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Post by England on Feb 5, 2013 12:13:30 GMT -5
"I wasn't worried," England made a 'tch' noise with his tongue and crossed his arms. "You'd get your leg cut off and you'd tell me that you heal quickly. I don't doubt your word on that." His eyes darted to the small, but deep-looking wound. "I'm worried about the stench of blood. Even if it rains and the excess blood washes away, the dried blood on your pants and the new blood coming out of that wound will attract them right back," he ran his fingers across the small tear in America's pants, and sighed.
"If you're positive that it's not a zombie scratch, there's no need to worry about you. I'd tend to side with you on a piece of wood or a nail, and though those aren't very good options either, we certainly can deal with them much easier than with contact with the undead," he concluded. "For now, let's get rid of what we can."
Pulling a knife out of his boot, England examined the best way to do this, and then realized that cutting the entire leg off for just a small patch of blood would be stupid. The sky was darkening, heavy with rainclouds, and it wouldn't be wise to cut back on garments during a spring shower. Instead, England sawed through the cloth in a tear-like pattern, removing a large part of the pant leg. Below it, he could already see the small scratch, more of a puncture than a scratch, in reality, and was slightly surprised to notice that it was bleeding so much for something so small.
"What the hell did you do, puncture an artery?" England groaned. "It's deep, maybe three or four centimetres in, despite being small. It probably needs to be sewn up, and I don't think we have what we need to do that. We have enough disinfectant to make sure it doesn't get infected, so perhaps we can improvise a bandage thick enough to staunch the smell and flow of blood, at least until we figure out what to do." Giving up on it for the moment, he laid back and grabbed his bag.
"Supplies on the floor, let's see what we have," he ordered, unzipping his pack and turning it over, letting the small amount of medical supplies tumble out in a flurry of packaged snacks an canned corn. Another small box tumbled out from the very bottom, but England was quick in fumbling to grab it and shove it back in with an embarrassed blush. "Your turn," he mumbled in a low voice.
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Post by America on Feb 5, 2013 14:32:42 GMT -5
America kept still as England cut off some of his pants and examined the wound. It did look a lot more painful than America had originally assumed it would look, but he still shrugged it off. He'd had wounds that were much worse than the one he currently had, and all of those wouldn't last but a couple of days. America figured that he wouldn't have this wound come morning (wherever they happened to be then- he didn't want to think about having to spend the night up on the roof with zombies moaning just feet away from them).
He was actually a bit thankful that they didn't have any materials to sew up the wound with. He always hated that feeling, especially without the proper use of painkillers.
However, when England let the contents of his bag spill out in front of them, America actually found himself wishing that they did have proper equipment. This was just ridiculous; it was next to nothing, what they had grabbed. He glanced over at the box England hastily put away again (he was so tempted to ask what it was, but he figured he could peek at it later) before grabbing his own pack from his bag and opening it.
The bottles of Aspirin and other medical supplies fell out (most of which America would consider quite useless). "Uh, we got these tiny Band-aids," he informed his lover, giving an attempt to grin again. "And I managed to get some peroxide. And eyedrops. And nasal spray." He flushed upon realizing that he had grabbed even less than England had. "I was going to get some more stuff, but, yeah."
Letting out a snort, he rested his chin in the palm of his hand and gestured with his other hand to the food. "We got some snacks, though, so everything will be fine. Food gives me energy and helps me stay strong and fight off wounds and shit!"
He realized he was just forcing his cheerfulness, because he honestly had no idea what they were going to do anymore.
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Post by England on Feb 5, 2013 17:11:41 GMT -5
"All those snacks are gonna do is add weight where you don't need it," England rolled his eyes, patting America's stomach affectionately, though he knew that the issue was slightly sensitive for him. Just slightly. America would know England didn't mean it. He just needed to get some steam out so he could concentrate better on the task at hand. "The sugar in these things is going to give you momentary bursts of energy, and then tire you out, and the last thing we need right now is to be tired. I'd stay away from those until the moment to run comes. No use wasting energy on the roof."
He raked his eyes through the things that America had accumulated, and sighed.
