A/N This is just a little story for my bestest friend in the whole wide world, Conejita, aka Bunny. I'm only posting this because I want to share it with the world, not because I actually care what you think of it, so go ahead and complain if you want, or even make fun of Russia for being a bit tubby, but just know that I won't really take it very seriously. Though I would LOVE if I got some reviews for this, I worked real hard on it, lol. China, can you do the disclaimer?
China: Of course, aru! TwistedAngel08 does not own Hetalia, or any of its characters, so don't sue or I'll suck my very original, very Chinese space pirate Fryza on you!
Uh, China, you wouldn't be talking about Frieza, would you?
China: Of course not!
Anyyyyyyways. Warnings! Maybe some language, I don't really remember and I'm too lazy to check, some low self-esteem issues about being fat, and some malexmale love, though no lemon. R&R! Enjoy!
P.S. Qíngrén is supposed to be Chinese for lover.
China was worried, and when China was worried, he cooked. A lot. The only problem was, he was worried about his boyfriend, Russia, who seemed a little depressed. And when Russia was depressed, he ate. A lot. This in turn worsened the giant country's depression, because as he gained weight, he lost self-respect. And China knew, perhaps better than anybody, that while it is important to honor others, you must also honor yourself. Poor Russia had not been doing much self-honoring these days. It was especially bad on Fridays, when Russia watched Dancing With the Stars. He would slouch in his armchair, dejectedly scooping sunflower seeds into his mouth, and yearning for the lean bodies of the dancers. Sunflower seeds were healthier than some snacks, but with as much as Russia ate when he was depressed, it didn't really matter.
Nothing was more saddening to China than watching his lover slowly grow as large and pudgy as the very armchair he lazed in.
This went in for months before China realized that Russia didn't really care what he ate, as long as he ate a lot of it. So, slowly, so as not to startle the larger country, China began to replace the rice balls and sweets with fruit bowls and salads. Russia never even noticed. And almost like a miracle, the great big country began to shrink. When he noticed, this improved Russia's mood immensely, and he gradually stopped eating as much. And as Russia's mood grew brighter, so did China's thereby eliminating China's urge to cook as much, and a lot of the food that could have been eaten.
But there was just one problem: no matter how much he exercised or dieted, Russia just could not get rid of his belly pudge. Thus, before they knew it, China and Russia were thrown right back into the cycle, only this time, China was not having it.
He walked in to the living room, shaking his head in disappointment.
"Qíngrén, what is the matter? You were so happy, and now you just sit there
and stare at amateur dancers all night," China said, moving to stand in front of the tv. Russia frowned.
"China, you are blocking the television," he said, attempting to see around his boyfriend. When China made it obvious that wasn't going to happen, he sighed in defeat and looked up into the Asian's eyes. He was surprised to see that China wasn't angry, but deeply worried. "What, what is wrong?" He asked. China sighed, gesturing to... everything.
"Russia, what is going on? You never want to go out anymore, you never answer your friend's calls, and sometimes you don't even come to bed. What is bothering you?" The Russian looked away, uncharacteristically nervous. "Well?"
"I just hate being fat," Russia said sadly. China's eyes widened in surprise.
"After all the weight you lost, you still think you're fat? That's crazy!" Russia harrumphed.
"Well, plenty of people think I'm crazy anyways, why not you too?" he asked bitterly. China scoffed, shaking his head.
"That's not what I meant and you know it, Qíngrén." They were both silent for a few moments until Russia got up, wanting to escape from his lover's expecting gaze. China followed him to the bedroom, crossing his arms in irritation as the other man simply plopped face first on the bed, moaning something about being a useless mass of fat. With a sigh, China went in, sitting on their bed, saying. "Qíngrén... you are such a gorgeous man, and I'm am the luckiest country on Earth to have your love," he paused in case Russia wanted to say anything, but when the larger country remained silent, he continued. "I don't mean to be conceited, but why would I cherish a useless mass of fat's love the way I cherish your clearly not fat love?" He rubbed Russia's back comfortingly, waiting for an answer. When Russia rolled over to give said answer, China's heart broke at the sight of tears running down his love's face.
"Yao, I am just a ball of lard, no one could ever love me," he whimpered. China gasped, grabbing Russia's hands.
"Ivan, don't ever say that, it's no true! I love you!" Russia only sniffed.
"You are my boyfriend, you don't count. You are supposed to love me." China scoffed, squeezing his boyfriend's hands.
"Exactly, I'm your boyfriend, I should count the most! Why should you care what anyone thinks? You are the most beautiful person in the world, and if they don't know that I'll take my very original, very Chinese battle bots that turn into cars and shove them up their asses, aru!" Russia couldn't help but giggle at that silly statement, though it didn't improve his mood any. He flinched when he felt China's hands on his waist, wanting to push them off.
"Your touching my fat, it makes me uncomfortable," he whined. China rolled his eyes.
