Book 2 - The Angel Against Revolution

XVI - Late Morning

*Picture is of the little arctic fox doll*

Russia tries his best to stay awake but isn't having much luck. Not getting more than an hour of sleep for who knows how long is a challenge he hadn't faced in a long time, and he's still healing from being frozen. America had fallen asleep against his shoulder, making his side warm.

'I have to stay awake and ready in case something happens.'

He doesn't feel very ready. Or well. His head keeps falling forward, and his pounding headache is surrounded by the fuzz. He yanks his head back up, trying to shake himself awake. It's getting harder and harder to think, let alone keep his eyes open.

He takes America's hand. His head falls forward against his chest and he jerks it back up again. His head pulses and he groans.

"Are you okay?" Philippines asks, sitting up.

"Tired," Russia slurs.

"I can't go back to sleep after waking up, so I can stay up and keep watch."

"Mmmmm..."

Russia's eyelids close and his head falls against America's. Philippines says something. The words sound almost familiar, but he doesn't understand any of them.

The world fades away to black.

Russia wakes up to sunlight and talking. His senses slowly return and he finds himself tucked in on one of the beds, his head laying on something warm. He relaxed and hears America talking above him. It also felt like America was threading fingers through his hair.

Russia cuddles into America's lap, and he curls up a little, wrapping his arms around America's leg, nuzzling it, searching for warmth. America pauses before laughing quietly and continuing to brush through his hair.

"Hey big guy," America says playfully, "you awake?"

Russia decided not to answer. America giggles.

"I'll take that as a no," America says with a laugh.

'Warm. Very warm. Feels nice.'

He feels comfortable and relaxed. Cared for. The fuzzy feelings almost make him feel like he's flying.

'I wonder how I ended up on the bed.'

'It doesn't matter.'

'Meri is sweet. Very sweet.'

Sleepy thoughts swirl through his head.

'He makes me feel warm.'

'I like to feel warm. Love warm. And fuzzy.'

'Love him...' the flitting thought floats through his mind.

'Love him?' he wonders briefly.

'I love him,' Russia realizes. It felt warm. It felt right.

'I love him,' Russia thinks, and butterflies flutter in his stomach.

"You're adorable," America says, taking Russia's hand in his own and pressing it to his face, kissing the back of it.

The room sounds quiet. The TV plays faintly in the background.

"I wonder when the kids are gonna get back," America mutters, "they should be back soon."

Then there is a single knock and then the door opens with chatter.

"Pancakes!" Texas exclaims, showing off a stake of plates covered in pancakes, almost spilling them onto the floor.

"The pancake machine took forever," New Mexico adds.

America laughs. Russia's stomach grumbles, and he mentally curses.