Sleep (APH Nordic Fanfic)

Chapter 22

Chapter Status: Not Edited

America's POV

Why would she turn down a Big Mac?

I just don't understand her.

What's her name? Oslo? She never introduced herself.

But a Big Mac? Really? I just can't put in to words how confused I am. Everyone else loved their Big Macs! Gaaaah what is wrong with her head. She would rather not eat than have one!!!!

Is she... *gasps* vegan?!

Anyway, even though Greenland has been busy being DEAD or something, her and Denmark have resumed their casual relationship. Right now I think they're like, sitting in the living room watching a movie.

"America?" A feminine, but male voice inquires. (A/N You guessed it.)

"Yeah!" I spin around cheerfully.

"I'm like, sorry that Oslo didn't eat last night, thing is, she's literally organic, man."

"Oh... That's okay, dude! I thought she might be, cuz seriously! Who would turn down a Big Mac?!" I laugh, ruffling Poland's hair.

"Don't touch me," he says, pushing me away, "you may be slightly attractive, but honestly, I don't want you like, raping me."

Well then, European countries are mean. Whatever.

Oslo's POV

Sleep is obviously not visiting tonight. I haven't fallen asleep for three days. Three days! This is actually the longest I've gone! I've always fallen asleep during class or something, but I haven't been able to fall asleep during the day. So much has happened!

Naturally, I didn't bring any of my meds with me, so that's a reason I'm not able to sleep, and that didn't work two nights ago. Wow, was I really at that hotel last night? It feels like lifetimes ago.

I glance at the digital clock in the room. Four thirty eight. Great, now I don't even want to fall asleep. I hate falling asleep in the early morning hours. I abandon all hope and head downstairs. Maybe someone is experiencing the same problem.

My warm, bare feet almost make sucking sounds when I pull them away from the hard wood floor. The rest of me is cold. I rub my hands up and down my arms, which are crossed over my chest.

Just as I thought, a muscled figure stands at the fridge, stuffing his face. These Americans. Do they honestly need snacks this early in the morning? Or at all? (A/N yes Oslo, we do.)

I awkwardly stand in the doorframe of the kitchen, waiting to be noticed. After a moment, he still doesn't turn around, so I yawn. He leaps out of his skin, trembling.

"GHOST!?" He quakes.

"No, almost one, though," I chuckle.

"Oh."

"So, what are you doing, stuffing your face so early in the morning?" I hoist myself onto his counter.

He leans against the island counter opposite of me, and places his hands behind his head.

"Well, I somehow woke up a while ago, and I couldn't wait until we could eat breakfast, so I decided to have a," he cranes his neck to see the time, "four fifty snack."

I nod.

"I heard you were one of those organic chics, so I figured I'd go out and buy some things you could eat," he informs nonchalantly.

I almost choke on the air at his statement. I freeze. How do I handle this?

"No, it's fine. I don't want to cause you trouble!" I blush a deep crimson.