Rusger Oneshots

Say you won't Let Go (part 2.)

Norway was pulling out pieces of tissue paper and handing them to Britain, who was curled up in fetal position on one of the beds and coughing, a basin that smelt faintly of acidic vomit beside him. He was shaking slightly, in a white cotton shirt and sweatpants, unlike Portugal, who was still wearing his country's military uniform. 

"Britain, Germany's here." Norway said quietly, going to the side of his bed and getting his attention, taking away the basin. Britain gasped raggedly, looking pained when he turned over to lie on his back, cyan-coloured eyes dull. He wondered what exactly happened to him, where did the nuke hit to cause him to become like this. 

"He's mostly still stable, I don't know how bad the damage is or how to treat it, exactly, but he's on some really strong painkillers right now for the pain in his stomach. I don't think he's in any risk of falling. He has a infection on his leg from a shrapnel cut that I'll have to give him antibiotics for later." Norway told them when he walked over, pulling lightly at one of his plastic gloves. 

Germany nodded slightly as he listened, glancing over to see Britain staring straight back at him. "I guess you should go talk to him now." Norway inclined his head and let him walk forward towards his patient, gray-green eyes watching carefully as he and Portugal followed after Germany.

Britain's fingers twitched as he tried to move, eyes squinting from most likely pain. He had cut his hair short when the war began, losing the small ponytail, but now it was curling back around his ears again. "Just Germany. You...private conversation-" He said out in rough English, managing to lift his hand and attempt to weakly shoo away the other two behind him. 

Germany looked over his shoulder at Portugal, who only paused and nodded, looking at him one more time and turning back towards the door of the room. Norway seemed like he wanted to object, before finally sighing silently and took a step back. He tugged on the back of Germany's sleeve and turned him away for a second.

"Make sure he doesn't do anything...brash. No pulling out IVs, lay down flat on the bed. Do not, get him too excited in anyway, I don't know how far those injuries go, so make sure he stays put, and keep the conversation short. 5 to 10 minutes only. The oxygen mask is already in place, so just turn it on and put it to his face if he has any problems." He whispered to him softly. Germany nodded and felt him let go, walking after Portugal and closing the door behind him.

He heard a sigh from the bed and turned around to see Britain again, who was now staring up at the ceiling. "You do know I could still hear you two, right. You were only a few feet away." He said, in a much calmer voice. He didn't sound as pained as he did just now, and adjusted himself gingerly again to lie down more comfortably, glancing at the clip on his finger that took his blood pressure before going back to glaze at the white ceiling.

"I can breath fine, just...abdominal, pain. They targeted Birmingham...I don't know how many people died. It's so much more quiet." He whispered. Germany took a closer step forward, not sure if he was talking to him or to himself. "We all know if there's major damage to the ground we can feel...something. With ourselves. But this...I don't even know how to describe it. I don't think I've felt anything Like this before. Feels like my intestines are simultaneously trying to pull into themselves and explode out at the same time, it sounds like something America might say."

Britain smiled slightly, before going back to a emotionless expression again. His blue white and red streaked hair looked dirty and slightly matted, sprawled out over the clean white pillows. Germany waited for anything else he wanted to say before finally deciding to straighten his posture, keeping his arms steady by his sides. "What did you call me here for. What do you want to talk about." He said, almost monotonously. He'd dealt with so many people in these few short years, issue after issue after issue that called for his attention. He didn't have the energy to give even a smile or small talk. He just wanted the problem, solve it, and move on immediately.