Pairing: Russia x Prussia
Rating: T
Warnings: modern-setting, fluff and nation and human names used.
A/N: A gift for a friend~. Feedback is always appreciated!
Disclaimer: Hidekaz Himaruya-owns Hetalia and all its characters; I do not.
[ We were born and raised ]
"Gilbert, we should go see the play, da?"
The silverette pauses in his humming when he hears this, a small flush on his cheeks when he feels the Russian scoot just that bit closer and he grumbles a little in his dry throat when that hand encases itself upon his sharp ivory hips. A complaint is swiftly brewing in his thoughts and tempting his tongue, but nothing spills forth because the silverette behind him is soon nuzzling into his bare nape and he starts at the surprising warmth of breath against his skin.
"Unless, of course, you want to stay here, at home, with me...~"
He tenses a little at the poorly hidden implications the Russian belies, but betrays nothing besides the pitch in his grumbling and the none-too-harmful jab he gives with his elbow.
"Tch, in your dreams." He respites, drawing forward a bit to emphasize his dissolution. "I thought we'd already agreed to go see the play, anyway."
Gilbert is rolling his eyes sooner than he is batting away at those too-warm hands that are seeking purchase along his abdomen again, but says and does nothing in protest to being rolled to face the Russian.
"There is nothing wrong with having options, now is there?" Russia chimes, a lilt to his smile that would normally annoy Prussia but is almost fitting then. 'Almost'.
"Ja, but I'd rather not have as many with you, Ivan." Gilbert is shifting under the covers, his leg accidentally kicking the Russian's before he allows it to be wrapped with the former's own. "You do realize if you keep this up, we'll be late, right?"
Ivan keeps smiling, however, despite Prussia's sort-of-but-not-really glare sent his way. He figures, if he can keep him there long enough, he'll cave.
"Da, I do."
Gilbert frowns, his mouth open and ready to retort- but finds that, again, it's died on his lips as the Russian gently places a kiss to them.
"We can always see it again, tomorrow~."
Prussia is annoyed with himself more than the chime to the Russian's voice, but does and says nothing in protest to being kissed again and again and again.
[ in that summer haze. ]