"Do you think we could throw nasal spray at them? Maybe they'd back off," he chuckled. "Zombies afraid of nasal spray, we'll see the day." He was at a loss of what to do. They needed to staunch the stench of blood before it rained, and he didn't have proper equipment to stitch anything up. A primitive bandage system would have to do. "We can't sew the cut, but we can bandage is and hope it doesn't smell as strong. You better be grateful for this," he grumbled, and turned his knife to his own pants. Pulling the hem out of the knee-high combat boots, he ripped a large chunk of the bottom and slit it into smaller strips.
Scooting closer to face him, England took America's leg, straightened it out, and straddled it so that he could keep it steady.
"It'll hurt," he admitted without remorse, grabbing the peroxide and uncapping it. "But at least we won't have to worry about anything else." Pouring some peroxide on the cloth, he wiped the wound until blood began flowing in a clear red colour. Then, he took the same strips of cloth, and began binding the wound until the skin around it turned white. America's leg would probably feel weak in a small while, but at least, hopefully, the blood would stop flowing. "Not the most hygienic solution, but we'll make do with what we can get," he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and then got off of his leg. "Are you still alright? Need anything?"
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Post by America on Feb 5, 2013 18:50:09 GMT -5
America pouted just a little bit at the weight comment, though he didn't dwell on it much. He knew England was always just teasing him whenever the subject of his stomach was brought up, and it wouldn't do either of them any good to start a fight about something they already fought over many times before. Instead, he gave all his attention to the wound that England was dressing.
He knew it would hurt, at least sting a little bit (England's warning was enough sign of that), but it didn't sting too bad. America still hated it, so he squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth when England started cleaning the blood off, then winced as he wrapped it around in the cloth. Luckily, it didn't last long (and America felt he had overreacted, but he always did when it came to that sort of thing), and America sighed when England got off of his leg.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. Jesus, you're worse than a woman." He glanced down at his leg, then brought it up to his chest, testing how well the bandage stayed. Luckily (or, unluckily, depending on how well his leg would feel in a few hours), England had tied it pretty tight, so it stayed in place. "Thanks, by the way." He felt stupid for letting himself get cut. He was the hero- he wasn;t supposed to get cut by some sort of nail-thing, or whatever it was. He was the one who was supposed to save the day.
With a frown, he gestured towards the items strewn about on the roof. "So, what are we gonna do about...this." And he didn't know if he was referring to the nasal spray or their whole situation.
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Post by England on Feb 5, 2013 21:27:27 GMT -5
"I am not sure," England disregarded the comment about being a woman, because he really did not feel up to getting into some pointless row. "For the moment, we are going to stay put and reassess our situation. Try to find our way out. Compile resources, figure out means of contact with the warehouse, find a way to NOT get eaten in our sleep, because I doubt we'll be making it out before tomorrow morning. It's too dark to do anything right now. Even if we weren't stranded, I would recommend staying where we were. It's too dangerous to move in the dark. They'd smell and hear us, but we wouldn't see them."
With a groan, he pushed himself up and dusted himself off, trying to tuck his ruined pants into his boots, to no avail. Knee exposed, and to be honest, he didn't care much at this point, he gripped his gun and looked down at America.
"Put everything back in one bag, and put that bag into the other. It'll rain, and our supplies have to stay dry. I'll scout the roof again for someplace we could hide from the rain, and for any details I could have missed before. And don't move. Our corner cannot be spotted from the small opening in the door, so if we stay in that blind spot, they won't see us at all. Smell and hear us is another question. They haven't reached the top flight of stairs yet, probably ran out of other unlucky bastards to trampled to the top, but it won't be long. Our guests from the pharmacy won't be long," he clicked his tongue in displeasure. "I'll make it fast."
Jogging away from America, he kept his eyes locked on the door as he first explored the section of the roof that couldn't be seen from the door, then proceeded to the other side. Even more vigilant, he checked under the large pipes off the ground for zombies or tools they could use, but found nothing. So much for using resources in their environment. England really shouldn't have placed his trust in the resources he'd come out to find. At least he had a bottle of water with him. They weren't dead yet.
Jogging back to America, he shook his head and plopped back down.
"Nothing. Guess we'll just wait and see."
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Post by America on Feb 5, 2013 22:15:33 GMT -5
Once England jogged off to scout the area, America went straight to doing as he said, pushing all of their supplies into his own bag, a scowl marking his face all the while. He didn't want to stay out here overnight. He knew they would have to, since there wasn't another way to leave, but America already hated the zombies from inside the warehouse. He hadn't ever spent the night out with them yet. Scouting was one thing, but they were sitting ducks out here, and zombies surrounded them on all sides. He could hear their moans and movements from where they were at the moment, and he bit his lip at the thought of sitting in the dark with them so close.
