This chapter was inspired by the song 'The Bird and the Worm' by Owl City. This song was also requested by biologyofpencils on my tumblr. account.
The Bird and The Worm
Prussia reached up and plucked a perfect crimson apple from the branch above him. He tossed it down to Canada, who caught it in his stretched out sweater. He grinned up at him and Prussia melted.
They already had more apples than either of them could eat but that was not the point.
Prussia climbed another branch and found another apple. He threw it and Canada jumped to catch it. It landed with a soft 'smack' and tumbled into place.
The sun hung low in the afternoon and painted the cornfields gold and cream. The breeze danced through the corn and through Canada's curls. He pushed his blonde tresses behind his ear with one hand and clutched their makeshift basket with his other. Kumajirou and Gilbird crouched in his shadow and watched them, curious.
Prussia leaned against the tree and admired Canada. The countryside suited him. His eyes reflected the skies and his hair tangled in the late summer crops of sunflowers and mustard and wheat. A light dusting of freckles decorated his nose and shoulders.
They were standing in the centre of a sprawling field where the farmer had been nice enough to plough and plant around a small clutch of apple trees. Canada said the trees were almost fifty year old and still flowering against all odds. When Prussia asked how he knew that, Canada just tapped the side of his nose and smiled. It was a secret, then.
He tossed down one last apple and scrambled down the tree. He pecked Canada on the cheek when his feet hit the dirt and Canada blushed. They had been friends for a hundred years, and lovers for thirty, but Canada still flushed whenever Prussia kissed him. It was cute.
Prussia pulled off his cotton shirt in one fluid movement and stole half of the apples from Canada. He tied them up and attached the bundle to a long stick. He propped the bindle on his shoulder and slipped his free arm around Canada's waist; Gilbird fluttered up to his perch on top of his head.
They walked through the rows of corn side by side and the maize tickled and swept their elbows. Kumajirou ambled behind them, grumbling. Canada hitched his makeshift basket a little higher, pulling the hem of his sweater up and exposing more of his stomach.
"I think we picked too many…" Canada ventured with a small smile. Prussia tightened his arm around the other nation.
"There's no such thing as too many apples." He stole one from Canada and bit into it with a 'crunch'. The worm squirming in the core looked just as surprised to see Prussia as he was to see it. "Oh, gross."
Canada chortled.
"Still think so?" He plucked the worm from the apple and held it in front of Prussia. He tried to glare at the intruding insect but only managed to cross his eyes.
The other nation handed the worm to Gilbird, who cheeped and clucked happily at the gift. The little yellow bird settled in the pale nest of Prussia's hair with the worm.
Prussia just grinned at Canada, shrugged, and went right back to eating his apple. Canada snorted.
"Definitely."
The field opened up onto an abandoned dirt road, just as they had known it would. It was brighter out in the open and the sunlight caught in his curls. He was beautiful.
Prussia pulled him closer and kissed him on the lips. The apples between them jostled and squeaked and Canada clenched the hem of his sweater with shaking fingers. He blushed and it put the red apples to shame.
When he stepped back, a thin string of saliva trailed between them. They breathed the same air for a second and stood in each other's personal space.
Prussia tapped their foreheads together. He willed time to stand still, if only for a moment. He wanted it to last forever…
But that was selfish, and unnecessary; they had been picking apples for years. They would do it again; they always did. Next year, and the year after, and the year after that. They would come back…
They always did. They always would.
Kumajirou wound around their sneakers, demanding their attention; Gilbird whistled a tuneless song as he finished his treat. The wind whipped down the dirt road. It smudged filth and dust against their bare skin and tousled their hair.
Prussia brushed their noses together and Canada giggled. He tightened his grip on his sweater and the apples.
"Definitely," Prussia whispered again, nuzzling the other nation. He sighed against his lips. "Definitely."
"Definitely," Canada echoed.
Author's Notes:
Where I live in the breadbasket of Canada, sunflowers, mustard, and wheat colour the countryside. Especially in late summer and early fall. Travelling the world, which is beautiful and breathtaking, allowed me to really appreciate the simple patchwork quilt of the prairies. It opened my eyes to the most fantastic thunderstorms and sunsets you will ever see.
The average apple tree (depending on the type) can live over a hundred years and is usually fertile for thirty to forty of those years. I assume that Canada knows the age of this particular tree because it is planted on his land. I think that most nations can probably tell such things but that New World nations might be better at it (and maybe Ukraine too). I think that both America and Canada would be particularly good at this.
And yes, 'bindle' is the proper term for a cloth sack attached to a stick. It is often seen as a symbol of the hobo or vagabond subculture.