Thank you to Chrysanthemum19 for requesting the numbers and genre for this particular update.
On a day that England woke up with a bad hangover after spending the night in Russia, savoring the taste of vodka and letting the fact that it was different than ale soothe him and become his steady remedy, he found a letter propped up right next to his headboard.
'Do you want to go see the sunflowers bloom with me?' The simple request felt equally like a lovelorn letter from some lady or gentleman that had somehow ended up in the Brit's hotel room and like a creepy assassination attempt from Russia.
"Really?" England glared down at the offending letter, but he couldn't stay completely wary of it, not when curiosity nagged at him without ever relenting.
His dark stare finally relented some, "Alright, fine." It didn't matter that he hadn't been speaking to someone in particular or just a letter.
Arthur Kirkland wasn't prepared to be left stunned by a small plate of an obviously Russian meal when he wandered into the kitchen area of the admittingly somewhat fancy hotel room, he'd rented for a couple nights.
What looked like Stroganoff sat hot and appetizing other than the swirl in his stomach that almost demanded more of his attention; beside it, sat a vodka bottle with a yellow bow looped around it. 'In case, you're thirsty.'
England groaned; someone sure had a sense of humor, didn't they? He was willing to bet all of his money and probably would if he wasn't even a little bit sober that Russia left that there as a joke.
Staring at the house before him, England couldn't help but question all of his life choices that led him to stand before it; would it be worth it to just walk away rather than knock on the door that undeniably held a nation behind it that he tended to rarely see eye to eye with?
Arthur figured that now of all times was a moment to be brave rather than go home after forking over the cost of his hotel, pay the more than definitely high tab that he left at the bar, quitting never crosses his mind after he's been out drinking, just usually in the morning after, wallowing in his misery inside his bed at home, and questioning the more complex meanings of life.
Yeah, he was pretty sure that this was his last shot at sanity before he ended up forced to own up to his drinking, and he was pretty sure that it would make a bold claim to how strong he is to walk right over to Russia's house and basically ask him about the letter and agree to go on either a date or hopefully a friendly outing with his cold, pseudo neighbor.
He knocked and waited what could have easily been a half an hour but was probably only fifteen minutes for the other nation to answer the door.
"What are you doing here?" Russia blearily rubbed his eyes like he'd just been asleep and shifted in a long coat that probably kept him warm while he slept. England knew that Russia could be incredibly cold, and he wasn't entirely sure that that didn't also apply to the man before him now.
"I-uh, you left a letter?" England held it up as he cursed his inability to just think and not just accuse someone right away.
"Letter?" Ivan took it out of his hand with a steady sort of grip that just made England uneasy, "Oh, letter. Come in, come in." Russia held the door open with a sort of casual grin that Arthur couldn't help eyeing.
"You left it, right?" England muttered.
"Uh," Russia shifted with a kind smile, "Probably. I dropped you off at the hotel. You were completely drunk. Have you ever had vodka before?"
The question may have been spoken innocently enough, but Arthur felt challenged anyway, "I have, and I wasn't that drunk."
"Really?" Ivan inquired as he headed over to his kitchen to grab something quick to eat.
England blinked; it had been a while since he'd so much as spent time with Russia other than at the bar yesterday, and that didn't really count for much.
"Y-Yeah," England quickly corrected his stance, "You only thought that I was completely wasted."
"So when you told me that my people were prettier than yours, you truly meant it?" The gleam to Russia's eyes immediately made England back track.
"No, no, no!" England went on, "I have as much pride as the next guy does in his nation."
"What about when you told me that I was the prettiest woman that you'd seen?" Russia obviously wasn't a woman; six feet tall of intimidating, male Russian to England definitely wasn't a woman.
"D-Did I really? I mean, no, I meant, erm, man. Sorry about that." England wasn't quite sure if he was saying the right thing at all.
"England, Arthur," Russia smiled another one of those smug smiles, "You wanted to meet up later on for another night of drinking, didn't you?"
Arthur hated the way that he said that; it made him almost sound like a walking joke when he was drunk. Russia definitely wasn't listening to any of England's counter arguments, so may be it was best to save face and just agree.
"O-Of course, may be you were the prettiest woman when the light reflected your hair outside of the bar." Arthur wondered if he'd somehow overstepped his boundary with a sort of ease that he shouldn't be capable of.
"Oh, Arthur," Russia's purple eyes gleamed from the light coming in the window, "I thought you were the one who looks good in a dress?"
England had no idea how since he wasn't currently eating anything or for Pete's sake drinking something, but he managed to choke on his own spit. Surely, he hadn't tried on a dress the night before?
Russia, for some reason or another, looked more than a little amused when Arthur finally caught his breath and looked up; the Russian had a sneaky smile on his face, and Arthur wanted to melt into a pile of goo, because surely that hopefully meant that Russia was just pulling his leg. Right?