He looked up when England sat down next to him, and his fears were confirmed once again. Just waiting. Waiting for what, exactly? Help? Some sort of miracle? Or perhaps waiting for the zombies to come up and pick them off.
On instinct, America felt his hand close around the gun on his belt and he scooted even closer to England, clearing his throat and glancing up at the sky. It was going to rain, which just dampened his mood even more so. He had his bomber's jacket, but that wouldn't do anything to ward off the water. So they would be wet and scared and tired and most likely hungry. All because of one stupid zombie and his own inability to react properly to a shock such as that. He felt like pouting, but he decided that would be far too childish for the situation they were in.
"They'll come," he suddenly spoke, trying to convince himself as much as he was England (though he wasn't even sure whether or not he was talking to England). "The others. They're gonna come. I mean, it's hard to miss you, what with your nagging, and it's obvious they'd miss me since I'm all...well, I'm me." He snorted, all too aware of just how loud and obnoxious the rest of the countries found him to be. "So they're gonna be wondering where we are and then they'll remember that we went out and so they'll send a team to look for us and they'll find us in just a few hours and you'll get mad at them for taking so long, but we'll go home soon."
He grinned then, still forcing himself to believe that was the case. "I mean, even if we don't have much at the warehouse, I'd take some hot grub any day 'stead of cold, canned corn." He made a grimace, though he nudged England in humor. "We won't actually have to eat that, right?"
Right, because they'd get rescued soon enough.
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Post by England on Feb 5, 2013 23:58:43 GMT -5
"Gosh, America, what are you babbling on about? Are you alright? You sound distressed. We've been here for ten minutes, tops, and you're already panicking," England pushed some hair out of his eyes. "We're spending the night here, there's no doubt. The others may be worried, but won't send any help tonight, not only because it's dangerous outside, but probably also because they probably think we are thinking the same thing, and are waiting for daylight to return. Perhaps by tomorrow noon, during lunch, they'll realize we're missing, and then send help. We won't be here long. Trust me, I've endured sieges that were months and months long, and I know how desperate it may seem to you right now, but we'll be fine." His eyes darted to the door, closed and locked. "There's no way they're getting in through there, so all this really is is a siege that we have to outlast."
Huddling closer to America as a spring breeze blew through his clothes and gave him goosebumps, he put his gun down on the floor next to him and hugged himself to keep warm.
"The hardest part of outlasting a siege is the psychological part. You can go crazy if you think about nothing else. That's why I insisted on entertainment in the warehouse. Our entire situation is just one big, extensive siege, if you think about it. Unfortunately, around here, there won't be much entertainment, so we're better off either sleeping, or devising a plan to get out." A sour look crossed his face all of a sudden. "If I can help it, I'd rather not have to be fetched by some nation sent out to 'rescue' us."
His head hurt just thinking about it. He didn't really mind waiting, it's just that he knew that after the rain, he would be cold and miserable, and that he would not be able to do anything to let his frustration out, for fear of being heard.
"If it makes you feel better, if we play everything right, they might just all wander off on their own. The ones around the building will go first, when they realize that there is nothing left for them. The ones at the door will be more tenacious, but as they begin clearing out, they may lose complete awareness of our presence and just stumble back down the stairs they came from. If we don't get help in a few days, which I doubt will happen, perhaps we can count on that option. In which case, yes, you will have to eat canned corn, unless you want to go hungry for a few days."
That brought on another concern that England was not too keen on exploring.
"What we have is not exactly nutritious. The few energy bars will make do for meals, but the rest is basically just sugar and treats. That being said, I don't think we'll be here long enough to worry about malnutrition, but what does worry me is water. We'll need plenty of water for both of us if we want to stay strong enough to escape at any time and opening is given, and all I have is my bottle. We certainly cannot hope to drink the acidic, polluted excuse for rain, so I'm just hoping we won't be here long." That just about summed up their losses, and though England was slightly less nervous than America seemed to be, he really wasn't eager to go through something like this. "Any questions?"
