Arthur awoke with a start and a yelp, throwing his arms protectively across his face and startled an already on edge Ravis, who was in the process of drawing back the curtains.
'S..sorry Mr. Kirkland!' Ravis stuttered, the tray in his free arm rattling from shock, its china contents clinking together in alarm. 'Ivan sent me up here to offer you breakfast,' he hastily added, the need to explain himself ingrained into his bones.
'Braginski…? Ivan…?' Arthur murmured confusedly before the memory of last night hit him like a tonne of bricks to the face. 'Ahhhhhh…. I am in Russia aren't I?'
'Yes…..on a visit to Ivan. You got sick and stayed over.' Ravis knitted his eyes together worriedly. Ivan had mentioned to him that Mr. Kirkland had been ill last night, but the fact that Arthur had forgotten where he was made him more uneasy than ever. Ivan would not be pleased. Awkwardly he made his way to the bed and offered Arthur (who was in the process of sitting up and looking bewildered) a tray laden with hot tea, a bowl of Kasha and a plate of sweet Syrniki.
'Thank you Ravis,' Arthur replied still a little baffled about the situation, before taking the tray stiffly and placing it upon his lap. 'This is quiet a feast…..' Looking up at Ravis Arthur gave him an awkward but kind smile, to ease Ravis' skittish behaviour. It had gotten worse over the years under Ivan's control and Arthur felt guilty for England's poor reaction towards Latvia's occupancy by Russia back in 1940. Yet another failure on his behalf, just like Gilbert and Ludwig….
'Yes, Mr. Braginski said you were sick, so Katyusha cooked you a big breakfast to make you strong again. How are you feeling?'
'Better thank you. I suppose I have to eat all of it?' Arthur asked despite knowing the answer and poured himself a cup of tea. The smell of orange spiced tea invaded his nostrils and was pleasantly received. There was nothing quiet like a hot cup of tea in the morning, especially this tea. He had tried to make it himself at home before, but it hadn't tasted right, downright awful actually (not that he would admit it of course). This however was pure heaven, the sweet spices erasing the bazaar decay taste that had logged itself unexplainably in his tongue.
Ravis just nodded dumbly in reply to his question before sitting in a small arm chair opposite him, watching him eat expectantly, making the situation feel a more like an inquisition than breakfast. It had been years since they had last talked, with Ivan cutting their ties forcibly after World War Two, so he was happy to see Arthur, he truly was. Yet seeing him here, sitting and breathing under Ivan's roof, also made him nervous. Ivan had been talking about Arthur increasingly since the start of the Cold War, innocent stories of their history together becoming more obsessive as the war dragged on. Ivan wanted Arthur to become 'one with him', with them, which would mean England falling to Russia. Ravis remembered what had happened after Ludwig and Gilbert tried to cohere Arthur (and England) into 'becoming one' with Germany….World War One and subsequently World War Two. Joining with Russia would also anger America, which at the going rate could cause the end of the world.
After a tense few minutes spent in silence Arthur cleared his throat and made for polite conversation to break the forming ice. 'So how are you? Ivan treating you well?'
Not the best question in hindsight.
Ravis flustered and stuttered, his mind whirring to make a suitable answer which wouldn't end with Ivan's empty smile and harsh hand. 'It would be nice not to have Ivan pushing down on me all the time, but it is how it is.' It was a good enough answer.
'I'm sorry we couldn't help, England that is.'
'Not your fault and as I said, it is how it is.' For a nation in a boy's body, Ravis was a wise old man, learning that acceptance was the only way to survive. It was rather cruel really and Arthur felt even more wretched. Did he do this to his colonies? He couldn't bare thinking about it. Forcing down the last of his breakfast Arthur started to look around the floor for his clothes from the modesty of the bed, attempting to dispel those unruly thoughts of conscience.
'I don't suppose you have seen a shirt have you, or any items of clothing for that matter…. I seem to be missing mine' Arthur asked mortified as he discovered that his clothes were no where to be seen. He didn't remember anything untoward happening last night… Ivan was being rather civilised actually.
'Yes, of course, I will fetch you some. Wait here please.' Ravis replied, Arthur's dilemma unnoticed, before taking the emptied tray from Arthur and leaving him.
Once alone Arthur pulled back the covers, swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. Unfortunately for him his button and fly were undone, causing his trousers to fall to the floor in a heap around his ankles and trip him. With an ungracious 'haoomf' he fell face forward and landed hard on the ground, skin slapping against the wood. Swearing and squirming around on the floor he hurriedly he bent over to retrieve his trousers and pull them back up but stopped as he noticed a few small fingernail shaped welts on the skin of his stomach and pelvis. Suddenly the feeling of Ivan's fingers on his skin resurfaced and how they rubbed themselves deep into his knots and bruises, marking him with invisible words written in vodka stating Ivan was here…. Arthur's fists clenched as he beat away the thought that almost followed…..the thought threatening to say that he would be there again… whilst totally missing the fact that Katyusha had walked into the room to investigate the bang and was presently staring at him half naked, trousers round his ankles, bent double, squirming about the floor like an eel out of water and frustrated in all senses of the word.
It all went to hell when Ravis entered the room arms full of clothes causing the door to swing shut with a loud thud, causing Arthur to become horrifically aware that he was not alone in the room and that he must look like a total tit.