Next chapter. Please enjoy!
As soon as Russia was in the door, England was at his side. "Can I ask a favor?" she asked him, placing a hand on his arm.
"What is it?" he asked as he set his things down.
"Well, works been started in the town's water mains, some people are going back even, and my doctor confirmed that I can get my cast off. I would much appreciate it if I could schedule an appointment with your doctor to get it removed rather than travel back to London," she explained.
Most nations had specialized doctors to care for them from what was routine for nations to what was bizarre for humans. Getting regular care at a hospital worked for obvious injuries, like England's wrist breaking for example, but not when it came to understanding if her bones would continue to hold based on how well the construction and recovery in the town was doing.
"Yes, I can do that. When do you want the appointment scheduled?" he asked.
"As soon as possible,"
"I'll call him now," he said as he pulled out his phone. She stepped back to give him space as he made the call. She listened in on his conversation in Russian, understanding the times and dates he was discussing.
When he hung up, she asked, "This Friday at nine, right?"
He smiled slightly, "Yes. You're not going to start listening in on all my phone conversations now are you?"
"It'll have to depend on how interesting they are," she said.
"That doesn't bode well,"
She laughed, her hand coming to rest on his arm again. "Thank you for doing that though."
"It was no trouble," he said, placing his hand over hers for a moment. He then moved away to prepare dinner. She took her seat and watched him cook. She was in such a pleasant mood. Her cast would be gone in two days, and while her attraction towards Russia hadn't weakened, she was able to handle it appropriately. Everything was going swimmingly, even the laws her parliament was intending to pass to finalize the political portion of her marriage were fairing well.
She arrived for her appointment five minutes early. Russia's doctor was a thin man with spindly hands and a wise countenance. He spoke English, but with more of an accent than Russia did. She had handed him a stack of information on the town with the broken water main, but she had been duly impressed when he had begun pulling up information on his computer for confirmation. She wondered if Russia had ever tried to pass off his health as better than it was with him.
"From what I can tell," the doctor said as he looked away from the screen. "Your wrist should be fine.
"Good," she said. She was more than ready to rip the hunk off her arm and never see it again.
"We're all set to saw it off then," he said, standing up and motioning for her to hold her arm out.
He pulled on gloves, turned on the saw, took hold of her cast, and sawed the whole thing apart. He was much handier with it than her current doctor was. "How was that?" he asked as he set down the saw, "Is your wrist still alright?"
"Yes, it's fine," she said, holding her arm still.
Her arm hardly looked any different than the last time she'd had a cast removed. The skin was pale, dry, and flaky. It itched a little, but she knew better than to scratch at it.
"Let's see it then," he said, pulling his seat over and holding his hands out for her arm.
She held it out for him, and he ran his fingers gently over her skin. "Still no pain?" he asked. "I'm not seeing any abnormalities."
"Yes, my wrist's fine,"
He glanced up at her for a moment then released her hand. "Now, do as I do."
He went through several rotational movements with his wrist as well tilting motions. She mimicked them slowly, but without pain or any sort of odd tension or pulling.
"You're all clear," he told her with a bright smile.
"Thank you," she said as she got to her feet.
"You're welcome. I wish you and your husband well," he said as he began walking her towards the exit.
She nodded, "Thank you, Doctor. Hopefully, the next time I see you won't be because of any physical injuries."
"Yes," he said with a nod. "Goodbye."
She returned home immediately after her appointment. She went up into the master's bathroom and shut the door behind her even though Russia wasn't home. She pulled her soft hand towel of its rack and wet it under the faucet. After she rinsed her arm, she soaped up the towel and gently began to run it over the dry and sensitive skin revealed by the cast's removal. She leaned her hips against the counter as she slowly cleaned away the dead skin and dried sweat. She knew to take her time from experience and let herself relax into a rhythm.
Once she finished washing her arm, she patted it dry. She spent a moment searching her lotion. She rubbed the lotion into her skin, enjoying the feel of something soft and creamy after the cast.
When she finished, she returned to standing in front of the mirror. She watched herself as she unclasped the thin chain she'd been wearing ever since she'd gotten the cast. She had strung it through her wedding band for safekeeping as she hadn't wanted to keep the ring on her left hand with the cast. She let the ring slide off the chain and onto her palm. She set the chain on the counter and slid the ring back onto her fourth finger, smiling to herself.
She got to work after that, making sure to update her boss on her situation and let her left wrist rest. When evening came and she heard Russia shut the door after he came in, she rushed down the stairs to greet him. He noticed her immediately, but he still set his things down before he turned to her. "Everything went well?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, holding out her hand for him to see.
"You put your ring back on," he said, taking her hand and tapping his thumb against her wedding band.
"Yes, I did," she said and smiled at him. "There's actually something I'd like to ask you now that my cast is off."
"Yes?" he asked, lifting his eyes to hers though he was still fiddling with her ring.
"Could you, um," she began nervously, and curled her fingers around his. "That is, would you like to show me Moscow?"
"You want me to show you Moscow?" he asked, sounding surprised.
"Yes, if that's alright," she said, smiling.
"It's more than alright," he told her with a grin. "It's wonderful."
He released her hand to engulf her in a hug, holding her tighter than last time. She felt her feet leave the ground, and she automatically wound her arms around his neck for security. He set her back down on her feet, but gave her one last squeeze before pulling away. She reluctantly released him when he stood up straight and left her reach.
