Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia. Not a bit of it.
Warnings: Some swearing
Many thanks to Sweet-And-Simple, who was the beta for this chapter!
Also, thanks to the person who so kindly reviewed the last chapter as well (and complimented it)! And those that either put this story on their story alerts or added it as a favorite. Makes me happy to see!
Russia poured himself a glass of vodka from the bottle that had been brought up for him, settling into the chair of his suite. He'd made a call back home and was told that another shipment of clothes his size would be sent to Italy for his stay, but the person he had talked to had been unsure of when they would arrive. A little disheartened at the news, he had gone out that morning to find a temporary change of clothes and had found a few, even though they weren't of his usual style.
Afterwards, he had found breakfast at a café near the hotel and enjoyed the warmer-than-current-Russia Italian morning while he quietly sipped black coffee without anything added. He then ate a delicious, fresh pastry that he felt dismayed he later couldn't remember the name of.
When he was done with breakfast, he had walked around the area a little more before he went back to his hotel and responded to the calls on his cell phone from his government that he had missed while out.
A little further in the afternoon, close to the time most people would start entertaining the thought of lunch, Russia decided that it might be a good idea to go on a sort of sight-seeing self-tour of Genoa. He changed into the long-sleeved shirt he had bought and draped his scarf around his neck, his neck feeling bare and exposed without it. He then took one last drink of his vodka and capped the bottle before putting it away for later use, grabbed his coat and wallet (since it was a little bit colder today than it was yesterday), and headed out.
After perhaps an hour or so of walking around the large city – admiring it for all of its unique sights, sounds and smells, but truthfully feeling rather lost – he came to what looked like a nice restaurant and gained a table to sit down. He set his coat aside and ordered a glass of water as he was brought the menu. Though he didn't consider himself fluent in Italian, he had spent enough time around the Italians to learn some of the language.
"Rus-Ivan! Ve, caught myself before I could give us away! What a surprise to see you here!"
Russia looked up from his menu to see Italy walking up to him, the smaller nation seeming to be smiling with genuine happiness. It was an unexpected change from the attitude Italy had shown around him just yesterday, though Russia couldn't help but let a very small one form on his own lips at the sight.
"Da, Feliciano. Good afternoon." Russia said in greeting. A few other people at nearby tables looked at the two of them for conversing in a language that certainly wasn't Italian—or anything else, for that matter – but they soon went back to their own meals.
"Ve, were you looking around the city? Genoa's beautiful, isn't it? How long are you staying? I can show you around a little," Italy continued on, sitting himself down on a chair across from Russia.
"Da, it is a beautiful place…" Russia said, "I was hoping to spend at least a week here."
"Ah, that's plenty of time for me to show you around then! There are a lot of places to see!" Italy replied. Though in the back of his mind he was a little unnerved at the prospect of Russia being there for an entire week. At the same time he was a little excited. Here was his chance to get to know the other nation a little better, and in turn show the larger nation some of the city's (and nation's) best qualities.
"Are there?" Russia asked. He knew there were, but wanted to keep the conversation going. As he had gotten slightly lost, he only had only seen slight glimpses of some of the bigger tourist attractions that his own people talked about.
"Mmhm! Lots!" Italy exclaimed, throwing his hands wide as if to accentuate how many sites there were, "I can show you a few after lunch. Have you had polenta before? It's really good at this restaurant! With spices and onions and veal! It's not a popular dish around here, but it's very nice!"
Russia thought for a moment. "I think I've had it before. It's like a corn paste, da?"
Italy nodded. "Ve, a little bit like that. But it's really good here."
Russia nodded and smiled. "I didn't like it so much the last time I had it, but I'll try it here since you recommend it."
Italy's confidence rose a bit with the smile and words, but he tried not to show it. "Okay," he said. The two of them ordered the same meal when the waitress came by. Italy showered the girl with compliments in Italian and asked if she was free later. The waitress politely declined, but smiled, thanked Italy for the compliments and went back inside with their orders.
Russia watched her leave and then turned back to Italy.
"Ve, Ivan, aren't you warm in that scarf, by the way?" Italy asked. "It's supposed to go up to around fifteen degrees today."
