[America has similar difficulty sleeping after any monster encounter, though it's more the fear of horror movies coming to life that stops him from even thinking about sleep. He'd just dream about the chance of the monster not going away before the door unlocks, anyway. America paces uneasily and can't stop himself from trying to squint out at the monster, not that he ever has much luck in that regard. He's not surprised at all that England is awake, too, of course, but considering how upset at him England has been, America doesn't want to start a really loud shouting match on top of the monster outside, so he doesn't say anything.]
[England watches out of his peripheral every time America's pacing brings him close to the door. It's hard not to think about the possibility of losing him, as well; how easily could it happen, if they keep running into creatures like this?
He ignores the intrusive scenarios of America overbalancing due to his bags, America tripping on a piece of rubble, America bringing up the rear but the monster is just too fast— he tries to ignore them all, plunking away on his tablet absently until it all becomes too much to bear. With some caution, England lifts his head, bringing his face away from the screen so he can look up at America next time he passes by. Though it's a little hard to tell in the dim light.]
Not with that thing outside. [America is surprised England actually spoke to him, but it's not antagonistic--doesn't even sound grumpy, really--so he'll take what he can get.] Same for you?
Yeah. [What's the point in denying it? He's sitting guard right by the door it's trying to get through. He finds a justification for his behaviour anyway, but it dies in his throat when he remembers the real point of this conversation. It's not supposed to be about the monster.
Still, it takes England a certain amount of time to get to the point, and their previous conversations about this sort of thing weigh heavily on his desire to speak. So it's a few moments of heavy silence before he elaborates, his eyes fixated back on his tablet with some embarrassment.] ...I'm glad you're all right.
[In the moments between England answering and saying anything else, America had taken a moment to look back in the direction of the clawing monster, as if it might have made any progress in the last few seconds that neither of them had noticed. So when England actually says he's glad America is alright, his eyes snap back over. It doesn't sound insincere and it's not immediately followed up with caveats, so he finds himself squirming in place, face reddening.]
I'm glad you're okay, too. [The words hop out of his mouth on their own, so the sincerity is honest.]
[The tips of England's ears start to burn with the flush gathering in his face. He didn't really expect America to return the favour, but admittedly, he didn't know what he was expecting from that. He just knew that it was arduous travelling with America under these conditions, and while he's not ready to just let it go, he had to do something to smooth over this awful tension between them. He's supposed to be the mature one, after all! The responsible one!
But he doesn't feel very mature when he's blushing at a rather plain fact. He's also at a loss as to how to continue without revealing too much and unbalancing this whole thing again. He picks at his nails, focusing on the mesmerising clicks as he does so.] I just— you know.
[A nervous swallow, and a following mumble.] I'd be rather cross if something happened to you.
I'll be alright. [America smiles, trying to reassure, but honestly, when he thinks about it, there's no real proof of that. He's never actually died before. Physically gotten about as close as anyone can, sure, most nations probably have, but something like this is way different, and he doesn't have his strength or anything.] I mean... We watch out for each other, right...?
England tries not to wonder when America has been watching out for him. Still, he grumbles, an obligatory complaint to a statement like that.] I don't need protecting.
[But there's not much bite to it. He's still distracted by his nails and his too-red face. How can he say that he's been watching out for America for centuries? Even after the war that tore them apart, England has always had an eye on him. He grants America a sidelong glance, but he can't hold it for too long before he bows his head in further embarrassment.] I'm not just keeping you around as a nanny, you know.
[Sure, it's nice to have another pair of eyes to watch Sealand, but England's main motivation is very different.]
[America hesitates a little. At some point he had gotten the idea he was more a babysitter for Sealand than anything else (and, of course, he messed that up). But he doesn't want to let England know he was thinking that, for a lot of reasons.] I know. ...Someone needs to carry all the stuff, right? [It's half an attempt at a joke and half America sort of wondering exactly why England has been sticking around with him when England seems mostly to have just been upset with him lately.]
[A scoff.] Well, that's true. I'm certainly not going to carry all that rubbish. [England returns that with more of his characteristic dryness, grateful for the opportunity to say something normal before he makes this all soppy.
Still, his eyes are trained elsewhere. He always has a tough time looking at America when he's about to say something stupid. As the silence grows from seconds to minutes, England grits his teeth and fusses with the cuff of his windbreaker.] ...you're the one who said that friends work together. I'm not going to just...
[More furious picking, and his shoulders raise slightly, or maybe he's just lowering his chin closer to his chest in his best effort to withdraw into himself as much as possible.] ...I prefer not to abandon my allies. It's— ungentlemanly.
