Title: Completion

Author: The Emcee

Summary: It took him a while. Ivan had figured that it would take time for Alfred to adjust, but he hadn't counted on it taking as long as it had. But Alfred eventually reached the same level of love and devotion that Ivan felt. And now, they were complete.

Pairing: RusAme

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.

A/N: Here's a sequel to Collection. I hope I do it justice since I really hadn't planned on a sequel, buuuuuut why not? R&R. Enjoy!

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Completion

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Day One

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What Alfred really remembers that first day, aside from being tired, was feeling incredibly numb inside.

Everyone that he had ever known, talked to, or cared about were now held captive within Ivan's capsules, frozen in time. While he would see them again, he would never be able to touch them or talk to them. And honestly, he wasn't sure just yet how he felt about that.

He had been running from Ivan for so long that Alfred didn't even know how else to be aside from tired and numb. Staying on the run had exhausted him beyond belief and after Arthur had gone off to confront Ivan, Alfred hadn't been the same. That was when the numbness began to take over him. Arthur had been his guardian, his friend, his father since before he could even remember. Yes, he could be controlling and a down right prick sometimes, but he meant well and Alfred had always appreciated the things Arthur said or did to let him know that he was still cared for, even after revolting. But Arthur was dead now, dead as dreams; he had been once he left Matt and Alfred on their own in the taiga of North America.

And then when Matt was captured...

Alfred almost shuddered at the very memory of it, but he didn't want Ivan to see him do so as he followed him towards the house that would now be his 'home'. Home, yeah right. More like a gilded cage, a pretty little prison. It was his own personal hell because his loved ones were with him, but they were all dead.

Dead.

Suddenly, Alfred bumped into Ivan's back and his train of thought ceased. Looking up, he realized they were now standing right in front of the front door and that Ivan was unlocking it. The taller man looked at him from over his shoulder and gave him the same small smile that he always seemed to wear.

"Are you trying to hint at something, Alfred?" Ivan asked him sweetly.

"Hint at something?" he asked. What the hell was Ivan talking about? He wasn't trying to hint at anything; all he had done was bump into the guy!

"Although I do not mind your suggestion, I'm afraid that I will not be the woman in our relationship," Ivan explained calmly as he pushed the key into the lock and unlocked the door. "We both know that I'd overpower you and that you would submit yourself to me." Alfred felt his face flush as they stepped inside the house.

"I wasn't trying to hint at anything like that, or at anything at all! I was thinking and wasn't watching where I was going, damn it," Alfred told him. "And what makes you think I'd submit to you anyway?" Ivan turned and face him, still smiling. It was beginning to give Alfred the creeps, that smile was.

"Easy. I'm bigger and stronger than you. And you'd like it best that way anyway," Ivan said. "Are you hungry? Or would you rather sleep?"

"Don't change the subject on me," Alfred grumbled as he trailed behind Ivan into the kitchen.

"At least you are no longer looking like robot," Ivan told him as he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets for whatever he was looking for.

Alfred blinked at him for a few minutes and didn't say anything. Looking like a robot? What did he...?

Then it hit him. Ivan had seen how he must have felt on the inside: numb. Alfred was expressive; anyone could tell at any given moment what he was feeling, or so he had been told numerous times by number people - all of whom were now frozen, of course. And Ivan, as crazy as he may have been, wasn't stupid or blind. He was observant and calculating and intelligent. So he noticed how Alfred was feeling and, if what he had said was anything to go by, he didn't like that Alfred was feeling that way.

For once in a very, very long time, a small but genuine smile spread across Alfred's face and his heart began to pound in his chest.

~...~

Day Two

~...~

By the time Alfred actually stepped room into Ivan's prized trophy room, the smile from the night before was long gone.

It had disappeared the night before when he realized that Ivan expected him to sleep with him in the same bed. Thankfully, the taller man hadn't tried anything, for which Alfred was incredibly grateful for. He knew for certain that he would've broken down if Ivan had even tried to kiss him. Whatever sanity he had managed to maintain would have crumbled and Alfred would have lost himself in the madness that seemed to have taken the Russian over long ago.