Russia smiled again. "I am a little, but I don't feel quite right without it."
"Really?" Italy asked curiously. "Is it special to you? Like I have this," he pulled out a chain necklace with a smaller version of Germany's own cross emblem except without the black center, "that Ludwig, gave me during the second world war when we became allies again. It feels weird having it off because I've had it for so long."
Russia nodded, and smiled fondly as he brought a hand up to touch the scarf on his neck. Yes, he was definitely starting to envy the strong friendship the other two nations had. The two of them acted as if they were family, but Italy and Germany weren't even related. "Yes, it is a little like that. My sister made it for me a long time ago."
"I see." Italy responded. "That was nice of her to do that for you."
He didn't want to press any more in case the memory wasn't as happy as his own, knowing a little bit about Russia's history. To change the topic to something lighter, Italy then went on to ramble about some of the places he wanted to show Ivan before the food came.
When the food did come, the two of them sat silently as they ate. Russia remarked that he thought the restaurant's food was good and thanked Italy for the recommendation.
That raised Italy's confidence a little, seeing another thing about the country of Italy he knew for certain the Russian liked besides pasta.
"Ve, so you want to do some sight-seeing after this?" Italy suggested as they finished eating.
Russia nodded. "Da, that sounds fine."
Italy grinned and cheered. Russia wanted to laugh at the reaction, though he suppressed the urge and simply smiled instead. He wasn't used to being as open as Italy was with outward expression. The taller nation paid the bill for the both of them (Italy thanking him for lunch, giving Russia the sneaking suspicion that his paying for the meal was partly pre-plotted when the other nation had ordered lunch with him), grabbed his coat, and then left the restaurant tailing Italy.
Every once in a while the two would stop and look at a piece of architecture, Italy explaining its history and significance. They then came to the Piazza de Ferrari and stopped by the fountain to view the surrounding area, Italy once again explaining the significance of certain buildings surrounding it. In the middle of Italy talking, Russia's phone suddenly rang.
"Hold on a moment," Russia said, looking at the number. The call wasn't from his government- the exact number unrecognizable to him- but it could be something of equal importance. Italy shook his head, told Russia he didn't mind, and went silent while the other man talked.
"Hello? Da, I am Braginsky. It… Say that again, slower. Really? Ah, well, thank you for calling. Da, bye," Russia said into the phone, glad that he knew enough Italian to understand the basis of what had been said and how to reply. He then hung up, looking over at a concerned Italy. "It seems the floor my hotel room was on caught fire."
Italy looked at him in surprise. "Are your things alright?" he asked.
"Da, except for my favorite vodka and the clothes I had on yesterday. My change of clothes I'd had shipped over from my house went mysteriously missing last night when I checked in, so I can't assume they're alright, but everything else I need is in this coat," Russia replied, shifting his coat in his hands and giving it a small pat.
Italy hummed in response, still concerned. He had a suspicion of who had been doing this, with the recent increase in the mafia presence in his half of the country, but he wasn't certain yet. However, if it was who he thought it was, then any moment now…
Italy's phone rang.
Bringing it out from his pocket, Italy looked from the number over to Russia and then put it back, not answering. He'd been right, not that he was going to tell his findings to Russia until the timing was better. But he knew that it would only strain relations with Russia if he let Russia start to think he wasn't welcome here, all because his brother was being overprotective. The only way he could think of to keep a barrier between his brother and Russia was let the bigger nation stay at his personal house, even when he knew Germany wouldn't be happy with him. However, Germany would come to understand once he recognized the situation… or so he hoped.
"Ve, d-do you have anywhere to go? You're welcome to come to my place if you don't have another hotel to go to… Germany's there, but I don't think he'll mind. We have an extra room." His voice, though nervous, sounded welcoming.
Russia looked over at Italy with slight surprise, not used to offers like that. Most nations would have left Russia to find his own place to stay at in this situation; not invite him over to their personal house.
"You wouldn't mind?" Russia asked. Italy shook his head. Surprisingly, within the time of the sight-seeing trip and the restaurant, the smaller nation found he didn't mind as much anymore as he might have in the beginning.
"I think I'd like to if you really don't mind, da." Russia said, smiling softly.
