03. whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest

[keepscalm]

Characters: Everyone who got injured in the event and accordingly went to the infirmary.
Setting: Infirmary, backdated to just after event.
Format: Either!
Summary: People obviously got hurt in all the chaos during the Tower's re-stabilizing. A lot of people probably went to the infirmary after waking up in their rooms still injured from the fight. Post a new comment thread here with your character and tag other peoples' threads!
Warnings: Mentions of injury, blood, trauma, etc etc. Language, too. Will edit if anything else comes up.

[Hospitals are so boring. Well, at least misery loves company?]

Comments

[fifty]

America, ever obnoxiously quick to heal and obnoxiously sunny in disposition, was quick to head into the infirmary to check on England--or maybe just to annoy him, as he was wont to do. The old man could use some cheering up on a good day, right?

"Hey!" America's voice was about twice as loud as it really should have been, because he was trying hard to keep quiet.

[keepscalm]

England would have just feigned sleep if he'd been told who'd be visiting him today. He wasn't sure he could handle a headache (a worse headache) on top of the persistent soreness and fatigue.

He wasn't quick enough on the uptake to relax and close his eyes by the time America came over, though. And besides that, something in him wanted to make sure that the other nation had come out of the fight okay. Accordingly, when America approached, England looked him over for damage. It was a strange mixture of relief and irritation when he noticed just how lively the larger nation seemed to be.

"America," he replied curtly, his voice weary. "You're doing well, I see." It was annoyingly typical for America to be so vivacious while England was stuck in the dredges, but he didn't have the energy to inject the proper amount of bitterness into his observation. He really was glad to see that his former colony was okay.

[fifty]

America grinned and tried not to feel stupidly guilty that he'd gotten off better than England. It wasn't like he was dead. It wasn't even like the injuries wouldn't heal.

"Look, I brought you stuff!"

America proceeded to drop a bag on England's lap. It consisted mostly of various foods from the restaurant--and it had taken him forever to find five stupid rainbow paperclips to get in, but whatever, England didn't have to know that.

[keepscalm]

England blinked dumbly at the bag that was dumped in his lap, clearly taken off-guard by the gesture. He proceeded with his deer in the headlights staring as he slowly raised his arms to pull the bag nearer to him and peek into it, just to ensure that it wasn't some kind of practical joke.

It took him absorbing that there was actually food -- good-looking food -- in the bag for England to get his mask back into place. Somewhat. He still sounded pleasantly surprised as he tripped over an awkward, "Ah...thank you. That wasn't necessary."

This was weird. He wasn't used to America doing things for him, and it was more obvious from his reaction than he would have really liked for it to have been.