Disclaimers…? I don't own the Hetalia.

Thank you all for the wonderful things you're saying to this story ^/^

I apologize sincerely for the lack of updates… I was lacking motivation to do anything but draw. But here is now, yes!?

Chapter 7

Compliments

Ivan watched Arthur closely from that moment on. Every little thing the man did was confusing. He rocked back and forth on his heels; he hid his gaze from Ivan's constantly, and a curious color was ever present on the blonde's face. It wasn't an unpleasant color, but he didn't know what to compare it to; neither did he know the reason that it lit up like that every so often.

The odd pair walked around the shop until England stopped to peer at the seeds, crouching down and peering at the rose packets, tapping his fingers on his chin. Russia tilted his head slightly to the side, his sunflower still sitting easily in his palm.

"You like roses, da?" He pondered this, cataloguing the information away for when he needed to buy a gift for his new friend. Arthur nodded, smiling at nothing in particular and thumbing through several different types of seeds.

"Roses are my favorite flower, indeed. I like them because they come in so many different colors. They are a rather versatile species." He spoke about the plants as if they were a science project, but the way he tenderly touched the seedlings one would think he thought of the plants as his own children. Russia crouched down next to him, looking at the packets himself, watching to see which one Arthur would pick out.

"And what is your favorite color…?" The Russian just wanted to know, again, for future reference. The nation hummed a bit before choosing two separate packets, looking between them and holding them up to his face.

"White roses… and purple I suppose. They complement the others very nicely." Russia could only describe Arthur's look as sly. He eyed the Russian like a fox, his soft smile having an edge to it. Ivan held his breath and leaned away from the green clad man, expecting some sort of judgment to pass.

"You know, they kind of match your hair and eyes…" Russia should've laughed it off; Arthur bringing his own words back around to him. He should have punched England for comparing him to flowers. But, no, instead of doing either of these, Ivan chose to let his face heat up and he quickly left Arthur's side.

"Oh, look, here are sunflower seeds; I will look for good ones." He stumbled away and towards the seeds, not really paying attention to which ones he was looking at. Ivan couldn't stop sneaking small glances over to him, peeking from around his scarf. How does one process compliments?

Looking in front of him; Russia could tell there were several different kinds of sunflowers to choose from. Glance… no, focus. Sunflowers could range anywhere from the Buttercream sunflower to the Giant Russian sunflower. He chuckled to himself and glanced towards… no, stop that! Ivan shook his head, pulling the Buttercream variety off the shelf and compared the coloring to a certain Brit. He would get these. Putting the seeds next the Russian ones, they complemented one another. He shrugged to himself and pulled the other packet off the shelf. A voice was heard just beside him.

"I'm ready when you are." Russia felt his skin crawl with the need to be startled; he didn't let himself of course, but the urge was there. Something he couldn't control was his voice; apparently it didn't get over the shock.

"I-I am ready." He shook his head slightly; England smiled his soft smile that was apparently a secret because the Russian had only ever seen it here, in this strange enlightening moment they were sharing. "I have two different k-kinds, is okay, da?" He cursed himself.

"That's fine, I believe I've bought too many…" He held up five or six different colors of rose seeds, chuckling to himself before cocking his head to the side and studying Ivan. Said Russian refused to acknowledge the need to turn away from that burning gaze.

"Are you alright?"

Oh, if only he were alright. If only he weren't a mess of confusion. If only his face would stop doing the annoying heating that was taking place right now!

"I am fine!" Ivan felt the heat only get worse as he struggled for the right words to say. Apparently the old cliché wasn't enough this time as Arthur's eyebrow rose up in question Damn it. "…No one," Ivan's throat felt like it was stuck together and he attempted to swallow the words trying to climb out of it, without success. "Ah… no one has ever told me they enjoyed something about me before… I do not… I do not know how to…"

Finally his voice simply died where it was. He opted instead to hide his mouth in his scarf where it wouldn't betray him any longer. His fingers laced the bottom of said article of clothing as his gaze shifted somewhere else. Why was that sentence so hard to spit out? If it didn't want to be said, it should've stayed where it was supposed to!

"Don't know how to handle complements?" And then there was Arthur, suddenly a mind reader. Russia frowned to himself. "It's alright, I know the feeling. Come on, let's pay for these and head over to the garden." He smiled and turned, walking towards the front of the shop. Russia frowned even more at the Englishman understanding his feelings. These weren't necessarily nice feelings; he didn't wish them to anyone but himself. He didn't want Arthur to be able to understand the loneliness and confusion welling up inside his own chest.

Ivan placed his things on the counter and watched the Brit converse with the young cashier. She giggled at the blonde, sending wary glances to the silent Russian. These looks, he was used to. She was afraid of him, but because someone else was there with him, she could focus on something else. He knew how to process these looks, knew how to ignore them. It offered a slight comfort from the confusing day he was having, but it also stung slightly. Someone in Great Britain was afraid, and in a small way; that meant Arthur had a piece of himself that was wary of Russia. Of course; Ivan was a large man clad in a trench coat and a scarf in the middle of summer on an island nation, people were bound to question his sanity. He inwardly shrugged as she finished her job. It was all part of being a nation.

"Alright, are you ready?" Arthur cast his gaze upon Ivan, handing him his things. Gloved fingers took the sunflower gratefully; the packets of seeds placed in a small bag. Nodding, he pulled the plat close to his chest, smiling down at it.

"Da, I am ready. I will follow you, Arthur." The blonde nation nodded, walking out of the store and down the path; leading to England's London home. The pair of them walked side by side; receiving several glances of different natures; several were curious, others were fearful of the giant walking among them; still others were confused by Ivan's choice of wardrobe. It was alright, Ivan didn't pay them any attention.

He was too busy glancing at his sunflowers.