Canada is known (for those who bother to notice) for his honesty, but if he were open about how close he and Russia had become, well... for certain England would be enraged. Perhaps a few others, too. But he tries to not think about the 'what if' very much. Instead he relishes this small rebellion.
He's under no delusion of what this is. It's not healthy on several levels, no matter how it looks on the outside. But damn, it satisfies a need that no one else is bothering to fill. A need to be paid attention to and talked to. To be touched, and loved. So he doesn't really care that he's just fuelling Russia's illusion. He doesn't even mind the bites and bruises, easily yielding to (and even enjoying) Russia's rough, controlling way with him. For however long they will meet each other's needs like this, he will continue on.
But Canada is (for those who get to know him) a country that forms loyal relationships. And as this arrangement carries on, Canada slowly finds himself enjoying this for himself. He wonders how soon the day will come that he will be jealous of his brother's image that Russia sees when they meet in dark rooms and shadowed corners.
For now Canada is enjoying this date, away from the other nations, away from the hyper-consciousness of every touch in that context. Here he can relax, the slight warm press of Russia's knees against his a comfort.
At the sound of Russia's soft voice Canada looks up from the paper and looks with faint concern at the way his face looks heavy with the thought he didn't finish. They have been too intimate for too long for him not to worry at those slight hints. Resting the newspaper on the table Canada boldly reaches over to lightly touch Russia's shoulder as he leans closer.
no subject
Canada is known (for those who bother to notice) for his honesty, but if he were open about how close he and Russia had become, well... for certain England would be enraged. Perhaps a few others, too. But he tries to not think about the 'what if' very much. Instead he relishes this small rebellion.
He's under no delusion of what this is. It's not healthy on several levels, no matter how it looks on the outside. But damn, it satisfies a need that no one else is bothering to fill. A need to be paid attention to and talked to. To be touched, and loved. So he doesn't really care that he's just fuelling Russia's illusion. He doesn't even mind the bites and bruises, easily yielding to (and even enjoying) Russia's rough, controlling way with him. For however long they will meet each other's needs like this, he will continue on.
But Canada is (for those who get to know him) a country that forms loyal relationships. And as this arrangement carries on, Canada slowly finds himself enjoying this for himself. He wonders how soon the day will come that he will be jealous of his brother's image that Russia sees when they meet in dark rooms and shadowed corners.
For now Canada is enjoying this date, away from the other nations, away from the hyper-consciousness of every touch in that context. Here he can relax, the slight warm press of Russia's knees against his a comfort.
At the sound of Russia's soft voice Canada looks up from the paper and looks with faint concern at the way his face looks heavy with the thought he didn't finish. They have been too intimate for too long for him not to worry at those slight hints. Resting the newspaper on the table Canada boldly reaches over to lightly touch Russia's shoulder as he leans closer.
"Think what?"