Apparently, that didn't seem to stop Ivan for too long. Sometime in the middle of the night, he had wrapped himself around Alfred and the American had woken up surrounded by Ivan's arms and legs and his scent. For a moment, he reveled in it, not fully realizing who was holding him and not quite remembering what he had done. And then his sleep-filled mind cleared and he jerked out of Ivan's embrace and fell on the floor, earning himself a headache and a sore butt in the process.

That, of course, had woken Ivan up, who had asked him what he was doing on the floor. He got up, grumbling, and told Ivan that he wanted to see his friends. It was the first thing that came to his mind and he had wanted to see them anyway. They were his friends; Arthur was basically his dad and Matt was his brother. All of them were important to him and he wanted to see them. Ivan didn't seem to have a problem with it.

In all honesty, Alfred wasn't sure what he had been expecting when Ivan opened the door to his trophy room. He thought that he'd prepared himself enough for whatever was to come; he thought that after knowing that everyone was dead that nothing could hurt him anymore. But he had been wrong, so very, very wrong.

As soon as that door opened and shed light on the capsules, Alfred fell to his knees. The light that poured into the room shed light on only two of the capsules and only half of them so that they were partially still in the dark. And, naturally, as though to add insult to injury, the capsules the light touched were Matt and Arthur's. Matt was entirely unscathed and even peaceful. Arthur, on the other hand...

Most of his fingers were gone. Wounds that still looked fresh and painful littered every inch of skin that showed. His right ear was missing and the left side of his face had been burned so that his left eye had sort of melted sickly to the skin that sagged below it. Bruises that still looked fresh were a sick black, purple, and yellow. And it looked as though his nose had been cut off and then sewn back on with a dull needle. Alfred didn't even realize he was crying until a loud, bloodcurdling sob resounded throughout the room.

No longer unable to look at Arthur or at Matt, and not wanting to even chance gazing at the others still shroud in darkness, Alfred looked down at the floor. His vision was blurry and watery and random drops of water puddled underneath his gaze. With his entire body shaking and his arms barely holding his upper body upright, Alfred cried as his heart broke in two.

He didn't know how long he stayed like that, it could have been minutes or hours. It didn't matter to him. All that mattered was that the people he cared about the most were dead and that they had suffered so much. And all because of him. What was he even worth, anyway? Not much, in his own opinion. Hell, he wasn't even that great of a country anymore; all he was was a broken shell of what he once was and what he could have been.

And it was all Ivan's fault.

A massive rage, hot and pure white, blinded him and for a long time he couldn't see anything. Alfred wanted nothing more than to pull Ivan's still beating heart out of his chest and squeeze it in the palm of his hand. Whatever pain and torture he put everyone through, Alfred wanted to give back to him tenfold.

Rising from the floor, Alfred turned around and stalked out of the room. It didn't take long for him to find Ivan. The bastard was in the kitchen, making breakfast or lunch or what the fuck ever. As soon as he turned around to greet Alfred, his fake, mocking smile on his face, Alfred punched him as hard as he could. The force of his punch sent Ivan back into the cabinets, breaking them as Ivan's body collided with them.

That one punch didn't keep the Russian down for long and with a speed and agility that Alfred hadn't counted on, Ivan was up and on him in a matter of seconds. His fist connected with Alfred's jaw and sent him back through the wall of the kitchen. Landing in the living room, Alfred made it too his feet and with a cry of sorrow mixed with rage and hatred, he tackled Ivan. Knocking him over, Alfred sat on him and unleashed every pent up emotion he felt. All of his anger and rage and sorrow and despair and heartbreak was put into every single punch he delivered to Ivan's face. Sweat mixed with his tears poured down his face as he continued to beat on the taller man.

It wasn't until his body was utterly exhausted that Alfred stopped. Breaking into choking sobs, with tears still pouring down his face, he bent his head, resting it against Ivan's chest. His entire body shook and his knuckles were busted open and bleeding and hurting like hell, but he didn't care. And Ivan...

Ivan...

It was odd, very odd, and Alfred didn't think much of it until later, but Ivan just...laid there. On the floor. Underneath Alfred and let him cry like a child who had just been orphaned. After a minute or two, Ivan wrapped his arms around Alfred's shaking back and held him as he cried.

Eventually, utterly drained and exhausted, Alfred fell asleep on top of Ivan, having cried himself to sleep like a child.

