[Home is where the quack is]

Day Three

Like genuinely gonna cry, but have fun reading lol.

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Outside, both the door and house, but outside the room either way, stood ducks. Enough to walk the other direction upon seeing them rather then attempting to count them.

Their vocal chords cried out in unison to a very specific tune. One unheard, but yet one familiar. It was rather impressive, almost human-like infact.

Although the person awake inside wouldn't think that, as he laid against the bed board, trying his hardest not to listen. It freaked him out that nothing he did worked. Covering his ears made it louder and trying to sleep caused a recurrent nightmare.

So he was left to stare at the dressing table placed directly infront of the bed, while his reflection stared right back at him. The tune was becoming torturous and repetitive.
Although he wasn't mad about the torturous aspect, more so the fact it never changed to a different tune. One that was identifiable atleast.

The six ducks that covered him the night before floated in the pond, oblivious to the noise and that was driving him insane.
He felt as the person asleep beside him started to awaken.

And just as it had started, the tune stops and the ducks scatter, leaving not a trace they were there besides in the Soviet's memories.

Once he was certain that his lover was fully awake, he spoke frantically,
"Britain, thank god you're awake,"

Confused, the Brit looked up holding onto the Soviet's hands that were now placed on his shoulders.
"Sov, you okay?"
He asked with worry very prominant in his voice.

Soviet looked around himself clearly scared, before getting closer to his lover's ear speaking quickly, quietly and softly.
"...the ducks, they were chanting all morning, it was driving me crazy."

He couldn't help but laugh in response, but eventually stopped, taking note of the other's facial expression.
"sorry, sorry, but how much sleep did you get?"

The Soviet goes to speak but pauses, thinking about the question. And his answer. He hadn't slept the whole night aside from a few minutes in the morrning when he tried to sleep to get away from the tune.
He was busy working on his so-called battle plans.
When Britain didn't get a response, he tilted his head knowingly and spoke,
"you're probably just a tad delusional from the lack of sleep."

Quietly, Soviet responds, looking down at the blanket that he sat cross-legged upon,
"...probably, but I really heard it."

Putting a comforting hand on his boyfriend's cheek and rubbing it with his thumb when Soviet leant into it, he spoke once more, softly.
"It was probably just in your head, you're not used to not sleeping, my lovely, go back to sleep."

The brit knew full well that there were ducks outside the room all morning. How couldn't he have?
But he didn't want the soviet to know that.

Soviet just hums, thinking about something and moving away from Britain's hand. He rests his head against the bed board once more,
"I can't really sleep though, I keep getting this nightmare when I do."

This peaks the others curiousity aswell as concern.
"about your dad?"

Soviet shakes his head before answering,
"for once, no, but it's about those damn ducks."