Sealand wakes in the morning to the sound of muffled coughing.
He stifles and yawn and rolls over onto his side, his cheek pressed against Denmark's arm, and looks up at him as he shifts out of the covers. Denmark is on his back, eyes closed, and has a hand placed lightly over his lips, his other trapped under Peter as the boy rubs the sleep from his face and props himself up onto his elbows.
"Are you okay?"
Denmark blinks groggily and offers him a wane smile, his hand dropping to ruffle his hair. "Yeah, fine. Just swallowed wrong is all." He sighs and tucks the corner of the blanket back down around Sealand's shoulders and motions for him to lie back down. "It's still early. You can sleep for a while longer if you want to."
Peter shakes his head and rests his chin back down on Denmark's shoulder. "No, I'm awake." He peers up at him when he turns his head and coughs again. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Denmark just grins and mushes Sealand's head into the pillow. "I told you, I'm fine. You ain't gotta worry about me."
Sealand squirms out from under his hand and turns over onto his back, crossing his arms and huffing indignantly. "I'm not worried! I'm just asking." His eyes flit to briefly meet Denmark's. "It's just 'cause Berwald used to say you're too stupid to ask for help is all. So, you know..." He looks down. "Don't be stupid."
Denmark's face softens and he pushes himself up enough to sit against the wall. "Hey, I'm here aren't I?" He nudges Peter's arm, smirking. "You ever heard the saying 'too stupid to give up'?"
Sealand nods. "He said that about you too."
He laughs and scrubs a hand down his face. "Yeah," he says softly, pushing his hair back. "I'm sure he did."
Peter pauses, swallowing the thick, watery feeling that starts to rise in his throat, and fists the blankets. He looks back at Denmark, watching as he lets his hands fall back to his lap and leans heavily against the wall, eyes falling shut and exhaling, his face bearing exhaustion despite having just slept. He really does look different than he used to; he's all sharp angles now, dusted with dirt and grime and bruised looking, so unlike the broad figure he once was, back when he still came to Stockholm during the summers to help Sweden put together new furniture or fix up Peter's tree house. His eyes blink open and Peter reaches forward to curl his fingers into the mud flecked fabric of the Dane's shirt, stock silent except for the small breaths that catch in the blanket when he turns his face down.
Denmark sighs again and rests his hand on Sealand's shoulder. "I know, kiddo. I know." He allows silence to fall over them while Peter struggles to compose himself, but after a moment, he squeezes the boy's arm and sits him up to look him straight on, his dead eye not really focused on anything, but the other staring at him seriously. "Listen, Peter, I want you to come with me." He jerks his head in the direction of the door. "I can't stay here, but I don't want to leave you with these people. They obviously aren't taking care of you and I don't trust them to keep you safe."
Peter wipes his eyes. "I d-don't need anyone to take care of me. I'm old enough to look out for myself." He sniffs.
Denmark nods. "It's even more dangerous out there and I know I'm probably not as fun as I used to be, but I can't just leave you here." He smirks and claps his palm against Peter's back. "If you come with me, I can at least keep an eye on you while you look out for yourself."
Sealand folds his hands in his lap and looks at Denmark curiously. "You said you were in Italy before right? And now you're here, so..." he frowns. "Where are you going?"
Denmark bows his head slightly and sighs. "Ah. Well, I'm trying to get back home, I guess." He stretches over the edge of the cot and grabs his pack from the floor, hauling it up and drawing out a ratty, waterlogged road map. He starts to carefully unfold it. "You remember the Øresund Bridge right?"