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Post by America on Feb 6, 2013 11:19:49 GMT -5
America knew he was panicking, but he figured that he had every right to panic. He didn't want to sleep near zombies. Hell, he didn't even think he'd be able to sleep with the knowledge that the zombies could break through at any minute. Then there would be the rain, which would soak them and make the whole situation even more unbearable than before. He had a light, throbbing pain on his leg where he had cut it, he wasn't going to get anything to eat save for a few energy bars, and there wasn't much water at all for them to drink, probably not even enough to last the night.
So, yes, America found that he had every right to panic over their situation. Last time he had felt this helpless was during the wars he fought it, and while this was another war, this was one war in which he could actually die and never regenerate.
However, he was too proud to let anymore of his panic shine through. England was remaining calm, after all, and all America had to do was follow right behind him and push his fears aside. He wasn't going to burden his lover with every single despair, because it seemed England had them all in mind, anyway. Just voicing them would be a repeat and, frankly, America didn't think England would care to hear a repeat.
"No questions," he muttered, looking away.
He actually had about a couple million questions, but none of them would make any difference to their situation. The thing he needed to have was a plan. He needed to devise some sort of brilliant plan to escape the rooftop and make it back to the warehouse before nightfall, especially since he didn't want to have a slumber party with the undead. His eyes scanned the roof, desperate for a way out, and when he found none, he sighed and pulled his legs closer to him, resting his chin on top of them and glancing over at England.
"So..." he said, remembering to keep his voice down. "Since there isn't a way to get off of here - unless we can just jump and hope for the best -" He cracked a small smile at that. "What are we gonna do now?"
He hated waiting, because waiting gave him time to imagine the worst scenarios possible and did nothing to help his rising paranoia.
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Post by England on Feb 6, 2013 15:39:38 GMT -5
"You can attempt to jump and perform a roll to avoid shin or knee damage, but you wouldn't get very far, even if you landed right and well. I don't know if you'd care to glance over the side of this building, or if you did already, but it's not just the staircase," his eyes glanced momentarily at the cement barrier that was blocking his view down at the ground. "It's the entire bloody block."
Rubbing his forehead wearily, he mimicked America's move and curled up, scooting closer to the other in an attempt to ward off the chill.
"I don't think we'll be moving tonight. We're both tired and cold, and in a few hours, will be drenched and hungry, so there is no way we will be able to move before tomorrow morning. The light of the day will help us manoeuvre out of here, if the party downstairs has cleared up, which I doubt. If the streets are clearer by tomorrow night, we could attempt to scale down the building, onto the streets, and away from this damned place, but I'd still rather not move in the dark. We're already severely impaired in regular darkness, now imagine the darkness crawling with nightmares that we cannot see creeping up behind us." He just hoped his point was clear to the younger nation- that they would not be moving tonight.
He understood the poor boy, though. Far from insensitive to their situation, England was worried and nervous as well. The key to winning, though, is to never admit defeat, and that's what England intended to do. He would not buckle. He would not be rash. He would not act desperate. Cool and collected always won in the end.
"We should try and get some sleep after the rain ends." Almost as if on cue, thunder rumbled in the distance. "A rested mind will be able to provide a more detailed analysis of our surroundings and possibilities, not to mention the advantage of daylight." That was his plan for now. Lay low, and live until morning.
"Don't worry." Still feeling unsatisfied, though, as if he hadn't done enough to still America's worries, England reached out and squeezed one of America's knees comfortingly. "Nobody is getting in through those doors, that's for sure. When they realize that there's nothing left, they'll leave. We are going to be fine, I promise." The dangerous games had begun again. "We won't die here. I won't let us."
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Post by America on Feb 6, 2013 17:28:53 GMT -5
America winced when he heard the thunder. It went to say that while he had been expecting the rain, thunder was a completely different matter. He had always hated storms, and now he was stuck out in one with no covers to hide under or warm pillow to bury his face into. He was stuck with zombies and thunder, and he could think of thousands of places he would much rather be than right there.
Once England squeezed his knee, though, America looked over at him and somehow felt much more calm. Sure, he might not have what he normally had to quell his fears during a storm, but England was all he would ever need for such things. He wouldn't be scared with England nearby. Cold, wet, hungry, yeah, but England was by his side and wasn't going to go away.
