In The Trees

Appointment With An Angry Russian Doctor

(3rd person. I'm going to try it out and see what I prefer. Or what you prefer, let me know what you would like.)

   America woke up the next day in more pain than the day before. He shouldn't have decided to go and dance, and this realization was catching up to him rather quickly. He wiggled around a bit, trying to find a position that was not painful. It was to no avail, so he laid down on his stomach and played games on his phone as the pain in his back flared. Eventually Russia came in to the living room, his eyes clearly showing that he was tired. 

"Good morning, Америка" Russia says as we walks into the living room. America groans in response as his tender skin yells in agony. Russia crosses the room to America, whose arms are hanging off the arm of the couch.

"Are you okay there, Америка?" Russia asks, crouching down to meet America's eyes.

"Nooo..." America mumbles, his voice trailing off as he stuffs his face into his pillow. Russia stands up to his full height,

"What is wrong?" Russia asks, sitting on the edge of the coffee table,

"Oww......." America mumbles, doing the same thing as last time. Russia is sightly annoyed by this,

"Stop acting like a child. What is hurting." He demands, furrowing his brow slightly. America sighs,

"My back hurts again. Worse than yesterday." America says, clearly this time. The pain in his back was agonizing. He hadn't been in such pain since he broke his wrist falling out of a tree at the age of 10. That was the spring he had to learn to be ambidextrous. Russia nods,

"May I?" Russia asks, gesturing to the ripped, blood-stained sweatshirt America only just realized he was wearing all this time.

"Be my guest." America mumbles, resting his head in his arms. Russia pulls back the sweatshirt to inspect the problem. America must've been a very restless sleeper. Due to all the moving, the wounds had reopened in some places. Russia knew he should've bandaged them the night before, although at the time he thought America would be going to the hospital and they would do the bandaging. Russia sighs and leaves the room. America picks his phone up to see the message Canada sent, 

'Hey, what're you doing?' America reads.

 'Just waiting for my appointment with an angry Russian doctor. You?' He responds,

'Nothing. Are you alright? You ended the call yesterday really fast' 

'Oh ya, I was using Russia's phone and I didn't want to keep him. I'm fine, bro' 'I actually gtg, he's come back. Cya, bro'

'k bye'

   Russia comes back in, carrying everything that he needs. Bandages, rubbing alcohol, gauze, and ice. Russia also had a bottle of vodka for both him and America. Rubbing alcohol in a wound is not a pleasant feeling, but neither is infection. Russia walks to America, who is groaning into the pillow again. 

"I would recommend to brace yourself" Russia says, placing his items on the coffee table. Russia hands America the bottle of vodka. America takes it cautiously.

"What's this for?" America asks, holding the bottle up

"It is for attracting microscopic bears to you," Russia says, rolling his eyes, "It is for drinking, stupid." America shrugs and takes a big swig of vodka. He hands the bottle to Russia and he does the same. 

   Russia begins to pour the rubbing alcohol on the back of the unsuspecting American. America yells at the sudden pain of the burning liquid seeping into his wounds. America's yell startles Russia, and he stops pouring the alcohol. America lets out a string of curses before Russia mutters an apology and continues pouring the alcohol. America bites down on his lip to keep from screaming profanities at Russia, but that didn't keep him from thinking them with a fiery passion.