Roderich stood by the door, pale, slender and immaculately dressed in a dark blue suit. Lovely as ever, Ivan thought with a touch of annoyance, but then he noticed that the Austrian's light brown hair was tousled and slightly wet and that he looked exhausted and sleep deprived.
And everybody in the room was staring at him.
Antonio was the first to recover. "Hola, Rodrigo! What an unexpected pleasure! But then, you always did have a weakness for dramatic appearances… I must say, I find myself sorely tempted to quote Schiller: 'Wer kommt? – Was seh' ich? O ihr guten Geister! Mein Roderich!'"
To Ivan's surprise, a genuine smile passed across Roderich's lips. "Your memory does you credit, Tonio," he replied, "even if you pronunciation is still atrocious. But I haven't been yours for a long time, and I'm afraid I didn't even come to see you."
"What a shame," Antonio replied with mock sadness, managing to look melancholy for a passing moment, but then grinning again.
"So why did you come?" Arthur asked.
"Charming as ever, Arthur," Roderich said with a hint of irony in his voice. "I came to see your sons. I was told that both Matthew and Alfred had been injured, so I came by to pay them a visit and see if I could do anything for them. I did not expect to meet half the nations of the world here, though."
"Well, you're here now," Aaron said. "And apparently willing to take our current problem off our hands. So I'd say we're fortunate you decided to stop by."
Ivan looked at Roderich, raising his brows. I would be willing to bet his sudden appearance is no coincidence, he thought. Roderich was skillfully avoiding his gaze, but Ivan felt certain that there was some sort of hidden scheme behind all this. The only question that remained was whether or not he would be able to use it to his advantage.
He felt a small hand tug at his sleeve, and turning his head met Matthew's confused look. "What's that all about? Roderich coming to visit us? He's never really cared about either me or Alfred. I mean, we get along, but it's not as if we were friends or anything."
"I don't know yet," Ivan replied quietly, "but I intend to find out. All I know is that Roderich has been rather supportive."
"Then they won't let him be our chaperon either," Matthew concluded bitterly.
Ivan shook his head. "I don't think anyone present knows about it."
"Oh." Matthew suddenly smiled, then turned to look at Roderich. "Oh," he repeated thoughtfully, once again meeting Ivan's eyes. "Let's give it a shot, then, shall we?"
"Better him than someone like Vash," Ivan agreed.
"Does anybody present have any objections against accepting Roderich's kind offer?" Francis asked cheerfully.
Arthur, Ivan noticed, was fixing Roderich with a piercing gaze, as if trying to pry the secret of his sudden appearance and unusually generous offer out of him. The Austrian remained impassive, meeting his gaze steadily, his face calm, unconcerned, almost bored. Arthur finally gave up and shrugged, though he did not look entirely convinced of Roderich's harmlessness. "He's neutral, reasonable and has no own interest in the matter. That sounds pretty good to me. Alfred?"
Alfred frowned. "I don't know. It seems a bit… sudden. Shouldn't we talk about this some more?"
Several nations groaned audibly and rolled their eyes. Apparently, quite a few of them were growing rather tired of the entire discussion.
"Just say yes, Alfred," Arthur said, his tone of voice annoyed and sharp enough to cause some raised eyebrows. Arthur frequently snapped at everyone, including Alfred, but they were supposed to be on the same side, weren't they?
"But you said…," Alfred began, his eyes wide with bewilderment.
Arthur shook his head.
"Okay then…" Alfred shrugged, looking a bit helpless, "I guess he'll do. We still need to settle the details of that arrangement, though." He eyed Ivan and Matthew warily.
"All in good time," Arthur said. "Matthew? Ivan?"
"No objections," Matthew said. Ivan nodded in agreement.
"Any other comments or questions? No? Then I guess it's settled. Thank you, Roderich."
"Anytime," Roderich replied pleasantly.
"I propose we interrupt the meeting for lunch and then spend the afternoon drawing up an agreement," Ludwig said. All around the table, the other nations nodded.
"Oh, good!" Feliciano said happily, rubbing his hands together. "Is there any place where we can get pasta close by?"
Ludwig visibly rolled his eyes, but most of the others smiled. "Why don't you come with me, Feli," Alfred said, "let's see if we can manage to find a decent Italian restaurant with a catering service in this city. Shouldn't be too difficult, your people are everywhere."
