Before Alfred, the only person who'd ever dared to try and lift Ivan was his mother, Kievan Rus. He'd barely made it to her knees, back then; still the smallest of his siblings, even if he was the middle child and only boy. When his mother had finally faded away, sometime in the late thirteenth century, Ivan had sprung up. He'd grown like a weed, stubborn and wild, his presence spreading to fill the hole she'd left behind. Since then, he'd only become larger, harder, and colder. Like some big, lumbering ice monster. For a long time, he'd believed that he'd always feel that way.
Now, he merely felt that he would always be surprised when Alfred picked him up.
Such as now.
"Ivan!" Alfred called, dodging a slalom of holiday travelers, arms akimbo until they curled around Ivan's waist. Ivan only had time to drop his bags before he was up, surprised peep of a laugh escaping as Alfred spun him as easily as he might one of Ivan's prima ballerinas.
The first time Alfred had done this, Ivan had frozen up in the middle of the airport. Slack-jawed and blindsided, he'd watched for a good five minutes as Alfred sputtered and backtracked, apologizing and obviously hoping to God that he hadn't already fucked up their fledgling relationship.
It had taken hot chocolate and one deeply awkward conversation before Alfred would touch him without expressed permission again. Even longer still before the hesitation in those touches went away. But after that had gone, then, well. He wasn't being spun about like one of Alfred's Hollywood stars because there was some sort uncertainty in their relationship.
"I missed you," Alfred murmured, grin blinding. Ivan hummed in agreement, his own smile steadily spreading. Alfred took it as a sign to scoop up Ivan's bags, free arm slipping easily around Ivan's waist. Ever the gentleman, his Alfred. Something Ivan would bet no other nation would have ever guess of him.
It always amused Ivan, his lover's different sides. A raging, boastful irritant on the world stage, yet behind closed doors he was still easily the sweetest lover Ivan had ever had. For the life of him, Ivan couldn't understand why Alfred didn't let more of that side show with other nations. It was almost like he was ashamed of his kindness, of his gentleness.
As opposed to Ivan, who'd merely believed that he wasn't capable of anything of that sort anymore.
"And I have missed you more," Ivan murmured at last, letting his own arm lace around Alfred's shoulders. "How have you been?"
It had been less than three months since the last World Meeting, an utterly miserable event held in Dublin, Ireland. Ivan hadn't seen so many hung-over and freshly drunken nations at one meeting since the year everyone was in town for the end of Alfred's Prohibition. About half of the nations had also promptly buggered off to attend Germany's Oktoberfest.
(Ivan only knew of the last bit through the alcohol-soaked 'Snapchats' Alfred received from his brother, Mathew. If there was ever a moment Ivan did not want to relive, it was finding out just how close Mathew was to the German brothers. Ick.)
"I'm pretty good, I guess." Alfred mused, drawing Ivan back to the much sweeter present. "Been getting ready for the Holidays and all that. I thought maybe you'd like to help with the cookies when we get to my place?"
Ah, yes. Christmas with Alfred. Not the huge, brash party Alfred liked to throw at the beginning of December, but a family affair. Not that that was much quieter, really. Not with England and France and all their former colonies filling positions like 'former-father-figure', 'uncle', 'aunt', and 'cousin'. Mathew would probably be arriving within the next week, perhaps with a German (or two) on his arm. Ivan's own sisters would be flying in shortly after.
However, that was still a weekend away. Until then, he had Alfred all to his own. It was a situation Ivan had been looking forward to for months.
Now, just a few minutes of airport navigation and a car ride stood between him and his goal.
Pressing a kiss to Alfred's hand as cool wind nipped at them, Ivan gave him a grin and enjoyed the blush he'd set off. "I'd be honoured."
"Yeah, yeah. You're saying that now. Just wait until midnight rolls around and we'll see how enthusiastic you are."
Ivan chuckled, reaching to open the driver's side for Alfred. "Oh, Fredka. You should know by now that I only get more enthusiastic as the night goes on."
Closing the door on Alfred's surprised expression, Ivan swiftly opened up the passenger. He expected the blast of heat, and the static-y drift of Alfred's country music. However, the pair of chapped lips pulling him into a kiss was quite the surprise.
