Capitalists and Communists (Countryhumans USSR x UK)

~'Chapter 2'~

Typical, typical

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  UK sat up in a panic, clenching the fabric of his boxers in his fists as sweat ran down his back. 

  "That damn dream."

  He felt the temperature of the room wrap around his body, the cool air seeming to hug him tight as beads of sweat poured down his face. He always got like this when he dreamed, no matter if it was good or bad, his body would heat up and make him sweat like a dog. This dream had been getting more and more recent as days go by, and he absolutely hates it. He was young back then, 16, and it still bothers him now! 

  That boy was too quick with his words, too sudden, and now that moment haunts him to this day. It had only gotten worse ever since he heard the Russian would be joining their meetings. These meetings were held for countries to gather information about each other, UK was usually the quiet one, mainly because everyone already knew everything about him. Well, at least they knew what they wanted to know about him. They assumed he was a cold, stubborn fellow, and moved on. UK would be lying if he said he wasn't tired of it, I mean who wouldn't be? Nevertheless, that wasn't what this topic was about, nor did it matter, he was older now, his public image was the smallest of his concerns. The dream in UK's head was already slightly fading, so he assumed he would be good enough to get up and have a coffee. It was about 4 am, 5 hours before he would have to get up anyways, a few hours of extra time would be good. 

  UK let out a soft exhale, moving his hands to prop up his back as he stretched, giving a relived grunt when it popped. After he was finished with that, he slid to the edge of the bed, hovering his feet above the ground before his toes hit the fluffy fur of his slippers. He slid them onto his feet, letting himself lightly fall off the bed and onto the hard wood floor. 

  As he walked out of his bedroom, he noticed France slouched on the couch, her sleeping position out of this world, god only knew how she managed to fall asleep like that. He let out a soft sigh, muttering the word typical under his breath as he went into the kitchen, deciding to let his head swarm in his thoughts as he prepared the coffee. To see France on the couch like that was only something he was expecting, she was stressed after work, probably went to the bar, and passed out drunk on the couch. He felt a bit of pity for her, she was his wife after all, but he knew he wasn't exactly the fitting type to sooth her. He never was, but she never was the comforting type for him either. They both seem to agree with that over time, realizing that comfort wasn't something they would be getting. Britain as well wasn't that good in bed, always lost interest and would mainly do it to please her and then finish. He assumed he was asexual, and that was that, never looked into it. As punishment for her once he didn't give her anything for 2 months, this was because she started buying coffee instead of tea, and the bloody woman still hasn't learned her lesson! 

  He gave a settle groan as he nuzzled into his own shirt, closing his eyes as he listened to the coffee maker do it's thing. He never knew what the device was called, but France brought it home once and just showed him how it worked, these new advances in technology were... strange to say the least. He awoke from his thoughts when he heard a small ding come from the coffee maker, squinting at it as he took the mug into his hand. He twirled the liquid around, frowning at it as the dark color simply stayed the same. Oh his tea, he missed it. 

  The rest of the morning was quite simple. France eventually woke up a couple hours later, greeted Britain, and complained about how her back was hurting. Typical morning, typical day. The two stayed distant the whole morning, just walking off to tend to their own advances. Britain, despite being used to this, did miss having a good friend to talk to, or at least someone to talk to. All his children had moved out and grown up. He shouldn't even call them his children, more of France's children. France did most of the mothering, and Britain tried to show his care, but eventually everyone had kind of drifted apart, and it was too late for him to do so. Typical year, typical life.