"Great!"
"Don't encourage him, Alfred," Ludwig muttered, but his objection was drowned by the general bustling and clattering as everybody rose from their seats.
Ivan would have skipped lunch, since he desperately wanted a chance to speak with Matthew alone and in private; but Matthew was still weakened and needed to eat, which left Ivan in a bit of a quandary.
"I'm not really in the mood for pasta," Matthew objected, when Feli eagerly asked him what kind of sauce he preferred. The little Italian stared at him open-mouthed for a minute, then grabbed his hand.
"What are you doing?" Matthew asked.
"Checking your pulse," Feliciano replied, "If you aren't in the mood for pasta, something has got to be wrong. Ve… it does feel a bit faint and your hands are cold. Ivan, make him sit down somewhere comfortable and get him a hot drink and something sweet." He paused; then added with a wink: "And by that I mean food."
A lovely blush spread across Matthew's cheeks.
"Of course you do," Ivan said, his voice colored with amusement. "But I shall heed your advice." He put an arm around Matthew's waist, gently pushing the smaller nation towards the door of the room.
Somewhere in the background, Ivan heard Alfred protest and ask where the hell they thought they were going. Ivan felt his body tense as he instinctively prepared for a fight and tightened his hold on Matthew. Protecting him. Maybe preventing him from escaping, too.
"Leave them be, Alfred," Arthur intervened, his voice tired and resigned.
Ivan relaxed slightly and led Matthew out of the room.
"That's not necessary, Ivan, I can walk on my own," Matthew protested, "I'm fine, really."
"It may not be necessary," Ivan murmured softly, leaning in a bit, so his mouth was close to Matthew's ear, "but I want to. I've been sitting next to you the entire morning, listening to them discuss our future, and I was sorely tempted to jump up and fight everyone who was threatening to take you away from me, but couldn't. Instead, I had to sit still and I wasn't even allowed to touch you."
Matthew was quiet for a long moment, and Ivan waited for him to reply, breathing in his smell, feeling his warmth, intoxicated by his closeness and afraid that he might have been too forward. When Matthew finally replied, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"I like the term our future. It sounds positively domestic."
They had reached Matthew's room, and Ivan held the door open for him. "Domestic?" He replied, slightly puzzled.
"Yeah, you know… like we're going to be together for a long time? Like all those things other people do and that you say are silly, but secretly long for yourself…? Buy each other flowers, cook, go on vacation, celebrate anniversaries, sit on the sofa in their pajamas and watch old movies together, buy a house and spent weeks redecorating it…"
Oh. That.
Ivan looked down at him, into his shining, anxious, hopeful eyes, and swallowed hard. This one was going to be tough, and he really wished Matthew hadn't brought up the subject, because it delved right at a problem that they hadn't discussed so far. But he could not lie to him.
"Matvey…" he said, placing his hands on Matthew's shoulders, holding his gaze, "we are going to be together for a long time. I meant what I told Francis earlier; that I was not going to give you up, no matter what happened. And regarding those other things… well, I already got you flowers, and you can have as many as you want. I'll drown your house in sunflowers if you want me to. I suppose we could also cook together, but I'm warning you – I might be tempted to eat you instead."
Matthew giggled, and Ivan allowed himself a brief smile, before continuing seriously: "I don't generally go on vacation, but I see no harm in trying. Same goes for anniversaries. However, you and I both know that your little movie-watching scheme could only end one way – with us on the sofa, but without pajamas, and the movie forgotten. Besides, I don't think we have the same taste in movies. As for actually living together - that is never going to happen. I'm sorry. But you know it's not possible."
Matthew was still looking up at him, those beautiful eyes so very wide, and his lips slightly parted, speechless. It was painful just to look at him, and Ivan suddenly wished he had been a better liar.
He briefly closed his eyes, concentrating. He knew he needed to say something to attenuate the impact his words had had on Matthew, but what could he say?
Suddenly, he felt soft lips on his in a feathery light touch. When he opened his eyes, he found Matthew already pulling back. Ivan looked at him questioningly.