Smiling, America shrugged. "I know you won't. And I'm not gonna let us die. I mean, you can't make that effort all by yourself, baby." He winked and closed the very tiny gap between the two of them. On a whim, he leaned over and kissed England's cheek, then drew back and put his arm around the smaller nation's shoulders. "Besides, it'll just be a day or two, maybe three, and we can easily survive three days on our own."
Surviving and being happy didn't go hand in hand, after all, and America wasn't going to try and pretend that they did. He knew they would be miserable during those three days, but he had gone through such things before. They both had. And if they had done that once, they could easily do it again.
And then inspiration struck him as he contemplated England's escape plans.
"Okay, so I just suddenly came up with this idea and it might get us out of here sooner than later." He faced England, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I can be a decoy! Yeah, I'll be the decoy and you find a way for us to get down this building, and then I can just run and- oh, you said they covered the whole block." As quickly as it had come, his smile drifted off and lines created crevices in his forehead as he thought everything through once more. "Eh, never mind. Lemme come up with a new one."
It wasn't as if he had much else to do.
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Post by England on Feb 6, 2013 19:57:24 GMT -5
"Sure, if it entertains you, you're welcome to crack out a dozen impossible, crazy, suicidal plans to get out of here. Just for the sake of a challenge, though, try not to get us to split up, especially if one of us is a decoy. If we ever come to terms with the fact that we'll need one of those suicidal plans to get out of here... I'd rather we don't pick one where one of us ultimately gets eaten alive," England shrugged and went silent for a bit. His mind went through different possibilities and plans for escape, one more ridiculous than the other, and to top it all off, he thought of the small box at the bottom of his pack, and couldn't help but smirk. "Maybe we could make condom balloons, let the wind carry them away, then shoot them using my silencer so that the noise will attract the zombies elsewhere. Figured I would add my input to your suggestions."
The smirk slid off his face slowly, though, when thunder rumbled again, and, in an extremely cliché'd manner, drops of water began dripping from the sky. England looked up and let the first few drops run down his cheeks, then turned to lay his head down on America's shoulder and tightened up his embrace around himself.
"Well, looks like the sky didn't particularly enjoy being left out of this conversation. I'll cross my fingers for it not to last too long. I enjoy rain to a certain extent, especially if I'm not standing in it without protection, but I don't think we'll be getting along, he and I, this once." He just crossed his fingers for no blowing wind, either. Last thing they needed was to get sick. "Stay close now. Let's keep the body heat between us. Protect your extremities most, as frozen fingers will do no good in holding a gun."
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Post by America on Feb 6, 2013 21:35:25 GMT -5
America had been about to ask a very important question to England when the sky suddenly opened up and let loose the beginnings of what looked to be a very long and wet night. America groaned at that, though he certainly didn't object to more physical contact. It was almost like cuddling, except they were in a dangerous and miserable situation, so it wasn't nearly half as good. Still, it would make do for the time being.
In the midst of all their ridiculous planning, though, America actually found one plan that might at least tone down their situation a bit. He moved England from his side and took the bomber's jacket off of his own body, then quickly plastered himself to his boyfriend once more and wrapped both of them in his jacket. He made sure it covered their heads, smiling at England as he did so. Sure, they'd still get wet and cold, but at least it would provide some sort of protection. "It isn't much," he said out loud. "But it'll keep us a little warm, won't it?"
He was pleased at himself for contributing that much.
He closed his eyes and let his head rest in England's hair, holding the jacket close to them both and feeling slightly relaxed. He wouldn't want to be in this situation with anyone other than England. England was the only one he wanted to share his jacket with, share his body heat with, share his-
America's eyes opened, and the original and very important question suddenly came back to him.
"We have condoms?"
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Post by England on Feb 6, 2013 23:31:42 GMT -5
England really appreciated America's quick thinking. Sometimes, he did that, just pop out plausible and effective solutions out of the blue like that. The least he had to stay under the rain, the better it was for his mood, so he really appreciated the move though he knew that they were be drenched down to their asscracks by the time they were done. Trying to maximize the space he had, though, he curled up and made himself small against America, letting out a heavy sigh.
