Canada shifts about in his sleep, clutching his gun. He moans softly, grimacing at some unknown specter of dreams only he can see.

America looks down at his sleeping brother, wishing that he could at least fall into a restless sleep. He hasn't slept in two days. "Mattie..." the American whispers through the darkness of the night in the battleship's quarters. "Mattie~..."

He groans, flipping over, laying on top of the gun. "Plague... Plane... Sh- shoot it..."

America rolls his eyes and jumps down from his bunk above his brother. He gently reaches over and shakes Canada's shoulder. "Matthew~..."

The Canadian tenses and curls up. "It landed... It landed!" he cries out, his eyes shut tightly. "We're going to die! Al, we're going to-!"

America clamps a hand over his brother's mouth, silencing him. "Shut up, Matt!" he growls.

Canada's violet eyes open in a panic, his blonde hair clinging to the cold sweat on his forehead. After a moment of deliriousness, he recognizes his brother's concerned and slightly annoyed physiognomy. "Alfred?" he asks timidly.

America sighs. "You were doing it again bro..."

Closing his eyes in despair, he pushes himself to a sitting position on the stiff bed. "It was just a dream... No plane?"

"No plane." He sits beside his brother, staring down at the metal floor that constantly shifts with each moment. "Not this time, anyway."

His energy gone, Canada rests his head on his brother's shoulder. "I hate this. I want to go home."

America takes a deep breath. "Yeah... me too, bro."

The brothers sit in silence, save for the creaking of metal as the ship rocks on another wave. "How much longer?" Canada asks, yawning.

"Morning in three hours." America says dully, having been staring at the clock since curfew.

"That's not what I meant and you know that, Al." Canada sighs.

America nods sullenly. "I know. I just thought maybe I could give you an answer I know."

Sleep creeps up on Canada again, making him fight to keep his eyes open. "Al?"

"Mm?" America replies tiredly, glancing over at his brother. "What is it?"

Canada wraps his arms around his brother's waist, more for support than anything. "Stay with me tonight. Maybe... I won't have nightmares with you here..."

America laughs bitterly. "You're acting like we're kids again, Mattie." he teases gently.

Canada buries his face in America's shoulder. "I'd rather be an innocent kid than a soldier forced to kill refugees." he replies, his tone laced with venom towards both of their bosses.

In his mind, America knows that the orders given make sense, but he can't help but hate his boss a little for making him destroy innocent refugees as they flee from Europe. "Alright, Matt. I'll stay."

Canada lays back down on his pillow, closing his eyes. "Are you going to sleep, Al?"

The question catches America a bit off-guard. He's silent for a bit, thinking it over. "I'll try. No promises." He gets up and reaches up to grab his pillow from his own bed, then tosses it beside Canada, who shifts to the far edge of the bed to make room for his brother. America climbs in beside him, doubting that any sleep will come that night.

Canada yawns again, laying an arm over his brother's chest. "Bonne nuit, Alfred."

Laughing softly at his brother's tired French, he closes his eyes in a feeble attempt at rest. "G'night, Mattie."

"We're going to go home soon..." Canada mumbles.

America sighs. "Why do you think that?"

"Because..." Canada snuggles into his brother's side. "We can't keep going like this forever..."