~...~

Day Six

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Ivan frowned deeply as he stared at Alfred across the kitchen table. It had been four days since their fight, since Alfred had seen what he had done to his dear comrades and friends. And it had been four days since Alfred had last spoken or laughed or smiled.

He hardly ate anything, he moved robotically it seemed, and he always seemed as though his mind was elsewhere. Alfred didn't even respond when Ivan would touch him on purpose. When once a hand on the shoulder would have been immediately shrugged off, it now stayed there until Ivan removed it on his own accord.

This was not what Ivan had wanted. He wanted Alfred, he wanted him body, heart, and soul. They were two pieces of a puzzle, two halves that equaled a whole, and if one half was damaged...

But Ivan could not understand why. Well, that was a lie; he never very well why Alfred was the way he currently was. It was because he had seen his friends and he had seen what Ivan had done to them, more importantly to Arthur, and his mind couldn't handle it. Something inside of him had shattered and it was up to Ivan to restore what he had caused.

"Alfred," Ivan called to his younger half. When the American didn't respond, he called again. "Alfred."

This time, Alfred looked up at him. There were circles under his eyes and he looked tired and his gaze was cloudy and far off, but he was still somewhat attentive. He reminded Ivan of a little child whose best friend had abandoned him in favor of the popular kids, like he'd break out in tears if Ivan said the wrong thing.

"I need to mind my garden today," Ivan told him, a gentle smile on his face. A real smile. He didn't want to frighten Alfred any more than he had already or make matters worse. "Would you like to help me?"

Alfred barely nodded, but he nodded nonetheless and looked back down at his mostly untouched food. Hope rose up within Ivan. It may not have been much, but at least Alfred had agreed to help him. Mostly, his questions had gone unanswered in the past few days, so this was progress, da.

When breakfast was finished, Ivan led Alfred out to the garden he kept in the backyard. There were a few vegetables, but mostly Ivan had sunflowers. In the house they were currently living in, not the one Ivan had been living in, but one that could actually house all of the countries and that had suitable weather conditions to raise the flowers he loved so much, the sunlight and weather was ideal for sunflowers. Ivan would have thanked Belarus for helping him find such a house had he not already frozen her.

"Sunflowers?" Alfred said, his voice soft and hoarse from not being used. Ivan looked over his shoulder at him, slightly stunned that he had said something.

"Da. They are my favorite above all others," Ivan explained. "They are quite lovely, are they not?" He smiled again, his smile more comforting this time as it reached his heart. Ivan often felt sentimental whenever he spoke of his beloved sunflowers and he couldn't not let it show.

"Yeah, they are," Alfred said and gave a ghost of a smile as he approached the flowers.

Together, they began working on the small garden, pulling out weeds and tending to the vegetables and sunflowers in a surprisingly comfortable silence. It may not have been much, Ivan thought, but it was a start.

~...~

Day Thirteen

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It had been thirteen days since Alfred had arrived at Ivan's house.

Eleven since he had first stepped foot into Ivan's trophy room.

Seven since he had started to work in the garden.

Alfred liked the garden, he liked tending to the vegetables and the sunflowers. It reminded him of home, of being in, well, America, of being near his brother and being able to call Arthur. It reminded him of days that were happy and simple, although they didn't seem so at the time. It reminded him of past conversations he had even with people he didn't hang around with often, like Spain, that now seemed so precious. It reminded him of sunlight that warmed his skin and smiles and laughter. It reminded him of everything he seemed to have lost, things that he would never, ever get back.

Sighing softly, Alfred gazed up at the sunflowers. Their petals seemed to glow with the sunlight raining down upon them and it made his heart clench. Things had been so...different than what he had expected they would be living with Ivan. Had he even expected how things would be in the first place? Regardless, it seemed as though Ivan, insane, ruthless, merciless Ivan, was walking on eggshells around him, like he was afraid that Alfred would go berserk at any given moment, like he was fragile and could break oh, so easily.

Perhaps he would.

Still, he couldn't help but kind of...like the nice treatment Ivan was giving him. The Russian's smiles were the usual mocking kind that they had almost always been; instead, they were real smiles, like Alfred was finally seeing the real Ivan after all these years. And his expressions of concern, confusion, surprise, and happiness were more open and honest than they had been. It made Alfred think that, if Ivan had been like that from the very start, they would have been together many years ago and everyone would still be alive.

