They say that things just cannot grow,

Beneath the winter snow,

Or so I have been told.

They say we're buried far,

Just like a distant star.

I simply cannot hold.

Is love alive?

...

This is my winter song.

December never felt so wrong.

'Cause you're not where you belong.

Inside my arms.

Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum.

Outside was quiet, and snow fell gently from the rufous sky as the sun slowly went down. Yao ran his thumb against the warm side of the black mug in between his hands. It was seeming to be a never ending winter again. And as much as he could say he wanted to be back home instead of here, he just didn't see any appeal in it anymore. The Chinese man sighed. He'd fallen in love with a place he couldn't call his own, just like one of the foolish young nations. But he supposed maybe he had yet to see something they had long ago. Because at that moment a voice called out to him. A voice that had made him believe that maybe he was just too old and blind to see what should be as clear as the eyes of the one calling out to him.

When he turned, he was met with soft violet eyes looking at him gently.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Yao asked tiredly.

Ivan smiled, and slowly approached the window seat the other had made his perch for the past hour. Taking the mug from the smaller hands, he placed it to the side before his hands took the mugs' place. Before Yao could complain, or ask what the larger man was doing, he was met with a smile and that familiar childish glint in Ivan's eyes. The floor was cold, as was the rest of the house. But there was an infinite amount of heat coming from the taller man. And if it weren't for the fact the Russian was pulling him along through one of the complex hallways of the house, Yao would have shamelessly clung to him and demand he be carried. Before he knew it, Ivan had stopped short. With a practiced ease he caught Yao as he turned. Yao grimaced without any real conviction as he was pulled into a blue sweater-clad embrace.

"What are you doing?" The smaller questioned, looking up towards one of the most childish people he knew.

Ivan nuzzled the top of Yao's head. "I want to show you something."

Yao was slightly disappointed at the loss of warmth, but thoroughly interested in whatever it was the Russian man was hiding. Ivan turned towards a heavy oak door and set his hand upon the handle. Twisting the knob slowly, Ivan pushed the door open easily, and reached out for Yao's hand again. The smaller eyed the hand suspiciously before letting the tips of his fingers drag lightly along Ivan's rough palm. In a flurry the Chinese man was aware of an extreme change in temperature as he was ushered into the room. And he was almost blinded by the change in lighting. When he could finally see, he was faced with a room filled from wall to wall in sunflowers. Pots and planting tables lined the perimeter of the room, all of them sprouting or sporting tall green stocks of every shade, and bright yellow petals. The room itself was painted so realistically if he closed his eyes, Yao really believed he could smell grass bowing with the strength of a warm breeze. Slowly stepping into the room one foot at a time Yao marveled at everything surrounding him. With wide eyes he took in the brilliantly painted blue sky and the rolling hills covered in green grass surrounding him. And slowly, he turned to Ivan once more.

"Did...you do all of this?" Yao asked in astonishment.

The Russian smiled contentedly and looked around the room too. "I spent a month on it actually."

There was a certain forlornness in his voice that Yao understood all too well. He wasn't deaf to the things the other nations said about Ivan. And it wasn't that some of them weren't true. Yes, he had been as ruthless and cold at one point in time. But so had Yao. Everyone had a point in their history they'd prefer to forget. Though it seemed Ivan was the only one who wouldn't be allowed to forget. It had been so long since the war, and so very long since the Baltics had left this big house empty. Ivan never got over the crippling loneliness that was forced upon him. And even now there were times when Yao feared even he couldn't fill that hole. It was sad to see that after it all Ivan was simply a child who was selfish and afraid. And Yao was the only person who would acknowledge that. The room itself was really just another cry for approval from the only person Ivan trusted enough to see a part of himself exposed like that.

"I can't believe you did all of this." Yao breathed.

Ivan stepped further into the room and closer to Yao. Carefully he reached his hands out and twined them with the smaller mans'. Yao stared at their interlocking digits. How could someone so young have such large hands? It made the older nation sigh. With a pause, Yao closed his eyes and brought the back of a large palm against his cheek. Even for being known for cold, Ivan was the warmest person Yao had ever had the privilege of using as a space heater.

"Vanya, I want to go to the bedroom." The smaller man commented lightly.

"You do not want to stay here?" Ivan asked, sounding a bit let down.

Yao smirked. Of course he would have that reaction.

"As much as I love this room, it's too warm for me to wrap myself around you and not feel like I'm boiling." Yao replied tiredly, looking up at the Russian through thick eyelashes.

Ivan smiled, then leaned down to kiss Yao's cheek. He pulled away, leaving one pair of hands connected as he lead the older nation out of the room. The walk down the hall was short and cold. But the relief of a large bed covered in blankets of faux fur was sweet. Yao haphazardly wrapped the blanket over Ivan's shoulders by grabbing it and pulling it where it may lay while following his arm. Ivan accommodated his lover as the Chinese man threw his leg over his hip. There was a moment where neither of them moved, before Ivan ran his hands underneath Yao's sweater. With a bit of help it was pulled off with his larger one following. Ivan pulled Yao close and sighed as their skin touched. The soft feel of the blankets only made him believe moreso that this was truly heaven. Yao kissed him chastely then buried his head in the crook of his neck, nipping at the skin there lightly.

"Я люблю тебя Yao." Ivan said, squeezing the other.

"Wo ai ni, Vanya." Yao replied softly, kissing him one last time before settling in to sleep.

Author's Note: I felt really bad since I haven't updated Fix in so long, and I promised smut, but didn't deliver. I promise you I'm at least 60% done. But I can't promise when chapter 10 will come out. Usually as school starts my writing picks up. But this year's gonna be a bit different and I'll have to deal with some big changes in my education and the added stress it brings mentally.

But on another note, I had a strange urge to write fluffy RoChu after hearing "Winter Song" by Ingrd Michaelson and Sara Bareilles. I've also been doing some short ficlet practice on Tumblr and had the thought to maybe just dump extra Hetalia practice into one story. Not sure about it, but I'll leave this as "In-Progress" until I get some feedback about whether you guys would like me to do that or not. Also, some motivation for Chapter 10 would be immensely appreciated. Kyoya can only do so much on her own. But, I figured I'd spoil you guys (at least those of you who ship RoChu) while you wait for an update to Fix.