"You know," Matthew said, his voice warm and full of both tenderness and amusement, "sometimes, you are sweet to the point of being cavity inducing. I wasn't being all that serious and I never expected an earnest answer, much less such a detailed one. You make it sound as if I proposed to you. I'm not a fool, Ivan. I know that we're not a normal couple and never will be and that whatever this relationship is, it's never going to follow a Hollywood script. I may hold you to the cooking thing, though, and the vacation bit. We can visit my sister, she'd love that. On second, thought… no, because that would not be a very relaxing vacation. Bonnie is terribly curious. But you are welcome to flood my house with sunflowers anytime you feel like it. I love sunflowers."
Ivan felt his anxiety dissolve into relief and an almost unbearable feeling of affection at hearing that statement. There were no words to express what he felt, so he pulled Matthew close again and kissed him, deeply, passionately, his hands curled into the Canadian's soft hair. It was all he could do to answer Matthew, because words were slippery, treacherous things, and Ivan did not trust them. Besides, he felt that there had already been enough talking, arguing, discussing, evaluating and protesting that day. You can talk a relationship to death, and Alfred and his supporters were certainly doing their best to prepare an early grave for this one.
And Ivan could not let that happen, because he knew with absolute certainty that Matthew was his one and only chance at redemption. Failure was intolerable. Defeat would mean damnation. Surrender was out of the question.
"Feeling better now?" Matthew asked, slightly out of breath when Ivan finally let go of him.
Ivan looked down at him and his lips curved into a full smile, one of the few genuinely cordial ones he ever smiled. "Somewhat."
"Good." Matthew returned the smile, and Ivan felt his heart skip a beat or two. Pulling himself together, because all of this was starting to get ridiculously sappy, and mighty Russia did not do sappy, Ivan straightened up and said: "Speaking of cavities… I believe Feliciano told me to get you something to eat. What would you like?"
Matthew shrugged. "Anything with chocolate will do nicely. And I need coffee, but I suppose I won't get any, right? Not yet, anyway." He sighed mournfully. "I could really use some coffee right now."
"Well, then it is fortunate that I brought some," Francis' cheerful voice announced from the door. He was half hidden behind a tray that held three large styrofoam cups and several white cardboard boxes.
Ivan raised his eyebrows. "How long have you been listening at the door?"
"I don't know what you mean," Francis said, sounding affronted. He carefully set down the tray on the bedside table. "Now don't be rude, I just went through a lot of trouble to smuggle that coffee past the nurses."
"God, I love you, Francis!" Matthew said emphatically taking one of the cups and sipping his coffee with a blissful expression that was almost comical.
Francis winked at him. "I know, chéri. Everybody loves me."
"Except Arthur," Ivan remarked drily.
"Oh, Arthur loves me, too, he's just afraid to admit it."
"What's in those?" Matthew asked, pointing at the boxes.
Francis grinned and reached over to open them. "Washington may be one of the most unexciting places in the world, but there's one good thing about it – it is one of the few American cities where one may find a decent patisserie. And by decent, I mean French, of course."
"Of course," Matthew said, grinning over the top of his cup. "Ooooh, pain au chocolat, chocolate éclairs and petits fours… why do I get the feeling that you are trying to bribe me, Francis?"
"I would never resort to such mean techniques of persuasion," Francis replied in mock disdain, "however, I am willing to admit that I was hoping to get you in a good mood so you might be a little more… forgiving and compliant, when it comes to defining the terms of that agreement this afternoon."
"Not likely," Matthew said through a mouthful of pain au chocolat, "but keep trying, I like this tactic of yours."
"Try to understand your brother, chéri. He is scared, and like most narrow-minded people he responds to fear with aggression."
"Are you metaphorically calling Alfred a homophobe? That'd be rich, considering that he's sleeping with Arthur."
"I don't think homophobia is the primary issue," Francis said. "No, I think Alfred is scared of the changes your relationship with Ivan might bring on. He resents those changes, because they are unpredictable. And on a deeper level, I believe he's scared of losing you. You have to understand, you are one of his closest friends. His brother, neighbor and ally. He always knew that he could count on you, that he could trust you, no matter what. But what if your relationship with Ivan changes that? Alfred's dislike of Ivan runs very deep. And he may be jealous, too. Somebody is trying to take his little brother away from him, trying to steal him."
"That doesn't give him the right to abduct me or to forbid me to see Ivan. And don't fool yourselves; I do not like the idea of having a chaperone. It makes me feel like a teenage girl of the Victorian Age."
Francis chuckled. "Now that's a lovely sight to imagine! You'd look perfect in one of those adorable little dresses. If you ask him nicely, Roderich might even allow you to wear one; he has been known to put little boys in dresses on occasion."
"For the record: At that time, I assumed that Feliciano was a girl." Roderich said from the door.
"Has knocking suddenly gone out of fashion?" Ivan asked pointedly.
"I do apologize," the Austrian replied. "The door was left ajar, though."
"I presume you are here to shed some light on your mysterious appearance?" Ivan asked.
Roderich nodded. "Among other things, yes. However, I must ask Francis to leave before I do so."
"You do?" Francis asked, looking perplexed.
"I am afraid so. I need a moment with Ivan and Matthew in private. I'll talk to you, Arthur and Alfred later. I need to know where both parties stand, before I can contribute to the effort of finding an agreement that everybody is comfortable with."
"Nicely said," Francis commented, nodding. "In that case, I'll take my leave. Try the éclairs, Mathieu, they are divine." He waved at them and left the room.
Roderich carefully shut the door behind him. "Now," he said, turning back towards Matthew and Ivan. "I am sure you are curious to hear what prompted me to come here."
"I'm guessing it's not a sudden bout of concern for Matthew's and Alfred's wellbeing?" Ivan asked.
"Oh, I was concerned," Roderich said, "though admittedly not concerned enough to leave my comfortable home and rush to Washington. No, the main reason that stands behind my sudden appearance is actually Gilbert."
"Gilbert?" Matthew frowned. "What's he got to do with anything? Is he here, too?"
"Yes, we arrived together. I left him with Ludwig, though, because a ten hour flight with Gilbert is about as much as I can bear. I was sorely tempted to tie him up and gag him."
"Doesn't help much," Ivan said drily. "Believe me, I've tried. The easiest way to shut Gilbert up is hitting him with a syringe full of elephant tranquilizer."
Matthew snorted. "Doesn't sound easy to me. You did that?"
"Once."Ivan looked at Roderich again. "There might be an easier way for you, though", he mused.
"Oh?" Roderich asked, raising his eyebrows. "Pray, tell me. I'm sure I'll have ample opportunity to try it."
Ivan shrugged. "Kiss him. It's the one thing that would probably leave Gilbert speechless, and besides, it is a little difficult to talk when you have somebody else's tongue inside your mouth in addition to your own."
"A sensible plan, but it would leave me with another problem," Roderich said.
"What to do with him afterwards?" Matthew suggested, grinning.
Roderich nodded. "Precisely. I don't want to end up having a fling with Gilbert."
"No?" Ivan asked. "And I always thought you had a thing for him."
"I don't have a thing for him, Ivan, I love him," Roderich stated calmly. "And I don't want to be one of his conquests, because I want him to be mine. Entirely. Exclusively. And preferably forever."
Both Ivan and Matthew stared at him, completely taken aback.
"Well," Ivan said slowly, after he had regained his composure, "that certainly is an interesting bit of news. Why the sudden confession, though? And why did you choose us as your confidants?"
"Because I need your help," Roderich replied bluntly. "Gilbert is as slippery as a freshly caught eel, and the only way to keep him in place is to nail him to a wooden board, metaphorically speaking. Catching him shouldn't be the problem, anyone could do that. But so far, no one has been able to keep him. So I need all the help I can get, if I want my little scheme to succeed. And except Ludwig, you two are the ones who know him best. His best friend and his arch-enemy. Ironic, isn't it?"
"So that is why you decided to become our… guardian," Ivan realized, pleased to have finally solved that puzzle. People who did something for no apparent reason but wanting to help others always made him nervous. He felt that there had to be a motive behind every decision, and he was more comfortable now, knowing what motivated Roderich.
Roderich nodded. "One hand washes the other. You need somebody who is sympathetic to your cause, and I need somebody who is sympathetic to mine."
"That sounds reasonable," Ivan agreed. He looked over at Matthew, who was still staring at Roderich, wide-eyed.
"I can't believe you're in love with Gilbert," he blurted out. "I mean… he's always messing with you, and bugging you and playing pranks on you. Sure, he's a funny guy, but that has to be annoying… isn't it?"
Roderich's smile was a bit pained when he replied. "You have no idea. However, Gilbert and I have known each other for a long time, and there is a lot more to our relationship than Gilbert's pranks." He frowned, the added self-depreciatively: "Mainly wars, frustration and an ocean of denial."
"I won't say that I'm capable of understanding why anybody would want Gilbert, but if you want him, be my guest," Ivan said. "If that's what makes you happy… and more importantly, if that's what it'll take to gain your support, so be it."
"I still think it's strange," Matthew added, "but I should like to see Gilbert happy. He has been a bit out of sorts lately. I think it's depressing him that he is no longer a real nation."
A sudden shadow crossed Roderich's face. "I know," he said softly. Then he brushed the shadow away with a forced smile and said: "We should probably head back to the conference room."
Ivan nodded and offered Matthew a hand, but the Canadian hopped off the bed and stretched. "Feliciano was right. I do feel a lot better now."
"Good." Ivan said. "Come." He opened the door to let Matthew and Roderich through, and followed them down the corridor to the conference room.
Feliciano would later blame it on the pasta sauce, which had been a tad too spicy, but no matter what had happened during lunch, the meeting took a turn for the worse in the afternoon. Many of the nations were tired of the endless discussions and just wanted to get it over with, and as the meeting dragged on, they got more and more annoyed and started snapping at each other.
As per usual, Arthur and Francis were arguing, and so were Alfred and Arthur, and they frequently strayed from the topic at hand, bickering over petty details and old grievances. Feliciano was still mad at Ludwig, who did not seem to understand what the fuss was all about, and Gilbert's presence did nothing to alleviate the growing tensions.
Ivan was close to standing up, grabbing Matthew and leaving the room, when Arthur started to scream at Francis, and was in turn screamed at by Alfred, and Romano started to scream for them to stop. Ludwig hit his fist on the table, but it did not seem to help much.
"Will everybody just fucking shut up?" Gilbert shouted.
"You aren't even supposed to be here, Gilbert!" Alfred shouted back. "So don't you tell us what to do!"
A chorus of angry voices drowned Gilbert's reply, but it didn't matter much, because Gilbert, who had been standing behind Ludwig's chair, was suddenly distracted by having to catch Roderich, who was dropping sideways off his chair. Gilbert and Ludwig caught him in time, but the distraction proved enough to get everybody to gradually quiet down.
"Roddy?" Gilbert asked, sounding puzzled. "Hey, what's the matter with you?"
"Looks like he fainted," Ludwig said.
"People don't just faint like that, West. Especially not when they happen to be nations." Gilbert carefully lowered Roderich to the floor. "He's out cold," he announced.
"Slap his cheeks," Fidel suggested.
"I don't think that'll help much," Ludwig objected, but Gilbert enthusiastically did so. By now, several nations, including Matthew, had gotten up and were moving towards them.
"Is he breathing?" Feliciano asked, his voice high-pitched with concern.
"Yes," Gilbert said.
"We should probably get him out of here," Arthur said.
"Do you want me to help?" Ivan asked, stepping closer and gazing at the unconscious Austrian over the top of Francisco's head.
"You're not touching him!" Gilbert snarled, his red eyes ablaze as he looked up at Ivan. "Back off!"
Ivan raised his hands. "Calm yourself, Gilbert, I was merely offering my help." Curious that Gilbert should be so protective about Roderich, though. Maybe it was a two-sided attraction after all…?
"Give me some space," Ludwig said. "I'm carrying him to one of the bedrooms."
"Meeting adjourned," Arthur said, and it sounded relieved.
What Antonio is quoting is actually one of my favorite plays; Friedrich Schiller's "Don Carlos". Considering that the two main characters are Carlos, prince of Spain, and Rodrigo, Marquis Posa ("Rodrigo" being the Spanish version of Roderich), I thought it very fitting. I'm hinting at whatever form of close relationship Roderich and Antonio had in the past (a marriage or a love affair or something else, I leave that up to your imagination). The quote is from the beginning of Act I, Scene II and translates as follows: "Lo! Who comes here? 'Tis he! O ye kind heavens, My Roderigo!"
Bonnie = Seychelles