The trench coat was shed and draped across the chair at the side of the bed, leaving him in another well-favored sweater, usual rugged green trousers and pink scarf kept firmly in its spot—the heat of the coat was already missed the moment it slipped away from him, though the scarf well made up for fervor.
Ivan sat down at the edge of his bed, expression soft and violet hues glancing up to seek around his bedroom. It was quiet as usual, for today was simply another day without any visitors. His fingers tapped idly against soft blankets, smile in place despite any other eyes to see it. There was the ticking of a clock, the wispy howl of wind outside, a lamp lit in the corner of the room to offer it light. It was rather cold to go outside, and no one would be coming to see him anyway... so another day would be drained away with his usual remedies.
He reached forward to fish a bottle of vodka out of his coat, using his hands to push himself further back on the bed, turning to ease down, back rested comfortably against a stack of pillows and his head against the headboard. The cap was plucked open with ease of practice, nozzle brought to his lips to swallow back the lukewarm liquid. The sliding burn down his throat brought immediate content, now able to settle down even cozier as his mouth curled into a more peculiar smile. Sip was taken after sip, each one growing longer than the one before – occasionally violet eyes fluttered close, closing his mind out to all but the little pleasures such a simple drink brought.
What broke the silence and a train of thought was a sudden knocking, a few solid thumps sounding out through the quiet home. His eyes opened again to blink, settling the bottle down on his nightstand as legs swung out of bed to get himself to his feet. The door to his bedroom was opened, head tentatively peering out to listen again for the knocking – and again did it sound from the front door.
Ivan crossed over to pull that one open, a faint leap in his heart to be met with rare company.
Francis presented a charming smile on the other end, sapphire eyes set softly upon the other man's face. From behind his back he pulled a single sunflower, blowing upon its petals to clear them of snow before tilting the flower toward the Russian in offering.
The taller nation's expression fell from confused to flustered, taking the flower in his possession to look over in admiration. It was brought closer to his face, violet eyes peering out toward Francis from over delicate petals of gold, watching him expectantly just as he began to speak.
"'ow would you like to spend a trip to Paris wiz me?"
Ivan was taken aback by the sudden question, spoke so calmly in the Frenchman's silk-laden tone. He was blinking again, trying to catch a reply in his surprised, confused thoughts – never would he have expected to be asked this, though he could sense in the other nation's expression that he wasn't joking. He was smiling, watching him ever so patiently, face touched with pink from the nipping of cold wind and frost.
The Russian quickly felt sheepish under this request, tightening his grip on the flower's stem as violet eyes cast down toward the ground. "I.. I woult loff to. But I am not.. ready?"His gaze lifted back to Francis's, feeling his face flush even warmer.
France gave a flick of his wrist, brushing past the Russian to let himself into his home. "I will 'elp you.." he chimed, "mais you will not need to bring much, I 'ave already prepared everyzing for us."
Ivan's fingers fiddled around his sunflower, turning to curiously watch Francis as he went. This was still a surprise, and his mind still had an influx of questions clouding him, though he didn't bring them to voice just yet. He hadn't even left his home yet and he was rather nervous, overcome with that airy butterfly feeling, and overall anxiety that he was picked of all people – or so he hoped – to be visiting such a foreign place, a casual visit, for the first time in ages.
Francis had been planning this for a while. Perhaps he did have eyes for everybody, but it was easy for him to detect who needed someone more than another did, and he couldn't possibly allow a lonesome nation to go untreated. Ivan was easy to remember throughout history; Francis could remember him as a younger Empire, how fascinated the Russian nation and its royalty was in his French language and culture. Keeping an eye on the nation since then, through meetings and each of the times the larger man has asked him for advice, there was something intriguing behind the smiling barrier that Francis knew not to let go of.
He wanted the Russian to feel important and needed, as easy as that was to see deprived from the man; even if Ivan didn't make an effort to show it, Francis was doing his best to figure him out. And in a conceited mind such as his own, he knew to take the other into his hands, to take him in as his own over time, and give him just the care he needed before anyone else could.
He had the Champ de Mars cleared out for just them that night, a treat to dinner in the Eiffel Tower that was entirely of his expense. The sun was setting to layers of lavender and rosy twilight sky, clearing the path for a blanket of night and the sprinkle of stars scattering across its black surface, drawing further attention to the show of lights the Eiffel gave off. The structure glowed with glittering lights of amber and gold, stretching out to the skies and showing off its sheer flashing beauty to all corners of the capital.
The two stood just outside of it after dinner, Ivan's head craned up at an angle to watch this display in awe, the twinkle of gold light reflecting in widened lavender eyes.
While Francis had seen this light show several times, it still captured his attention as well, shining in bright sequence with his pride – though it had been a while since he had someone to enjoy the show with. Occasionally his gaze wandered over to the Russian's, lips curling a smile to see how enwrapped he was, the fascination shown on a curious pale face. The Frenchman leaned a hand down to capture Ivan's, pulling the Russian's hand out of his pocket.
