Light My Heart

Warning: deadly amount of fluff.

xoxox

"Happy Valentine's Day, dorogoy moy!"

"Oh thanks big gu- OH MY GOD!"

Bright blue spheres widened in pure horror as they stared at the display in front of them. The tall nation had his violet eyes closed and sported a childishly happy smile on his round – and very cute – face. His snowy ashen blond bangs fell neatly to the side, his chin was tucked nicely into his ever-present scarf, his grey trench coat was hanging open, boots a bit muddy perhaps, and his arms were stretched in front of him.

And in those gloved palms lay a heart. A real, beating, bloody heart.

America could only blink as he continued to stare dumbly at this puzzling development.

He had invited the tall nation over for the weekend to his house in Boston, Massachusetts. Hence the Russian being here. Nothing wrong with that. It was also Valentine's Day, America had to give him that.

BUT WHY THE HELL WAS RUSSIA HOLDING A HEART IN HIS HANDS?

His own heart for that matter; America could now see the gaping hole in his uncovered chest.

The sunny blond carefully set down his bag of take-away Chinese food and folded his arms behind his back, trying to put on a professional attitude.

"Ivan. Can I ask you a question?"

Russia opened his eyes, curiously tilting his head to the side.

"Of course sunflower! What is it?"

America blushed only a little at being called a sunflower (he was still getting used to the abundant amount of nicknames the Russian thought up for him). Afterwards he cleared his throat and made a tiny nod of the head at the organ.

"Why exactly do you want to give me- You know, give me your heart?"

Russia's smiled widened.

"But is that not what everyone does? Give your heart to a loved one? I am most certain I have heard that plenty of times. Or was it steal your heart? I do not know if I would like anyone stealing my heart, but I suppose if it were you…"

"Wait, wait, wait. You know that's just a saying right?"

Russia's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. His arms dropped a bit, holding the heart closer to his chest now.

"Do you mean you do not want it?"

America immediately shot forward and laid a hand on his lover's shoulder.

"No no no, that's not what I'm saying at all! It's just that, when they say 'give your heart to someone', they don't mean it literal! That's all!"

Russia ducked his face into his scarf, only his oversized nose peeking over it.

"So you are rejecting it… Never mind, it was silly of me. I did not want to do something romantic for Valentine's Day or anything…"

The younger nation groaned in exasperation. Russia could be surprisingly touchy-feely when it came to things like this. As if he was still uncertain America truly loved him.

"Don't be that way dude, I'm only trying to explain here. Of course I want your heart, just not the real thing. Your metaphorical heart, or something like that. I mean, normal people wouldn't even be able to pull that off! They'd die without a heart! So tell me Vanya, how could all those lovers give each other their heart without dying?"

Russia carefully rolled the organ around in his hands, sullenly staring at the ground.

"Maybe that is why Romeo and Juliet died so soon?"

America felt like face-palming, but also wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. He also was a lot less grossed out than he probably should be, but maybe being with Russia did such things to you.

"I'm pretty sure they died from poison and stabbing themselves with knives, if Iggy told me the right story."

The Russian glanced back at him.

"Do you have any arsenic, perhaps?"

"NO! I don't mean you should kill yourself for me, dear God no! I'm just saying that I don't need your real heart, because I already have your metaphorical one!"

His mouth suddenly snapped shut and red coloured his ears when he realized he was being more than a little corny. Russia was smiling again, shyly lifting his face from its scarfy life-belt.

"You do? When did I give it to you?"

America swallowed, deciding that if he was going to be corny anyway, he might as well do it right. The nation planted a firm kiss on the tip of the other's big nose, grinning cockily when those pale cheeks grew a light pink.

"When you realized you love me of course, you big doofus."

Russia's smile reached its maximum level as he bent over and captured America's lips. It was a short but excellent kiss, as the Russian felt that familiar fluttering. Only, it was not inside his chest now, rather in his hands.

Russia broke the kiss all too soon to look down at his heart, which was beating noticeably faster now.

"So, if you do not want this heart, what should I do with it?"

"Put it back of course!" America yelled, eyebrows shooting up.

Russia giggled at the astonished look on his face.

"I suppose so. I do not think staying out like that is very good for it, it feels weird."

"Weird?" America asked after recovering from his momentary shock.

Russia nodded. "Da. Tingly. And… Weird."

"Put it back then! We don't want to damage your heart!"

Russia smiled at him.

"But that is impossible, da? Since I already gave it to you!"

He chuckled light-heartedly when America sputtered incomprehensibly.

"Will you take good care of it?" he asked, suddenly growing serious.

America's mouth flapped open and close, very much resembling a fish's, before he regained his composure.

The smaller nation had a sudden moment of clarity. He boldly leant forward and placed a feathery kiss on top of the vital organ. Russia immediately grew silent, the heart speeding up even more. America grinned up at him, quite satisfied to see those amethysts staring at him, dumbfounded and amazed.

The blond placed both hands over Russia's larger ones, folding their combined fingers over his heart. He then guided them towards the hole in Russia's chest, carefully pushing the heart back into its house. Russia remained completely quiet, feeling wonder and awe wash over him at the loving actions. America didn't seem to be the least bit spooked at having kissed a beating heart.

"There you go big guy," America said once the hole closed on its own accord. "That's better, isn't it?"

Russia was still frozen on the spot. America flashed a big toothpaste commercial grin, bringing a hand to the other's face to brush away some astray platinum locks.

"I know it's your heart I've just given you, but you got mine too, right? The metaphorical one."

Russia blushed harder than he ever had before, placing a hand over the one resting on his cheek and holding it there.

"Spasiba, Alfred."

Another kiss was placed on his thin lips.

"Happy Valentine's, Vanya."