Toris slept surprisingly well, and when his eyes next fluttered open again, he supposed it to be morning. Not that there was much light streaming in through the snow-covered windowpanes, but he could make out just enough to hazard a guess. He shifted a little in bed and realised that he was alone. Sitting up with a start, he swung his legs out of bed and shivered violently at the cold air. It was much worse than even winter at Russia's house, he realised, fighting the urge to crawl back under the blankets.
"Ivan?" he called out, but there was no sign of him in the dimly lit room. "Sir...?"
But the cabin was completely deserted and Toris wrinkled his nose in confusion. Had Ivan really gone out hunting and left him to sleep peacefully? It seemed so...uncharacteristic. He'd envisaged the Russian kicking him out of bed the following morning with a demand to lay the fire and get the house in some sort of order. He hurried to the front door and opened it a fraction, before closing it again with a slam as the blizzard outside assaulted him immediately. Was Ivan really trekking about in such hideous conditions, looking for a source of food for them? The thought made him feel a twinge of guilt as he glanced at the snow-blocked windows.
He was struck by the urge to make himself equally useful. He had no idea how he could possibly repay the fact that Ivan had saved his life and was now out on his own in the most miserable weather imaginable, just to provide for them, but he supposed that he might start by at least tidying up. It was certainly better than looking out the window and wondering if his captor-turned-protector was being eaten by wolves.
Toris went about inspecting the rest of the cabin for useful items. It was largely open plan, and all cooking seemed to have been done at the stove but there was a reasonable sized cupboard in which he found an old metal bathtub, some pots and pans and even a couple of cracked plates and some old rags that he figured he could use to wash the floor and surfaces with. There was also a large bar of carbolic soap, half open and clearly very old, but probably still up to the job for washing sheets with.
Getting water turned out to be a fairly laborious process, involving dragging the heavy tub outside, filling it with armfuls of snow, and hauling it back inside by the newly set fire, in order to melt it. To occupy himself in the meantime, Toris removed his coat determinedly, rolled up his shirt sleeves and began to sweep the floor. He put much more enthusiasm into the task than was necessary, mostly in an attempt to keep warm. By the time the water was melted, he almost felt warm again, and was dreading the prospect of plunging his hands into the icy liquid.
Before he started, he took a few of the larger pots and siphoned off enough clean water to drink for the next day or so. At least all the snow meant they wouldn't go thirsty. Then he pulled all the blankets from the bed, rolled up his shirt sleeves and got on with it.
As he worked, he couldn't help but continuously cast anxious glances towards the door, biting his lip every time he heard the scream of the wind. He found himself desperately hoping that Ivan was all right and, every time he did, shaking his head and telling himself that it was only because he was being sensible, because if Ivan didn't come back he was going to die here, alone and starving, freezing to death once the firewood ran out.
But he worked solidly and, a few hours later, sheets were drying by the fire, the floor and all the surfaces had been washed immaculately clean, the mattress was airing, the hearth was burning brightly, and the windows were cleared from their thick obstructions of snow.
Then Ivan burst in, trekking mud and snow everywhere, and dumped a dead wolf and two dead rabbits in the middle of the floor, sloshing half-frozen blood on Toris' beautifully clean work. He gasped and a part of him twitched at all the newly created mess. Ivan had a large scratch across his cheek and the front of his coat was splashed with crimson underneath its layer of snow. Immediately, Toris dashed forward to greet him, wringing his hands.
"Ivan!" he blurted out, reaching out to put a hand on the Russian's arm and then thinking better of it.
The blonde clapped a hand roughly on his shoulder in acknowledgement and then pushed past him, making a beeline for the fire. "You'd best get started on cooking, eh Litva?" he said quietly, the exhaustion evident in his voice. The broad-shouldered nation shrugged out of his coat and tossed it to Lithuania, who staggered with it in his arms for a moment before hanging it up on a rusty nail. He would wash the blood out later, he reflected, wondering how much of his life he'd already spent scrubbing crimson out of Russia's favourite coat.
Toris went to survey Ivan's kills, wincing at the sight of the gaping knife gash across the largest animal's throat. It looked like the Russian had sawn right into the wolf's trachea. With a nervous glance at Ivan, he eyed the hilt of the hunting knife still tucked in the larger man's knee-length boot and gestured to it hesitantly.
"Um...could I borrow that...?" he asked. Tiredly, Russia removed it and tossed it in his direction, the large blade clattering on the floor beside the animal corpses. Lithuania wondered if he'd found it lying about the cabin, or if it was just something he happened to carry about his person. It looked a little too well cared for to have been the former, he decided.
He picked up the rabbits and moved them to the table. He was fairly certain he could cook a decent meal from them, especially with pots and a water to boil the meat in. Then he turned his attentions to the wolf.
