February 14th, 2011
Ivan woke to the white sunlight filtering through the crack in the living room drapes. He brought a hand up to his eyes to shield them, craning his head up to look around, momentarily forgetting where he was and what he was doing here. Eventually, his eyes fell on mop of golden hair lying next to him, glinting in the filtering light.
Oh.
At some time during the night, the American had slipped off him onto the floor beside the Russian, with one arm still flung across Ivan's chest. His breath caught in his throat as he felt the weight of it move up and down each breathe he took.
It was…strangely comforting.
He turned his head completely to the side and flushed as he felt the warm breath from Alfred mouth flick over his face.
Amerika was very very close, wasn't he?
Ivan noticed a glittery little pool by the American's face, a string of silver dangling from his mouth. Ivan chuckled softly. The American had been drooling, just like a babe would do. Perhaps Ivan was the boy's nursemaid.
Ivan dared to reach out a hand and wipe the warm drool from the American's lips. Doubtless he would be hungry when he woke. Then again, it seems America was always hungry.
Perhaps he should make the man breakfast.
As carefully as he could he eased the man's arm off from his body and tucked it into Alfred's side. As he slowly rose to his feet he draped the rest of the blanket over the American, covering any errant limbs that had become uncovered during the night. Content with the young man's position, Ivan made his way into the kitchen.
What was the American always going on about when he was with that one strange nation? Pancakes. That was it.
Russia noticed an open book on the counter, with one of the visible pages dog eared. Russia mused over it for a few seconds until he found it-Chocolate Chip Pancakes. The American must have been planning on making them. Ivan smiled. He would give the young American a surprise.
He bent down and rummaged through the bottom cupboards, trying to make the least amount of noise as possible. After a few minutes of looking he had gathered the a few bowls and mixing spoons, more than capable of whipping up a simple batch of pancakes.
He scanned over the recipe again, and set about looking for the ingredients. Russia was sure he would have no problem finding any chocolate in America's kitchen.
Russia mused on why he was doing this as he pulled the ingredients from the cupboards and set them out on the marble counter. Here he was, caring for his once most hated enemy, on orders from England, of all people.
That's why he was doing this, right? Because England had asked him to?
Right?
He chuckled softly to himself and pushed the errant thought out of his head. Of course. There was no other reason he would be here.
Ivan was too occupied with these strange thoughts, along with the cracking of eggs and the mixing of ingredients, to register the sound of shuffling and sleepy feet behind him.
He started slightly as he felt the American's chin lean over his shoulder, his cheek just barely brushing up against Ivan's. He quietly ignored the heat that rushed to his face.
"Hi there." Alfred said thickly, brain still addled in sleep, winding his arms around the Russian's waist.
The little one had always been too touchy and personal for his own good.
He remembered a time, back when the child was still having his Civil War, when the American boy refused to have Russian leave his side for weeks on end, relying on his ally as if he were the last person in the world and clutching onto his hand as if it were his only lifeline.
"Hello, young one." He turned his head slightly to give the American a small half smile, but the the boy had buried his face into Russia's shirt.
That needy, desperate boy had disappeared not long after, replaced by a self righteous, confident and arrogant young man, who seemed to have a natural glow of independence and capability. Only yesterday had the Russian seen him resurface, making him realize how rare it was for the American to show his vulnerability in these modern times.
"Smells good," He mumbled into Russia's shirt, "You making me breakfast?"
"It would appear that way, yes?"
He felt Alfred smile into his shoulder.
"You're so nice to me all of a sudden," he laid his head sideways on the Russian's shoulder and closed his eyes, "Dumb Red."
Ivan couldn't help the small smile that quirked at his lips. He tilted his head to the side, just barely brushing the American's hair against his cheek.
"Go sit down, little one. It is almost done."
Alfred looked up, and, for the first time, smiled brightly at Ivan.
"Okay!" He chirped, unwinding his arms from the Russian's waist and bobbing over to the table.
Moments later the Russian set a large stack of pancakes before the excitable American, who's eyes immediately lit up at the sight. The fire in those eyes send a surge of warmth across Russia's chest.
"Dude!" Alfred's grin spread across his face as he poked one of the pancakes with a fork, "Chocolate chips! Sweet!"
Ivan chuckled and ruffled the American's hair, teasing Nantucket lightly between his fingers. Apparently it was his turn to be "touchy" now-
"Just remember our talk yesterday, little one. You do not want another stomach ache, yes?"
The American's response was lost amidst the sound of clinking forks and food being scarfed. Russia continued to hover beside him, petting his hair, although America didn't seem to mind.
