garantundkraft | Lost Realm: Liebe und Haß

Entry tags:

Lost Realm: Liebe und Haß

Characters: Prussia and England
Date: August 25, night
Format: Prose
Content Warnings: Hatesnogs, mostly
Summary: Prussia sneaks into England's hospital room. Sexual tension ensues.

It's been a few nights since their fight, and Prussia is feeling almost normal once more. His ribs are still sore, and he's far from eager to bend at the waist, but he's not in so much pain that he can't hide it behind a practised mask. You don't become known for your military prowess without being able to make the enemy think you're in better condition than you actually are.

It's a risk, sneaking in to visit England in the hospital. Prussia knows the doctor knows who he is, and he doesn't put it past England to inform the man how his injuries were inflicted. So he goes in, late at night when he hopes that the doctor is either not there or asleep, and that the staff on duty doesn't recognise him or know to keep an eye put for him.

Getting up to England's room is seemingly child's play. He moves easily through the corridors, following that odd second sense that tells him of the presence of another nation. Well, that, and he took a glance at the patient room board as he passed the empty nurse's station. Soon enough, he is outside the door to England's room. With little preamble, he slips inside the room and shuts the door behind him. The visitor's chair in the room is put in front of the door to block it.

"Guten Abend, Engelland."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Had England not been dozing off, he would have been able to tell that Prussia was nearby. But he had not been sleeping very well lately, even before he'd been pulled into Darstone. He took little naps when he could, whenever his brain had the decency to shut down and allow him to relax, but those were few and far in between. He was actually upset when the sound of the door opening woke him up. He thought he'd told Stein to leave him alone.

Of course, it wasn't Stein who was there now, nor was it a nurse. His eyes went from narrow to wide after Prussia spoke. He pushed himself up in bed. The nerve this guy had, showing up here... It was so ballsy and sexy. Shit.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, it's been a few days. Gotta give you credit," he talks as he walks over to sit on the edge of England's bed, for once feeling like he can let his guard down a bit and show how much pain he's still in. With a wince and a few huffed breaths, Prussia shifts until his position doesn't put too much pressure or strain on his abdomen. "I'm still fucking sore. But you were always good for a fight."

Regardless of whether or not they're in a hospital, Prussia doesn't see anything nearby that might cause problems if he struck a match. And he's caught lingering traces of smoke inthe air already. So he takes out a cigarette and lights up, pointedly exhaling the smoke away from England's face. "How's the arm?"

Yeah, that would be the doctor. A smoking doctor. Well, whatever. It didn't hurt England.

"It's not healing as fast as I'd like it to." He grimaces, though not at Prussia. He's more angry that it's not fixed by now, that he still has bruises, that his magic isn't as strong.

But he doesn't want Prussia to see him mope. He nudges the other country with his foot.

Oh, well, then he really shouldn't feel guilty, hm? Prussia takes a long drag as he listens to England, exhaling before slowly turning to fondly regard the older nation. At the foot nudge, he reaches to press his fingers against England's ankle, ignoring the sheet and blanket in the way. "I know the feeling. You really got me good with that knee." If he's allowed, he'll dart his fingers up along the outline of England's leg, until he reaches his knee. "I kinda wanna break this right now, 'cause I still can't bend at the waist without wanting to scream."

England makes no move to stop him. In fact, the moment Prussia's hand is on his ankle, he's watching it. Watches it slide up his leg the way a cat would follow a mouse with its eyes before pouncing.

"It'll heal eventually," he says without looking up. Though, what is he referring to? His arm? The knee? Prussia's rib?

What is he referring to, indeed? Prussia gives something of a warning squeeze. "Though how would you explain this to the doctor?" Not that he thinks England would lie about who did it, but rather how England intended to explain why he didn't yell or make some sort of alarm when he recognised Prussia. After a long moment, he releases the pressure, to instead lean in, supporting his weight against England's leg. "But as fun as that sounds, I'm not trying to get banned from the hospital over you. What if I decide I need these ribs bandaged or some shit?"

At last he looked up into Prussia's eyes again. As exciting as this was to have him here, England couldn't exactly forgive him for what he said. What he did was not what bothered him. Prussia could have broken every bone in England's body and he wouldn't have minded that. It was the words that got to him.