"I'll have to make a list of all the places I want to show you," he said then cupped her face in his hands. "And I can make you practice your Russian when we go out to eat by making you order."
"No," she said, shaking her head and blushing in embarrassment. "I couldn't do that."
"Yes, you can," he said, moving his hands from her face to her shoulders.
She didn't really agree, but she wasn't going to tell him that when he looked perhaps the happiest she'd ever seen him. She wanted to step in again and hug him, slip her fingers beneath his suit's jacket. She forced herself to say something to keep anymore attraction induced thoughts away. "You're really excited about this," she told him.
"Of course," he said, removing his hands from her entirely. "Wouldn't you be excited if I told you I wanted you to show me London?"
"Well, yes, but," she said, waving her hands uselessly. "Do you? Do you want to see London?"
He seemed to seriously consider it for a moment then he nodded. "We can do that when we move into your house."
She wasn't surprised by the sudden added rush of happiness she felt when he said that. He wanted to know more about her and her beloved city and its people. He began to move towards the kitchen and motioned for her to follow him.
"That's another thing," she said cautiously as she took her usual seat. "We need to talk furniture. I wasn't sure what you would want so I didn't make any arrangements before we married. I'd ask my siblings to do it, but I don't exactly trust them not to wreck anything."
"We have some time," he said as he began pulling out ingredients and utensils.
"Thankfully, but I'm certain it will go quickly," she said with a sigh. "Actually, we should redo my kitchen."
"Why? What's wrong with it?"
"No one in my family is really all that great at cooking so I never bothered to get nice anything put in. Also, it's suffered from quite a few," she shrugged, "accidents. You're going to be the one using it now, though."
"You would do that?" he asked, actually stopping his cooking and turning to face her.
"Do what?"
"Accommodate like that for me," he said, walking to the island counter.
"Well," she said then paused as she searched for the proper explanation. "I want you to be comfortable."
"Huh," he said as he leaned his forearms onto the counter. He was looking at her with a soft, self-satisfied smile and his head tilted slightly. He looked like he'd figured out the answer to a riddle before anyone else had.
"What?" she asked, wondering what he was thinking.
"Nothing," he said and stood back up again.
"Alright," she said, letting it drop. "So what's the plan for Moscow?"
"I was thinking we could go Saturday and take public transportation into the city and walk where we need to," he answered as he returned to his cooking preparations.
"You're not going to tell me where we're going?"
"No, I'll make a list, but you'll see all of it," he said with a shrug.
"All of it?" she asked, feeling like this might have been a mistake.
"Most of it, the good parts," he amended.
"How long is this going to take?" she asked, teasing. "There's still only two days to a weekend."
"We'll take as many weekends as we need then," he said, smiling at her when he got the chance to turn and face her.
"You really want to do this," she said, excited and uncertain. Were they on the same page with this? How much was he really going to tell her? If he did, could she return the gesture in full in London?
"Of course, why wouldn't I?" he asked, throwing her a look of concern.
He had noticed. She wasn't sure if he was learning her tells or if she was opening up. She asked, "I meant, are you sure you want to? You'll be telling me an awful lot about yourself."
He was still for a moment. He sighed and turned to her. "Зайка моя (Zayka moya), it's fine. You'll already know some of it, and it's not like you can't get the information from somewhere else."
"That's not," she stopped and ran a hand through her hair. "It's not the same. It's…you're going to be telling me."
"I don't understand," he said, coming towards her.
She bit her lip and tried to think of an appropriate explanation. "I'm not asking you for a textbook on you. I'm asking you to tell me about yourself, what you've been through, what you remember, what you care about."
He crossed his arms. "I understand."
"And?" she asked, worried and watching him. "Do you still want to?"
He didn't respond for a moment. He nodded. "I'll tell you."
"Oh, good," she said, not quite sure what the protocol was for something like this. "Thank you."
He didn't really answer her after that and returned to his cooking. It took him several minutes to find his rhythm again.
She was going to have to be careful when they went to Moscow. She had to listen to him, follow through for him now that she'd asked this of him. More than that, she would reciprocate when they would visit London. She wanted to comfort him and tell him that it would be alright, that she could be trusted with the information he'd give her. She couldn't tell him that though. She had to show him.
They didn't talk anymore about Moscow during dinner. When they went to bed and he placed his hand on her waist, she pulled his hand forward and fitted his arm around her waist. He took it as an invitation to press forward and align himself along her back. She let him stay close and fell asleep leaning back onto his chest.
Originally this was just going to be like a bare bones chapter. I'd get England's cast off and the trips to Moscow would be brought up. Then England and Russia kind of had two moments. First, England's talking about changing her house to suit Russia without him asking her to. Secondly, she's asking Russia for information about himself. A nation showing someone around their capital cities is, I guess, something like bringing a person into any/all bedrooms you've lived in and telling them about the things you did in them. Some of that information could be used against him, especially considering it has the added personal touch of his private thoughts of events that occurred. That possibility it there in human relationships, but it's likely much more pronounced in nation ones.
Big steps people, things are happening. Also, I'm thinking this story might have to be split into a series, and I think I might end this one when they move into England's house. After that, I might spend that month instead of creating a chapter editing what I already have and maybe reorganizing the chapters. We'll have to see.
Please review!
(Also, because of ffnet's new character tagging system, if you're going to post RussiaxEngland don't tag America just to make it easier to find)