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Post by America on Apr 13, 2013 23:14:29 GMT -5
"Eat light?" America snorted, shaking his head. He stood up once England was finished with his hair, then embarrassed himself by taking a minute longer than usual and panting as he stretched his back out. So much for trying to be the cool, strong one. After giving himself a few minutes, he grabbed England's hand in his own shaky one and began to pull upwards, until England, too, was in a standing position.
"I want steak," he said. "A nice, big, juicy steak. Shit, remind me not to talk about food. Geez." He shook his head, trying not to imagine the meals he would have made himself should he be back at home. When the stomach was hungry, though, the mind was, too.
To put his mind off of other things, he grabbed at the soap and passed it to England. "You first," he said. "You look like you're about to collapse." He gave a sympathetic smile. At least he was able to proclaim himself in the same boat this time.
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Post by England on Apr 13, 2013 23:40:40 GMT -5
He must have looked rather sickly for America to deduct that, so England gratefully took the soap and a wash towel and swallowed his pride.
"Thank you. I suppose I must look a bit yellow, don't I?" he laughed, lathering soap on his towel before throwing it to America. "Think fast, and don't drop it, darling." He chuckled again before working on scrubbing himself raw.
The feeling of rotten blood and tissue was still on him by the time he'd rubbed both of his arms red, but he figured that it was more of a psychosomatic thing than an actual physical feeling. It would definitely take him a few nights to get over the past events, but if he thought about it, he was just being selfish and conceited.
Everybody had their demons around here, and everybody seemed to be dealing just fine with them. Was he really the only one who was afraid of the dark and who sometimes woke up in the middle of the night in cold sweat, and realized that he'd been crying in his sleep?
He sometimes wondered if he was the only one who had gotten so weak.
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Post by America on Apr 14, 2013 6:42:36 GMT -5
America barely caught the soap in time, but he smirked when he did, and waved it at England to show that he did. "We both probably look yellow," America stated as he lathered his own towel and scrubbed himself down. When the water ran down his skin, he gave a slight chuckle. "And red." If the scathing heat of the water and the constant scrubbing didn't turn them as red as the blood, America didn't know what would.
At least, though, the blood was actually coming off.
He washed his face the most, trying to rinse everything away. And not just the physical stuff. He wanted to rinse away all memories of their time on the roof. He knew he told England they wouldn't be able to rid themselves of anything, but he wanted to try. He wanted to forget that god-awful surgery and rolling around in zombie guts. He wanted to forget the hunger and cold and pain.
However, it was only the physical stuff that was washed off his body, and with a sigh, America checked himself over. "Clean?" he asked England, resigned to the fact that those experiences would stay with him forever.
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Post by England on Apr 14, 2013 14:52:50 GMT -5
England made quick work of himself, somehow finding the energy to vigourously rub his entire body with the cloth, which was now a nasty burgundy-ish colour with all of the residue blood and dirt that hadn't washed off with the water. He made a mental note to burn everything he'd touched in the past seventy-two hours.
"I'm feeling a lot better," England shivered, stepping under the water to rinse everything off of him and make him feel clean again. As clean as he could get. A part of him would always feel dirty and gritty after this. He'd probably have to go on for a long while before he could get rid of the suffocating feeling of rotten blood permeating his skin.
"Right, well, let's step out before the water bill goes up too high. I'd much rather save our money for lots of food, for moments like these," he chuckled, turning the water dial to the right to turn the spray off. Immediately, goosebumps erupted on his naked skin, and he shivered.
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Post by America on Apr 14, 2013 17:32:27 GMT -5
Once the nice, hot water was cut off, America brought his arms up to wrap around his chest, gritting his teeth. "I've always hated ending showers," he grumbled, stepping out quickly to grab two towels. He tossed one to England and began to dry himself off with the other one, nodding in appreciation as he did so. Never again would he doubt the convenience and comfort of a towel. In fact, he might just have to start packing them wherever he went; he wasn't in the mood to stay wet like that for more than a day.
Once he was mostly dry (his hair didn't matter), he wrapped the towel around his waist, still rubbing at his arms to try and warm himself up. "Clean clothes?" he asked, wondering if they would have to go to the bunks to grab their clothes. He really hoped not. He wasn't looking forward to walking around the warehouse half naked, save for a towel, just to find some clothes.
Perhaps there were leftover clothes in the shower room from someone else's bathing time. Not that he wanted to wear the clothes of another country, but at least it would allow him to creep to the top floors of the warehouse and grab them both a new set of clothes.
Plus, he was actually willing to wear any clothes not covered in grime and dirt.
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Post by England on Apr 14, 2013 19:04:59 GMT -5
"I suppose we should have thought of those before we got into the shower, huh," England laughed, mimicking America's movements and drying himself off as best as he could. He tied the towel that went down to his knees around his waist with a secure knot, and then grabbed another smaller towel and put it on his head to absorb the water drenching his locks of straw coloured hair.
