

"A child's heart in a handsome young man's body. You are truly exceptional. You make exceptional compliments, too, though, uhh..." He wasn't sure how he felt about the eyebrows compliment. He was certainly proud of them, but he'd never heard anyone speak so highly of them, including himself. "... Maybe you're a bit overzealous sometimes. Not necessarily a bad thing, but it's destabilizing."

He glanced down at America and scrutinized his soft facial expression and inviting body language before letting out a fond smile.

"Everything about you forces me out of my comfort zone. It's like you're a whole new adventure I have yet to embark on."

[America]

America blushed and rolled his eyes, straightening up fully. If England got what he wanted out of it (which was something America couldn't deny always wanting himself), he certainly had no need to continue any further. Besides, he was getting tired, and he was afraid that he was straining his leg far more than he needed to strain it.

"You've already embarked on it," America pointed out with a smile. "Once you kissed me, you made that sacrifice of giving up comfort and stability for me. Which was pretty awesome." He laughed, reaching over to kiss England's nose. "Don't know what exactly I would have done if you'd refused me. If I kissed you and then you never returned my love...wonder what we'd be doing now."

He nuzzled his face into England's neck, smirking. "You deserve every crazy compliment I give ya. I mean, c'mon, who else will I give them to? Only one person has earned them, and it's certainly not, like, China or anyone. Truth be told, I don't deserve anything you give to me. Even the kisses. I'll take 'em, 'cause I'm selfish, but..." He raised his eyebrows, then kissed England again, promptly shutting himself up.

"But never mind. I want to be the only country who deserves your kisses, babe. Don't ever give them away anymore, you hear?" He chuckled, stretching his legs out to help his body recover from the slight strains he had put it through, especially his wounded leg. "I'm jealous of anyone else. Like, I don't wanna hear about any of your past, uh, flings. Nope. You're all mine now and forever."

After giving England one last kiss, he flopped back to the ground, closing his eyes. "I won. Do I get my reward?"

[England]

"You're getting better with your speech. That was a nice wording. And in response, let me say that I wish for our joint journey together to go on for ever and ever, and for new surprises, good or bad, to pop up around every corner and give us something new to live and learn. Even when it looks like things are calming down, something will always be waiting to pop up in front of us and will thrust both of us our of our comfort zone in an effort to overcome the challenge. And I look forward to doing all of this with you," England hummed and laid down next to America, staring at the evening sky. "Like right now. This is just another challenge we need to succeed in. And we'll make it, I swear."

A gust of wind caused goosebumps to erupt over his naked arms and he hugged himself briefly before opting for what seemed like a better solution, and rolling over to hug his boyfriend's firm body instead. As usual, America bled heat from everywhere. The boy himself was a sunshine all the time, and England admired him for that.

"You deserve everything I give you, because I would not kiss you and I would not love you if I didn't admire your courage, your strength, your virtue and your optimism. You work so hard and go so far, it's only natural for me to love you adequately. And so I love you, I will love you forevermore, and you are the only one I will ever love." He slipped his face closer to America's and nuzzled his ear with the tip of his nose. "What's past is past. So hold me through the present and imagine a future where I am an active part of your life, and everything will be alright. I'll be here for you no matter what," he assured him, and closed his eyes as well. He didn't need them to enjoy the moment. Eyes could see, but it was with the heart that he felt.

"Don't be vain. You won a whole lot of kisses for your effort, isn't that enough?" he sighed, tucking himself closer to America. "I'm not sure what else I could give you. More kisses perhaps? Or maybe you want something bigger," he opened his eyes and smirked. "Something that can shut you up and satisfy you. Something, perhaps, like a big, long... cake?" he motioned to the bag with his eyes, clearly amused. "I guess you could have some calories to compensate your exercise. Though it wasn't much, in your standards."