Book 2 - The Angel Against Revolution

L - Magic?

Here is a quick doodle of what Dixie looks like. Now back to the story.

Russia lies back and just breathes, relaxing into the bedding. His cheek rubs against the blankets and he smiles softly. He gently rubs America's cheek with his thumb.

Then America begins moving a little. Russia looks up and watches out of curiosity.

America crawls up onto the bed and spins around almost like a dog, his hands and knees sinking into the duvet. America seems to laugh a little before he falls to the bed, sending the blankets up around him, and wind brushes against Russia's face. Russia frowns a little in jest and turns onto his stomach with a chuckle.

America looks over, and their eyes meet. Russia finds himself beaming, and his cheeks growing warm. He looks away quickly with butterflies fill his stomach, and a giddy rush of feelings floods his mind.

Russia feels the mattress shift a little more from movement and suddenly feels America lying across his back. Russia can feel America's face and chest tucked into his back and America's arms draped over his shoulders. Russia sinks further into the glee that fills his chest with warm, fuzzy emotions.

America tangles his legs into Russia's and Russia feels himself giggle. It was surreal. He feels like he's flying, and his heart hammers in his chest. Russia squirms a little and America sits up. Russia smirks and wraps his arms around America's waist.

'He feels so warm.'

Russia pulls America toward him, and when America shuffles closer to him, Russia smiles in success. Then, he pulls America down beside him. Looking him up and down, Russia nuzzles into America's side where his skin is exposed. America begins to shake with what Russia assumes is laughter and he pulls back a little. He looks up to see America breathless, his face bright red, and his mouth opened in glee.

A pang of sadness hits him, and the giddy happiness leaks away.

'I wish I could hear him.'

America begins to pull away from him, and Russia watches lazily, a tired fog in his mind, as America retrieves some paper and a pen from his desk.

Russia closes his eyes when he sees America begin writing. He only opens them again when America taps his shoulder. Russia props himself up on his arms, looking at America with a curious gaze.

America slides the sheet under his nose, and Russia looks down to read it.

"So, you have to promise not to tell Dix or Mass, but I'm going to try to heal you. I might pass out, but you'll have to tell them I'm taking a nap," it read, the script swirling and written in light blue ink.

'Pass out?'

'No, I can't have him do that.'

Russia shakes his head and hands the paper back to America. America glares a little before taking the sheet back and hands it back, a new message written on it.

"Don't you want to hear again?"

Russia stares for a second. He feels his heart skip a beat.

'I could hear again...'

'But America is magically exhausted. I don't want him risking his well-being.'

Russia writes his response on the sheet, and the two hand it back and forth.

"I want to. But what about your magic?"

"I'll be fine."

"But you are tired. Is this a good idea?"

"I'll be fine. Besides, I want to help you, and the sooner I do that, the better."