After awhile, this began to concern Ivan. It had truly been decades since he had been this close to Alfred, much the less touched him. Ever since the beginning of the Union, their relationship had been somewhat strained.
But now Alfred was acting different. He was letting the Russian touch him, rather tenderly, in fact, and was acting in a way that seemed as if he truly wanted the Russian's affections, and his company.
Ivan frowned. Alfred was acting different than one would act around a former enemy, and a current tenuous ally at most.
Ivan decided that he would figure out why.
"Alfred."
He turned around in his seat, the use of his real name just enough to draw the American away from the prospect of food. Ivan's heart stopped as the boy looked up at him, his blues eyes glinting behind blonde bangs and gold rimmed glasses and his lips a perfect curve of pink marred only by a splotch of chocolate chip. Everything about him beckoned to be touched.
Before he could stop himself, Ivan reached forward and placed a gently finger on the American's lips, shuddering inwardly at their plump softness. His finger moved to the splotch of chocolate, lingering for a moment.
Alfred jerked back slightly from the touch, glaring at the Russian.
"S-stop it, asshole." he spluttered against the Russian's hand.
Ivan smirked and lifted his finger, the dab of chocolate still splotched invitingly on the American's lips.
"Very well."
His other hand rose to tangle in the back of the American's hair as he swooped down, capturing the other's lips in his own. He felt Alfred breath sharply, momentarily tensed before slowly easing into it, responding with more enthusiasm than Ivan had expected.
Well. That answered that question.
Laughing inwardly, he leaned in further into the kiss, pressing the American's hips up against the kitchen table and sliding a thigh up between Alfred' legs.
Alfred gasped lightly, opening his mouth just enough to give the Russian entrance, an opportunity that Ivan fully explored. He slid his hands up the American's sides, tracing them lightly as he tongue slipped into the other's mouth.
His tongue lapped at the warmth of the Alfred's mouth, wrestling with the submissive muscle of the American's. He drew back momentarily to nip at his pink lips, trailing a line of saliva along the bottom, intrigued at the low whine building in the American's throat.
It was delightful to taste the chocolate in the other's mouth, he noted. Much more delightful than the experience of actual eating the toxic things.
"You're sweet, Alfred." He purred against the American's lips, before delving in deeper, swallowing Alfred's response between the kisses.
But there was one thing he was still curious about-
Russia gently felt around for the edge of the Alfred's sweatshirt, distracting the American by probing deeper in his mouth, tangling with his tongue and running his own over the other's teeth. He gently fingered the edge of the jacket, bolstered as he sucked down another one of the American's quiet moans.
Without allowing himself to feel guilty, Ivan jerked his arms upwards. Alfred let out a surprised squeak as the baggy sweatshirt was pulled off over his head and tossed aside, reflexively bringing his arms up to shield his body from the other's view.
Ivan immediately saw his mistake as the the American instantly shut down, pulling away from the Russia and zipping his lips tightly. Gently, he caught the other's wrists in his hands, but for the moment made no attempt to draw them out of the American's protective hold.
America's eyes were scrunched shut, his face bright red, his lower lip caught under his teeth. To Russia, it looked as if the American was on the verge of tears.
"Amerika-" Russia started
"D-don't," Alfred wrapped his arms securely around his middle and tucked his chin into his chest.
"What is wrong, little one?" Alfred shook his head.
"C-can you just, like, go or something? Please? I-"
"Little one," Russia interrupted, "I am not going to leave you." He put his hand on top of the American's head and ruffled his fingers through his hair, teasing the strands of gold between them.
America's breath hitched painfully as he pulled back from Ivan's touch, daring to look up into the Russian's violet eyes.
"B-but I don't want you to see." He spoke shamefully, cheeks coloring brighter.
Ivan sighed in frustration. "What are you talking about, young one?"
America clutched his hands tighter around his middle, and suddenly Ivan understood. Of course.
Ivan sighed. It would appear that America was in need of another ego boost.
He hoisted the boy off the ground, ignoring his squirms and yelps of protest, and set him gently on the counter opposite the table. He puts his hands over the American's, holding them agains the cold countertop. He pressed his body into America's to prevent the boy from drawing his legs up and pushing the Russia away.
Russia treated America's anxious glare with a reassuring smile, placing a gently kiss on the bridge of Alfred's nose.
"Podsolnechnik, listen to me." He said, pulling back slightly to trace his lips down the American's neck, to his collarbone, and down his chest.
Russia leaned down further, gently nuzzling his nose into the American's stomach. Alfred flinched and let out a low moan as Russia snaked his tongue and drew a line of saliva over the pink flesh. He teased the skin gently under his teeth
"It does not matter to me," He mumbled against the American's stomach, "what you appear to be externally," he leaned upwards again and captured Alfred's mouth in kiss as tender and sweet as the Russian could manage.