"I really don't." Italy said, shaking his head again enthusiastically.
Sometime later, Russia was following Italy back. Italy was on the phone with Germany.
"Please, please, please Ludwig? He doesn't have anywhere to go," Italy said into the phone, frowning, sounding very much like a child who'd found an abandoned animal and was bringing it to their parents in an effort to keep it. Even Russia had heard Germany's surprised shout when Italy had mentioned Russia would be staying over and the panicked reasoning over why not. It had been loud enough that Italy had been forced to move the phone a small distance from his ear until the militaristic nation was finished.
"No, he doesn't. His hotel floor was burned down. Be reasonable. Of course he hasn't found a new place yet." Italy continued. Russia imagined that with the pause, Germany was at least contemplating the idea now. And then he heard a buzz on the phone to signal the other nation had reached a decision. Italy gave a wide grin. "Ve, okay, he's only staying until he can find another hotel. Yes, I promise that's the case. Ve, thank you, Ludwig! You're wonderful! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Italy exclaimed, an extra bounce in his step. "Okay, I'll see you soon, then, bye!" Italy then hung up and turned around to face Russia.
"See? He said it's alright until you find another hotel." Italy said, though thinking on how he would talk to Germany later to let Russia stay a while longer.
"That's good to hear. I'll do my best to find another hotel quickly, da." Russia said with a nod, thinking the conversation sounded like Germany hadn't been truly won over with the idea, but it was fine with him. A day was all he needed, and then he'd find a new place to stay at. St. Petersburg was still deathly cold to go back to at the moment. After Italy's call, Russia had called his government to do an emergency re-routing of his clothes back to his house since he didn't know where he'd be staying afterwards, and they'd assured him it would be done.
"Oh, there's one last place I want you to see! One of my favorites!" Italy suddenly said, looking up at Russia happily after the other nation's call was finished. "I think you'll like it, it's really pretty!"
Russia nodded, unsure of what Italy was talking about. Besides, he wasn't sure what else he was going to do with his time today. "Alright, we can go, da."
Italy grinned, and grabbed him by the elbow. "Ve, this way!"
An image crossed Russia's mind of how many people had grabbed him by the elbow, rarely to take him anywhere safe and without pain. Not many had dared to handle him like that since he was able to break away from the Khanate and had started building himself up as a nation. It wasn't until he'd gained more countries under his control that someone had grabbed him in that location again, either by mistake or on purpose. The countries under his command had each learned their lessons about it well enough when they did so that they usually didn't do it again. Even China had always been cautious about the area when Russia gave in to letting the other nation touch him.
But he couldn't punish Italy for it, something in his mind telling him 'Wrong!' in big, capital letters. Not Italy. With another nation, he'd have no trouble smashing them into a nearby wall and in fact enjoying their reaction to him afterward. But he couldn't do it with Italy. There would be large repercussions if he did, and not just simply concerning his ties with the smaller nation. He needed to hold himself back.
"Don't grab me there," he said harshly. In a rougher manner than he had probably intended, he broke his elbow away from Italy's grasp and gave Italy a small, slightly dangerous glare. His eyes still held some warmth to them, but his expression warned the smaller nation about pressuring him on the reasoning for his actions.
"Ve, Russia…? Are you okay?" Italy asked quietly and in slight surprise, looking up at Russia. He shivered at he stared into the other's chilling, violet eyes. They were as solid and cold as stone, but yet at the same time warmer than he expected. Russia refused to answer, his facial expression unwavering.
"Do you… not want to go?" Italy asked quietly.
This seemed to break Russia from his previous expression, the muscles around his jaw softening by a little bit. He then shook his head, plastering on a smile for Italy even while he was still a little shaken from Italy's touch. "No, I would still like to go. Just lead the way, da," he said, his voice a little softer than his normal tone.
Italy nodded, smiling even though he kept a bit of concern on his face. "Okay. Ve, this way then," he said, pointing in the direction he wanted to go and then running off, checking to see if Russia was following; he was relieved to see that he was.
After a little while of walking quietly, Russia much more content to just stick by Italy's side than to wander off on his own, the two of them arrived at the Villa Durazzo-Pallavicini.