[Of course he would say all of this in the most roundabout way possible.]
[America is pretty sure that's a confirmation that they're still friends, even if it's in England-ish. It's enough to make him smile a bit and watch how England pulls into himself like he's trying to be a turtle with something closer to fondness. It's also enough to put some wind back in the sails of his confidence.] Yeah, you wouldn't. I won't abandon you, either, promise.
[There's a twinge in England's chest that causes the corners of his mouth to twist, perhaps in a bit of pain. His fidgeting with his hands doubles with his sudden spike of emotion. There's definitely a part of him that wants to believe America's statement — has wanted to hear something like it for a long time, in fact. But they wouldn't be in this situation right now if England didn't feel like America might abandon him at any moment if they fight again.
He tries to sound stern, an echo of his lecture voice creeping into his tone, but the overwhelming vibe is undeniably one of insecurity.] ...you shouldn't make promises you don't intend to keep, you know.
I plan on keeping-- [America realizes, belatedly, that he's being a bit too loud. Waking Sealand up would be a bad idea. He forces his voice down to a more reasonable nighttime tone.] I wouldn't say it if I didn't want to keep it.
[It's not a lie, but it's not the entire picture, either. America fully intends on it right now, or he wouldn't have said it, but he's never been good at predicting what he'll do when he's struck with some dramatic mood swing.]
[There's a small pop as England snaps a loose thread from the sleeve of his windbreaker. He realises distantly that he should probably replace those few lost stitches when he can, so that he doesn't risk it turning into a hole later.
God, it's cold. It would be warmer in the bed with America and Sealand.]
...so you want to stay? With m— with us? [Wariness touches his quiet question. He's spent a lot of this time convinced that America was staying with him out of obligation towards Sealand, not because he really wants to be around England.]
Yeah. [America nods insistently, like just the force of his movement will convince England.] I've been with you from basically the beginning 'cause I want to be.
[In some ways, the days have seemed a lot longer here, but England's sense of time hasn't totally changed. Two months doesn't seem like a very long time, but that's how long they've been travelling together now. That's more time than they've spent together at once, outside of a war, for a long time — though perhaps it's premature to say this isn't a war.
Finally, England looks up from all his self-made distractions so he can glimpse America's face, hoping to find sincerity when he looks. Of course, it's dark, and England can doubt anything if he tries hard enough, even if it's right in front of his face.
He peers down at America's shoes.] I'm sure you know I'd never be around someone this long if I didn't want to be.
Yeah. [Or if he had to be, or felt like it was necessary, but he's sure it wouldn't really be necessary here. They can both take care of themselves. Well, maybe it's a bit more necessary now, with Sealand, but they traveled together before Sealand even got here, too. Of course, in some ways it feels like one thing happening after the other, but he can push that view of time away if he needs to--probably more easily than a lot of the older nations can.] So. We both want to be here. Or, not here, but we're here already so we both want to be in the same part of here while we're--uh. Here.
No, not here. [England knows what America means, of course, but he thinks he can put it much more concisely. Even if it makes him blush.]
You mean together. We want to be... [He starts off somewhat strong, when he puts it like he's correcting America, but having to say it himself causes him to peter out into a mumble.] ...together.
[England saying it like that, while more concise, immediately makes more heat rise into America's face. England doesn't mean it romantically, obviously, but it's the first meaning America thinks of, so he stumbles across his words even as his brain corrects itself.] Well, er, I mean, I guess, yeah, that's a faster way to put it. Y-yeah, that's what we want. I think? That's what I want.
[Not romantically. Well, maybe romantically? But that's not what he means right now.]
[England wasn't thinking about the potential alternate meanings of saying it that way, but he realises his mistake when America starts flustering. Of course, that can't be what America is agreeing to, that would be impossible. He got what England actually meant at some point! There's no way he'd agree, otherwise.]
It's simply, er— staying together! It's— that's, ah, that's what I— I want that, as well.
[Non-romantically, that is. At least in this case.
Of course, even just thinking about it, England is stumbling over his words too. At least he's still careful to be quiet, so he doesn't risk his little brother overhearing this shameful exchange.]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, so it's fine. Right? Things are okay? [America rushes through his words this time, letting them fall out without much regard to what came before, just to try and establish that everything is as it should be. And also that they're not talking about romance.]
Okay, good, 'cause I didn't want you to--hate me, or whatever. [That might be a bit of a melodramatic concern, but melodramatic concerns are an important part of America's concerns.]