"I've...never cooked wolf before..." he mused aloud, staring at the large corpse and at a complete loss.
"I was hunting rabbits," Ivan explained casually, "The wolf simply decided to pick a fight. Silly wolf." As Toris looked at him in startled surprise, the violet eyed man smiled and shrugged. "But meat is meat, da?"
"Right..." the Lithuanian swallowed hard and bit his lip. "Well, I'll cook the rabbit now, and then I'll do something with the wolf later. At least we can freeze it, right?" He laughed nervously and Ivan rewarded him with a thin, tired smile.
"If I may suggest, Litva," he chastised him softly, "You may wish to stop talking about cooking and get to work actually making dinner?"
Lithuania made a tiny choking sound and nodded hastily, dragging the wolf into the corner, hung a pot of water over the fire to boil and then got to work on skinning the rabbits. An adept cook, he worked quickly and methodically, eventually relaxing enough to unconsciously murmur a small tune under his breath as he removed the pelt and diced the meat.
He was putting it in the pot when he caught Ivan looking at him curiously.
"Hmmm?" the brunette enquired, so absorbed in his task that he'd almost forgotten whose company he was in.
"Litva?" he enquired, cocking his head to one side, "Do you always sing when you cook?"
"I..." Toris looked flustered for a moment, "I...suppose I do," he confessed. "I'm sorry, I'll keep quiet."
"Ah, Нет," Ivan waved his hand vaguely, "There are worse noises. You remind me of a bird." He stared into the fire contemplatively and, after a few moments, murmured to himself, "I wanted to kill some birds today, but I could not trap them so easily."
The smaller nation swallowed hard and forced himself to nod politely as he finished scraping the rest of the rabbit into the pot. "Dinner should be ready soon," he said, a little too brightly, by way of a subject change.
Eventually, the meat was ready and Toris disappeared with the pot, returning with one large plate and one smaller one. He gave Ivan the lion's share of the food, allotting himself only the bare minimum. It wasn't quite enough, but he was well aware of how much Ivan was able to eat. The blonde nodded approvingly when he saw the portion sizes. They sat cross legged on the floor beside the fire, eating in silence.
"Good," Ivan said eventually, between mouthfuls.
"I'm glad," the brunette replied sincerely, eyes fixed on his plate.
"You cleaned up."
"Yes sir."
"Also good."
The brief little exchange brought a tiny smile to Toris' lips and he looked up at the larger nation intently. He felt a faint little glow at the fact that Ivan had acknowledged, in his own way, that the Lithuanian was useful. It salved his pride a little to know that, even if he was utterly dependant on the Russian for survival, at least he could make a small contribution in return.
In spite of his best efforts to eat slowly, he finished his tiny rations all too quickly. He might have licked the plate, if he had been alone, but instead he forced himself to put it down with a slow, controlled movement, ignoring the fact that he was still hungry.
As he watched Ivan continue to eat, his stomach rumbled and he glanced desperately towards the bloodied coat. "If you don't mind, sir," he said quietly, "I'll get on with the laundry..."
Making a move to stand up, he found himself yanked back down again as Ivan reached up and grabbed his forearm, pulling him back down again and staring at him inquisitively.
"Sit," he commanded softly. And then, with no explanation, "Open your mouth, Litva."
Toris stared at him for a moment in surprise, before hastily arranging himself cross legged in front of the larger nation and parting his lips hesitantly, green eyes clouded with puzzlement. Ivan took a piece of meat from his plate and popped it in his half-open mouth.
"Eat," he told him impassively and then, when Lithuania began to chew obediently, he murmured, "Good boy."
At this, the Lithuanian's cheeks began to burn, and Ivan chuckled with quiet amusement, reaching out to ruffle his hair possessively. Ivan continued to eat in silence, occasionally hand feeding the smaller nation scraps from his plate. And after the initial humiliation wore off a little, Toris found himself thinking, in spite of himself, that perhaps this really wasn't so bad after all, that perhaps this was Ivan's way of showing some kind of affection, in his own inappropriate and controlling sort of way.
He held a last scrap of food in front of his mouth and Toris parted his lips again. The Russian pulled it away teasingly, and the brunette leaned forward before he could stop himself, evoking a low laugh from the other man. Ivan shoved the morsel in, a little too roughly, along with his finger, and Lithuania found himself, for just a split second sucking a little on the digit, closing his eyes briefly. Then he realised what he was doing and pulled back, horrified. Climbing to his feet, he stammered something about the laundry and left the warmth of the fireplace. And as he dumped Ivan's heavy coat in the tub and got to work scrubbing the bloodstains with soap, he could hear the violet eyed nation chuckling merrily to himself under his breath.
AN: Oh Toris, so clueless...
Anyway, thanks again so much to everyone who reviewed and to everyone who added the story to their various watch-y/favourite-y lists. Much much love.