It's cold.
That's the first thing Al remembers.
But it's always cold when he goes to the Russian's house.
Somehow, though, this kind of cold was different.
Al remembers walking to Ivan's house from his hotel, just like any other time. Only this time there's no one there to greet the obnoxious American when he arrives.
Alfred shrugs it off and proceeds to make his way to the large front door. He knocks his secret knock three times. When no one answers, as was Ivan's usual way of saying to come in, but to come in quietly, Al finds the key hidden under the welcome mat at his feet. Turning it in the lock, he steps inside.
Al is immediately met with a comforting warmth. He realizes it's the fireplace burning in the front room and slips out of his heavy winter coat. He removes the scarf Ivan gave him last Christmas, even though it happened to be the Russian's birthday, and hangs it, with his coat, on the rack beside the door. Al then steps over to the large futon and sits to thaw out.
"Guess he's not here today," Alfred sighs and rubs his hands. "Then I bought that stupid jacket for nothing," he admits to himself quietly.
"What jacket?" a familiar accented voice asks.
Alfred turns and is greeted with a small smile from his favourite Russian. "Oh, nothing," he says, nonchalant, though there's a smirk that's giving him away. "Why weren't you outside waiting for me? Too cold?" the American teases, laughing.
"нет. I just...had something to do." Ivan steps toward the futon and awkward waits for Al to move over.
"Oh, okay. I was worried for a sec," Alfred says, scooting over. "Like, maybe you didn't want to see your hero anymore..." Alfred mutters, drawing random patterns in the seat cushion between the two.
"Why, my sunflower? What would make you think that?" Ivan sits down roughly and looks hard at Al, brow furrowing.
"I don't know... I just thought you'd get tired of me. That's all..." Al sniffles.
Ivan battles inwardly before he takes Alfred's cheek gently in his gloved hand and rubs his thumb over his cheekbone. "I will never get tired of my sunflower. You bring surprises, да?" He smiles broadly with his lips closed.
Al looks to Ivan's purple orbs and decides he's telling the truth, despite him trying to joke. He forces a small smile and puts his hand atop the gloved one. "Yeah, but first I wanna give you something..."
Ivan lets Al's face go with his hand and watches as the American pulls out a rather large wrapped package from somewhere behind him.
Al holds the package a moment. "I-I wanted to give you something because of what you got me on your birthday. I h-hope you like it..." Al looks down at the futon's blue floral embroidery, to hide his blush, as he hands it to the Russian.
Ivan takes it and immediately tears into the paper. When he sees what it is, he smiles, actually smiles.
Alfred, hearing the paper rustle no more, looks up to see why Ivan hasn't spoken. "What's wrong, big guy?" he asks softly.
Ivan has tears in his eyes, his hands clutching the soft leather bomber jacket. "Nothing, да?" His eyes sparkle as he answers.
"Hey. You're crying," Al reaches up and brushes tears away with his thumb. "That means it's not just 'nothing'. What's wrong?"
"No one has gotten me anything before..." Ivan's tears make a soft plip sound when they land on his uniform.
Al stifles a gasp. "But I did, and now it's yours. You can keep it to remember your hero," he smiles, not forcing it this time. "'Cuz the scarf helps me remember you..."
Ivan sniffs and lets Al wipe his eyes. "I will try on jacket." Ivan struggles out of his uniform jacket and shrugs Al's gift on. The jacket is made to look alike to Alfred's: brown leather, matching patches and zipper. Ivan rubs the leather, reveling in its softness. He marvels at how it smells like the American, or maybe it's because the American is leaning closer to him now that the jacket is on.
Ivan doesn't get a chance to find out as Al hovers over Ivan's lips and whispers, "This is present number two," giving him one of the softest, sweetest kisses he'd ever experienced.
Ivan smiles into the kiss and whispers back: "спасибо, мой подсолнух."