Part ten: Winter in Canada
Word count: around 800
Genre: general, fluff
Rating: worksafe... ish
Note: New Prussia is a geographic location in Wilmot Township, Waterloo Region, Ontario, Canada. Look it up on Wiki if you wanna. And for a bit of fact about Raynaud's, you can also go to Wikipedia. I happen to suffer from it myself, and I can assure you that it's most unpleasant. Apologies for Prussia's mouth and mind. Or should I say Canada's mouth and Prussia's mind? XD
"It's Raynaud's."
Prussia stared at the other nation.
"Who?"
Canada raised his eyes from Prussia's hand. "Raynaud's phenomenon. Or Raynaud's disease. The cold causes the blood supply to your fingers to decrease. It's nothing dangerous, even if it looks and feels unpleasant."
Prussia looked down at his numb, blue fingertips. When he'd gotten home from his trip to the store, and caught sight of his hands in this state, he'd instantly panicked, his mind providing several horrific scenarios where he ended up no longer welcome in New Prussia, turned down by both his people and his host nation, thrown out of Canada and left on some godforsaken island that would never be called a country, and withered. However, when Canada came out to the hallway to greet him and saw him standing there staring at his discolored limbs, he calmed him instantly.
"So… it's not bad?"
Canada frowned. "Well no, but I wouldn't call it a good thing either. You never experienced this when you stayed with Russia?"
Actually, Canada was usually considerate enough not to talk much about Prussia's time with Russia, as it was a part of his history that he wasn't particularly fond of. Not because he couldn't handle the tall, big-nosed nation, definitely not, but because it'd been the beginning of his own downfall. The end of the occupation had been the end of Eastern Germany, and even up 'til that point, he'd been separated from his brother by force. It hadn't been a happy time in his life.
But it was relevant to Canada's interests to know how long his condition had been going on for, and thus he took the risk to ask either way. And Prussia knew his host nation well enough by now to realize that he was only concerned, and would never, ever gloat in Prussia's – or anyone else's, for that part – less pleasant memories.
"Haven't got a clue," he said, still watching his digits as he poked and prodded at them. It felt so strange. "Might have. I was pretty busy with being, y'know, occupied and less awesome than what should be allowed for me."
"I see…" There was a smile in Canada's voice at that, and if the situation with his fingers had been less distracting, Prussia would have grinned back. "Well, the condition is the kind that can appear at any time of your life, often without any special provocation. Just because you've lived in a cold place before doesn't mean that was what caused it. But… You should probably consider getting yourself a warmer jacket. And a pair of gloves," he added, eyeing the thin leather gloves that Prussia hadn't bothered changing out of after the move from Germany's place.
Prussia made a face. "I'm not getting one of those damn duck jackets you wear, if that's what you're thinking," he said.
"It's not duck, it's 'Canada Goose'—"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He interrupted Canada by lifting one of his hands in front of his face. "So how do I make it stop?! It's fucking creepy!"
"Um…" Canada considered this. "You're supposed to heat them up to body temperature as soon as possible. But gently," he warned as Prussia looked around for the nearest radiator. "If the blood rushes back too fast while your fingers still haven't defrosted, you could end up with bigger problems." He looked down on the blue digits. "Or so I've heard."
Prussia barely stopped himself from flailing. "What the hell do I do, then?!"
"I don't know, I… Maybe if you put them in your mouth?"
"I… what? Fuck no, I'm not gonna go suck on my fingers like some baby!"
"But it might be the only way to heat them up again!" Canada protested. "There is no one here to see you either way, so no biggie, right?" He smiled in assurance.
You're here, aren't you, Prussia sulked silently, and glared at the blond, who sighed.
"It's not so bad, really, here give me your hand…"
Before he could have a chance to register what his host nation was about to do, Canada had opened his mouth and propped Prussia's index and middle finger into his mouth with a small 'aahn'.
What the shit.
"I-I'll do it myself!" he hollered and pulled his hand back. "Holy shit man, you didn't just put my fingers in your fucking mouth what the hell is wrong with you?!"
Canada looked offended – or hurt? – for just a moment before he lowered his head and apologized. As Prussia continued to curse through a mouthful of fingers, the blond added, as an afterthought:
"And it gets worse if you smoke. Maybe you should lay off the cigarettes?"
Canada was right; it wasn't bad. It was a fucking disaster.