Author's note: Guys, I can't tell you how sorry I am on how late this chapter came out. This is like the HARDEST chapter I had to write and it took more than a little time to try and internalize everything. Characters may be a little OOC but you be the judge. Tell me what you think.
Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me. I told Santa I want it but I got a lecture on copyright laws instead.
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Arthur hadn't gotten even a wink of sleep, having spent the night in hysterical denial and staring at the ceiling blankly as if frozen except for the occasional, involuntary blinks. It had been a very trying night. He had told himself repeatedly that this inexplicable infatuation was nothing more than the result of innumerable centuries of loneliness, that Russia had been the subject of his attraction only because he was there. Had it been any other nation with him last night, he'd probably feel the same way.
But in the wee hours of dawn, lulled by exhaustion and lack of sleep, Arthur had finally accepted that he liked the Russian and had probably known it subconsciously since that night he had come to get his scarf. Spending time with him had only served to bring this attraction to light and Ivan had been proving himself to be more than the monster Arthur had thought he was and other nations had claimed him to be, giving the island nation even more reasons to like him. In the past, Arthur had been wary of him and had no wish to involve himself with the Russian any more than what was necessary for trade and international relations. Now, Arthur wanted to know more about his land, his culture, his history, and his people- the things that had made Russia who and what he was now.
But just to set the record straight, Arthur reminded himself that he liked the Russian only as a friend and not as a romantic interest and he glared at the angels painted on the ceiling as if daring them to say otherwise. He'd just have to keep a little distance to make sure it stayed that way. After all, infatuation was a far cry from love or any other lasting affection and he knew that whatever this was between them would cool down eventually. Everything would go back as close to normal as it was possible and they'd probably be on friendlier terms. Maybe even be close enough to actually consider each other friends.
But somehow, Arthur didn't know why he wasn't happy or satisfied about that when he should be. He wanted something else entirely from Ivan but could not make himself explore those possibilities because he knew, once he started, there would be no turning back. This tentative friendship with the Russian would undoubtedly end. Dear Lord, this was so confusing! He covered his face with his hands and rubbed furiously as if that could erase any lingering notion. He didn't know what he was going to do and just trying to think about it was making his head pound viciously.
He shook his head and turned on his side, turning away from the blasted ceiling and its inhabitants. To the Englishman, it felt like an eternity had passed before his eyes began to feel heavy with the need to sleep and the Englishman's parting thought before he drifted to his dreams was, 'Braginski, this is all your fault.'
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Ivan took great pride in his self-discipline. He strictly believed that rules were meant to be obeyed and no matter what happened, he would always do what he had already set out for himself. He controlled every facet of his life with an iron fist and dealt with opposition quickly and ruthlessly. Distractions of every kind were taken cared of or ignored. Until now, the only thing he knew that he could not control was his excessive drinking but then, he never really got drunk anymore so that was insignificant.
Already seated on the dining table with thick files and documents stacked about him, he began reading through reports for the meeting, mind struggling to keep its focus. Unlike England, he was able to have his sleep but he looked no better than the island nation finally dozing one floor above him. Just last night he'd dreamt of a rather explicit, er, scene with the island nation that had woken him up drenched in sweat, his temperature unnaturally high and his cock embarrassingly hard. While taking a quick, cold shower to fix his problem, he had recalled the feel of dream England's firm buttocks in his bare hands and that husky voice whispering in his ear before he had knocked his forehead on the wall hard enough to crack the concrete wall. After waking up a few more times due to the same cause, he had idly wondered if he'd been celibate for too long that he was becoming so desperate.
'To begin the restoration of Ireland's financial stability, it was proposed...' He read, realizing that he'd been repeating the same line quite a few times already. He sighed in irritation. He absolutely hated distractions. If distraction had been a living entity, the Russian would have beaten it with his pipe a long, long time ago and probably erased its existence and influence. He was sure the world would be better without it.
He carelessly tossed the file on the table, fingers massaging his temples. The headache he was starting to get reminded him of his first hangover, when he'd still been unused to his beloved vodka. He admitted to himself that he had to change his plans now or get undesired results.
All his careful planning that would get England to be his friend and only his friend- nothing beyond that- was utterly ruined by his own desires. He had not expected getting attached so early and so intensely to the island nation and Ivan was not the kind of nation to deny himself what he wanted or what he felt. He wanted Arthur, not just his friendship, but everything that the smaller nation had to give. And so he decided that his previous plan was not going to work for him anymore since his goal had already changed since last night.
Throughout the night as he had laid on his side staring at the first rays of sunlight dancing on the floor, his thoughts revolved around the island nation. His smile, the longing look in his viridian eyes, his laughter as he had told Ivan his adventures with his siblings- everything he had said and done was like pouring a bottle of vodka in a roaring fire. It had excited Russia, making him want to know more, to explore everything that was England.
