Nowhere (1p!HetaOni x Gender Neutral!Reader x 2p!HetaOni)

CaPtive - PaRt 2

The room is tense, the murmurs just at the right level for you to catch every other word, only if you concentrate hard enough. But it is hard to focus when your eyes are drawn to the man tied to a chair. The person that the countries are talking about sits still a few feet away. That cloth over his eyes does half a job, his eyes patch covering his left eye. He shows no signs of being conscious. No one did explain if he fainted or attacked them, but from the state of France, it seems to be the latter. You focus in on the conversation at the table, watching from a distance.

"--ow long will that--"

"--is dangerou-"

"--ot safe for--"

"--kill--"

"--o."

Your eyes stare holes into the group, you still stuck on the sidelines. You sit with Canada and England, the two giving aid to France. From what the duo have been conversing about, France sprained his ankle, has multiple bruises up his arm and possibly a couple fractured fingers.

"You don't need to worry about this, (F/n)." England places a hand on your thigh, giving you a comforting squish. You look at him, feeling heat pool into your stomach at his unexpected touch, before giving a nervous laugh.

"I'm not worried, just anxious."

"Well, in my dictionaries, the two are one in the same." England cocks a brow at you, before looking at France. "Be a dear and go get France something frozen to put on his hand while Canada splits his fingers, please."

"Yes, of course." You nod, getting up and walking over to the kitchen. You pass the table, giving it a wary glance.

"Yes, but what if he breaks free?" Romano argues, standing firm as he frowns at Germany. "You want to risk Veneziano's life because you think that this dick waffle is too weak to get out of those ropes? News flash, Potatoe Bastard, Russia can stop a tank with his bare hands!"

"He has a point, West." Prussia nods, cringing.

"Da," Russia smiles. "That was the same day my he--"

"Ah, (F/n)!" Spain waves, face breaking into a large smile as he bounces on his toes. "How are you?" You freeze, before giving a bashful smile, rubbing the back of your neck.

"I'm doing fine, and you?" You ask, tilting your head. You feel like you have been caught doing something you shouldn't be doing.

Technically, I have. They didn't want me listening to them, but they never explicitly said that. They just did whatever they could to keep me away. And Spain greeting me is just to point out I'm nearby.

"Good, good. What are you up to?" He approaches, arms swinging by his side. It is quite a contrast to the others overall look.

"I'm getting something cold to bring down France's swelling." You point towards the kitchen, looking over your shoulder.

"I'll help! I know how to do it!" He grins, a hop in his step as he goes over to the freezer. You follow after him, picking up a hand towel from the side for Spain to wrap the cold object in. He pulls out a frozen bag, quickly placing it into the open towel that you hold. He continues to chat, a smile ever present on his face.

I can't take any of this seriously as I know he has a perverse incentive. He's only talking to me because he doesn't want me listening to the meeting.

"Thank you." You nod to him as he follows along, looking at France. He completely blanks England, who sits with a face of unease as he eyes Spain, and Canada just finished up with France's ring finger, wrapping around the last of the medical tape. The blond smiles at you, graciously taking the cold towel from you. You notice that Spain hasn't gone back to the table. Instead, he's staring at France.