Stumbling about like he had a pair of hot potatoes in his hands, Britain had brung the meals to the table infront of them. An assortment of steaming cod strips lay on each one, breaded and salted slightly, and thinly-sliced potatoes were next to them, popped and crisp to the touch. Soviet, however, didn't even notice the hot food, which had been plattered carefully onto each ceramic slab, and how UK had taken a few precious minutes for each plate to make sure they were perfect. He was instead miserably slouched over, deep in thought.
But of course, Britain wouldn't notice. He refused to accept his emotions. He refused to let his own thoughts of what might truly be take over. And so he almost marched over to him in a quick manner, dazed to exhaustion by constantly being out and about and doing things, and plopped down right next to his lover. Taking the forks he had placed beforehand, he purposefully stabbed his plate a few times and created an unearthingly sharp noise with each strike, before finally piercing the cod and shoving it straight into his mouth. He took his time grinding his jaw and taking in the flavour of his own masterpieces; how it slid around in his mouth and down his throat like butter.
However, Soviet barely had an actual reaction to any of this. Atleast, not verbally. A small jolt and turn of the head before realising his meal was ready. Time to eat..
...
"Isn't my cooking so lovely, honey? I know you want chicken, but that can wait for another day."
A hand travelled to his knee, and Soviet blinked a few times in confusion when he saw his face; he had expected that strange grin, but it was one of sincerity. An obviously fake sincerity. His heart began to pound with fright.
"I.. Yes. Your cooking is.. uh.. good!"
Claws. Claws dug into his kneecap threatening to pierce his clothing, pierce that self-containment he's created for himself all these years, and yet through all of this, he couldn't even move. It was like Soviet had been melded to the couch by a rusty chain. Tragic and unfortunate. His throat was as dry as the gritty sand between your toes at a beach, and he was made to stay there and suffer, let the beams of the sun above burn him into nothing.
"You haven't even tasted it, you.. you liar."
Britain had venom sitting menacing on his tongue as he spat these words out at the other. But suddenly, almost instantly, he had loosened his sickening grip on the other and gently nudged Soviet's plate toward him. By now, it's previous heat had simmered down to a sad warmth. Now his face was neutral, simply staring at the other with patience.
"Go on.. eat some, honey. It doesn't bite, I promise..~"
Like a flick of a switch, his mood had completely transformed, and he batted his lashes a few times before giggling to himself.
Slowly and hesitant, Soviet had brung himself to pick the fork up, slowly pierce the warm fish, and place it in his mouth. It tasted like heaven in his mouth; the breadcrumbs allowing for a crumbly texture while the fish slipped around his tongue, and with each bite, he found himself wanting more of it. The deep enjoyment was clear on his face, and UK smiled to himself in happiness. A genuine happiness, this time.
"It is just wonderful, isn't it? Try the chips!"
As soon as Union had swallowed his food down, he had immediately taken a few chips and shovelled them into his mouth. Unlike the fish, they had a much different feel on his tongue; they crackled as soon as he put them in there, yet the salty, starchy taste was still evident. It was wonderful, like Britain had said. Desperately, he swallowed his feed, and cupped more and more into his mouth; in, swallow, take, in, swallow, take. UK's eyes were akin to an owl and wide with awe as he watched him clear his plate.
"... You've gone mad. My goodness.."
At first, a few small snickers erupted from his chest, which eventually turned into loud bellowing with laughter; he collapsed onto the couch facing up, and could barely even contain it with how bad he was wheezing and cackling. It was just too amusing to him.
"Heyy.. stop laughing. A man's got to enjoy his meal, you dick."
But even Soviet himself chuckled a little, his pit stirring with an anomynous and strange happiness as he watched Britain laugh himself to death. He was hunched over now, sat up and clutching his sides.
...
Maybe this marriage isn't as bad as it seems.
----
ahhh shit its time to make drafts
@oofooftimesthree
@KasumiHiro
you guys read my last book and i just wanted to tag you here because,,,
1. you may not know ive made this book
2. you guys also are amazing and ily <3333 thank you for staying here and appreciating my work T__T
3. i need ideas for what they should do together in the next chapter uhhh feel free to put that somewhere in the comments (it can be literally anything but i need ideas)
ALSOO each chapter averages to about 800-1000 words so this book will probably end with around 30 chapters? or more?? depends how i feel about this book. )(lets see if i can stay true to this statement)
i try to keep each chapter short so my readers stay awake during the story and can put it down without losing their place ^^
see youuuu
