They were in a meeting, which was really a horrible place for Russia to be feeling clingy, but that was exactly what the huge nation was doing. Usually China chose the seat next to Russia because he was relatively quiet, was imposing enough that anyone that dared argue with China would feel intimidated simply looking in his direction because Russia was in close proximity, and because generally China preferred Russia's company to many of the other nations that attended such meetings.
But today was not one of China's luckier days. Under the table Russia was fiddling with his hand, lacing their fingers together and outlining China's palm and all sort of things that were entirely not appropriate for the meeting. And despite China's want for him to stop – because Russia did those sort of things as foreplay some times, and it so happened that they tended to have adverse effects on China's state of being – China did nothing to halt the other nation.
Russia liked to treat him like a doll, a pretty thing to be taken care of, and a part of China loved that. He enjoyed being wanted, worshiped as you will. China had decided long ago it was because Russia had sisters that he loved so very dearly. He was a person who loved his family, maybe more than anything else, but didn't know how to handle them. He'd hurt his sisters numerous times, and by now China though the large man was afraid to touch them, to be gentle to them, because he had abused them so. So China was a pretty replacement. His hair was long, and he had a porcelain face and he was small enough that the Russian had to worry about breaking him, though both knew that China might have been the stronger of the two.
China didn't really mind that he was a replacement. His relationship with Russia was turbulent at best. They'd never really been classified as lovers, they were just two broken family men who longed for something. A void that perhaps the other could fill, though China had long come to realize that Russia did not fill his void, only made it less imposing and encompassing.
The contents of the meeting had long stopped being important to him, the idol prattling of other nations as they bickered and refused to listen to one another was something that China didn't have much of a tolerance for normally, let alone when Russia was pampering him so. But the last thing China needed was for everyone knowing that they were doing anything unscrupulous, even if to the uninformed eye it looked hardly like anything at all. It mattered to China, and what mattered to China was important.
"I'm not feeling well, I will return to my room for now." The words had left his mouth before China could retract them, and looking at the statement he really wouldn't want to. He grasped Russia's large bulking hand for a second and excused himself from the room.
He didn't linger in any particular area, simply left the conference room without many realizing he was leaving and headed towards his hotel room on the 6th floor of the hotel they were currently using for the meeting. Once there he visibly sagged, there was no reason for it other than to tell his old bones that they could relax, and that they could be as brittle and creaky as they liked.
China slipped off his shoes and socks and loosened his tie before taking a dainty seat on the bed. He was getting to old for these things.
That evening found him showered and lounging in his favorite robe, hair wet, with the hum of speeding cars, and ambulances to keep him company. He found himself drifting off when a gentle knock came at the door. Just by the tone of it, China knew who it was, and was not surprised. If it had been anyone else he would have changed, put on some pajamas at least, or not even answered the door. But China had a damn good idea of who that was, and didn't think the robe would be there for long.
When China opened the door Russia stood there sheepishly, as if he shouldn't be there. As if all the other nations weren't screwing each other in their own rooms. But Russia was a silly child, it was an endearment.
"You may enter."
It took Russia a few minutes of shifting from foot to foot before he did come inside, in which time China's patience was running thin. He was irritable for some reason today, and though he liked Russia he was in no mood to deal with him either.
"You have a reason for being here, do you not?"
Russia should have known that tone by now, it demanded attention while still implying that China was very much not in the mood for the larger man's turbulent whims. Russia did not turn to face him immediately and instead of waiting, China sauntered over to the bed, wasting no time in lying down.
Both waited in silence for a while, China taking note of how Russia seemed to look everywhere but straight at him. It was a sure sign that Russia was not thinking of him at the moment, that his mind was on someone else of importance. China, though being able to cross that bridge and bring Russia to him, did not. If Russia wanted to use him, that was fine, but China was not going to initiate it.
After about ten minutes of picking at his fingers nervously and avoiding any sort of looking, Russia seemed to get the idea that China was not going out of his way to make this easier on him.
"Do you feel well?"
China looked up from the sheets he had snuggled himself into and gave Russia what seemed to be a questioning look. Then it clicked, he had skipped out on the meeting earlier because of his lie. He'd left a needy Russia behind at that point, and now he was realizing, that was the reason for the visit, not some sexual escapades that China might have preferred.
China nodded in response before curling back into the warm sheets and closing his eyes. "Yes, you don't need to concern yourself. I am fine." It was a true statement. He was old, and felt it in the creaking and aching of his bones, but for his age he was spry, able bodied, and sound of mind. There was no cause for concern to be had for his well being.
"You may show yourself out, I'm rather tired." China did not open his eyes to see Russia's reaction to that, but he had a feeling he knew what would happen. When the bed shifted behind his back, China found that indeed, his estimation had been right.
A large calloused hand found itself to China's hand, and almost lovingly caressed it. Slowly China snaked his hand out of the warm blankets to lace it with the much larger hand, knowing exactly what Russia wanted. Gently China brought the larger hand down, and pecked a kiss on its back, he then wrapped his arms around the much larger arm and held it to his chest. He felt the much larger man settle down into the bed with him, his head nuzzling his hair and neck.
"Your hair is wet." The larger of the two mumbled, still nuzzling the back of China's neck. "You'll catch a cold."
China sighed, backing up into Russia's embrace almost instinctively. "I had a long, lovely bath, and I don't want to dry it. I'm already comfortable."
Russia hummed softly, the noise coming from his throat deep and thoughtful. "Then let me braid it, so that it will not cling to your neck, and make you cold."
China groaned, Russia's insistence on babying him was keeping him from the blissful pull of sleep. But if China knew Russia, and he liked to think the other was easy to read, than he knew it was in vain to try and persuade the larger man other wise. Letting go of Russia's arm, China folded over onto his stomach.
"Only if I do not have to get up." He heard the larger man laugh at him softly, before the weight on the bed shifted, and China felt large, fumbling fingers threading through his hair with an unexpected grace. It took Russia a while to work out all the kinks and tangles in his hair, for all he did was run those large hands through his hair, searching for any strand that gave him trouble.
China simply took in all of the sensations; took pleasure in how Russia's fingers graced his scalp and hair with delicate ministrations. It was calming, to have his hair cared for so tenderly, to have those huge hands almost massaging an area of his body that was hardly ever touched by those other than himself.
It had been a long time since anyone had taken the time to prepare his hair for him, and as it happened China remembered how he used to have so many people fuss and worry over every inch of his appearance. It had been expected then, their jobs. This was distinctly different; Russia had no other reason but concern, and that China was so doll like, seemed breakable and resilient at the same touch.
It was, nice. China did love the feel of it, the love and care that went into every shift and sway of his deep black locks. As sleep continued to grab and hold onto him, China drifted in and out of himself, but constantly aware of the comfort and care we was being lavished with.
China was not there when Russia finished, he had fallen asleep long before that, so he didn't feel the large, protective arms flow around him. Didn't feel the way the two of them folded against one another, and how Russia peppered his neck and ear and cheeks with soft kisses. China didn't hear the three little words that dribbled past Russia's lips, perhaps he never would. Because China was being used, and he never thought that perhaps there was another reason entirely.