"Your jacket can be our saviour for a little while, in exchange for a heavy price." He almost felt bad for America, for whom he was aware that the jacket was precious. "The leather is going to smell atrocious by the time we're done. Hopefully, Spain can salvage it." The rain's pitter-patter on the leather was soft for now, but England knew that it wouldn't last. Rainstorms were the curse of nature's rebirth. Springtime sucked. "But... thanks for the initiative. I appreciate the effort, though it probably won't last very long," he drifted off for a bit, laying his head down on America's shoulder. He didn't say it out loud, but he was grateful for the fact that he wasn't with someone else, or, heaven forbid, alone in a situation like this. England may have looked like he knew what he was doing, but in reality, all that was driving his desire to fight was the safety of the young man curled up against him.
And just as it came, the wave of protectiveness evaporated as a vein in England's temple twitched in annoyance. He tried scooting away, but between the rain and his embarrassment, he'd take the embarrassment just this once.
"Well, I mean, I didn't pick them up on purpose, or anything," he coughed out awkwardly, feeling a little hot under the collar. "They were on the same shelf as the plasters, so I just... threw them into my bag. I couldn't really see what they were in the darkness, I just assumed they were plasters, too!" Alright, so perhaps there had been one box of plasters on one side of the shelf, and the box of condoms on the other side. It wasn't a terrible lie, just a necessary one. His dignity was at stake here. "D-Don't laugh! You picked up nasal spray and eyedrops! At least people back at home base c-could possibly perhaps m-make use of s-something like this!"
His cheeks burned at the mere thought of it.
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Post by America on Feb 7, 2013 15:12:27 GMT -5
Upon the mention of his jacket, America had internally winced. He knew it would be rather disgusting, and he could only pray that it wouldn't be completely ruined. If the country beside him wasn't England, he certainly wouldn't be sharing this jacket. However, if it was going to rain as much as England said it would, America knew that his jacket would be soaked through either way. At least it could provide a purpose for them before that happened, though.
He listened to England stumble over the whole deal behind the condoms, and couldn't help but smirk. At least he figured out what was in that small box. He was actually rather surprised that England remembered condoms. "So," he started, amusement lacing his voice. "We were in a life-or-death situation, trying to grab some important medical supplies to help us survive, and you somehow thought to get a box of condoms."
He was pleased England was blushing, because then they wouldn't have to pay attention to his own blush that had come about simply from mentioning condoms.
"Nasal spray and eyedrops were practically all I could find there!" he said in defense, laughing now. "I was just grabbing things that looked like they might be useful to fill up my bag! Condoms, though, that's got no medical value whatsoever. You kinky, old man," he finished fondly, reaching over to kiss England's temple.
Of course, he didn't want to tease England too much, so he decided to address the pros of grabbing condoms. "I'm not sure who else at the warehouse has sex-" He cleared his throat, suddenly realizing that many of them probably needed some way to release stress, and oh god, the warehouse was a public place. "-b-but, uh, yeah, they'd appreciate that. I mean, I appreciate the th-" He didn't finish that sentence, and mentally cursed England for bringing up condoms in the first place. "It's hygienic!" he declared, covering up what he had been about to say. "So it's fine."
He bit his lip and fell silent for a few seconds before muttering, "What size?"
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Post by England on Feb 8, 2013 11:12:43 GMT -5
"I-I didn't grab them on purpose! You sound like you're accusing me of looking up the shelf for these kinds of things and picking out a box I thought would be suitable," England's cheeks burned red, and he diverted his gaze, too embarrassed to face America. "I did just like you did, pick up things to fill up my bag, and I just so happened to sweep some condoms in there. At least... At least my findings could possibly, maybe be of use of some kind." He did not appreciate the connotation of his sentence, but he had to admit that some people would definitely be happy to have something like this under hand. Even though he would not want to hear that satisfaction being expressed out loud.
Unless it was his and America's, but that was another subject entirely. Another subject that made him feel hotter than before, of course.
"Of course you'd appreciate it, you and your libido. I'm not the only one at fault here," and though it really wasn't a fault of any kind, England just didn't want to be the only one of them who felt like his head would explode from embarrasment.
Keeping silent, he listened to the sound of the rain hitting the leather jacket above his head, eyes trained in front of him, following the raindrops drowning in puddles. A chill went through him as he finally calmed, and he was not sure if he was thankful or not that America had not let go of the subject yet.
"I-I dunno-" His tongue felt dry. "I-It's a variety pack. Mixed sizes, colours, flavours, textures..." He wanted to die. "W-Why are you even asking me this!? You're the pervert here, not me!"
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