Stranded [England] [Complete]

[America]

America had forgotten how hungry he was until England mentioned eating something. Almost instantly, his stomach gave an impatient rumble, and America bit his lip in embarrassment. That didn't last for long, though, for once England pulled out the protein bars, the younger country instantly snatched one up and tore it open, hungrily pressing what he could into his mouth (and all the while fully aware that eating quickly wouldn't fill him up as well).

"Jesus, I can't believe I nearly forgot all about food," he said while chewing up his first rather large bite, looking over at England appreciatively. "Glad I got you here to keep me nice and full!" Granted, one chocolate bar was going to do next to nothing to keep his hunger at bay. Sure, the warehouse didn't have five-star meals, but America would much rather take what that had to offer than what they currently had in their bag.

He finished it off quickly, and licked what was left on his fingers. He felt glum on the inside, having eaten the only meal he'd get for the day, but he kept up a bright smile as he reached over to kiss England's cheek. "Thanks for that."

As for sleeping arrangements, he didn't know what England wanted them to think about. Where they were sitting was probably the only place for them to sleep. And while it wasn't comfortable whatsoever, it would just have to do. "My offer to be your pillow still stands," America offered with a grin as he looked back at England. "Or, I mean, we can go with your idea and just use the bags as our pillows. We'd have to move all the bulky boxes and stuff out of the way so it doesn't dig into our heads, though." Sleeping on the roof with no blanket and no dry clothes was bad enough.

[England]

"At this point, hardly anything can be deemed comfortable anymore," England mumbled, chewing as slowly as his patience and demanding stomach would allow him, trying to enjoy the smaller pleasures of life even though everything seemed to be against him right now. He crumpled the metallic paper when he was done and placed it next to him, knowing that the wind would probably blow it away anyway, and tried to quell the acid churning in his stomach. It would have been better if he'd forgone the protein bar, after all. Once awakened, an empty stomach was like a beast. Growling until it was full again.

A violent shiver shook him to the core for a second, and the next, he was seeking some kind of warmth in America's side. Ironically enough, they would both get warmer a lot faster if they didn't have all those clothes hampering the transmission of body heat. Then again, suggesting that getting naked would help their situation did not sound very lucid. He'd rather keep his credibility at the cost of his body temperature.

"I think it's rather ironic that we've got some food to last us for a while, but most of it is inaccessible," England briefly searched through the bag and pulled out a water bottle that he uncapped and took a swig of. He then passed it to America. "Not too much, alright?" He then kept going like the interruption never happened. "I mean, all our knives are dirty with zombie guts, and I'm not keen on shooting cans open. Unless you have a can opened, I doubt that we'll even be able to eat the beans and corn in the bag." He then shrugged and sighed. "I don't think you'd complain, but it looks like we'll be living on pre-packaged chocolate snacks for a while."

They wouldn't provide much energy, and they'd probably be worn out if they stayed longer than a day or so, but their bodies were made tougher than regular humans', so they'd survive. Still, England didn't particularly feel like pushing his boundaries, so he'd eat his snacks three times a day and hope for the best.

"Right, well, I guess we could lay down and see how that works. The bag's not big enough for both of our heads, though. Normal, considering how big yours is," he snickered, thinking that that one was way too easy. "You can take the bag. I'll take you up on your offer of being a pillow."

[America]

When England let it be known that the only food they would be eating on the warehouse was protein bars, America's smile widened. However, he thought of the implications, and then his cheerful expression faltered. Even he wouldn't do well to survive off of nothing bu chocolate bars. He had been counting on the cans that England had gotten, even if it really was nothing but corn, to at least keep him a little better well-fed.

He decided not to complain about it, though. Complaining would get him nowhere. Besides, he had already complained more than he had ought to. He figured he should give them both a break. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and took the water bottle gratefully. "It's just, like, one or two days. I'm sure we'll survive. I mean, I told you I'm gonna get us out of here tomorrow! No worries!" Seeing as how they didn't have much water, America took one gulp of it before handing it back, nodding his thanks. "We'll be back at the warehouse for dinner tomorrow."

He hoped, at least.

"My head is big because it absorbs more information," America pointed out, rolling his eyes. "You ass." He began to move the hard boxes out of the bag before finally folding it and laying down, head pressed uncomfortably into one of the buckles. "Guess this'll do," he said with a sigh, raising his eyebrows at England, and aware of the fact that he was yawning again. He doubted he'd get a very good sleep in the positions they were going to be in. The ground was uncomfortable, he was still freezing (he supposed he could take off his wet clothes, like England had suggested, but if his partner wasn't going to, then he wasn't going to), and his stomach was still begging for more food.