"You know what, I think I'll stay like this. I don't want anything on me right now. And before you ask, I really couldn't care less what people would think if they saw me like this. Just this once. If they knew where we just came from, they wouldn't complain." It would make him a bit self-conscious if people stared, but at this point, he didn't care anymore. "I'll get dressed when we go up to the bed."
Toweling his hair and making the damp strands stand up in messy spikes, he laid the humid towel back on his head and yawned, stretching before he began walking out of the shower area.
"Are you going to follow? I'm off to the kitchen."
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Post by America on Apr 14, 2013 20:12:27 GMT -5
The young nation blinked and looked down at himself. Well, the towel covered everything he didn't want anyone to see, and so long as it stayed tight on his waist, it shouldn't be a problem. Anyway, like England said, they probably deserved to relax a little bit more for one day. It wouldn't hurt anyone. "Hold up," he said, then grabbed his glasses, wiping them off with another towel. He wouldn't wear them just yet, but he could wash them more thoroughly later. He wouldn't need to be seeing much of anything, either, so it wouldn't matter.
He followed England, a bit more uncomfortable in just a towel then England seemed to be, but all discomfort instantly vanished when he was reminded they'd get food. He wanted to gorge himself right then. Obviously, like England also said, he would need to eat much slower to make sure he didn't throw everything right back up, but a few bites wouldn't hurt anyone.
"I thought we were going to quarantine, not bed," he mumbled, stepping up to walk beside his boyfriend. "Or can we skip that?" He would be overly happy if they didn't have to go to quarantine.
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Post by England on Apr 14, 2013 23:59:11 GMT -5
"No, we cannot. Certainly not you, either. Who knows what got into that nasty cut of yours," England replied without looking at him, and instead pushed the door open and stepped out into the common area. Holding the door, he waited for America to pass and then followed him out, towards the other door a bit further away that led to their small kitchen. "I meant what I said: we'll get dressed when we go to bed. Quarantine is a twelve-hour process where we're alone, so there's no point in trying to be decent."
Glancing at himself, the ridges of his ribs, the dip of his stomach, and the beginnings of his jutting hipbones, he briefly felt self-conscious at how small he looked, especially next to someone as tall and well-built as America, and then figured that it didn't matter much to him. Like he'd said, there was no one around to judge them, so it would be fine as is.
"I'm bloody starving," he complained just to fill the silence as he stepped into the kitchen and immediately made a beeline for the fridge. "I hope we have some sort of leftovers I can reheat. What do you want? Or perhaps there's something in a can in the pantry. Damn it, so much food at once is overwhelming." He bit his lip and creased his eyebrows, seriously debating what he was going to eat now that he had food on his hands.
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Post by America on Apr 15, 2013 5:20:55 GMT -5
He let out a sigh of irritation at England's explanation. So much for skipping quarantine. However, he wasn't too worried or angry about it. He'd be able to have some peace and quiet, after all, and there would be a clean bed to sleep on. He would have covers to curl up under, and he'd have a pillow to rest his head on. Really, the idea of all that sounded far too good to be true after days of having absolutely nothing.
America quickly followed England to the fridge and peeked in from over his shoulder, hands rubbing at his growling stomach. "Yeah, we suddenly have choices again," the younger nation said, forehead creasing in concentration. "But let's not eat something canned right now; I just want to heat some food up real quickly. Hell, I don't even wanna heat it up." He just wanted to eat it. He didn't care if it was cold or hot.
"Look, spaghetti!" he suddenly exclaimed, and reached over to grab it from the fridge. Well, these were noodles, and noodles would be okay for him to eat. There was just the added bonus of spaghetti sauce on there. "You want some? I can split it with ya! I doubt I'll be able to eat this all, anyway." It wasn't a large quantity, but America knew he'd still be a bit queasy from the lack of food.
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Post by England on Apr 15, 2013 19:49:38 GMT -5
"I'd love to," England nodded and closed the fridge door to instead take the Tupperware from America and shove it in the microwave. The numbers were punched in quickly, and he went to pull out two porcelain bowls that he set on the counter. Pulling open the drawer in front of him, he grabbed a fork and handed it to America so that he could split. "I don't want much of it, though. I don't want to stomach much. Just enough to give me energy to go through the day. I'll arrange for something more nutritious once we're out of quarantine. Pasta will be good for energy."
He then went to the cupboard with the glasses and pulled out two of them, eyeing the soap spots on them with distaste, but setting them on the counter anyway. He pulled a box of juice from the fridge as well, and when the microwave beeped to announce the completion of the spaghetti, he pulled that out, too, wincing at the vapour coming from the hot dish. He handed the Tupperware to America and busied himself with filling a glass of juice for each of them.
He replaced the box back into the fridge and picked out utensils as well, taking everything and setting them on the island counter.