Alfred wasn't stupid; he knew before Arthur had died that the older nation had been in love with him. He could see it as plain as day - and the fact that he was still incredibly upset about the Revolution was a big telltale. However, Alfred had never loved Arthur that way. He had always seen the older nation as a father figure, a guardian who would still be stern with him but would still give him advice and encouragement when he needed it. Yes, he loved Arthur, but not the way that Arthur loved him, so Alfred had never, well, been in a relationship or with anyone ever. Period. When would he have time, really, anyway?

But seeing Ivan as he was now, being around him like he was now, made Alfred's heart beat a little bit faster and brought a flush to his face that no one else had brought about before. He didn't understand it and he was a little afraid of it, but he was kind of relieved. After days of being so angry and sad, it was nice to feel something that wasn't sorrow or loathing. Alfred was still incredibly tired, though; being emotionally strained and stressed was more exhausting than any work out he's ever done. And it didn't help that he was confused.

Part of him thought he should remain angry at Ivan and hate him for what he had done to Alfred's family, friends, and the other nations. They were, after all, frozen and incased in capsules in the very house Alfred slept in and all because of Ivan's desire to 'become one' with all of them, which, to the younger nation, seemed as though that was the same thing as possessing them. It probably was; no one knew how Ivan's mind worked.

But another part of Alfred thought that the others, Matt, Arthur, Feliciano, and others, would want him to pull through all of the anger and hatred and sorrow he felt and push on, strive to be better. Yes, he may be practically owned by Ivan, but perhaps that was more of an advantage. Hadn't Ivan said that they'd be a partnership? Maybe that meant that Alfred could actually help improve things, maybe even help Ivan himself improve.

There was a war being waged within Alfred: should he hold onto the anger he felt or should he let it go and see if he could make things better? He didn't know what to do or what to feel; it was all so confusing. And he wasn't sure what he wanted either. All he knew was that working in the garden made him feel better, made him feel hopeful, and he needed a lot of hope right now.

~...~

Day Fourteen

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Alfred decided that he would try to make things better. Even though his family and friends were all dead, he still felt the need to do the best he could in his situation, if only for them. Yes, they were all dead, but that didn't mean anything to him. Perhaps somewhere, in some great beyond, they were all watching him, all waiting for him to try and ensure that this would never happen again. Or maybe they were all in an eternal darkness, shouting in the blackness around them that Alfred better not fail or give in or surrender. Maybe that kept them from their own personal hells.

He didn't know.

All he did know was that he had to try. If not for his own sake and sanity, than for the loved ones who had passed. So, Alfred decided to do what everyone would have wanted him to do: put on a brave face and be a hero. He had no idea how he was going to do that, but the thought came to him as he walked into the kitchen and sat down in his usual chair.

As usual, Ivan was the one cooking. The older nation had been doing all of the cooking ever since Alfred arrived. Now that the American thought about it, Ivan had been doing pretty much everything since he had arrived: cooking, washing dishes and clothes, and repairing the damages Alfred had made during their fight the second day he was there. Alfred had done absolutely nothing and that kind of bothered him. He was more than capable of taking care of himself; he had been doing so since he had left Arthur's care during the Revolution. And not contributing when he was living under someone else's roof bothered him a great deal. Despite what the others had once thought, Alfred wasn't lazy; he could cook and clean just like any other capable individual.

"I can wash the dishes when we're done," Alfred said to Ivan, breaking the silence that had been looming over them for the past twelve days.

Okay, it wasn't a complete silence; Ivan had talked to him, but Alfred had never said anything back. So it was shocking that Ivan turned to him with a surprised expression on his face. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting Alfred to say anything any time soon. That thought made Alfred feel bad and guilty.

"You don't have to do that," Ivan told him, his violet eyes still a bit wide.

"But I should. And I want to," Alfred replied, his eyes showing how determined he felt. "You shouldn't do all of the work around here. It won't kill me to pitch in and help."

"You work on the garden," Ivan said as he passed Alfred his plate before he sat down at the table.

"That's more of a hobby. I'm talking about work," Alfred said.

They stayed silent as they ate, Alfred wondering what was going through Ivan's head. When he was almost finished with his breakfast, Ivan cleared his throat and caught Alfred's attention.

"I told you before, Fredka, that we are partners. That you are not part of my collection," Ivan said. "So, if you wish to clean, then clean whatever you want. It makes no matter to me." He smiled at Alfred.

"Okay. Good," Alfred said, smiling back at him. Ivan finished and stood up to put his plate in the sink.

"Tomorrow, we must go to a meeting," Ivan told him.

"What kind of meeting?" Alfred asked, suddenly feeling uncertain and nervous. Without any of the other countries, how could there be a meeting?

"Each country's minister will be meeting. As we are the only ones left, they want to know what happened to the missing countries and what that could mean," Ivan told him. That caused a shiver to run down Alfred's spine and not a good one.

"What will happen?" he said.

"Things will change, da. We now have more land and people. But mostly things will be the same," Ivan answered, his smile widening. It felt kind of reassuring. Something still lingered in Alfred's mind and he figured, well, why not take a shot and ask Ivan. The worst he could do was kill him, right?

"But...no red, right?" Alfred asked, his blue eyes never leaving Ivan's violet ones.

"No red," Ivan confirmed, his smile still in place. Relief spread throughout Alfred as he finished the remnants of his breakfast.

No red. Well, that was one good thing out of this entire ordeal.

Ivan left the kitchen to go to his office upstairs, leaving Alfred alone in the kitchen. Getting up from his seat, Alfred grabbed his plate and went to the sink to start on the dishes. Keeping his hands busy, having something to do, some kind of purpose, allowed him to think about the upcoming meeting tomorrow.

Things were going to change. Alfred figured that. It was just Ivan and himself now, and they had joined forces - albeit unwillingly on Alfred's side - and were now an ever larger super power than what they had been separately. What would that mean for the other countries? While their personifications were all frozen, they were still around. They hadn't faded into nothing yet, like countries and empires usually did when they died completely. Would new personifications be chosen? Could they be?

No, that wouldn't make sense, at least, not to Alfred. If new personifications could be chosen, then wouldn't it make sense that old personifications would just die if they were fatally wounded? And how many times has Alfred been hurt so severely that it'd kill a normal human? Then again, as a country, he wasn't a normal human. Was he even human anyway? Besides, himself, Ludwig had died from any of his World War II wounds and neither had Kiku after the bombings. Not to mention Arthur and all of the injuries he had sustained, some of them from Alfred himself. None of them had had new personifications even after everything they had been through. Alfred had never heard of new personifications appearing for countries that already existed anyway, only when a new nation had been found or formed, like Sealand.

So, Alfred figured that there would be no new personifications, and for that he was glad. Not a single one of the countries could be replaced, not in his mind, and he wouldn't think too kindly of it if new personifications appeared. They had all become one with Russia after all.

~...~

Day Fifteen

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The meeting had been exhausting. Naturally, the ministers had been outraged and defensive about being taken over by, well, Russia, just like the others. Just like Alfred. All of them, every representative they elected, every person who came into power over the entire country would ultimately have to answer to Russia and America. They were the new super power and things were going to be difficult for a while.

Alfred was going to try and make things run smoothly. The last thing anyone needed was for Ivan to get angry and unleash his wrath upon a defenseless country.

Suddenly, Alfred had the urge to go and see Matt and Arthur and the others in Ivan's trophy room. He just...he couldn't explain it. It was an instinctual urge. Something inside of him told him that he needed to be around them. So, as soon as Ivan disappeared upstairs to his office, Alfred made his way quickly to the trophy room, still dressed in his suit.

Opening the door and leaving it open to allow natural light to come in, Alfred stepped inside. All seven capsules stood in a semi-circle in the room. There was a light switch on the wall on the left side of the door, but he didn't turn it on. Right now, he wasn't sure if he was ready to see them all in the light, so he kept them in darkness.

Starting on the left, Alfred looked up, his eyes already adjusted to the darkness around him, and saw Kiku through the glass. He looked so peaceful, like he was only sleeping. Feliciano was beside him, his face relaxed and, like Kiku, he looked like he was sleeping. Ludwig, even in his deathly sleep, looked stressed and annoyed. Now that Alfred thought about it, he had never seen Ludwig relaxed and carefree, not like Feliciano.

Matt was beside Ludwig, half shroud in darkness and half in light from the door. He, too, looked like he was sleeping peacefully. And it just came to Alfred how much he missed Matt, his brother. They may not have been close when they were younger, but they had gotten closer as they got older. Matt was always the more mature of the two of them, always cool and collected. That was something he definitely needed more of, especially nowadays. Leaning his head against the glass of his brother's capsule, Alfred sighed and watched as his breath fogged the glass.

"I miss you, Mattie," he said softly.

"He is still here, Alfredka," came Ivan's voice from behind him. Alfred turned his sadden blue eyes to the doorway, where Ivan stood, shrouded in light like some sort of vengeful angel.

"He's dead," Alfred said, his voice cracking as he spoke.

"No, he is not. He is here. He is part of us, now. They are all part of us. We are all one," Ivan said as he stepped into the room.

"But...they're dead," Alfred said as tears began to fill his eyes. Ivan approached him, holding his hands up as though he was surrendering.

"No, dorogoy, they are not dead," Ivan said. Gently, his hands grasped Alfred's shoulders and turned him around so that he faced his brother. "They are here, frozen in time. They are forever. They will not hurt or die. They are with us and we are with them. You can see them any time you want. Do you see? Do you understand now, Fredka?"

Perhaps, in the short two weeks that he's been there, Alfred's mind as become more synchronized with Ivan's because what the Russian was saying was beginning to make sense in his mind. Or maybe he was just clinging to a futile hope that the others really weren't dead even though he knew that they were. What he did know was that his mind could handle all of this strain. He either choose to fight Ivan or he followed the simple path and joined him.

Joining him was easier and might bring about the most good. And Alfred was tired of fighting it already.

"Yeah, Ivan. I understand," he said as tears began to roll down his cheeks. Ivan turned him around and cupped his face in his hands.

"Do not cry, dorogoy. There is nothing to be sad about," Ivan told him, giving him a reassuring smile.

"I...I don't th-think I can st-stop," Alfred said.

"Then cry happy tears. Everyone is here. We are all with you," Ivan told him. Alfred could only nod; he didn't trust his voice.

He watched as Ivan's violet eyes looked down at his lips before they returned to meet his gaze. Alfred couldn't help that his heart began to beat faster as the very thought of Ivan kissing him, and he didn't want to help it anyway. Right then and there, what he craved was comfort, comfort from Ivan; he wanted it and needed it like he needed air to breathe. So, when Ivan pressed their lips together in a kiss, Alfred closed his eyes and kissed him back.

Alfred expected Ivan's lips and body overall to be cooler than his own, just like Russia. But Ivan wasn't cool. He was warm and alive and his lips were warm and soft against his own. They felt incredible and amazing and Alfred moaned into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around Ivan's neck.

Ivan's arms wrapped around his waist and he pressed their bodies together. Alfred loved how hard and warm Ivan's body felt against his own. He loved how they fit together, how they seemed to match, and he loved that Ivan was taller than him. Not so much that he had to crane his neck uncomfortably and not too short to make things kind of awkward. Just right.

Pressed against Ivan as he was, Alfred could feel his hardness and he felt his body react instantly. Desire spread through him hot and fast and he wanted to get out of the trophy room and to the bedroom as soon as possible. Breaking away from Ivan's lips, he panted, his face flushed, and he gazed into the hooded violet eyes of the older nations.

"Bedroom?" Alfred asked him, his voice husky and rough.

"Now," Ivan growled and the sound of it went straight to Alfred's arousal.

Somehow, they made it to the bedroom. They stopped a few times to make out heavily like horny teenagers and even lost a few articles of clothing along the way. Both ties were lying somewhere in the hallway and Alfred was pretty sure his suit jacket was hanging on the second floor banister, but he didn't care. What he did care about was being with Ivan, feeling his hard, hot body against his own, and having those large hands roam across his bare skin.

Once they were inside the bedroom, Ivan picked him up, causing him to gasp in surprise and dropped him on the bed. Alfred didn't have time to say anything because Ivan's lips were on his own as he climbed on top of him. Honestly, Alfred never thought that he'd ever bottom; he didn't think that that would be his thing. But feeling Ivan above him, towering over him, strong and sure, made him want to submit to him, it made him want to bottom.

Ivan's fingers unclasped the buttons on his dress shirt and Alfred, not wanting to be naked under a still mostly dressed Ivan, followed suit, unbuttoning the older nation's shirt. Once he had, his eyes drank in the pale skin that covered the muscles that had been hidden underneath the shirt. He had known that Ivan was fit and physically incredibly strong, but he had had no idea just how fit until now. Damn. Just...damn.

"Is there problem, Fredka?" Ivan asked him as his lips pressed kisses to his hair, his forehead, and every area of his face while Alfred continued to stare.

"N-no. You're just...really hot," Alfred said lamely. Ivan chuckled and kissed him.

"You're just as attractive, dorogoy," he said. Alfred looked down at himself. He was nowhere near as fit as Ivan.

"Not like you," he said, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"You are perfect for me," Ivan told him and kissed him passionately, his tongue caressing his bottom lip. Alfred opened his mouth and his tongue met Ivan's. The battle for dominance was short lived and Ivan won, not that Alfred complained. Ivan knew what he was doing; Alfred didn't.

Their shoes were kicked off as were their socks, and their pants were soon discarded on the floor. When they were just in their boxers, Alfred pulled away from Ivan and his addictive lips and gazed down as their arousals brushed together. God, the friction was incredible! Even still clothed, feeling his erection brush against Ivan's filled him with a pleasure he never even imagined. It made him moan loudly and for once he was glad that it was just the two of them in the house.

He felt a cool wind brush against his arousal and Alfred started lifting his head up when he felt Ivan, bare and hot, rub against him. Dear God, if he thought it was amazing when they still had their boxers on, it was nothing compared to what it felt like with them off. The sensations that claimed him were indescribable. Alfred shuddered underneath Ivan and arched up against his body as the older nation lavished open mouthed kisses to his neck, one hand cupping the back of his head and threading through his hair while the other stroked his bare chest.

Alfred's body was on fire. Every touch, every caress, every kiss sent delicious sparks all over him and made him feel sensitive and hyper aware. His fingers gripped the hairs at the back of Ivan's neck and pulled him up to kiss him. Having Ivan so close to him, his body pressed so wonderfully against Alfred's own, was pure bliss, a wonderful escape from the hell he had been living in.

Ivan pulled away from him, causing the younger nation to frown up at him. But Ivan's smile was reassuring and his expression was filled with the same intense want and desire that Alfred felt. His blue eyes watched as Ivan reached over and opened the drawer to the bedside table on the left, retrieving a bottle of lube from it. Knowing what was coming next, Alfred felt his face flush even more, if that was even possible, and his erection twitched in anticipation while his heart beat wildly at the thought of what was to come.

"Will...will it hurt?" Alfred asked as he watched Ivan uncap the bottle and pour some gel into the palm of his hand. Ivan's violet eyes met his blue ones.

"I will not lie to you, dorogoy. It will hurt, but not for long," Ivan replied and gave him a reassuring smile.

"O-okay," was all Alfred's brilliant mind could think of to say. Ivan leaned down and kissed him as his index finger began to probe Alfred's entrance.

It was a weird feeling, one that Alfred was not used to, and when Ivan's finger entered him, he gasped softly. The lube was cool and it caused him to shiver ever so slightly, although not uncomfortably. While Ivan kissed his breath away, his finger pulled in and out and felt him up. Only when the second finger was added did he feel any sort of pain, and that was only when Ivan began scissoring him. Having never experienced anything like it, it did make Alfred uncomfortable, but that eventually died away as the pleasure began to overtake him. He didn't get to feel the pleasure for too long, though, for a third finger was inserted inside of him and the stretch made him gasp in pain and wince. Ivan did his best to kiss the pain away, but there was only so much he could do. And Alfred knew that when those fingers pulled out of him, something much bigger, longer and thicker, would replace them.

All too soon, Ivan withdrew his fingers and coated his large member with lube. Alfred watched him, his eyes widening as he realized just how big Ivan really was. Not only was he long, but he was thick, and he knew without a doubt that he was the biggest there was. He watched as Ivan prepared his member and when he was done, the older nation lined himself up against Alfred's entrance.

"I am sorry, Fredka," Ivan whispered against his lips, his violet eyes hooded. "This will hurt."

"I know," Alfred replied. "Just...try to take the pain away."

"I will do my best," Ivan told him.

Gently, he eased his way inside of Alfred, not stopping until he was fully sheathed within his tight, warm heat. The pain was terrible; it was as though he was being tore apart. He probably was. Alfred couldn't stop or quiet his gasps and pants of pain as Ivan stilled within him. It was too much, too unbearable, and Alfred was half tempted to tell Ivan to forget it, that there was no way in hell that they'd be continuing this.

He never got the chance. Before he could even think of what to say, Ivan was pulling out and thrusting back in, causing Alfred to gasp and hiss in pain. His only consolation were the kisses the older nation bestowed upon him; although they didn't lessen the pain, they did help him focus on something else aside from it, like how Ivan's lips were still so warm and soft.

Eventually, the pain lessened and the pleasure Ivan had promised him began to take hold once more, only it was far more intense and overwhelming than what Alfred had been experiencing before. Feeling Ivan moving inside of him, his length brushing against something within him that made his toes curls, sent delicious sparks all throughout his body, caused him to arch off the bed, and moan loudly, was the best feeling in the entire world to Alfred. Why, oh why, hadn't be tried this before, wanted this before?

And when Ivan's hand, the one that wasn't holding his neck in place so that they could kiss, wrapped around his arousal, it nearly sent Alfred over the edge. His moans and cries for more would have made a porn star blush wildly and his body reacted instinctively to Ivan's thrusts and strokes, arching and stretching on its own. One hand was digging his blunt nails into the pale skin of Ivan's back while the other gripped his silky hair, tugging and pulling it hard, although it didn't seem as though the Russian noticed it at all, and if he did he didn't care.

A wave of heat and pleasure that had been building and surging inside of him overcame him and Alfred saw white as he came all over Ivan's hand, crying out at the intensity of the pleasure and desire that he felt. He heard Ivan growl possessively as he buried himself deep inside of his body as he came hard and fast right after Alfred. He could feel Ivan's warm seed fill him and it made him feel complete and whole and truly, dearly wanted. His body collapsed onto the bed, his arms and legs feeling like Jell-O as he panted softly. With his body covered in sweat, all Alfred could do was cling to Ivan as the older nation gently rested his large frame on top of his smaller one.

Ivan's lips found Alfred's own again and they shared a sweet, lazy kiss. Violet eyes met his blue ones yet again and Alfred saw the love and devotion and sincerity that Ivan felt for him. It made his heart soar while at the same time it made him feel guilty. All this time, he had, in the back of his mind, believed that Ivan had just wanted to use him for one thing or another. Never before had he actually believed that the older man genuinely cared for him. God, what a fool he had been.

"Ivan..." Alfred said, his voice a little hoarse and dry from all of the gasping and moaning.

"Da, Alfredka?" Ivan answered as he laid his head on Alfred's shoulder, his eyes never leaving the American's.

"I...I love you," Alfred said, rushing part of his confession and blushing because of his stammers. The smile he got in return was brighter than the sun and it made his heart melt.

"I love you as well, dorogoy," Ivan told him before he placed a kiss on Alfred's bare shoulder.

"What does that mean? Dorogoy?" Alfred asked. He had heard it numerous times before but he had yet to ask Ivan what it meant.

"It means darling," Ivan said.

All Alfred could do was blush.

~...~

Day Twenty

~...~

It had only been twenty days since he had started living with Ivan. A mere twenty days since they formed their union and became a whole, a gigantic super power all on their own.

Who knew twenty days could feel like an eternity?

Things hadn't started off very well, but Alfred was more than content right now. In fact, he could even say that he was happy, really and truly happy. This was the happiest he's felt in a long time and it was a magnificent feeling.

Ivan had been right: the others may have been frozen in time, but they were still there, they were still with Alfred and Ivan and they weren't going anywhere. They were safe, untouchable and free from danger and any problem the world could throw at them. Frozen in time, they had no more worries or cares, there was no more sadness or fear to taint their hearts; they really were safe.

Why had it taken Alfred so long to see that, to see that Ivan had been right? He didn't know the answer and he doubted that he'd ever all. What he did know was this:

His family and friends, the people he loved and held most dear, were with him.

They were safe.

They weren't going anywhere.

He was with Ivan.

He loved Ivan with every fiber of his being, with his entire body, heart, and soul.

Together, they were stronger.

Together, they were doing their best to make the world a better place.

Together, they would create a better future for everybody.

Together, they were complete.