Hate you? [England repeats it back with some confusion, regarding America with a furrowed brow. He looks America over once, as if hoping to find where such an assumption might have come from.
He seems to find an answer, because he looks away abruptly, staring at the seam where the front door meets the floor.] I wouldn't hate you. Don't be ridiculous.
I thought so. I wasn't worried or anything. [And yet America looks pretty obviously relieved, not to mention he basically just said he was worried only a few seconds ago.]
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He ignores the intrusive scenarios of America overbalancing due to his bags, America tripping on a piece of rubble, America bringing up the rear but the monster is just too fast— he tries to ignore them all, plunking away on his tablet absently until it all becomes too much to bear. With some caution, England lifts his head, bringing his face away from the screen so he can look up at America next time he passes by. Though it's a little hard to tell in the dim light.]
...can't sleep?
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Still, it takes England a certain amount of time to get to the point, and their previous conversations about this sort of thing weigh heavily on his desire to speak. So it's a few moments of heavy silence before he elaborates, his eyes fixated back on his tablet with some embarrassment.] ...I'm glad you're all right.
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I'm glad you're okay, too. [The words hop out of his mouth on their own, so the sincerity is honest.]
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But he doesn't feel very mature when he's blushing at a rather plain fact. He's also at a loss as to how to continue without revealing too much and unbalancing this whole thing again. He picks at his nails, focusing on the mesmerising clicks as he does so.] I just— you know.
[A nervous swallow, and a following mumble.] I'd be rather cross if something happened to you.
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[Even if England yells at him or something...]
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England tries not to wonder when America has been watching out for him. Still, he grumbles, an obligatory complaint to a statement like that.] I don't need protecting.
[But there's not much bite to it. He's still distracted by his nails and his too-red face. How can he say that he's been watching out for America for centuries? Even after the war that tore them apart, England has always had an eye on him. He grants America a sidelong glance, but he can't hold it for too long before he bows his head in further embarrassment.] I'm not just keeping you around as a nanny, you know.
[Sure, it's nice to have another pair of eyes to watch Sealand, but England's main motivation is very different.]
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Still, his eyes are trained elsewhere. He always has a tough time looking at America when he's about to say something stupid. As the silence grows from seconds to minutes, England grits his teeth and fusses with the cuff of his windbreaker.] ...you're the one who said that friends work together. I'm not going to just...
[More furious picking, and his shoulders raise slightly, or maybe he's just lowering his chin closer to his chest in his best effort to withdraw into himself as much as possible.] ...I prefer not to abandon my allies. It's— ungentlemanly.
[Of course he would say all of this in the most roundabout way possible.]
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He tries to sound stern, an echo of his lecture voice creeping into his tone, but the overwhelming vibe is undeniably one of insecurity.] ...you shouldn't make promises you don't intend to keep, you know.
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[It's not a lie, but it's not the entire picture, either. America fully intends on it right now, or he wouldn't have said it, but he's never been good at predicting what he'll do when he's struck with some dramatic mood swing.]
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God, it's cold. It would be warmer in the bed with America and Sealand.]
...so you want to stay? With m— with us? [Wariness touches his quiet question. He's spent a lot of this time convinced that America was staying with him out of obligation towards Sealand, not because he really wants to be around England.]
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Finally, England looks up from all his self-made distractions so he can glimpse America's face, hoping to find sincerity when he looks. Of course, it's dark, and England can doubt anything if he tries hard enough, even if it's right in front of his face.
He peers down at America's shoes.] I'm sure you know I'd never be around someone this long if I didn't want to be.
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You mean together. We want to be... [He starts off somewhat strong, when he puts it like he's correcting America, but having to say it himself causes him to peter out into a mumble.] ...together.
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[Not romantically. Well, maybe romantically? But that's not what he means right now.]
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It's simply, er— staying together! It's— that's, ah, that's what I— I want that, as well.
[Non-romantically, that is. At least in this case.
Of course, even just thinking about it, England is stumbling over his words too. At least he's still careful to be quiet, so he doesn't risk his little brother overhearing this shameful exchange.]
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But he hasn't forgiven America, or anyone else, for a lot of things. He's not going to jeopardise his survival or risk their alliance for any of them.
Their alliance that has absolutely not involved intimacy, contrary to the beliefs of some people!]
—yeah. It's, er, it's fine.
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He seems to find an answer, because he looks away abruptly, staring at the seam where the front door meets the floor.] I wouldn't hate you. Don't be ridiculous.
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