"We can eat here, and then go to quarantine," he suggested, toweling his hair again just for good measure and leaning tiredly on his elbow, sticking his lower body out to stretch his aching back.
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Post by America on Apr 15, 2013 21:57:35 GMT -5
The microwave couldn't have been fast enough, so when they're food was finally done reheating, America quickly took the container from England, practically drooling at the smell of the spaghetti. He hadn't realized how much he adored noodles until that day. While England was readying the juice, he took the time to divide the spaghetti up in the bowls, trying not to just eat it all on the spot.
A few days without food had taken its toll on him.
"Right on," he muttered, grabbing his fork and instantly digging into his own bowl. He slurped messily, not very mindful of the sauce he was smudging across his mouth. The food had his focus far more, and he only stopped to gulp down the juice England had poured for him, nodding appreciatively. However, upon realizing how long he had been without food, he slowed down, taking a moment to clear his throat. He didn't want to eat his fill, only to throw it back up. It was better to take everything slow.
"You like it?" he asked, grinning widely over at his partner as he continued to eat.
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Post by England on Apr 15, 2013 22:52:44 GMT -5
"Enjoy your meal," England mumbled before putting some spaghetti in his mouth and realizing how hungry he really was. Before he knew it, he could barely hold himself back from shoving everything in his mouth and instead tried to chew and swallow to appease the burn in his stomach. His stomach, slightly subdued until then, seemed to realize that it was finally getting fed and practically burned holes through the tissues as it immediately digested whatever England swallowed.
It hurt a little bit, but it was the good, satisfying kind of pain.
England must have eaten his food faster than he'd ever eaten before, and washed it down with the glass of juice. He felt a lot better now, and a little strength had returned to his limbs, and just enough to clear his vision a little, enough to be able to see the dark circles under America's eyes and the slump of his shoulders.
"Whenever you're done, we should go lie down," he suggested softly, putting his dishes in the sink.
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Post by America on Apr 16, 2013 5:20:59 GMT -5
When he noticed how fast England had eaten all of his own food, America raised his eyebrows. So much for taking it slow and steady. Not wishing to be the thing holding England back from his sleep, America began to eat quickly once more, and it was only a matter of seconds before his plate was cleaned off. He gulped down the rest of the juice and followed England's suit, putting the dirty dishes in the sink to be cleaned off later.
He really did need more food than that, though.
However, the prospect of bed sounded amazing. He had showered and eaten, so he really would need a good rest, especially after the sleepless nights they had already gone through. "I'm right behind you," he mumbled, rubbing at his stomach before glancing over at his boyfriend. With a soft smile, he grabbed England's hand, squeezing it comfortingly, and asked, "We won't be able to stay in the same quarantine room, will we?"
He knew there was a point to quarantine, but he couldn't help it when his mind subconsciously told him to go and sleep in the same bed as England. He had been through a lot, they both had, and Amercia didn't want either of them to be alone.
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Post by England on Apr 16, 2013 11:17:29 GMT -5
"Well, if both of us are risking an infection, I... I suppose I could bend the rules..." England began, but realized where he was heading with it and shook his head. Favouritism was not the ideal ideology to adopt in this situation. Nobody was above one another, and whatever had to be done was to be done for everyone. "Well... Not really. I suppose it's not my place to risk either of our health because I decided to consider us exempt from the rules. I think we can manage being separated."
Looking up at America, he searched his eyes for any sign of discomfort, or perhaps even dejection, just to fuel the ever-hungry pit of guilt inside of him, but decided that he didn't need negativity if he was going to spend half a day with himself and his thoughts.
"It's only twelve hours," he mumbled to himself, trying to rationalize his choice. "We've already broken the rules once before, and we shouldn't do it again. If neither of us display symptoms, we'll be out before midnight and we can sleep together then. We'll be fine, darling. I daresay you won't miss me after having spent over seventy-two hours with nobody but me up on that roof."
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Post by America on Apr 16, 2013 14:18:58 GMT -5
"I daresay otherwise," America mumbled, then gave a sigh. He figured they wouldn't be able to stay together. It was against the rules, after all, and America couldn't complain about those rules when they were set in place to save lives. Besides, all they would be doing was sleeping. America was pretty sure he'd be able to sleep for twelve hours, after the lovely rest he had gotten on the rooftop. He just had hoped, however, that he could at least fall asleep with the comfort that someone was by his side.
He hated being left alone with nothing but his thoughts.
Of course, the thought crossed his mind that perhaps he was being a bit too dependent on England. He was acting as if twelve hours apart would kill them. He had been away from England twelve hours before, and he did perfectly fine. This would just be like another one of those times. He would just deal with it as he always did, and everything would turn out to be perfectly all right.
"But, I mean, I guess you're right. Rules are rules." He grinned, trying to show England he wasn't upset by it at all. "'Sides, only twelve hours!"
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