Arms reached up, grasping at each other as he marveled at his skin. Finger explored knuckles, ligaments, the little hairs on every finger, the folds and crinkles in his palms..
"What are you doing, Alfred?"
Alfred tilted his head back, over the arm rest, to stare at his brother from his supine position on the couch.
"Looking at my arms, why?" He ran his left hand over his right arm for emphasis. Canada cocked his head to the side and put the groceries on the armchair before walking over to his brother.
"Any particular reason for this sudden fascination, America?" America. The name felt nice in his mouth. Canada was addressing America. Not Mathew and Alfred, names given to them by their humans which failed to address every little aspect of who they really were. Small names. Private names. Intimate. And yet, not nearly intimate enough.
America blew his small breath through his nose. "no, I just thought…my skin is so cool, y'know?"
Canada knelt by the couch and looked at his own hands. "No, I don't know, bro," he smiled wryly, "did you find my stash?"
America sat up and huffed, "I'm being serious, isn't it cool how the human body is so perfect, every little thing fitting together nicely, our skin stretching over muscles and it's always the right size…"
Canada looked down into his lap. Of course America would think it was perfect. Romantics, the whole lot.
"America, that's just us…if human bodies were perfect, their bodies would magically adjust to their diets; obesity, high blood pressure, and anorexia..none of that would exist. Unnecessary body parts would be gone as soon as evolution rendered them useless, like the appendix and wisdom teeth…babies wouldn't be born with tails."
Canada got up and plopped down next to his brother, sinking into the old furniture. "But you're right, skin is pretty damn cool." America smiled at this, placing his arms around himself in a sloppy self-hug before leaning back into their couch.