He sniffed, narrowing his eyes as they finally adjusted to the darkness. "I'm sure you could do it yourself, Doktor. After all, don't you do better being alone?"

He sets his jaw before sitting up, this time hiding the pain he's in. So... That's how England wishes to be... Fine. Two can play at such a game. Prussia gets to his feet, then, moving so he stands near the other man's head. "Of course! So you should be flattered I'm taking the time to be less awesome by keeping you company! Ungrateful bastard." Like England's words weren't just as cutting to Prussia. Besides, as far as Prussia is concerned, England brought the war here. Not himself. And that hurts even more, knowing he's not even trusted to leave the war and the murders back home.

Actually, England was surprised that he got such a strong reaction out of Prussia for that. He wasn't even being scathing.

"Oh, don't do that on account of me. I'm the old man." He says this as though bile were rising up in his throat. He hated that Prussia had called him that. "If you don't leave, you might grow bored because I'll ramble!"

"Like I don't have ways of shutting you up," he snarls, halfway between a growl and a purr. Seriously, what is England's problem? He didn't come here to start a fight! Shocking, we know. Prussia plants one hand on either side of England, leaning over him. Stupid, insufferable, sexy England. Can't he just let things rest?

What was England's problem? Well, how would Prussia like it if Germany called him an old man? How would he like it if he was constantly being told he was weak and needed a stronger, younger brother to protect him? He had offended England, and England wasn't one to let comments like those slide.

Still, having Prussia so close was another opportunity England did not want to pass up. He moved his good arm up, catching hold of the back of Prussia's neck. "You're the one who needs to shut up."

Edited 2012-09-03 11:10 (UTC)

Gee, how does that make him feel? Especially to hear such words coming from a nation he's always admired and adored, in his own way. Not that he's any good at outwardly expressing it.

A certain light gleams in Prussia's eyes at the hand on the back of his neck. It could hardly be described as hopeful, because even he knows better than to expect things to be good between them now. It is, however, lustful, because England is ~~cute~~ hot when he's angry. "I dunno. Your big mouth started everything. Maybe I should try a different way of shutting you up." Before England can protest, Prussia is closing the distance, pressing his lips hard against England's and not caring if he's accurate or teeth get in the way or anything. Damn England. Damn him for being able to get under his skin so easily.

Admired? Adored? Prussia had a funny way of showing admiration. Calling him an old man... Did we mention that England hated that already?

Regardless, now that they are kissing, England decides that he won't speak anymore, at least not for a while. He is also chastising himself for being so affected by Prussia's words, his actions, his body. Sometimes, he felt as though this irritating bastard consumed his thoughts. Day and night, England couldn't at least 3 hours without thinking about him for some reason.

And yet, even though he's angry, England pushes himself up a little more so that he can get his arm around Prussia's shoulder, wanting him to be closer.

Well, if he drives England to such distraction without even being there, then England also has a peculiar way of showing he thinks of Prussia so often. It seems that they are quite evenly matched in that regards.

Though it's for the best that Prussia knows nothing of how often England thinks of him, of how easily he can affect the island nation. After all, he wouldn't hesitate to exploit it. It's simply not in his nature to leave a weakness be.

What he does know, however, is that England is pushing closer, which is a far better response than he'd hoped for. Prussia carefully wraps his arm around England on his injured side, supporting him a bit more evenly than England can do with one arm alone. He bites at England's lips, before pressing his tongue against his mouth, trying to deepen the kiss.

The last thing England needed was for anyone to know about his little obsessions. There were only two people in the world that could get under his skin so deeply, and one of them was standing right here. The other, he constantly worried and fretted over like a mother-hen. How was that guy doing at home?

The thought causes England to back off a little. He breaks the kiss but rests his cheek against Prussia's jaw. "Doesn't it hurt you to bend down?" His words are soft, mumbled close to Prussia's ear. He says it not to tease, but out of concern for Prussia's injuries.

"Hurts like a bitch," he grumbles, taking the concern for what it is. Oh England, he can hardly stay too angry with you for long, and he burned up a lot of that hate during the fight. In fact, afterwards, he had been worried when he hadn't seen the other nation around the government sponsored housing. "But that's okay, I'll live." He burrows his face against England's neck, breathing deeply.