"Do you understand me?" He breathed in the American's mouth. When he was returned with a surprising, forceful smashing of lips, Ivan took it as his answer. He released the American's hands from his grasp as his own fell to Alfred's sides, feeling up the contours of the other's flesh.
But, out of everything, Ivan reveled in the taste. His forbidden fruit had always been this, entirely too sweet and processed but still endearing and sincere, comforting-
His body moved of its own accord now and he pressed further and further, wanting more and more, his hands stroking and squeezing as they ran up and down the American's side, finally exploring further down, tugging at the other's pants-
"Nng" Alfred struggled against the Russian's lips, "W-wait, Ivan, stop-"
Ivan laughed softly to indulge the other before probing deeper with his fingers, slipping them beneath the boy's waistband, gliding over his hipbones-
He spluttered in surprise as a jet of something wet and cold hit the side of his face. He pulled away from Alfred's lips and touched the side of his face, feeling the wetness that dribbled down the side. He looked at the American in shock, seeing the shy and cheeky grin that now adorned the boy's face. And in his hand was-
One of those spraying faucets from the sink-
The Russian stared blankly for a few moments.
T-the capitalist brat-
Russia snatched the faucet from America's hand, and this time it was his turn to sport a grin. The America opened his mouth to speak but moments later it was filled with water as the Russian mercilessly doused the other. America spluttered and put his hands in front of his face, unable to contain his amused giggles, despite himself.
"Do not think that you can escape, young one!" Ivan's eyes were lit with childish delight.
America awkwardly slid off the counter and half stumbled, half slipped for cover, laughing breathlessly all the way before ducking down behind the table.
"Nu-uh, commie! You're gunna have to come get me!"
Ivan smiled, stopping the spray of water and standing perfectly still. America was much like a small animal, curious, easy to lure-
Sure enough, the golden head poked up from behind the tabletop, peering with anxious blue eyes.
"Ivan are you-"
He was interrupted as a torrent on water soaked his hair, quickly ducking back down.
Ivan laughed and set the faucet back on the counter before creeping around the table to be greeted by the sight of a disheveled American, hair dripping wet and clothes damp. He met the Russian with a mock frown and crossed his arms.
"You're evil."
Russia kneeled down in front of the American.
"Has it taken you two hundred years to figure out that much?" He put a hand on the American's thigh and patted it.
"Are you all right, dorogoy? While you were only playing, I can't help but think you were wanting away for certain reason."
Alfred's expression dropped.
"I'm sorry."
"No, do not apologize, it is not you're fault." He tucked a piece of wet hair behind Alfred's ear and placed a kiss on his cheek.
"I didn't mean to push you," he whispered against the American's skin. Alfred smiled and scratched his head.
"I know, Russki, I was just being stupid. I don't why I was so," he shrugged, "Weird about it, I guess."
Ivan ran his other hand lightly up and down the American's arm, giving his bicep a squeeze.
"Ah. Perhaps you are like young females, yes? You wish to be courted, is that true?"
"Uh, well," America tilted his head to look into the Russian's eyes, "I mean, its not like I don't want to, but-"
Ivan realized the American's glasses were slightly askew, in a boyish way that made the Russian's heart stop.
"Maybe we could go on, I dunno, like a date or something. We can just do that first, maybe"
Ivan smiled and took the American's hands in his.
"Of course, my little sunflower. Where is it you would like to go?" He got up, gently pulling the American to his feet.
"W-well, there's this park close by, sometimes I like to walk through there-" Russia smirked. The idea of the energetic young nation in such a peaceful, natural place was amusing.
"And there's this really nice restaurant close by, they have really good food-"
Ivan had to laugh at that. Naturally, the American couldn't fathom doing anything without the possibility of a good meal.
"Very well, little one. But first, you must change, yes? Do not hide yourself behind such unflattering clothing," He pulled at the waistband of the blue sweatpants.
"Okay, yeah. These probably need to be washed anyway…" America lingered a little further, unwilling to let go of the Russian's hands, but finally retreated from the kitchen after planting one last kiss on Russia's cheek.
Flushing from the American's own display of affection, Ivan made his way into the foe, ignoring the dirty dishes and plate still half full of pancakes. That could wait until later.
He pulled his coat from the peg where he had hung it earlier, slipping it about his shoulders without bothering to button it up just yet.
He heard the sound of loud, bounding footsteps behind him and turned to see Alfred moving towards him, award winning smile plastered across his face. Briefly, Ivan let his eyes taken in the American's new attire: a pair of jeans just tight enough to show off the curve of his thighs, a similarly tight fitting black shirt, and the trademark leather jacket that he was currently worming his arms through.