Ivan's focus blinked away from the Tower now, focusing first on Francis's face and then to where their fingers connected. France's hand was warmed against his rather cooler skin, and the other was beginning to pull him closer to the tower. He went along with it, his heart growing anxious again as the two came to a stop just underneath the Eiffel; how strange it was to look up and see the structure from this angle, though the view wasn't entirely Francis's intention.
He kept their hands joined, free hand moving inward to rest itself upon Ivan's waist, awaiting for him to take the next move. Another blush quickly settled upon the taller man's face, timid underneath the touch of a palm on his hip, though he took the hint to rest his hand on Francis's shoulder next.
"Surely you remember 'ow to do zis," Francis chimed, taking a swift step backward and guiding the Russian along with him.
Ivan almost stumbled, though in his embarrassment he was quick to settle himself, fishing through a flustered mind to brush up on what he remembered of dancing. He was adept at several styles of dance, yet it had been a while since any have been done with a partner.. nevertheless he was quick to regain his fluidity, moving in tune with each graceful move Francis made.
"Do you think I woult forget?" A small smile came with Ivan's reply, pale fingers curling gently around the shorter man's shoulder, glancing down to watch their movements. He was still careful not to take a wrong step, especially not one on the other man's feet – it felt as if he was the one being lead in this dance, which only made it more embarrassing with his clearly larger size.
Francis's own fingers were brushing carefully along the fellow nation's side, watching him in admiration as they went. "Per'aps I wanted to test you," he hummed, smile only growing at each of the man's reactions. "Just making sure you aren't getting rusty."
Ivan let out a little huff, though he made no effort to gain a controlling lead in the waltzing; he rather admired the way France danced, as he always has. Francis was so gentle in his movements, and Ivan wouldn't want to be the one to ruin that.
The dance went on for what seemed to be hours, until it seemed as if all that was left in the world was this little spot, this spot here in Paris underneath the Eiffel Tower. Their fingers were interweaved, sharing each other's warmth against the rather cool night air that chilled them, as if only giving them an excuse to stay closer. A silence ensued as they watched each other, silently appreciating the way one another danced, until a childish voice finally asked out.
"Why dit you brink me here?" Ivan paused, giving a sort of forlorn smile to his partner. "To do all off this.. just for me."
Francis gave an abrupt tug, interrupting their streak of graceful dancing to send Ivan stumbling a step forward into him. His arm tightened around the man's waist to keep him steady, hands still held as sapphire blues stared into amethyst. "Parce que," he purred, bumping the tip of his nose against Ivan's, "If zere is anyone I would want to show my beautiful capital to, c'est toi."
The French Ivan had learned decades back was indeed rusty, though he remembered enough to process just what Francis was telling him. His head ducked down and shook in disbelief, cheeks pooled with pink again, though any efforts to protest were immediately halted.
"Before you deny it, no need to try~" Francis pressed his lips quickly to the other pair, arms snaking around Ivan's shoulders to rest his head down on the man's shoulder. "You deserve zis more zan anyone else I know. All of zose ozer nations don't give you ze time of day, what should I 'ave to do wiz zem~? I should say it is a good zing zey all leave you be, zat only gives me ze chance to 'ave you all for my own."
Ivan swallowed upon hearing this, hesitantly wrapping his arms back around the man's lower waist. His head inclined to lean gently against Francis's own, words caught in his throat without a way to get out, so he remained quiet to all of that.. Francis didn't mind, for he knew his words hit close to home. The taller man was staring blankly out ahead of them, trying to force back the warm tears in his eyes, though appreciation was shown in his mere keeping Francis close to him. Perhaps it was the warmth of the Frenchman's body, though through the chill of the air it did something to warm him more than just on the outside.
Their dancing stretched on through the night, even if it lost its starting flare – though it seemed as if they'd never gotten exhausted, never gotten tired of being in each other's presence. Francis showed the other nation the rest of his capital the next day, spoiling him perhaps more than necessary and more than he often spoiled himself. It was unheard of from him, though he wanted to do what he could to show his affection, as he did with those that were more than just a simple fling.
The visit lasted a couple more days before the two parted, and Russia had to return home to his own business.
The exquisite coat was shed and draped upon its rightful hanger, fingers moving sprucely to undo the tie from around his neck, and then up to pull off his hairtie and let locks of gold fall to his shoulders. Francis sat down upon the edge of his bed, pushing himself back to lie on his back, sapphire hues finding the ceiling as a relaxed exhale let loose. Now his house had fallen relatively quiet, though he didn't put up any signs of minding.
He knew that Ivan would be in the same situation out there, perhaps even asleep by now.. though finally the Frenchman could let rest the thought that the Russian could finally feel something other than loneliness, and that out there on his own he could finally spend his days happy, until they'd meet again.