He's also been feeling a fair share of guilt. He realizes he may have gone overboard, and that was one of the reasons he was staying hidden. Just one, though. He also didn't want anyone to see him in his weakened state. England is gently stroking down Prussia's back, thinking about how to get him more comfortable.

"Sit down," he sighs, and then back-peddles to save face, like he usually does. "Not because I care if you're in pain... I just don't want to be responsible in case you keel over. Or something." Yes, of course. That was all it was.

Edited 2012-09-04 01:37 (UTC)

Prussia straightens with a groan, before moving so he can sit next to England without making him move or jostle his injured arm any. "I'd say if you were that worried, you shouldn't've kneed me that hard, but..." His gaze strays to England's bandaged arm. He almost looks as guilty as he feels. Finally he sighs, rubbing his side and looking away.

England scooted over as far as he could so that he could give Prussia some room. It wasn't like the bed was super tiny, but it definitely wasn't built for two adult males. Still, England could care less about being squished now that Prussia is next to him. He was worried he might scare him off. It amazed him that Prussia even wanted to visit him at all!

So was this a truce, then? Without the influence of his boss or his people, England was free to be himself. And, well. He was sort of delighted by the idea. He finally closes his eyes and rests his head against Prussia's shoulder.

It seems to be a truce, at least for here and now. Prussia wraps an arm around England, as always mindful of his injuries. Probably later something will happen to set one or the other off again, but he doesn't care to think about it now. "Mm. It would be really fucking awesome if you would just admit I'm a thousand times better than you and stop fighting me." Well... it wouldn't be all that awesome. He likes England's spirit, and he doesn't mean that in the condescending, well-there's-not-much-else-commendable-about-him sort of way. He means it in the sense that England simply wouldn't be the same without his stiff upper lip and undomitable personality.

Oh, Prussia. Didn't you ever know when to stop talking? Here, England invited him to share his bed, and all he can do is set him off. So much for a truce, because now England elbows him in the side, probably near one of the broken ribs.

"I think the doctor's coming. You should leave."

He'd love to. Really.

But for now he is just going to lose even the faintest hint of blood that pinks his skin, inhaling sharply in pain.

When he finally exhales, it's a high pitched whinge comparable to air slowly being let out of a balloon.

As much as England wants to say that Prussia deserves it, he still can't help but feel bad when he hears that whine. It's pathetic enough that it tugs at all the right heartstrings. Curse you, Prussia! England hadn't even meant to hit him that hard.

England doesn't apologize, because he rarely ever does (unless you are a child or a woman). But he does pet Prussia's hair. "If you want someone who will praise you, then perhaps you should look elsewhere." Though England did praise Prussia without words, usually in his head.

"But I'm awesome; you should praise me too!" he huffs, leaning towards the hand in his hair. Prussia's voice is still in the higher part of his range, strained a bit from pain, but he seems to otherwise be back to his awesome self. "Especially when you hear what I've got planned!"

Oh, no. A plan? England resists the urge to facepalm right there. His hand stops moving momentarily.

"What are you planning." He almost doesn't want to know, because England is certain that, whatever it is, it will definitely ruin this mood. Couldn't they hold their truce for a little bit longer?

"Something awesome. Don't worry about it, I promise it won't get anyone killed." He reaches over to tug gently on a strand of England's hair. "It's just paperwork, okay?" Well... more than that, but he needs to figure out the particulars of it before he can even begin recruiting for it. Still. No need to make England worry or anything. Not during their truce.

If Prussia didn't want to make England worry, he should not have said anything at all. Now, England would constantly be watching him, wondering.

"Paperwork?" he asks, raising a large fluffy brow. "That doesn't sound like you at all."

"Ja, paperwork. I can do the shit you know." He gives England his best offended look before continuing. "It's one of those quest things? Just... do paperwork for two weeks and get paid for it. Easy enough then maybe I can move outta that stupid apartment building they've got us all in." He takes out his pack of cigarettes just to tap it idly against his thigh.

Ah, right. England had completely forgotten about those quests. How nice it would be to have a place all to himself! England liked it best that way. Rooming with two girls was not very private.

"Well, I suppose you can't get into trouble doing paperwork." He's only half-teasing. Actually, England wishes that he had seen the listing himself so that he could do it.