Wanting to make the best out of the situation, though, he closed his eyes and began humming gently, barely managing to make it past the first few notes of his own national anthem before saying, "At least I get to wake up and cuddle with you."

[England]

"At least you sound like you have this all figured out. I don't know how comfortable the morning will be if it keeps drizzling through the night, but hey, whatever we can get, we will take," England shrugged and wiggled a little bit in order to lay down on the flat ground. "Just be careful not to get your head big enough for the entire block to see you. We're laying low, remember?" And rather literally, he bitterly commented to himself as the ground dug into his side painfully.

Taking America's hand, he scooted closer, wet clothes squelching against the ground as he wiggled like a worm. He moved until he was stuck to his side and pressed neatly against his chest so that there was no space left between them.

"America..." he whispered, toying with the longer strands of hair on the nape of his neck. "Thank you for being around." Embarrassed, he then tangled his legs with America's, and laid his head on his chest to listen to his heart pound to the beat of the slowing raindrops. It was a comforting melody. England closed his eyes and put his arms around America, letting calm wash over him.

[America]

America smiled softly when England was laying on top of him. He felt at peace like this. He felt a bit warmer like this. England had already warmed him enough on the inside, obviously, but the physical contact was warming his body up. Just slightly. Not nearly enough to make him feel better, sleep better, but beggars couldn't afford to be choosers.

Realizing, though, that England was probably taking the brunt of the light drizzle and the cold, though, America wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, hoping that it would help, even if it was the smallest bit. "And thank you for loving me," he whispered back, looking content. He wasn't even positive if England had heard him, for the island nation looked to have his eyes closed already, and while America wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep that quickly, it was a possibility.

Ah, but sleep.

Shifting around (and keeping England in the same position), America got more comfortable (or as comfortable as he would ever get in their situation) and closed his eyes, prepared to face the long, damp, cold night ahead.

[England]

-------TIMESKIP------

England woke up to rattling, and immediately noticed two things. It had stopped raining a little while ago, and now the air was calm and stale with the smell of fresh rain and rot. Also, it was still dark out. That was not a good sign. England was most definitely tired, so nothing explained the fact that he'd woken before having gotten his fill of sleep. He couldn't afford to wake, either, since they would have to compensate for the lack of food with good rest.

Then, he must have had a good reason for shooting awake so suddenly. America was still sleeping underneath him. Had he had a nightmare that he couldn't recall? It didn't feel like it.

And then, groaning of metal interrupted his train of thought, and England's gaze shot to the door on instinct. The wind howled, and everything went silent for a second.

And then the door burst open, rattling violently when it was held back by the chains that they'd looped around the handle. England jumped violently and immediately grabbed his gun, heart leaping in his throat as a moment of terror washed over him. Hands protruded from the opening in the door, followed by the arms that waved around, visible up to their elbows. Fingernails scratched at the metal door incessantly. England willed his heart t calm down, but knew he could not be able to go back to sleep again. He'd had a nightmare.

So he did the only logical thing. He turned to America and shoved his shoulder repeatedly to get him to wake up.

''America... They're here,'' his eyes darted nervously to the door. ''Come on... Wake up...''

[America]

America wasn't a happy camper when he felt someone shake him. He had been enjoying what little of the sleep he was able to get. He had even forgotten how cold it was, how hard the ground was, and how damp his clothes still were, for heavens' sake! And now here he was, shoved awake by some outside force. If he wasn't so tired, he would have been quite snappish.

"Go 'way," he mumbled angrily, swinging one hand across his face to ward off the sun.

But that's when he realized there was no sun to ward off. He removed the hand, groggily opening his eyes and blinking. Yep, still completely dark. Even worse, then. A few simple hours of sleep weren't going to do anything for him. Head pounding, he groaned and looked over at England, ready to express his anger, but a sound caught him off guard.

He sat up quickly, trying to push the headache to the back of his mind. He could worry about that later. Whatever was at the door, though, he had to worry about now. (And it was obvious what was at the door, and that's what was scary.) His hand flew to his gun and he yanked it up, turning off the safety just in case the zombies got through somehow. It was only after about half a minute of aiming that he realized that he and England were pretty much safe, unless the chains gave out.

Lowering his gun, he gave England a shaky smile. "Didn't think they'd come up so soon," he said. "I guess, then, they can still smell us?"

