Our Little Secret. [NO MORE UPDATES SORRY]

Chapter 3.

"Holy shit that's alot of blood," Soviet exclaimed whilst helping Britain clean and bandage up his cut.

"Yeah the cut is surprisingly deep. I think it's going to scar," Britain replied, holding a wet tissue on the cut.

The two had safely gotten to Soviet's house and see now struggling to fix up the darn thing called blood.

"Y'know Soviet, I think I may accidentally pass out from blood loss or something,"

"Why would you say that?" Soviet looked up from what he was doing and stared at Britain.

"I don't really know but I just feel terrible all of a sudden,"

"Can you passing out wait until after I bandage it up?!" Soviet worryingly spoke and rushed about to get the wound all fixed up.

"I think all of this would be better if we just had a country with the ability to heal here,"

"Nah mate, you don't say,"

A minute had passed and the wound/cut/whatever you wanna call it was all patched up.

Upon completion, Britain made an attempt at standing up, only to fall back down once more. It hurt but not as much as the pinging feeling in his head at that moment.

"Can I pass out now?"

"Umm..... Yes?"

"Great," Britain spoke as he got up again and wobbled slightly before falling into Soviet's arms from lack of balance.

Soviet looked down at Brit who was still awake and trying to steady himself but failing miserably.

God, he's pathetic when injured. Even during Napoleon's reign he was out of commission for two weeks after being knocked out by France.

Oh shut the actual fuck up. No one cares about your opinion in this case scenario.

I'm the largest part of this union. My thoughts should matter.

Hush, both of you! Let's just focus on helping for now.

Fine.

...

Soviet heard all of these voices are tried his hardest to block them out but probably ended up mumbling something under his breath along the lines of 'shut up' or some other thing like that. This was confirmed for him when Britain replied with:

"I didn't say anything. Are you alright, Soviet?"

"Uhhh yes!"

"Are you sure?" Even his voice was noticeably weaker at this point.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Soviet quipped and tried to help his friend to be stable on his feet again but messing up yet again.

Britain leaned against Soviet again and slowly drifted away from consciousness.

Soviet stood there holding the incapacitated country before picking him up and setting him down on a sofa with a blanket and some pillows. He didn't know what else to do other then to sit down in a chair near the sofa and slowly fall asleep too.

When Soviet woke up the next day he saw Britain still having his free trail of death. He walked into his kitchen and started making breakfast. I don't know how or why he did this other than the fact that he was hungry. Don't worry Anglophiles, he made tea boi breakfast too.

He came back into the living room with the food and saw Britain awake and sitting up, holding his head. The pinging noise was still somewhat ringing in his ears and it gave him a headache.

"Morning Britain. Are you alright from last night?"

"Ummm.... Yeah I guess. Thanks for letting me stay the night,"

"It was my pleasure. Here. I made breakfast,"

Soviet handed Britain the plate of food. I ain't specifying shit, k? Make it up on your own for an ideal, suitable breakfast.

"Thank you, Soviet,"

The two started eating and after that Soviet went to clean up the plates.

Britain followed him into his kitchen.

"Hey Soviet. I have a question to ask. Now, you don't have to answer if you don't want to,"

"Go ahead and ask I don't mind,"

Britain fumbled with his hair and looked down as if he was embarrassed with himself for asking.

"Are you- Are you a union Soviet?"