A/N: nothing much to say. just wanted to write something neutral involving these two, i guess... (the format kills me every time. can't stop whining about that! grrr.)
A winter's night
Fresh snow crunches beneath their boots.
The sky is a dark blue blanket, sprinkled with shining silver.
There is no wind; tall trees are standing still beside the path they are walking on.
A comfortable silence.
Latvia is almost inclined to call it a nice evening. Almost. The one beside him is Russia, packed in a thick coat, with a fur hat on his head, like Latvia himself. His face is graced with an absent smile while he stares ahead, seemingly forgetting he's not walking home alone.
Ukraine had sent them away again. It's always the same story. And it's always Latvia who accompanies Russia on these senseless trips. He got used to it eventually. He tries to get used to having his life ruled by someone else, too. He tries. But only half-heartedly, it appears.
The road seems endless before them. The darkness is all around and Latvia thinks that he would feel lost and scared out in this wilderness without Russia. But without him, he wouldn't be here in the first place, a voice whispers.
Suddenly there's a heavy, gloved hand on his shoulder. A silent command to stop.
So he does, turning his head upwards. What? he thinks.
Russia is still smiling, his face tilted up to the sky. So Latvia follows his example.
Something flits over the black and blue. And then there's another. Falling stars.
"Ah, seems like a star shower" Russia's dreamy tone. His arm is now around Latvia's back and presses him closer. Warmth. Involuntarily, Latvia leans just the slightest bit into it.
"Shouldn't we wish for something?" Russia asks, still looking up.
Latvia stifles a laugh. Indeed, we should…
Russia closes his eyes and furrows his brows in concentration.
As if his wishes are hard to guess. But maybe they are.
Latvia wishes for nothing. He just continues to watch the skies.
Russia snaps his eyes open again, and like a child that he is not, clenches a fist to his chest, and says "Well, now we only have to wait for it to happen!" His smile is almost contagious.
Finally Russia glances down at him. His look is soft, caring and just the tiniest bit sad. Latvia wants to pretend it's not. He meets the taller one's gaze steadily. The shaking this time comes from standing in the cold for too long without movement. Latvia is almost proud of himself.
Russia's grip tightens and in the next second he's being whirled around and finds himself pressed face-first into a coat, warming arms closing him in in a small circle of security.
It's strange to feel this. But he does. It's nice and so different. A parental hug. Latvia fights with the urge to snuggle up, to put hands on that broad back.
It's strange.
Russia's glove tickles his ear and then he's released as suddenly as he was captured. Only Russia's smell lingers for a few seconds more.
"We should really move on now!"
The hand is on his shoulder again, a steady weight. Leading him. Through the cold and the dark.
And so he follows.