[England]

"I don't know. They don't seem like they know what they're doing. Then again, it's hard to tell with these blokes." He bit his lip anxiously. "We'd better lay low. Try not to make any noise at all. If we're lucky, they'll leave after a while. Zombies usually pursue a goal until their attention is captured by something else, or until they, essentially, get bored of some sorts. I guess we can still talk, whisper, perhaps, but let's do our best to smell like rain, look like a roof, and sound like thin air."

Once the bulk of the explanations were done, England hesitated a little bit and then eased his grip on his weapon. It made him feel uneasy to just leave himself unarmed when the enemy was literally pounding at their door about 20 feet away. There was no immediate danger though.

"I.. I apologize for waking you," he finally whispered, wringing his hands nervously. "I was just startled when they burst through the door, and..." His first reflex had been to calm his heartbeat by seeking safety with America. Now that he thought about it, it was rather stupid to have woken America from what had seemed to be a promising slumber.

Just because he'd gotten nervous. Where had all his prized logic gone? Those zombies would not be able to reach them anyway, so there had been no reason to get worked up. England was suddenly embarrassed by his open show of weakness. Just when he'd pep-talked America about being strong. How shameful.

"S-Sorry," he repeated, blushing in embarrassment. "I... I woke up to them pushing the door down and... I guess I just panicked. I really didn't have to wake you, but... At least now you know?" he grimaced.

[America]

"Eh, don't apologize," America said, quickly waving it off. He managed to keep his voice down, not wanting the zombies to renew their efforts in finding fresh meat. The sound and smell of them were already overwhelming enough as it was, and he didn't want anything to become louder or smellier or what have you. That, and talking when he had just woken up wasn't the brightest idea; he never knew if what he said would be polite.

He scratched at his neck and shrugged. "I mean, they're loud enough that I would have woken up anyway, and it's better that it was you who woke me up. I would have probably done something crazy and drastic, anyway." His eyebrows furrowed and he rubbed at his head a few seconds before yawning and resting himself on England's shoulder. "Seriously, after doing whatever drastic thing I would have done, I'd also shake you awake. You worry too much."

He blinked for a few seconds, then his hand returned straight to his head. "Also, we got any, like, headache medication? Or pain medication? Anything that'll, you know, cure headaches or something. I've got a nasty one, probably from those uglies over there." He gestured with his free hand towards the zombies, closing his eyes and feeling quite ready to go right back to sleep.

If there wasn't so much loud noises, of course, and if his head could ever stop pounding, and if he wasn't suddenly aware of how cold it was.

[England]

"I can look. I doubt we have anything, though. This was supposed to be a quick raid, so we definitely didn't bring any with us, and I don't remember picking any off the racks. Like I said, I'll look anyway, though," England shrugged, grabbing the bag that America had been laying his head down on and unzipping the first layer.

His eyes went back to the arms protruding from the doorway as he took care of the second layer, noting nervously that over a dozen limbs were scratching at the chains and metal. If twelve had fit in the doorway, how many had squeezed themselves in the staircase? How many had been trampled into stillness? If that door ever did break down, how many zombies would come pouring in? What were their chances of survival?

England was too wary of what he'd find if he ever did investigate those questions, so he left it to a painfully innocent 'I don't know' and moved on.

"Let's try to go back to sleep. Perhaps I've brought my earplugs with me. I usually carry them in my pant pockets," England muttered and began patting himself down, though his wet pants left nothing unseen. He let out a small breath in relief when his fingers came across something barely outlined in his soggy clothing, and he struggled a moment to unbutton that pocket.

When he did, he triumphantly put up a pair of foam earplugs up and motioned for America to take one. As his search in the bag yielded nothing substantial, he pulled his hand out and zipped the bags again.

"Here. We can split. Use it in the ear that is exposed to the air when you sleep." He put his in his left ear as he'd been sleeping on his right side.

[America]

While he was a bit upset that they didn't have any Aspirin or something, America counted his lucky stars that England had managed to bring along earplugs. Since he believed the cause of his headache was created by the constant noise of the zombies, he figured he'd be able to put a stop to it in no time at all. "Mm, you're a lifesaver." He followed England and stuck the plug right ear, pleased that they might be able to get a better sleep now.

Of course, then the question popped in his mind- what if the earplugs disabled them from hearing the important things? There were quite a good many zombies currently at the door. America didn't know if it was possible for them to just break through the chain, but that many bodies, rotting or not, pressing against one door was going to have some sort of strain on it.

