Guys, please don't ask about this story. I was bored, and I wanted to write some kind of Rochu thing, and my chocolate-deprived mind created this. I'm in Ireland at the moment (BEST COUNTRY EVER YEAH!) and I don't have any internet, so I'm writing a lot. I will probably upload like crazy when I get my internet back. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this random, cheesy RoChu fic.

x Rachel


He had completely changed his life.

It was him. Admittedly Russia hadn't had a perfectly easy existence before him, but no nation had. But now he was in the Russian's life, everything was so much more complicated, so much harder, but he seemed to make it all worth it. He had come along and turned everything upside down, until all Russia lived for was him.

China. Just his name made Russia shiver, just thinking about him made him hungry for the nation; he was the best thing that had ever happened to him, for sure. Most of the time, the other nations were scared of Russia, intimidated by his presence, but China was never like that. He seemed to be able to see the Russia behind the mask, the suffering, sad side of Russia rather than the strong, intimidating side that he showed to everyone else. He was always able to comfort the nation, he knew what he was feeling even when he covered it up as best as he could.

Russia was generally cold, it was true. He had been betrayed, hurt and abandoned so many times in the past that he locked up his heart to avoid being hurt any more. He let his anger bubble up instead, abandoning every good feeling in a desperate attempt to focus only on building his country back to its former glory. But China… China was different. Whenever China was around, Russia forgot everything. Everything he had worked for, everything he had built up to; it was meaningless. What was life, what was existence without China? He let down his guard completely whenever the Asian was with him, wanting nothing but his companion in his arms.

He remembered back to their first kiss, the first taste he'd ever got of China.

"Ivan, do you have flour?"

He had invited all of the allies back to his house in order to celebrate their latest success in the war. England was talking about his part in the war, while France sat shamefaced on the couch, perfectly aware of the fact that if he tried to feel England up, he could be kicked out of the house. Having surrendered to the Axis Powers, France was there for the sole reason that he had tagged along. America was wandering around the house, chatting to Lithuania, who was excited to see his old boss again.

He and China were in the kitchen. China was cooking, under his request ("I'm very sorry, aru, but I can't stand England's, America's or your cooking, and France does make snails sometimes…") and Russia was leaning against the fridge, watching him. He looked so beautiful just buzzing around the kitchen, chatting happily to Russia, wearing a dark red apron, his hair tied back into its usual ponytail. Russia was watching him intently, taking in every little detail.

"Russia! Do you have flour, aru?" said China again, waving his hand in front of the Russian's face, grinning. It was the grin that did it.

Russia reached out and grabbed China's wrist, surprising the smaller nation.

"Wha-," he began, before he was silenced by Russia's lips over his.

The moment Russia pressed his lips up against the Asian's, he knew it was a bad idea. Because there was no way he was ever backing off now. China tasted of spices and sugar, and something else that Russia couldn't put his finger on, but it was unexplainably China. He tasted fantastic. And after a few seconds, he began to kiss back.

That drove Russia mad. He tightened his hold on China, letting go of his wrists and pulling him closer, his arms encircling his waist, eager to feel more of the man against him. China's arms wrapped themselves around Russia's neck, and Russia felt a timid tongue against his bottom lip. He laughed inwardly, and opened his mouth, slipping his own tongue into the Asian's mouth and pushing him against the fridge, tasting every bit of his new-found territory as the two almost moulded together.

"Bloody hell! What are you two doing?"

"I zink it's pretty obvious what they're doing, Angleterre."

"Shut up, frog!"

"Dudes, what are you- WHAT?"

Russia and China sprang apart and looked over at the door. In the doorway stood an open-mouthed America, who had dropped his coffee cup on the floor; next to him stood a wide-eyed England, who was standing right next to a winking France, and behind all three was Lithuania, who looked even more stunned than America. China went bright pink, and Russia shifted about awkwardly on his feet. This was going to be hard to explain…

Russia grinned just thinking about it. He had eventually had to tell the others about what had happened, but when he did, it was okay; he was with China by then.

He remembered back to the one World Meeting they had interrupted then, a few weeks after they had become a couple.

Russia grinned over at China in the taxi, who was sitting with his arms folded, huffing. Russia had said something silly and China had gone all stiff, refusing to talk to him. The car stopped, and Russia poked China gently in the arm. He didn't move.

"I'm not setting a foot on the ground, aru, until you apologise to me," he said, pouting. He looked so cute when he pouted.

