Title : Always and Sometimes
Rating: PG ( I think ....)
Warnings: The mention of blood and death .. nothing else comes to my mind
Summary : Sometimes he decided he should listen more to his brother especially when his advice let him sleep through the night in a safe harbour.
Next one: Chapter 2
Sometimes he cursed his own existence. Sometimes he hated the fact that he survived wars and mortal wounds. Sometimes he really wanted to go to a therapist. But how do you explain to a therapist that you have nightmares about the Great War and the Second World War when you are in the year 2011 and look like 19?
And he had nightmares, terrible nightmares. He really wondered why they showed up now and not directly after the wars.
Always he saw them first. Fighting against his soldiers, horrible demons of green and blond – although not every enemy was blond-haired and blue-eyed – and his brave men were dying, the screams stuck in his head and he knew who would miss them.
Then, then he was always drowning in a sea of blood, the thick liquid sucking him under and filling his world with red, crimson red that turned to black. He could taste it in his mouth – rusty and bitter and somehow so very sweet – when he was hoping for air.
The end, however, was always the worst. Suddenly he would be in a place with nothing around him. A barren land of snow and ice and he felt so empty, so alone and the connection between him and his people seemed to be missing and full of panic he would storm around to search for them, search for somebody in the vastness of his land.
And when he finally found them after spending light years – thousands of kilometers – seeking and looking for them they would look at him, eyes filled with tears and contempt and hate. The cries of “Why did you let us die? Why did you let our husbands, sons,nephews, grandchildren die? Why?” would tear right through him and rip him apart.
Waking up never helped. He would go to sleep again and the nightmare would continue. He was at his wit's end.
His brother – normally so dim-witted, so carefree and happy-go-lucky – had noticed he was off and inquired the reasons for it. It hadn't take long for him to crack – being ignored so often hadn't steeled him against a persistent investigator on a mission – and he had spilled his guts about his nightmares.
But this one time his brother couldn't help him, he had known yet he had endured all the medicine and treatments his brother had provided him with. They didn't work.
His brother had sighed then clearly no idea how to solve this problem when he had had a flash of genius.
“Go ask England, if he let's you sleep with him. I betcha the old man won't say no. And I love crawling into his bed after watching horror movies. Maybe he can protect you from nightmares as well as he protects me from ghosts.”
His brother had looked at him with such a hopeful smile he didn't dare tell him that he thought England couldn't help him. Nevertheless he had made arrangements with England to stay at his house during the next G8 meeting that coincidentally was held in London.
On the phone the older nation had sounded happy to have him over and so when the time for the meeting had come he had packed his baggage and made his way to England's home. Arriving there he was still a bit angry that Kumaku – the only blanket of comfort he had though it was his bear – wasn't allowed to accompany him this time. But he attempted to hide his anger as not to insult England who graciously was lending him his guest room.
That led him to the situation he was in right now. Nervously he was standing in front of England's bedroom door and shifted from one foot to the other.
England had been happy to see him and to his surprise hadn't thought of him as America. His surprise had to be obvious since the green-eyed man had laughed softly saying that he very well knew who was before him and unlike his brother he wasn't loud and overbearing. He took it as a compliment.
Honestly he had tried to sleep in the little guestroom but the warm red color of it reminded him too much of the darker tone he would be sure to see in his dreams now that the light wasn't there anymore to make it so warm.
“No meaning in drawing it out, Canada, just get it over with, so you can retreat with your tail between your legs when he refuses to share a bed with you.”, he said to himself and knocked on the door before his courage flew away from him.
Hesitantly he stepped in after he heard the softly yelled “Come in.” It wasn't as dark here as in his room but that could be because of the lamp that gave England the light he needed to read the open book on his lap.
It was kind of eerie how the shadows danced on the wall and made it seem as if mystical battles were fought on blank canvases. In the blink of an eye they transformed to grimaces of hate and disgust.
He turned his gaze to England who was watching him with inquiring eyes. So Canada took a deep breath and stuttered.
“E-england, w-would you mind if I could sleep with you?” He rushed through it and his eyes were closed tightly waiting for the humiliation that surely was soon to follow. He must ´have looked pitiful since his former guardian just whispered “ Sure, you can, lad “ and a gentle smile greeted him when he dared to open his eyes.
Before England could think twice about his offer he slipped into the bed next to him. Canada wasn't sure what to do now. Should he just sleep or do something?
Then he heard a sigh and a question was murmured to him.
“ Why do you want to sleep in my bed, lad?”
He just answered with a “I can't sleep” yet England seemed to be able to read more out of it since he began patting his head. He stroked his curl and gently his hand made its way over his head. Just sometimes stopping to finger a strand of hair more firmly or to massage his scalp.
It was very relaxing and Canada didn't notice himself shifting nearer and nearer to England until his head and chest lay on the one petting his hair. He became aware of it when he registered a heartbeat under his ear and in one moment his entire body became tense.
England didn't stop petting him nor did he move away. The island nation just kept reading without glancing at him. Canada observed England for a while – he had never noticed but Arthur was kind of beautiful – and when his host didn't show any sign of changing his behavior he let his head rest on his chest.
The heart of England – London, funny now he was on and in it – had a strong and regular heartbeat, a soft boom-boom and it soothed Canada's mind. He didn't notice himself getting lulled to sleep by that comforting rhythm nor did he notice England's understanding and strangely parental smile when he turned off the lights and settled himself to sleep.
The next morning he was awoken by the singing of birds his head still on England's chest, the heartbeat still strong and the scent of roses and rum – such a strange mixture – surrounded Canada.
Sometimes he decided he should listen more to his brother.
And always he would go to England when he had personal troubles from now on.
He never had any nightmares sleeping next to him.