Oh yes. Much better than the sweatshirt and sweatpants.
"Hey Russki! You ready?" Alfred bounded towards the Russian and tackled him in an enthusiastic hug, which Ivan returned.
"Yes, Alfred." Ivan couldn't contain himself, he felt spurred by the American's change of clothing, enough to tilt the other's chin up and press another deep kiss against his lips, bringing his hands up to cradle the other's face.
Alfred broke away a few seconds later, but still remained close to the Russian's face.
"Ivan? Can-can i ask you something?"
The Russian rubbed casual circles on the American's face with his thumb.
"Of course. Anything you want." His breath curled in Alfred's mouth as he brought him closer.
"How long?" Alfred mumbled against the Russian's lips. Ivan drew back a fraction, just enough so that he could meet the American's eyes. He let a gentle finger trail down the side of the other's face as he mused over the question in his head.
How long?
He wasn't sure. He didn't believe that he'd even been aware of these feelings until now. His brow furrowed. Perhaps there had been something there since the fall of the Union, but he couldn't pinpoint it.
"I am not sure." He stated, but placed a reassuring kiss on Alfred's forehead in an attempt to assure the man that he knew now, it didn't matter what he had felt in the past or when he had started feeling this way, because he knew it now-
"Oh."
Was it Ivan's imagination, or did America sound slightly disconcerted?
Alfred looped the edge of Ivan's scarf around his fingers.
"It's…it's been awhile, for me…"
Russia raised his eyebrows in surprise, looking down at the American boy. He stole a quick glance up into the violet eyes but quickly looked back down. He awkwardly fingered the edge of Russia's scarf. Russia tilted his head.
"Since-since the end of the Union?"
"Uh, no."
"Y-Yalta?" Russia offered a half hearted smile as his fingers carded through the boy's hair. He supposed that the boy's affections may have been born from wartime stress and need for companionship-
But the boy gave a slight shake of the head. Russia felt an uneasiness sink in his stomach. He hoped dearly that the American hadn't been feeling this way since before the Union.
He decided to ask. "Was it after the Union-"
Russia felt a surge of guilt as America shook his head again, cutting him off. Had America really kept this secret for so long?
He tucked a stray lock of the American's hair behind his ear.
"Your Civil War, Amerika?"
His breath hitched in his throat as the American froze up, indicating that Ivan had hit the nail on the head. The Russian felt a surge of guilt through his veins.
He put his arms around on his American's shoulders and pulled him in closer.
"I am very sorry, podsolnechnik. I wish-I wish so very much that I could make it up to you. It-it must have been very painful for you, da?"
He nestled his nose into his American's hair, inhaling the smell of chocolate and the faint scent of roses, placing another kiss into the soft scalp.
Moments later they pulled apart, Ivan's hands settled on Alfred's shoulders, rubbing them gently, while the American began to button up the other's coat with careful, measured hands.
"I'll be ready tonight." he whispered.
"What do you say, little one?"
America didn't meet Russia'a eyes, instead busying himself with adjusting the Russian's scarf and wrapping it more securely around his neck. Ivan's heart fluttered as Alfred's warm fingers brushed the side of his throat.
"I was nervous earlier but I know for sure I'll be ready tonight. That's okay, right?" He chanced a glance up.
"You'll be all right with that, big guy?"
He smiled, taking one of his American's warm hand from where they were tousling his scarf and brought the knuckle up to his lips, where he placed a cool kiss.
"Yes."
Alfred's eyes lit up, bright with childish happiness but also something deeper that Ivan couldn't quite pinpoint. But whatever it was that his American boy's eyes were trying to say, it made Ivan feel warm.
He was wrenched out of his musings by Alfred, who began to pull Ivan towards the door, babbling excitedly all the way.
"Dude, I'm serious, the food there is great. I mean they have all that fancy stuff but if you ask them real nicely they'll make you a hamburger-"
"Alfred, I would think that you would want to eat more better after your problems of yesterday and this morning yes?"
"Hey! It's a holiday, Russki. On holidays you don't have to think about the stuff you eat! I'll start my diet again tomorrow, I swear."
"Whatever you say, solynysko."
In fact, Ivan truly did agree with Alfred. He was already planning to buy the American all the globs of chocolate and red dye that his heart desired tonight, as well as any small gift that would give Alfred even the smallest inkling of joy. Naturally it would not be used as a proxy for his own, pure affections, but he figured it would not hurt to shower his little one with all types of love on their first day together.
Perhaps this silly, consumerist holiday, along with this silly, consumerist country, was beginning to grow on him.