Russia chuckled, and, grabbing China, pulled him out of the car and into his arms, so he was carrying him bridal-style. The task was nothing to the great tall Russian, but China looked amazed.

"Aiya! What are you doing, aru?" he protested, and Russia held him closer.

"You said you wouldn't set a foot on the ground," said Russia, smiling happily. "You didn't say anything about coming in without touching the ground, so this is fine, da?" China grumbled, yelled and struggled.

They burst into the meeting hall, China still kicking and Russia still holding on tight to him. They got a few looks from across the room, in particular from a confused-looking Japan, wanting to know what on earth his brother was doing being carried into a meeting by the Russian. Eventually, they reached their seats, and Russia sat China down, and bent over to kiss him on the lips, causing the whole room to whistle and yell.

Hmm, Russia thought. Perhaps I should do this more often…

Russia smiled thinking back to the time. Yes, he and China had had good times together. He loved being around the Asian, whether he was being childish, peaceful, moody, angry, quiet or clingy. The last one was Russia's favourite. Whenever China was feeling clingy, he would hang around Russia all day until they were left alone, and then they'd spend the entire night in each other's arms. When China was being clingy he would hug Russia tighter, kiss him stronger, talk to him in a voice that made Russia want to jump on top of the man. It was bewitching.

China had no idea about the control he had over Russia. Russia was so completely besotted with him that he would have sacrificed himself if only to keep China safe. China only had to say, and Russia would drop everything to trail after him, like a puppy to its master. China didn't know it, but Russia would do anything, everything to make him happy. Seeing his lover smile was the best moment of Russia's day.

Russia remembered when he had stayed over at China's a few days ago, and he had been acting particularly childish. He hated to say it, but he did enjoy how China treated him when he acted clingy.

"Ya-o!" Russia whined. "Tell me again!"

"I love you, aru," China said, beginning to sound slightly agitated.

"How much?" he pestered, pulling China to him. China pushed away.

"Aiya! Ivan, what is wrong with you tonight?" he yelled, putting his hands on his hips, angry.

"I'm sorry," Russia apologised, hanging his hand. "I was just worried, that's all. You could have any country you wanted, and you know that, but you chose me. I wouldn't take anyone other than you, and I just feel that I need to check you feel the same sometimes, da?"

China's expression softened. "Came over here, aru," he whispered, and Russia obliged. China then took the taller nation's hand and held it to his chest, just above his heart. Russia could feel the delicate, steady heartbeat underneath his fingers, and he looked down into his lover's eyes, as if to say, 'I don't understand'. China smiled.

"You feel that, Ivan?" he said, and Russia nodded.

"It's yours," he said, his face perfectly sincere. "My heart no longer belongs to me. It belongs to you now." He took his own hand and placed it on the Russian's broad chest, feeling Russia's thumping heart. "And if you love me enough, then this belongs to me."

Russia nodded, finally understanding. "It always will."

Russia meant it too. He loved China more than anything. He was his sole reason for living now; without him life had no meaning. He loved his silky hair, his gentle eyes, his sweet, careless smile that made Russia's heart do freaking somersaults; everything about China was perfect, effortlessly beautiful. No. Everything about his China.

At that moment China entered through the door and came into the room, wearing one of his beautiful traditional robes. It was red and gold, and was buttoned up with tassels, the Chinese flag printed onto the sleeve. He was holding a black notebook in his hand, but it was knocked out of his grasp as he was swallowed up in a huge hug from the Russian. Russia hugged China tightly, not wanting to let go.

"Ivan, what's with the greeting, aru?" chuckled China, beaming and hugging his lover back.

"I missed you, when you were in London," mumbled Russia, running his fingers through China's silky soft hair, pulling it out of its ponytail. China made a happy little noise, and snuggled into Russia, burying his head in his chest.

"I'm sorry. I had to meet up with England; we were sorting out arrangements for some silly European mess they're having, aru. Something about England's little sister and Greece, and a few other countries getting themselves into financial trouble. Well, I ran him through communism again, aru, just to check, but he won't have any of it, and th-," he was cut off as Russia pressed his lips against the Asian's, hungry to taste his little lover again, and China moaned, forgetting his speech, and pulled Russia closer to him. Whenever the two countries touched lips, it sent some kind of electrical spark through the two; they both loved the feeling more than any other.

Russia pushed China onto the bed, still kissing him. He had his China back. All was well.


Hmm. That didn't actually turn out as I wanted it to… basically just a bunch of emotions on a page. It wasn't meant to be this long though, it was actually meant to be really short, but ah well; I'll do better next time.

Review!