Chapter Four
Arthur's vision was fuzzy as he watched Ivan tower over him. A lazy grin spread across Arthur's face while Ivan wore his usual stoic frown.
A fit of stupidly drunken giggling escaped Arthur's lips as he felt Ivan's cold fingers nimbly unbutton the front of his shirt, lingering just for a few seconds upon his skin.
"What the bloody hell are you doing? Stop it!"
Arthur playfully smacked away Ivan's hand, earning an annoyed hiss. Ivan quickly grabbed hold of Arthur's wrists, pushing them down. Arthur's laughter died down and he closed his eyes, enjoying the cool relief of Ivan's hand as he briefly rested his palm in the middle of Arthur's chest.
"What are you doing?" Arthur murmured, eyes still closed, smile still on his face.
"Checking for fever," Ivan replied bluntly, tearing his hand away. Arthur rolled to his side, tugging the blankets up closer to him.
"Are you going to hurt me?"
Arthur's tone was surprisingly innocent as he opened one green eye, peering up at Ivan with a small smirk on his face. Both Arthur's eyes blinked open when no response came, and he found Ivan sitting on the bed beside him, completely silent as if he were in deep thought.
"No. I wouldn't hurt you. Why would anybody do that?"
Arthur frowned in puzzlement and heaved himself up into a sitting position beside Ivan, who shifted away a few inches.
"I don't know. Maybe. If it'd help your country…" Arthur's smile melted from his face as he spoke, Ivan's expression stayed the same, a cold frown.
"Mm. Дa, that is true, isn't it? I wouldn't do that though. We are friends, aren't we?"
Ivan felt strangely curious waiting for Arthur's response, and he found himself gazing into the emerald green eyes of Arthur.
"Yeah...Yeah, we are, aren't we? But I'm sure all of my 'friends' have hated me once or twice." Arthur mumbled. Ivan raised an eyebrow, suddenly a bit more interested. "Really? Who would do that?" His voice was quiet, but prodding, and he saw Arthur tense up at the question.
He shook his head, closing his eyes for a couple of minutes. "I dunno know...People. Other people." Arthur replied blandly.
"Well, I wouldn't hurt you. I think you are a good friend, and I won't let anybody else hurt you either, I like hanging out with you Arthur."
Arthur kept his head down, but Ivan could see a small, shy, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "That's sappy." He mumbled, lightly punching Ivan's shoulder. "Sappy, but true." Ivan smiled and watched as Arthur flopped back down, rolling over to his side so that he wasn't facing Ivan, but Ivan could tell he wasn't quite asleep.
"Thanks, Ivan. You're a good friend, you know that?"
"...You are too, Arthur."
Arthur woke in the familiar blue sheets of his bed, a sharp pain ringing throughout his head.
His mouth and throat felt dry, and as soon as he opened his eyes, he felt a wave of nausea crash over him. He slowly sat up, his eyebrows furrowing as he sat up and stretched as much as he could without tipping off his bed.
Memories came flooding back, giving him a throbbing headache. He remembered going to a bar with Ivan, getting trashed, and something about lying in bed. Nothing else. Every time he tried to reach back into his memories, it only sharpened his headache.
He tried not to worry about it, but he could feel his heart thumping inside his chest. He groaned as he massaged his temples, closing his eyes. It was quite possible that he had completely made a fool of himself in front of somebody from work. Not good at all. Trying to distract himself, he slowly stepped out of bed, his head spinning. He was parched, and a cup of water would help his sore throat. Maybe even freshen his memories.
Arthur swung his bedroom door open, cringing at the loud creak it made. Every single noise only managed to contribute to his growing headache. He stepped quietly down the hall, around the corner into the living room, and straight to the kitchen.
Except, not exactly.
Quickly retracing his steps, he found himself back in the living room, where his eyes stayed fixated on the lump splayed out on his couch. It, the lump, was covered by a blue throw blanket that was rising up and down slowly, which meant there was a real, living, person underneath it.
Eyes wide with fear, Arthur snatched the nearest thing to him, a hardcover book that rested on a small wooden desk to the left of him. He slowly crept forward, the book raised slightly as he leaned forward slightly, slowly peeling off the blanket.
"Ivan?"
It was Ivan alright. His cheeks were a scarlet red, a sharp contrast against his pale skin. Ivory hair hung in his face and his eyes were lightly shut, his thick eyelashes touching just the tip of his cheekbones. His chest rose slowly up and down as he snored quietly.
"Ivan! Ivan, wake the hell up!"
Arthur shook Ivan's arm, still holding the book. He backed away a bit as he heard Ivan groan and roll over, throwing an arm over his face.
"IVAN!"
