It was queer, in the least, to be in a house with only the Russian's company to share, although Kiku had no doubts whatsoever that the entire thing was a plot allowing Ivan unrequited access to him. Not surprisingly, it had worked out wonderfully for the Russian. In fact he seemed quite pleased, as though he were holding back some great secret, or attempting to gain control of some sort of cypher, an enigma that was itching to worm its way out of his secretive and slip through the contours of his lips, if only for the sake of revealing this so confidential information. This did not, of course, bide well for the shorter of the two. The two were now sitting silently at a sleek wooden dinner table, eating some surprisingly delicious meal the other had prepared, one or two candles lit and stationed in the center of the table. Romantic? Possibly, but not yet.
Ivan had since shed his beloved soviet coat, as it was hanging over the arm of a chair in the living area, and was clad in no more than his typical dark green work pants and a lose fitting long sleeved black shirt, making his strangely pale hair look slightly out of place, yet still as though this picture of pure perfection would be lacking somewhat if it were not there. His hair itself was a bit longer than usual, suggesting that he hadn't been to a barber shop in at least several weeks. It hung in light fringes around the base of his neck in the back, and framed his already pale face with and even lighter dusting of bangs around his cheeks and forehead. Kiku's dull brown hues traveled quickly from Russia's face, to the base of the other's throat, and then back, as he swallowed another morsel of food, and his subtle Adams apple bobbed with the effort of downing the piece. Japan, hoping he hadn't been noticed observing the Russian, and with embarrassment, ducked his head, taking another bite of the food now becoming cold on his plate.
Kiku wasn't the only one being distracted from the meal however, as Ivan was finding it more and more difficult to maintain his inner pleasure at the situation. He was indeed happy with the direction in which things were heading in at the moment. A gleeful smile was threateningly close to bursting from within. And what with the obvious blush on the other's face, and the fact that he had hardly touched the food on his plate, it was quite clear that he was just as flustered with the situation as Ivan was. Though, the Russian's blush was a great deal lighter, and nearly undetectable on his already pale cheeks. The latter of the two, who had just finished the small amount of food left on his plate, stood quietly from his spot at the table, grasping the pale and empty plate and turning to take it into the kitchen.
Aside from the sound of Japan's silverware scraping against his plate, and the running water echoing through the kitchen as Ivan rinsed off his dishes, the house remained eerily quiet between the two, the spark of inspiration for a conversation altogether nonexistent. It took a mere few moments for things to become awkward, for one Japanese man at least, and, attempting to bring forth some side chatter, he cleared his throat and attempted a question. As much as it pained him to do so. "Ivan-san, why am I here?" There was no response, as expected. It was foolish to believe even for a fraction of a second that the taller man would give him any type of substantial explanation. It was worth a try.
However, just as the dark haired man was preparing to stand from the table, with the intent of carrying his plate to the sink as well, it would have been rude not to wash his own plate, the Russian's lower, and thickly accented voice echoed through the house. "I was going to tell you while we were hiking, however, you became too exhausted to listen. I was hoping to spend some time with you." The Japanese was quite certain that his face had turned four separate and nearly impossible shades of red in that moment. If the man had simply wanted to spend a bit of quality time with japan, then all he really needed to do was request it.
With a slight sigh, accompanied by the futile attempt to will away the burning red ever - present on his cheeks, Kiku made his quiet way into the kitchen. A sideways glance was cast to his form as he began running his dish under the stream of water spouting from the faucet for a short period of time, before it was silently returned to its previous destination. It wasn't as though Russia himself was awkward, nor was Japan, in all honesty, it was more of the fact that neither of the two had the will to initiate a conversation. Russia possessed the ominous and unnatural aura of intimidation, where as Japan was too hopelessly uncreative when it came to small talk. They simply were not apt in the category of speech. Japan, after reaching across the sink to grasp the bottle, squirted a bit of soap onto his palm before spreading it over the yellow foam of the sponge and beginning to scrub away the tiny bits of food clinging to the smooth porcelain. Sooner than Japan thought was necessary, they had both finished cleaning their dishes, and Russia reached to turn off the water still pouring into the sink. Japan was quite short, more than the other had thought previously, The fringes of dark hair laying neatly on the top of his head, barely surpassed the Russian's broad shoulders. Odd, Ivan thought, that he should like a man so short. Well, it would be odd if Ivan didn't find the man's height, or lack thereof, endearing.
Quickly, as though he believed that Japan was hoing to run or some other such nonsense, Russia gingerly circled an arm around the shorter man's shoulders. And despite all previous assumptions that the man was going to bolt, or squirm away from the russian's light grasp, Japan instead resorted to leaning against the taller frame beside him. He would never come to terms with this truth, but Ivan had turned and undeniable shade of pink. And for a few moments, before either of the two even realized the ridiculousness of standing in front of the sink in silence, they simply stood there in peace, Japan slowly being consumed by the unruley, and admittedly pleasant fuzzy warmth that filled his chest, and Russia once again finding it difficult to maintain his sheer relief and pleasure with the situation that they were in.
Dinner had definitely been a success.