Letting Alfred guild him into the vehicle, Ivan barely had time to catch his breath before Alfred was nibbling at his ear, hands falling from Ivan's shoulders to somewhere lower. Sucking air between his teeth, Ivan smacked the door shut, locked it, and then lent back against it. Alfred immediately filled the space, and Ivan was suddenly deeply grateful that Alfred refused to trade in his ancient old farm truck. Bench seats were truly God's gift to the modern age. Ivan would take his pipe to anyone who said otherwise.
"Feelin' enthusiastic yet, darlin'?" Dear Christ, Alfred's southern accent would end him one day. Slow and drawling and whiskey-sweet, his voice burned a straight line to Ivan's groin.
"God!" Ivan hissed, hand going to Alfred's hair. Maybe he could give Alfred some urgent direction for those lips of his -
But Alfred was faster, and caught Ivan's hand at the wrist, easily trapping it above Ivan's head. Dear lord, sometimes he forgot just how strong Alfred was. Then he'd pull something like this, and leave Ivan feeling almost delicate; like something precious and dainty. It was nearly as addictive as Alfred's mouth on his cock was, if Alfred would ever be so kind.
Alfred laughed, reading Ivan's thoughts as easily as he always had. "Aw, baby! Maybe desperate's becomin' a better word than enthusiastic, now, hm?"
Biting back curses, Ivan jerked his hips and hissed. Grinding against Alfred's thigh, he brought his one free hand up to snare in Alfred's hair, stealing a hot kiss. Alfred smiled into it, thrusting back teasingly against Ivan. A hot hand snuck under Ivan's layers of winter clothing to trace his abs, going up to flick playfully at his nipple. Ivan swore aloud, and finally Alfred gave him some mercy, stroking him off in swift, smooth tugs.
In the afterglow, Ivan reached over and returned the favour, taking a vicious pleasure in Alfred's incoherent mutterings. The only drawback was the frankly irritating amount of clothes.
"Say," Alfred muttered, head back against the seat while Ivan used his shoulder as a pillow. "If we can do that again, like, as soon as we're at my place, I'll totally lie to your sisters and let you hoard all the pryaniki this year."
Ivan hummed, mulling his options. It had been frustrating fighting with Natalia and Yekatetrina over the little spicy tea cookies last year. Alfred always did a particularly amazing job on those, so all three northern siblings wound up in a passive-aggressive game of dash-and-dodge trying to get the most.
Besides, it wasn't like Ivan was really giving anything up...
"Throw in the double peppermint chip and you have a deal."
Alfred crowed, laughing loudly into the night. "I knew you were lying when you said the peppermint were too sweet!"
Ivan hummed, leaning up to nip at Alfred's near. "Maybe I just like them because they remind me of you, hm?"
Alfred's laugh gentled, softening until all that was left was a smile. Ivan watched drowsily as Alfred pecked a kiss on his nose, then started up the ignition.
It would seem that between the jet lag and the hand job, Ivan was running out of 'oomf,' as Alfred liked to put it. Perhaps a small nap would not hurt…
"Sleep, Vanya. We've got a bit of a drive before we get to my place." Alfred murmured, the nickname sending a sweet tingle of familiarity down Ivan's back. Only his sisters ever called him that anymore. It was nice hearing it in Alfred's voice, too.
Very many things were nice, with Alfred. He had become a safe haven to Ivan, someone consistently kind and gentle, even if unexpectedly so. When they'd first come together, sometime after the Cold War, he'd expected fights. He'd expect them to love like gunpowder and sparks, one clusterfuck of anger and passion after another. This peacefulness had left him stunned.
Certainly, there were bumps. Alfred would make a bad comment about Ivan's government, or Ivan would be snide about Alfred's consumerism. However, the bumps never lasted long. They were quickly followed by apologies and flowers and soft touches, soothed away before they were deeply felt. It was a consistent reaction, and one that made Ivan feel... safe.
Ivan had been surprised when Alfred had lifted him like a doll. Yet, what had really frozen him was how okay he was with it. With how he'd come to associate safety with Alfred's arms.
A safety, Ivan thought, that felt a lot like coming in out of the cold.
Another Hetalia oneshot, also cross-posted. Tell me what you think, and don't be afraid to send me prompts!
This was also beta'd by TheVastEmptiness. Send them love and cookies for putting up with me :)
Sincerely,
BlackRoseGirl666