Russia smiled. "It's lovely." He admired the green of the place, as well as the ponds and small architecture. There were few things like this in his home.
The two of them spent quite a bit of time there before deciding to go back to Italy's house. Italy looked back up at Russia's face, noticed the previous tension that was there had dissipated a little, and smiled, happier that he'd made Russia's eyes shine a little brighter—for the sake of his safety, if nothing else.
On their way over to Italy's, Russia heard the sound of running feet and looked over to see Romano hastily making his way over. "Feli, I've been trying to call you all day! What've you been… doing…? Why is that vodka-bastard here?" he cried out, hesitating in his speech when he saw the tall Russian standing behind his brother and proceeded to point at Ivan.
"Ve, ciao, Lovi!" Italy said, giving his brother a bright smile. "He's coming home with me for a bit, since his hotel partly burned down, and even his spare clothes got stolen."
"Dammit, Feli, are you crazy? This guy is… is…" Romano exclaimed, looking back and forth between Russia and his brother before seeming to back down a little.
Romano shifted his feet where he stood and muttered that Russia's situation did sound unfortunate, his arms defiantly crossed. He didn't meet the taller nation's gaze, averting his eyes. 'He knows something about what happened to me, doesn't he?' Russia thought amusedly to himself.
"Hello, Lovino," Russia said, giving the older Italy a smile and placing a firm hand on Romano's shoulder. "You wouldn't happen to know where my spare change of clothes is, would you?"
"I-I don't know where your damn clothes are! And why should I?" Romano said impatiently and somewhat hurriedly, shoving Russia's hand off him and stepping to the side a little ways, closer to his brother, but this time daring to look Russia in the eye. Russia raised his eyebrows and Romano shrank back in response, the blond having become more intimidating than what could possibly be handled with just the simple change in expression.
"Ve, fratello, don't hide things from Ivan!" the younger Italy nervously told Romano who continued to stare at Russia like he'd suddenly produced his pipe on him, which Russia might have had it not been with his spare change of clothes. He'd been able to use his sense from years of being with Romano that the southern half of Italy was keeping something a secret about the clothes and didn't want the situation to end badly for his older brother. For what should have been the height of the day, the air was a little colder than usual. Russia only continued to smile back, folding his arms across his chest.
"I-I-I swear I didn't take them, damn it! Maybe it was the mafia! I-I'll ask them about it, okay, b-bastard?" Romano said, addressing Russia though again refusing to look at the large nation.
The air suddenly warmed up a little.
"I'll hold you to that Lovino," Russia said, still smiling, "And you really should stop calling me a bastard, da. I'm not fond of it."
"I…I…B-ah!" Romano sputtered out. "Feli, I'll just… stay with you until you're home. So you're safe from… from... all the other bastards out there."
"Okay," the younger Italy replied. Russia ended up following the both of them to get a taxi. The ride out of the downtown area of Genoa was short but tense, none of the three nations speaking to each other aside from the two brothers making occasional small talk. The north half of Italy felt relieved when the taxi finally arrived at his house.
"Now that I've seen you home, I've gotta go back now, Feli. I'll call you later, okay?" Romano said once all three had gotten out of the taxi. The two brothers exchanged a short goodbye before Romano began to walk off.
"Lovino, don't forget my clothes, hm? I'd really like to have them back." Russia called after Romano, though Romano only responded by breaking into a run, not giving the scary nation so much as a glance back.
Italy sighed. "He'll probably find them," he assured Russia.
Russia nodded confidently. "I'm sure he will, da."
"Feliciano!" Germany called out, standing over at Italy's house as the two walked over, "I thought I heard you." Germany turned to Russia and inclined his head slightly. "Ivan, it's good to have you here."
'Of course it is for you.' Russia mused to himself somewhat sarcastically—knowing how Germany didn't particularly enjoy his company most of the time, but nodded. "Ludwig, it's good to see you."
"Ve, Ivan, come on in," Italy said happily, instantly bringing the mood up a notch simply with his own energy. He followed Germany back in, and then held the door open for Russia. Russia smiled and walked inside, shutting the door behind him.
