My body aches in pain, I can't be bothered to move. Everything hurts. I slowly open my eyes, wait. Am I in a room? I hiss in pain as a sit up and look around, I am in a room, there's a small fire place infront of me, it has orange glowing fire in it. I look down, I'm on a bed too, covered in bandages. One on my torso, and one on my right wing joint. 'Why the bloody hell am I in a bed?' I think to myself. 'Wait!' I look down under the covers, thank God, I haven't been molested, as I still have my trousers on.
I hear footsteps coming from behind the closed door. My heart sinks in fear. The door opens, light spills into the room I'm in making me squint.
"Are you okay." A deep husky voice asks. Wait, I know exactly who it is.
"Are you okay. ARE YOU OKAY!? WHY THE BLOODY FUCK, WOULD I BE OKAY? YOUUU, SHOT ME...TWICE!" I yell in anger.
"I KNOW, BUT IF I DIDN'T KILL YOU I'D GET IN TROUBLE!" He shouts back.
"OH, SO YOU JUST DECIDE TO SHOOT ME THEN!?" I shout sarcastically.
"PEOPLE WERE WATCHING ME!" He practically screams.
I stay silent. 'He..pretened to kill me?' I think to myself. My cheeks heat up, only a little.
"F-fine, I'll forgive you for 'that'. But I'll never forgive you for allying with that 'Nazi fuck'." I growl.
"That's fine with me." Soviet sighs.
"Wait, didn't all that shouting hurt?" He asks.
I don't even say anything, I just gave him a 'you're a sodding wanker' look. He gets the message and looks away. We both just sit there, we'll I just sit there, but Soviet stands there. Awkwardly.
"You want, tea or something?" Soviet asks.
"No." I reply, still a little pissed off.
"Wait, what. You're turning down the offer of...tea?" He says, quite stunned.
"Well, yes. I mean who would want tea after being shot? I mean do you think an unconscious person would want tea? Because believe me, unconscious people don't want tea." I explain.
"Fair point." Soviet shrugs. I still sit in silence with my arms crossed. I don't know what to do right now. It's alittle embarrassing. Soviet starts walking over to me. I cleach in anger and fear, what the hell does he want? He sits down next to me and sighs.
"I'm sorry for everything I've done. I shouldn't of shot you, I shouldn't of teamed up with Nazi and I shouldn't of argued with you." He murmers.
I look down to the floor. Does he really mean it? I sigh and wrap my wing around him, just like my father did. I still bloody hate him though. Soviet flinches alittle. I can feel him looking at me.
"Don't get used to this." I say, looking away from him.
"Your wings are still as soft as I remember." He says. My cheeks heat up again.
"Don't try me Sovi." I growl.
"Did you just call me 'Sovi'?" He asks.
"Wah i- no, I didn't mean it like that." I hiss.
"You did." He wispers, stroking my wing. I give in and let him continue to pet it. It feels nice anyway.
"C'mon, let's get out of this room." Soviet says, getting up. He holds a hand out to help me off the bed. I take it, and with some help, manage to step off. I hiss and groan in pain, my body still hurts. Soviet puts my arm over his shoulder and helps me stand straight.
He guides me out of the room and through the hall. We get to the main room and Soviet sits me on the sofa.
"Were are the rest of my clothes?" I ask.
"O-oh um, I'll go get them." Soviet stutters and goes of to find them. He comes back, it's all in his hands. I take them off him and put them on. I get up and try to find an exit.
"Hey, we're are you going?" Soviet asks, sounding a little concerned.
"Back, to my, base camp." I strain, practically limping.
"No, you can't leave, look at yourself. You're so weak, you'd probably get killed by patrollers within mile." He says in his thick accent.
"I, don't, care!" I pout. Still limping.
"And your wing is hurt, so you can't fly." He yells.
"Still.don't.care!" I yell back. I suddenly feel myself being picked up. 'Oh great, my 'shortness' is finally acting up' I think to myself. He turns me around and stares deeply into my eyes.
"You're not going anywhere." He wispers harshly, making me blush. He swings me back onto his shoulder and walkes back to the main room, throwing me onto the sofa.
"OUCH! 'FUCK', my wing" I yell in pain.
"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to throw you 'that' hard." He sighs, sitting next to me. I sit up and look down, with a pouty expression on my face.
"You know, you can't leave here without being seen." Soviet says.
"Why?"
"Everyone thinks you're dead."
"Oh, right." I wisper.
'Great, looks like I'm stuck here with him.'
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Yeah, I know I said I wouldn't post in two days but whoop here I am so consider yourself lucky.
Word count: 890
YOU ARE READING
Friends, Enemies, Lovers
Romance*THIS IS SHIT ITS OLD* Britain and Soviet have been friends ever since they were young, they both felt like they had finally found someone who understood them. And soon their connection became stronger, and the two had grown feelings for each other...