Ivan bolted up, his head shooting up as he stifled a yawn. "Eh? Что?" Ivan rubbed his eyes, blinking them open and peering curiously at Arthur. "Ah, Arthur. Good morning." Ivan swung his feet over the couch, nearly avoiding Arthur. He slowly stood up, staggering a bit and quickly gripping Arthur's shoulder to steady himself. Arthur gently brushed Ivan's head off, putting his book down and taking a step back.
"What are you doing here?" Arthur questioned. Ivan looked up from the floor, obviously surprised. "You don't remember? Last night?" He sounded shocked, which only made Arthur more anxious. "Last night? No. What happened last night?" Arthur questioned urgently. Ivan inspected Arthur's face for more than a few seconds as if he were trying to find something hidden in his expression. "N-Nevermind…" He mumbled, shaking his head.
"No, no, what happened last night? You make it sound like I did something horrible. What the hell did I do?" Arthur snapped. "I can't exactly remember Arthur. If you don't remember, I drank quite a lot too last night. I have a major headache." Ivan replied, frowning as he massaged his temples. Arthur sighed quietly, although wanting answers, he understood how Ivan felt.
"Huh, well, I understand. Since you're here, would you like breakfast, I can cook." Arthur offered.
"Uh, yes! But why don't I cook, it's no problem." Ivan added quickly.
Arthur shrugged.
Arthur watched Ivan closely as the man carefully made his way around the kitchen, a strangely delicious aroma already filling the room. It was a surprise, at least in Arthur's house.
"So, you don't remember anything from last night?"
Arthur watched as Ivan stopped in front of the stove, flipping what looked like a pancake in the pan. He turned around, spatula still in his hand. "No. I promise, and what about you Arthur?" Ivan pointed the spatula almost accusingly at Arthur, and Arthur tried his best not to scoff.
"Nope. Not at the moment." He muttered in reply. Ivan smiled and turned around, flipping the pancakes onto a plate and walking over with a bottle of jam in his other hand.
"Blinis, Russian pancakes you may call them. Good with jam, caviar too."
Ivan set the plate down in the middle of the table, placing two on Arthur's awaiting plate and two on his own,
"Mm." Arthur was too distracted to listen, but he ate anyway, only a few bites before he set down his fork and watched Ivan with cautious curiosity.
"Are you hiding something from me?"
He was trying to be cautious with his words, and his tone. He kept his voice quiet and tried to make it as non-accusing as possible but he could see Ivan's expression immediately harden.
"Nyet. Why would I lie to you?" His words were guarded, and his tone was sharp and icy.
"Well, it's obvious you're pretty upset about something!" Arthur snapped, letting out a dry, harsh, laugh. His headache was getting to him, making his mood even worse. Ivan's eyes narrowed and he pushed his plate away, not very interested in his food anymore. "How do I seem upset? I cooked breakfast for you, how is that upset?" Ivan retorted. Arthur swiped his tongue over his dry lips, feeling anger flush throughout his whole body. "I don't know, you just seem fucking upset! And I think I have a right to know what happened last night!" Arthur stood up, his knee slamming against the bottom of the table as he jolted up. Ivan stayed seated, glaring up at Arthur with pure annoyance.
"Nothing. Happened. You were drunk, you blabbered on and on, something about friends I believe? Nothing important. This is the second time I will tell you, I was just as drunk, I don't remember much of what you said anyway. But you don't have to believe me, " Ivan's voice was deadly calm, but raising with every word he spat. He stood up, shoving his plate away and stomping towards the door, snatching his coat from the arm of a chair on the way out.
"Wait, wait! Please, Ivan, wait!"
Arthur quickly trailed after, catching Ivan's sleeve just as the Russian man swung the door open. Ivan yanked his arm away and Arthur froze for a minute, almost expecting to be hit. Ivan's back was still facing Arthur, and he didn't seem to be turning around to face him anytime soon.
"I'm sorry. I'm super fucking tired, totally hungover, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be accusing you when it's my fault, and I'm really, seriously, sorry."
Arthur took a deep breath, his voice already quivering.
"I trust you, and I'm sorry if I made it out like I didn't."
He repeated because truth was, Ivan was an actual person who he could relate to and share his troubles with. Somebody who wouldn't judge him because of one stupid fucking thing, because they had done it once or twice themselves.
"I forgive you, Arthur. It's not only your fault, I'm just a bit irritated. I didn't get much sleep last night. But I still have to leave, it's late, and Belarus will be worried. But...I do forgive you. I'll see you, later."
Arthur smiled weakly, he desperately wished Ivan would turn around, but his forgiveness was enough.
"Thank you...I'll see you later then. Goodbye Ivan."
Arthur waited, feeling strangely nervous.
"Goodbye Arthur."