America shuddered to think too much on that situation, though. There was probably no possible way they would survive it.

Wanting to dispel the hypothetical situations from his mind, he quickly laid down and pulled England with him, holding him tight. They weren't going to die in such a manner, not if he had anything to say about it. He made sure his gun was safe by his side, at arm's length just in case, and closed his eyes, resting his uncovered ear against the bag.

It didn't close off all sounds, but it would work well enough.

"Love you," he said in a whisper, amongst all the moans and screeches from the zombies, the bangs and clatters from their attempts of eating. "We're gonna get out tomorrow."

[England]

''I...'' I won't get my hopes up? England sure knew how to make America feel better. Still, it did feel rather unlikely that they would be out so easily. He didn't want to lie, but he didn't want to make it seem like he'd given up already. They were waiting. They were the hunters, not the hunted.

Oh, how he liked believing in his own lies.

''I love you, too,'' he settled for saying, going for something a lot nicer than what he really wanted to say. Setting his head back against America's chest, he noticed how tired he was, even if the disturbing moans still filtered into his ears through the earplug. Still, if he moved a little to the left, he could find America's heartbeat, and that alone was enough to let him calm down.

Exhaustion still weighed heavily upon him, and he yawned softly before closing his eyes. He tried to ignore the zombies on their front step, but found it too challenging to do alone. Sliping his hand into America's and tangling their fingers, he left his eyes closed to avoid his gaze, lest he look embarrassed, and willed sleep to claim him.

[America]

TIME-SKIP

America wasn't sure how long he slept for. The sun was hidden by a dreary, gray sky, the sort that had always made America rather lazy. He could still hear the zombies scratching at the door, moaning as if their whole existence depended on the two nations just out of their reach. And, well, maybe they did. America wanted to give a snort at that- they were the reason the zombies were going crazy. He was even important to dead creatures. Lovely.

He shifted slightly with a small groan, thankful when he realized his headache had reduced its efforts to crack open his skull. It was still there (and he blamed the zombies for that), but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been. However, the rest of his body was suffering in other ways. He felt sore all over, and his wounded leg felt rather numb.

He blamed England for that one. Honestly, the bandages were much too tight.

When he noticed England was still sleeping, when he noticed their fingers were still entangled together, he smiled calmly and stopped moving around, determined to allow his partner as much sleep as he could get. America was certain he wouldn't get anymore until later on in the night, but at least England would be able to stay peaceful for a little while longer

[England]

England did not want to wake. His tired limbs pulled him down as he tried to surface from his unconscious state, and as something beneath him moved, the pull became stronger, until his heavy eyelids opened slightly.

Everything came into focus so quickly that it was dizzying. Light burned his irises so he closed them again a little while, but the horrid noise that boomed in his exposed ear was instant. Moaning and screeching and the clanging of chains was enough to send him shooting upright, almost reaching for his gun before he realized their situation and relaxed.

He then turned his eyes to America, whose movements had first awakened him, and notice that his eyes were open. Trying a small smile on for size, he stretched and yawned.

"Morning. How are you feeling on this bright, sunny, wonderful and promising day?" he grumbled, as if the sun was an injury to him.

[America]

America nearly didn't hear England speak, much too focused on the noise the zombies were making. When what England was saying finally registered in his head, he groggily blinked, then looked around. He forgot to develop a plan of escape. Sure, he didn't think England had expected anything, but America still wanted something. He didn't want to stay up on the roof for another god-knew-how-many nights. The zombies were sure to keep coming, and their supply of food wasn't very comforting.

He moaned in response to England's question, swinging a hand over his eyes. How did he feel? Not perfect, obviously. Lower than perfect. Lower than pretty good. Lower than okay. His throat felt scratchy and his body was aching and, dear lord, he didn't think he had felt this dizzy in quite some time.

Mentally cursing the rain and zombies for bestowing him with such an awful morning, he shrugged his shoulders. "Like shit," he truthfully replied, and noticed how stuffed-up and scratchy his voice sounded. Great. Just when they didn't have any water to dispel whatever-it-was that was making him sound and feel so icky.

He gritted his teeth and removed his hand from his face, blinking in the light. Glasses, he needed his glasses. Surely that would help the dizziness. He had probably just gone for too long without them. He fumbled around for a little bit, trying to remember where he had laid them, and smiled when he made contact with them.

"But it's early and I didn't get much sleep," he added, pushing the glasses up his nose. "I'll be better soon." He pulled England closer to him, closing his eyes again and resting his head back down. "Maybe we should just go back to sleep."