Under normal circumstances, Russia would be tempted to force England to see their situation from his point of view, like what he had done to the others. Using intimidation and fear was easier than trying to be nice, after all, because it takes little time and effort. But England was more astute and incredibly more stubborn than most nations, he'd never give in to his advances. If he realized what Russia was planning, he'd no doubt that the island nation would run away and if forced, Russia might scare him but he would never yield completely.
Ivan wanted Arthur to stay with him of his own choice. Odd for him to think that way but he had observed that humans stay together longer if it were chosen by their own free will. Nations were just more fickle than humans but they were close to being human, right?
Well, whatever. He stood up from his seat at the dining table and stretched his arms over his head then slipped them in his pants' pockets, the beginnings of his new plan filling his head. He started, feeling something small crumple in one of the pockets. He took it out, bringing it to light and idly wondering how it could have gotten into his pocket. Should he fire his laundry cleaner for this obvious incompetence?
His brows raised as he looked at a small, rolled up piece of paper. He carefully unfolded the paper and his eyes widened as he saw Arthur's name and a set of numbers scrawled shakily on the paper. Was this what he thought it was? He studied the handwriting intently. It was England's handwriting but it was strangely messy, like he'd been having difficulties holding the pen. Could this be really Arthur's phone number? But how could it have gotten into his pocket? The pants he was wearing came directly from his luggage bag and he had worn it after his bath last night. There was no way that anyone could have slipped the paper inside without him knowing.
Ivan was still suspicious but he accepted this unusual opportunity. If this was England's phone number, then they'd be able to talk to each other more even when they couldn't see each other. If it wasn't then it was certainly no loss to him. At least he tried.
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It was two hours after noon when Arthur finally woke. He'd already taken a quick shower and was already curled up on the sofa with his paperwork stacked on the coffee table and his cellphone perched right in the middle. The cellphone had been a gift from Alfred who had bought it from Kiku and, though Arthur had never really thought to use a cellphone, it made communicating that much easier but it was rather annoying when he'd found his cellphone today and saw the messages, missed calls and voicemail.
Most of it came from Alfred and Francis while some came from Kiku and Matthew. Somehow, Arthur just knew that Alfred had been using his friend's and brother's cellphones to get in contact with him. He had been tempted to trash every message but decided to brave it just in case there was something important. He should have trashed everything.
In all the countless messages he'd received, the only useful ones were Matthew informing him they'd be coming the day before the meeting and Kiku asking him if he'd like them to bring him a souvenir from Tokyo Disneyland. Arthur had been more than a little disappointed that they would waste time to do something so irresponsible before a world meeting but decided to place the blame on Alfred. That boy always liked playing hooky, dragging other nations with him, and England truly didn't understand how he became how he was today. He'd been such an angel before.
He had placed his phone in vibrating mode then leaned on the arm of the sofa, knees drawn up and a file perched on his stomach, one hand holding a pencil. Green eyes silently read through the file, pausing here and there to mark some of the sentences and write notes and questions along the sides.
After about an hour, just as he'd finished reading Ireland's file, his cellphone began to vibrate across the smooth surface of the table, startling Arthur half out of his wits. Heart pounding, he glared accusingly at the phone and snatched it up, flipping it open. What he saw made his eyes widen and his jaw drop almost to the floor as he read the message from an unknown number. He could almost hear the sweet, cheerful voice of its sender long before he actually read his name.
"Good afternoon, Arthur. I thought to remind you of our dinner plans for tonight. You haven't forgotten, have you? Shall we meet at seven o'clock in the lobby? Thank you for giving me your number but you have to tell me how you did it, da? Caught me by surprise when I saw it in my pocket. I'll see you later, then.
Ivan ^J^"
'What in the queen's name is Russia talking about?' England thought, his brow furrowed as he tried to recall ever doing such a thing. He had been sober last night, too, so there was no way he'd forget doing something like that. Then, how did-
'DEAR HEAVENS!' Arthur screamed in his head, back jolting upright. He had forgotten about their dinner plans! He quickly stole a glance at the small, bronze clock standing innocently among porcelain figurines on top of a cabinet. It was already three o'clock, four hours till seven. He quickly scanned his phone directory and made a call.
"This is Arthur Kirkland," he began as soon as his call was answered. "I will be arriving at approximately eight o'clock this evening. A table for two, please, by the windows would be splendid."
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Arthur liked punctuality and followed schedules strictly so it was little wonder that he was already in the lobby at exactly seven o'clock. What was surprising was Ivan was already there ahead of him, sitting on a stool in the bar a small distance away from the reception desk, a glass of what could only be vodka held casually in his hand.
He was very attractive, there was no doubt and again, Arthur had to remind himself that his opinion was from an aesthetic point of view. It meant nothing more than the appreciation of beauty- or so he told himself. The larger nation was the picture of calm sophistication, lounging at the bar with a careless smile, violet eyes half-lidded as he enjoyed his drink. There was no sign of the cheerful and childlike Russia who would often hide behind a painfully innocent smile and an aura of immense danger. No, this was Russia outside of a meeting. He was unusually relaxed yet, from the way his broad shoulders were set, he was still alert, ready for action.