"Exactly! Especially since I'm sure half the town hates me on principle," he grins, nudging England with his elbow. Yeah. Definitely not mentioning that this is part of his master plan to ~~take over Darstone~~ ~~turn Darstone into New Prussia~~ ~~start a coup~~ gain prominence in the government.

"I'm sure not that many," said England as he cleared his throat. "I didn't get too many replies. There are probably more people who don't know who you are."

"Mm. Ja, probably." He shifts so he can lean back a little, pressing himself to England's uninjured side. Prussia is milking this truce for all the snuggling it is worth, damn it. He hardly wants it to end. Still, he can't stay here forever, as nice as that would be. Maybe they could move in together.

...

Nah, West would kill him. And he can't up and abandon the kid.

...Well, now, don't knock the idea out just yet...

England returned the snuggling. As long as Prussia didn't say anything stupid again, they could stay cozy for as long as he liked. He resumes running his fingers through Prussia's hair.

"...You know, we probably shouldn't get too comfortable," he finally says. "Erm, not about. This. But about living here. In Darstone."

"Why not?" Okay, so if they did figure out how to leave without the government allowing it or getting sick, then he would likely go back home regardless of the fact that his duties have greatly lessened since his lands were broken up into Gaue, but Prussia is perfectly fine with staying here until such an event occurs. It's not like he has much back home.

"Why not?" England repeated, not knowing anything about the trials Prussia was facing at home. He pushed himself up so that he could turn his upper body to his fellow country. "We have a job to do. Our people, our work, our duty as countries..."

Even as England said all this, though, he knew there would never be a chance for them to spend time talking alone without the risk of being labelled as traitors or spies. He liked being here with Prussia. Just chatting, and snuggling, without pressure.

An odd look crosses Prussia's face as he debates internally whether he should tell England what the government has done to him. In the end, however, the fact that he doesn't want pity or more hatred aimed at West or... honestly, to hear anything about it from England wins out. "Right, but I really don't wanna go back to the Eastern Front. It's fucking freezing over there."

Besides, then he wouldn't be able to be with England. Not with the situation between their governments. And... well, even with West and their allies around, he's lonely.

Ah. A small grin tugs at England's lips. "So you're just cold," he says, shifting to carefully wrap his arms around Prussia's body. He could scold Prussia for sounding irresponsible, but, deep down, he knows Prussia isn't. There was no way he would just run away from a war.

Besides, it wasn't as though they could choose to go home! Eventually, England would find out how, but he couldn't do anything about that now.

"I think I froze my balls off last winter." He huddles into the embrace, before glancing mischievously at England. "Hey, wanna check to see if they're there?" Because he couldn't miss such a perfect opportunity to sexually proposition the Empire. Nope. Not Prussia.

Why did Prussia have to be so vulgar? England rolled his eyes, but the grin got significantly more wicked. He was in a good mood again, so he didn't really mind.

"Might not be a good idea here."

The perils of allowing an impressionable young nation to be raised by soldiers. His smirk widens, and he elbows England's side. "Oh, right. What if a nurse walked in? She'd be so overcome by our pure hotness she'd faint! Which would just kill the mood." Prussia winks. "Er, that is. It would make things very awkward for us. With questions like, 'If you thought your genitalia was missing, why did you not contact a competent medical authority?' or some shit. Right. That."

What was he going on about? A bead of sweat ran down the side of England's face.

"I suppose you'll just have to work hard on getting that new flat, yeah? So you can invite guests over."

"That sounds like an excellent plan." ...He leans over and licks that bead of sweat off, mumbling, "...tastes like tea..."

It doesn't, actually. It tastes like salt and skin and basically what sweat is supposed to taste like, but Prussia can't resist teasing England a little.

England sighs as a light blush spreads across his face. Do all of his bodily fluids taste like tea? ...Wait, don't answer that. He rests his cheek on Prussia's shoulder again, closes his eyes again.

It did sound like an excellent plan. Maybe England would work on getting his own place as soon as possible. His grip around Prussia tightens the slightest bit, possessive, because he wants them to be like this just for a little while longer.

He is more than willing to find out the answer to that question, though! In case England is ever really that curious. Prussia turns his head, nuzzles into England's hair with a sigh. He smells like hospital. Not very appealing. But still... It's England, his England, and he is quite content to just stay here holding him for a while yet.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Lost Realm: Liebe und Haß

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject