Despite the fact that Prussia unquestionably looked back on his years as a Soviet possession as some of the worst of his exceptionally long life, there remained something he missed about those dark days, even as full of ice and blood and tears as they were.
It took him a long while to realize that what he was missing was Russia's presence.
At first, this fact was something he vehemently denied to himself; there was no way, he told his doubts firmly, that he would ever, ever wish to be in the company of the man he'd sometimes (often) considered his bitterest (most formidable) enemy (captor).
Over time, though, it built up and built up and built up, until he was forced to realize that there was something- and he didn't even want to think about identifying it- in the pit of his stomach, his heart, and his mind that yearned, somehow, for Russia- or rather, not for Russia, but for Ivan.
He tried, upon realizing this, to immediately un-realize it. He drank (more than usual, that is), he smoked, he went out and staggered back home in the early hours of the morning thoroughly drunk, battered, and bleeding, he distracted himself with everything imaginable, even paperwork, he spent time with his friends, such as they were (he felt distantly bad for worrying Canada as he was sure he'd done), and above all, he pretended.
But in the end, he came crawling back, just as he'd always done.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Not even sure where this came from. Oh well. First ever RussPrus… not sure how I feel about the pairing, but eh. Inspired by several videos I happened to stumble into on YouTube.
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-Dawny