The island nation's heart began to pound insistently as he approached the larger nation, telling himself to be calm over and over again. He took a deep breath and placed a hand on Russia's shoulder, a shaky smile on his face. Because of his own nervousness, he didn't notice the other nation jolt at the contact.
Ivan's head turned abruptly over his shoulder in surprise at the sudden jolt from a rather tentative touch. Wide, violet eyes warmed considerably as they landed on the smaller blonde's face, returning his smile with one of his own. Ivan was proud of himself that, so far, he was managing to be calm even though England's touch felt like thunder blazing into a wildfire that spread from his shoulder to the tips of his toes. It was not a bad feeling, at all, despite the initial shock. It was nothing like when Natalya would touch him and he'd feel afraid or when America would dare lay a hand on him and he'd have this urge to break his neck for daring. No, Arthur's touch was as pleasant and calming as a summer rainfall and as intense and hot as an an inferno all at the same time.
"Good evening," Ivan greeted with a nod, watching as Arthur took a seat on the stool right beside Ivan's, taking his hand from the Russian's shoulder, much to Ivan's disappointment. He gestured for the bartender and ordered a glass of brandy for Arthur, the Englishman accepting the drink with unforeseen shyness. "Did you get a good night's sleep?"
Arthur chuckled huskily as he twirled his drink before taking a sip, the almost careless gesture and the sound of his low voice unbelievably sultry. "As good as I can ever get," he said cryptically, eyes trained on the golden liquid. He shook his head with a rueful smile at the irony and turned his laughing eyes to Ivan's, finishing his drink in one solid gulp. "Shall we go? I'm afraid if we stay here longer, I'll be tempted to have more of their brandy, most likely get drunk, embarass myself and ruin our evening together."
Ivan laughed heartily at that. "Alright, let's go," he said, finishing his drink with one gulp and standing from his seat. He assisted Arthur from his stool, his larger, gloved hand closing around the Englishman's smaller one and reluctantly let go.
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The view of Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower was simply breathtaking. Bright lights as far as the eyes could see twinkled like the multitude of stars in the sky. Below one could see a bird's eye view of the Trocadero Gardens and their spectacular fountains.
Ivan took the time to appreciate Paris' beauty. It had both the sophistication of the modern world and the elegance of the past centuries rolled into one sprawling city. It was full of life and enchantment of the seductive kind, just like France himself. He shouldn't have been surprised. After all, it was his capital, his heart.
Beside him stood Arthur and they shared a comfortable, thoughtful silence, each deep in their own thoughts. To the Russian, it was as if the crowd of tourists surrounding them with their flashing cameras and boisterous chatter melted into nothingness the more time they shared with each other.
"Paris is a beautiful city," he found himself saying spontaneously, whispering the words as if it would disturb the tranquil moment he and Arthur shared. There was no reply and he'd begun to think that maybe the Englishman did not hear him, a little disappointed. He snuck a glance at the faraway look in England's eyes then turned his gaze back to the picturesque view of the city. It felt almost like an eternity had passed before England replied.
"As much as the frog annoys the hell out of me, I have to agree with you," Arthur whispered in an equally low voice. "Paris is certainly one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Of course, London would top my list but I'm afraid I'm biased."
Ivan chuckled, stopping himself from asking if Moscow was on the Englishman's list. It would probably make things awkward between them so he thought to ask it at a later time when they were more comfortable with each other. He had to admit, though, that he felt the same way. Though Paris was certainly amazing, no other city could defeat Moscow on his list and he told England so, sharing quiet laughter at their admission.
After circling the expanse of the highest level of the tower, England led him to the restaurant where they would be dining. Ivan never had the pleasure of eating in the renowned restaurant, Jules Verne, but he thought it would be a wonderful experience. It looked as extravagant as France was and was probably just as expensive. It was full of activity but he dreaded the rather long line extending from the entrance. Would they have to wait to get a table? Ivan almost suggested they try a different restaurant instead but was pleasantly surprised when Arthur approached one of the receptionists without preamble and they were led to a table inside, right beside the windows where they could see the fountains.
As soon as they settled on the seats, menus opened in front of them and their server gone to fetch a bottle of wine and vodka, again they lapsed into a somewhat awkard silence. Arthur was busy reading through his menu while Ivan did the same, though half his mind was going through his plan to make England his without scaring him. England was thoroughly distracted with the menu, not noticing the calculating gleam in Ivan's violet eyes as he alternated between two sets that he wanted to try. They were much too busy in their own little worlds to notice a man approaching their table.
"Arthur? Ivan? What are you two doing here?"
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Author's note: Okay, so that was bad of me to leave it at this point especially after two or three weeks of no updates. I can't apologize enough for not updating sooner. About this chapter, I think it's pretty obvious who the mystery man is. Did I mention this chapter was so hard to write? It literally took me hours after stressful shifts to think of what should, could and would happen, and that's like two hours of thinking time cause I have to go to bed early for my next shift!
Anyway, enough with my ranting and raving. I hope you guys enjoy the chapter. As always, reviews are very much appreciated!