Book 4 - Spring

X - Recovery

Russia holds Ukraine until he stops shaking. When his brother begins to pull away, he releases his arms. As soon as Ukraine stands, Finland helps America to his feet and hands him off to Russia. Russia opens his arms and catches a woozy America in his lap.

"Hi, Rue," America says, his voice making him sound loopy.

"Hi," Russia replies with a soft laugh, "How are you feeling?"

"Kinda sick to be honest," America says with a shattered laugh.

Russia hums with a sad smile. America looks around before settling beside Russia with a whine. Russia tries to sit back, only for his tail to bend uncomfortably against him. He winces and sits up stiffly.

"Are you okay?" America asks.

"I am just uncomfortable," Russia admits reluctantly.

"Is it your legs?"

"No. My tail doesn't have a good place to be."

"But you were transforming before."

"It went above pant line at first. It's not anymore," Russia admits, rubbing his neck, "and it wasn't that comfortable that way anyway."

America hums.

"Sit up?" America asks.

Russia pulls away and America shifts. Russia tries not to pin his tail under his leg.

"Scar?" America calls, pulling at the back of Russia's clothes, much to Russia's chagrin.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Could you hand me a sewing kit?"

"Uhh..."

"Here you go," North Carolina interjects, standing up and handing over a small kit.

"Thanks, kiddo," America says with a smile.

Russia stiffens when the fabric by his tail is pulled on. Suddenly, fingers snake under his tail and against his skin. Russia's face burns. He covers his face and very quickly crosses his legs. He feels Florida gently trying to pull his tail back and America tsk's.

There is a moment of tug-of-war before Florida relents. Russia's tail is pulled through a hole near the top of base layer clothing and out of his pant leg. America leans it into a strange fold in the waistband that wasn't there before.

The fabric under him in the fold flexes and Russia tries to ignore America's fingers.

'We are in front of children,' Russia thinks, scowling into his hands.

He takes a deep breath and forces it through his teeth.

"Hey," America calls with a laugh, "it's just me. Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you."

'That is not the issue!'

Russia stiffly nods as his tail is moved around in the newly made slot. The fabric is pulled around beside him and America hums.

'At least it's Meri.'

'... maybe that isn't that good of a thing.'

Russia rubs his face and turns slightly. He watches America working, sticking his tongue out in concentration. America swiftly stitches on a button before scoffing. Russia's eyes focus on America's hands and he watches America re-thread the needle. Russia smiles, his heart flipping in his chest.

'He's cute when he's concentrating.'

America then seems to slit a hole in the other part of the fabric. Russia can't see specifically what's he's doing with it but trusts that America knows what he's doing with his needle.

Russia turns to the sky and watches the clouds pass.

'Someone had to teach Peaches and Care how to do it. At least, the beginning skills anyway.'

Russia turns back down to see the states huddling together. Alabama and Mississippi seem to be trying to keep everyone together, but they don't seem very happy. Russia's face falls to a frown.

'I want to hug them.'

Russia jumps when the waistband tightens around him. He's sure he squeaks, but he can't hear it.

"There. All done," America says proudly.

Russia turns to see America grinning proudly. Russia moves his tail and the ease of motion makes him smile brightly.

"I put a button on the back of your pants to keep the fabric together better," America babbles, "and I folded it over around the edges but everything else it just cut, so it will fray, but I didn't want to use the rest of the thread cuz I don't think I have enough to do everything."

Russia turns around to see America staring at his lap, repacking the sewing kit. Russia smiles lovingly and leans over.

"Kisses?" Russia asks softly.

America's head pops up and his face grows bright red. America fidgets with the sewing kit and nods enthusiastically. Russia closes his eyes and leans over to kiss him. His chest feels fuzzy. He feels America reciprocate and smiles. His stomach flips and his lungs fill with butterflies. His lips feel like they're covered in static.

'Probably magic residue.'

America pulls away Russia offers a dopey grin. America giggles and tugs Russia back. Russia leans back, adjusting his stance, and leans against the tree. America tucks his way under Russia's arm. Russia takes a deep breath, calming himself down.

'We have to get home.'

Russia looks back up and sees the states looking at him, scared. America looks up too and Russia feels him shift. He looks down and sees America opening his arms with a gentle smile.

Then, Russia finds himself buried in shaky kids, who seem equally content hugging him or America.

His heart feels warm.

"No, I want to sit next to Russ!" Alabama complains, shoving Mississippi over.

Mississippi laughs and shoves Alabama into Russia's side.

Russia smiles lightly and pulls America partially back into his lap, allowing the children to shuffle around. He finds himself with Florida and South Carolina in his lap and Alabama under his arm. Texas sits in front of Russia, shaking a little, but his back is straighter.

'He looks more confident. That's good.'

"It's going to be okay," Russia promises.

Texas gives him a small smile over his shoulder and a nod.

South Carolina hugs Russia tightly. Texas sniffles before his expression hardens to a determined grimace. The normal shine returns to his eyes, his star bright. He grabs his hat and stands up to face his siblings.

"We got this," Texas announces loudly, a grin set in his features, "we're gonna make it home. I'll make sure of it."

Russia agrees, offering a comforting smile to those in his lap.

Then, he looks up and meet's Texas' gaze, "You don't need to promise that. America and I will bring everyone home."

"...okay," Texas relents.

Russia wraps his arms around those around him, and the teens begin giggling against him.

"Love you," America says, pecking Russia on the cheek.

Russia smiles lovingly.

'We'll leave at sunrise,' Russia decides, 'and we'll get home.'