A/N: First, here's the generic disclaimer yada yada… Hetalia and its characters do not belong to me. I have been a Hetalia fan since I was in 6th grade… I am about to be 22. That being said, this is my first fic ever so please give me some (be nice, I'm a sensitive baby) constructive criticism. Most importantly let me know if I should keep this story going because I already have it all planned out, beginning to end, WITH substories too. Hope you all enjoy!
Ivan glanced over at the ever-growing pile of paperwork on his desk, letting out a rather exasperated huff. He leaned back in his office chair and rubbed his eyes.
"Mr. Russia, i-is something wrong?" Toris's small voice asked from the other side of the room. The violet-eyed nation looked over at the smaller country, giving him almost childish pout. "I am tired of all this paperwork. I want to do something else for a while," he said as crossed his arms on the desk in front of him, then rested his chin on them.
"Just remember you have another summit meeting coming soon, Mr. Russia. However it is being held in Moscow this time, so you do have a little more time to work on everything than usual," commented Toris. Ivan seemed to ignore the comment but suddenly perked up instead, nearly jumping out of his chair.
"I know! I will go see Dmitry!" Walking towards the door, Ivan quickly put on his coat and wrapped his favorite scarf around his neck a few times. "I am starting to run low on vodka anyways. Also, I heard he is working on a new flavor. I want to be the first to try it!"
"A-ah, Mr. Russia, please don't be long! I can only do so much of this paperwork in your place..!" Toris called after Ivan, who was already taking long strides towards the front door. The smaller country gave a frustrated sigh upon hearing the door slam shut.
Ivan smiled, humming lightly to himself as he walked alongside the road. Though it was quite a walk to his favorite vodka distillery, he would much rather walk there than drive. Plus, he was appreciative of the early fall weather, not yet cold enough to take one's breath away but still giving in only slightly to the need for a coat and scarf. His smile grew brighter as he passed his favorite field of sunflowers, stopping to admire a particularly large one, brighter than its peers. His fingers grazed over its petals before he picked it gently. He brought it to his nose and took a deep breath in, then softly tucked in inside of his coat in such a way so that it wouldn't be crushed.
It was about halfway through his walk that Ivan stopped, and stared at the ground darkly. Several weeks had gone by since he had last visited Dmitri, his longtime friend and current owner of his favorite brand of vodka, Lukin Distilleries. Ivan had known the Lukin family ever since the first owner, back in the early 1800's. He even originally helped him, Yuri Lukin, start up his company back then. Lukin Distilleries had since grown to be one of the largest and most popular vodka brands in the country. Most of that growth had happened within the hands of Dmitri, who had in the past several years expanded his company to include a chain of high-end hotels across Russia. Ivan had kept close ties with the Lukin family, and even considered Dmitri to be his closest friend. But like the rest of the Lukin generations, the realization that his friend was growing old finally dawned on Ivan. Yet, Ivan stayed perpetually young, not looking much different than he did when he first met even Yuri. Ivan forced himself to keep walking, wondering how much time his friend had left and about the future of the company that he loved so much.