"I'll show you where your room and everything is, Russia," Italy said and headed towards the stairs, switching back to the country's official name once they were in private. Russia gave Germany a final, contemplative glance, and then followed.
As Russia had thought when he first came to the house, the stairs came up to a hallway that curved around them, the three rooms situated next to each other with what looked like another single, large bathroom. Italy walked over to the last room down the hall. "This room's yours." He said, opening the door to let Russia see inside. The room was medium-sized, not small but not very large. On one wall was a large window where he could see the street below, with the bed beneath it. Against the other wall were a dresser and a desk that had several papers scattered around on top. Not much seemed to have been done with the room otherwise, but it looked comfortable at least.
"Is it okay?" Italy asked, breaking the silence that had been created by Russia looking around the room. Russia looked back towards Italy and smiled.
"Da, it's okay." Russia said. He looked to his feet as an orange tabby cat threaded its way through them.
"Ah, Gino!" Italy exclaimed, picking up the cat- who didn't appear to be happy with being taken away from the new person he'd been sniffing. "Sorry about him, he likes to just do as he pleases sometimes…"
Russia shook his head. "I don't mind. I have a cat at home too."
"Really?" Italy asked, "I didn't know!"
Russia smiled, though a little sadly as if in remembrance. "He's good company." 'Good company when I'm alone in the house,' Russia thought, 'when everyone else has left.'
Italy smiled as well, feeling more comfortable at putting Gino down who proceeded to trot off down the hallway in a huff as soon as he hit the ground. "Ve, cats usually are." He agreed. "Now that you're here, do you want something to drink?"
Russia shook his head. "No, I'm fine."
Italy nodded. "Okay. Well, I'll be just downstairs then if you need anything."
Russia nodded and watched as Italy left before sitting on his bed and letting out a sigh, wondering what his next plan of action was. He surprised himself by thinking on how he wanted to stay with Italy in his house. Why? Simply to be around a nation who was the exact opposite of what he was? He could go to Spain for that. But even Spain wouldn't seem quite the same. Italy was… special, somehow.
Russia took off his boots and lied down on his bed. He halted his thoughts about Italy before they went too far and found his eyes drooping.
"Russia, dinner is almost ready! Germany made the food tonight!" Italy said, poking his head in to see Russia sound asleep. Russia looks peaceful, he thought, without worry – like a child's face. He decided it would be best not to disturb him, and went into the other room to grab an extra blanket. He placed it over Russia's form. Italy mused that though the blanket covered him, the bed was a little small. Luckily, Russia had obviously not minded. Italy smiled and knelt down next to Russia to examine his face more closely, memorizing it for a moment. He then got up and left the room, shutting the door as softly as he could.
"Is Russia not coming?" Germany asked when Italy came down the stairs without the third nation. Italy simply smiled and shook his head; Germany noticed how calmly content Italy was, instead of the bounciness Italy had expressed going up to the second floor. Did something happen?
"He's asleep," Italy simply supplied and Germany nodded, forming an "ah" with his mouth, understanding.
"Well, dinner's ready. I'll put some in the fridge for Russia in case he wants some later," Germany replied without much more thought on the matter, making up plates and setting them on the table.
"Okay, thank you Germany," Italy said, and with a bigger smile exclaimed, "Ve, it looks good!"
Germany smiled softly, and the two of them sat down to eat.
Research notes!
For those who don't remember about the conversion between Celcius and Fahrenheit... Celcius is the temperature in Fahrenheit, minus 32 and divided by 1.8. Thus, 15 degrees on the centigrade scale equates to about 60 degree weather for those that regularly use Fahrenheit.
I also took a few liberties with Romano and the mafia. In reality, he doesn't really have a whole lot of control over them. But I can imagine he'd be able to boss them around at least to the extent of keeping an eye on his brother (and Russia for that matter) and giving them a few jobs to do if there's something he doesn't like.
As for Russia knowing Italian... Italy as a country is Russia's second largest trading partner. This year is also deemed by President Medvedev "Year of Italian Culture/Language" in Russia, and Italy's Prime Minister declared this year "Year of Russian Culture/Language" in Italy (even though the fic is slightly futuristic in its setting). So I can imagine Russia would definitely know at least a little bit of the Italian language from these things.