[America squirms just a little--it's been ages, but he knows they can't, between Ginger and their various pain and injury situations. He rests his head against England's instead.] It feels nicer just like this.
[England's hand falls away from America's leg; he contents himself with the tangle of their intertwined fingers. It's a simple task to turn his face towards America's and lay a kiss down at his temple.
He can't kiss the pain better, of course, but it's a nice thought.] Soppy fool.
[America smiles. If nothing else it's a distraction. Maybe he can make himself believe England can make him feel better just with a kiss.] You don't really mind.
Hm. I suppose not. [England is probably the soppier of the two of them, anyway. His thumb strokes absent lines along the side of America's hand. His mind is heavy with Luna's departure, and his slow-healing wound, and the monstrous Elizabeth that plagues his rare stretches of sleep. But at least he has this.]
We could see about a blood transfusion if it gets worse, though that would only be a temporary solution. [Still, America seems like he's in a considerable amount of pain; if it were to get worse, it might be worth alleviating it, even if only for a short time.]
[America isn't sure he likes the idea of that, still not really comfortable with the level of mortality he has here, and it shows on his face. I dunno, they should probably save the blood for someone who really needs it.
[The counterargument is obvious. England opts not to voice it.] You choose the stupidest times to be selfless. [It's very frustrating! But his kind heart is half the reason England loves him.]
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He can't kiss the pain better, of course, but it's a nice thought.] Soppy fool.
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