"Is there some strange Russian law that says I can't touch my sexy boyfriend?" he asked, pulling Russia close. Wrapping his arms around the bigger country he squeezed, humming in delight. "Ivan, you are perfect in every way, don't ever doubt that." Pulling back, China planted a kiss on Russia's adorable nose. When Russia smiled reluctantly, his boyfriend took this as victory, celebrating the win with a sweet, chaste kiss on the lips. Lips pressed together for a moment, then they meshed together, forming around each other as the kiss grew less chaste. Russia moaned quietly as China's tongue rubbed against his bottom lip, starting to fully relax in his boyfriend's arms. As the kiss deepened, China took advantage of Russia's calm, running his hands everywhere on the bigger country. The pale-headed blonde didn't notice at first, but when China's hand came to rest on the side of his stomach, he started to squirm.
"China," he breathed through the kiss. "You are touching my-" he was cut off as China pushed him onto his back, smiling mischievously.
"Let me show you just how gorgeous you are..." With that, China set about the task of undressing the Russian. Usually, this would have been easy, but ever since Russia had started to feel so self-conscious of himself, he had not let anyone see him wearing less than pants and his large coat. Russia fidgeted nervously as China unbuttoned the coat, helping him wriggle out of it. Next was the shirt, which also buttoned up. And then after removing Russia's undershirt as well, despite a weak protest, China had Russia in nothing but his scarf, which of course never came off, his pants, his underwear, and long johns. Why is Russia wearing so many layers of clothing you ask? Because it's cold in Russia, that's why. Russia whined at his discomfort, his hands moving to shield his stomach from sight. China smiled encouragingly, moving those hands away. He moved a hand lightly across Russia's chest, enjoying the soft skin and the small patch of hair that lay right in the middle of the bigger countries chest. One would think Russia would have a bare chest, and he usually did, but when he and China got together, Russia allowed a small patch to grow, shaving it in the shape of China. It was an odd way to show your love, and may have bothered some, but China thought it was absolutely sweet. So what if the larger country was a little odd? But we digress. China ran his hands along Russia's chest for a few moments, then slowly let them slide down to Russia's stomach, making the blonde squeal.
His hands were shoved away as Russia said, "Please, don't touch me there!" The dark-haired man frowned, pulling his hands back.
"You don't want me to touch you?" he asked, hurt in his voice. The Russian shook his head fervently.
"No, of course I do, I jut don't want-"
"Oh good, you worried me," China said, cutting his boyfriend off. His hands returned to their roaming positions, making Russia gasp and cover his face in shame. China couldn't see what the problem was. So what, Russia didn't have a flat, hard stomach. In all honesty, China liked his boyfriend better this way. He would make a much better pillow than, say, that muscle head Germany. With a sad sigh, China leaned down, pulling a hand away from his boyfriend's face. "Ivan, why are you hiding your face?" he asked softly. The Russian growled.
"I hide my face because you will not allow me to hide my disgrace!" He glared at the Asian, who frowned.
"Disgrace? The only disgrace in the room is the disgrace you do by not loving yourself. Every bit of you is perfect, Ivan. Please, let me prove that to you." With that, China got on his hands and knees above Russia, leaning to kiss his poor boyfriend. After a passionate moment, China broke away, moving down to kiss the blonde's neck. Russia moaned, hands moving to the back of China's head to hold him there. China lavished kisses on the Russian's neck, sucking on the spot just under his ear. Russia mewled, surprising China. Russia wasn't usually so submissive. But then, it only made his job easier. China began trailing kisses down Russia's neck, over his shoulder, and down his arm, ending with a kiss on each fingertip. This was repeated on Russia's other arm, and then China moved to his collar bone, leaving a pink necklace of hickeys. As Russia grew more comfortable, China moved down to find a pale pink bud that was just begging for attention. Russia moaned as his nipple was bit lightly, then slowly soothed with long, hot licks. Again, China repeated the process on the other nipple and began to move down. Russia's breathing hitched as lips came dangerously close to his stomach.
"Y-Yao?" he asked nervously. China hummed inquisitively, but didn't pause in his movements, licking and kissing his stomach. "Yao, stop!" China was pushed away by a very distressed Russia. China huffed, getting off the bed.
Grabbing the Russian's hands, he pulled, saying, "Get up." Russia hesitantly obliged, getting up and following his boyfriend into the bathroom. China moved them in front of the full length mirror, standing behind Russia. "Look," he said. Russia blushed, trying to leave.
"This is pointless, Yao," he mumbled. China wrapped his arms around the larger country, forcing him to face the mirror.
"Ivan look. Look at that man. He is gorgeous, yes?" Russia groaned, his face a flaming red.
"Please, Yao-"
"No, Qíngrén, listen. You are beautiful. You always have been, and you always will be. Don't ever forget that," he said softly.