A whingy voice could be heard from the other side; it's pitch so high it was almost tuned wrong like a guitar. More aggressive banging of the door insued, and Britain had just about had enough of his insolence.
"Dad, hurry uuuupppp!! I need the fucking bathroom and-"
"Do NOT curse in MY home! And I am using it!! Have some manners, my gosh." He bellowed through the door, and despite his enraged tone, America simply groaned in response as if he didn't care.
The UK wasn't having any of his bullshit today. Now, he unconditionally loved his son and wouldn't give him up for anything, but he was also one of the most annoying, whiny, flakey, loud, hypocritical, selfish little shits that Britain had ever known. But he still loved him after everything he's been through, and no matter how much they fought, that care would always be in the back of his mind. He cared for him too much to let him go; they were hand-in-hand, standing on a thin wire threatening to give out and let them plummet down into the depths. And yet he would still stand, and would gladly fall down with him.
"Arghh!! Just hurry up already, I'm gonna piss myself if ya don't!"
"Zip it, America." Nevermind. Maybe he can fall on his own.
Yet another irritated groan emerged, but this time, UK decided against retaliating. He knew he would react the same, he always did. With an irritated sigh, he turned back to the other, a slight glare aimed at Union's face, and his sharp voice was now brought to a measly whisper.
"Hurry up, you're not very fast at changing your clothes."
In the same amount of time it took the smaller man to transform his tone of voice, a sudden smile was planted on his face, and he felt a still hand latch onto his. Soviet saw it again. The unusual twitch, like his muscles had been pulled into it and forced into the grin. Unwillingly. But even some things he knew not to ask about, and this was one of them. How would've he even asked if he did? "Oh yeah, why does your smile look so forced?" It would probably create unneccessary arguments, and that's the least he wants.
As soon as Britain had unlocked the door with a small pull of the even smaller handle, America came bustling into the bathroom, dashing to the toilet and immediately yanking his pants down. He didn't even bother to question as to why they were both in here alone with the door locked, and simply yelled at them with a furrowed brow.
"Get outta here! I'm tryna do my buisness, Dad."
Not trying, or wanting, to watch America on the toilet, UK swiftly turned on his heel and silently dragged Soviet out of the bathroom. Now, America may not have interrogated them, but he still had eyes which widened when he saw the back of the red-skinned man's head. He wasn't stupid, and he knew who it was almost immediately. Oh my fucking God. No way. Is this who his father married?!
...
Thump. Thump. Thump. That was the sound of the two walking down the stairs into the living room. Now, this house was quite large thanks to America's renovation cash, and the living room was the second largest room in the house. A hardwood floor plated the ground they walked on, a knitted grey carpet laid out beneath the singular matching couch. A TV was also mounted on the wall, and when the pair of them sat on the sofa, they didn't turn it on. They sat there. In a painfully awkward silence.
...
Until one of them broke it. That would be Britain, who turned his entire body to face Soviet. They were both still head to toe in wedding attire, which seemed to have put him in a good mood.
"Want me to cook something for you honey?" It was there again. That unnerving smile.
"... go ahead." That smile which made Soviet's heart hammer. Not in a good way.
A hand snaked under his palm and intertwined fingers. Tight, so tight
"Anything in particular?"
...
"Chicken s-" He was cut off before he could finish, and the smile had grown just a little wider.
"Nonono, I'll go make dinner for the both of us. My treat." A more gentle thrumming of feet as Britain got up and left to the kitchen, which slowly faded away. The cluttering of pans and cutlery could be heard from afar, like it was in a distant world, and it only worsened Soviet's uneasy thoughts.
Unfortunately for him, Soviet was left alone with these thoughts. And it seemed like it would stay that way for until his 'love' came back with steaming plates...
