Disclaimer: Hidekaz Himaruya owns Hetalia and not me.
Warnings: May contain fluff, if you have an allergy to fluffiness then read no further. No characters were harmed in the making of this story.
Chapter 1 – Self-Control
Leningrad, Russia – early 1980s (approximately four weeks after the events of the world meeting at Austria's mansion).
Another Monday morning, another meeting. Russia sat, thoroughly bored in an elaborately decorated meeting room, his huge booted feet stuck up on the table, his blond head tipped back, gazing up at the plasterwork on the ceiling.
He wasn't even pretending to listen but was instead day-dreaming and wishing he was back in his house eating chocolate chip cookies, drinking vodka with Latvia on his lap.
Actually, she hadn't sat on his lap in ages. He'd hoped that after getting her to confess she loved him at Vienna Zoo, and then their tumble in the hay in Austria's stable, that their love affair would just come on in leaps and bounds. It should fly like an eagle now, he thought. But in actual fact, it hadn't. A burst balloon had more flight in it.
Latvia had been reticent, to say the least. She'd avoided him, and tried to insist that they shouldn't be more than friends, that it was too complicated. That it didn't feel right having sex in the house with Lithuania and Estonia. Russia had tried several times to get the two other Baltics out of the house, but that had failed too. He'd also tried to get her out of the house, this too had failed. So, apart from small snatched cuddles (usually catching hold of her from behind while she washed up), pulling her protesting onto his lap when she brought him coffee in his office, and once shoving her in the snow and jumping on her on the pretext of a snowball fight, there'd been barely any physical contact.
By now, Russia was at his wit's end, and had found it very frustrating. Cold showers and morning runs had been the norm for him for a few weeks while he tried to figure out how to break her resolve. The fact that she wanted to keep their relationship a secret was another thing that puzzled and annoyed him. He didn't care who knew, but was prepared to do anything to keep her happy. But the fact was that there wasn't a relationship to keep secret and this was something that Russia was determined to change.
The delegates around the table - all charged with the dubious job of keeping Russia up to date on happenings within the Government – were silent. They eyed their Nation with trepidation. None of them wanted to point out the obvious – that Russia had not been listening to a word they had said.
"Is the meeting over?" Russia suddenly asked, looking around at the nervous-looking suited men in the room.
They all nodded, much relieved.
Russia stood up, nodded to Estonia who had been sat behind him taking notes, and strode out of the door.
He would buy some flowers for her, he thought. But also something for Lithuania as well to cover up his intentions, and Estonia he thought, in case Estonia thought that Lithuania was a favourite, oh and his sister, Ukraine or she will complain.
Why did things have to be so complicated, he thought. He and Latvia should be a couple now, he thought, going on proper dates like normal couples, having dinner, going to the theatre, and... here, he gulped and sighed longingly, kissing and cuddling.
When they returned to the house Russia had bought a dozen red roses (so much for keeping a secret), several balls of wool, a new saucepan and some new computer floppy disks for Estonia (he had no idea what the latter was – Estonia said he needed some 5¼ inch floppies which Russia thought exceedingly small).
"New wool!" Ukraine was delighted, "Hmmm, blue..." she added, "Never mind, I'll knit you a scarf, Vanya."
"New saucepan! Thank you, Sir," Lithuania was pleased with his present, but also suspicious. Russia had been in an odd mood since returning from the world meeting just a few weeks ago. His mood swings seemed to be more erratic than ever. One minute the boss was ecstatic and tapdancing around the house, the next he was morose and sat in his study with his vodka. Once, Lithuania thought he'd heard the sound of crying coming from his study, but couldn't be sure. He'd only seen his boss cry twice in all the centuries he'd lived with him and he never ever wanted to re-live those days.
There were also the five mile morning runs Russia was now embarking on and his new 'diet' which was alarming enough. Lithuania had never known Russia watch his diet before. It was all very perplexing.
"They're lovely, but..." Latvia took the roses from him and tried to find a vase.
Russia peered around, made sure no-one was around and picked her up and spun her round.
"Put me down... er Sir," Latvia struggled, almost dropping the vase and roses and smacked him fruitlessly on his shoulder.
"But Aija..."
"Please don't call me that. We can't do this, I told you. It doesn't feel right. They're my friends. Your country is occupying my country and Toris and Eduard and..." she felt tears brimming up. Why did it have to be like this? It was getting harder and harder to hold him off now. At first Russia had backed off when she'd protested but he was getting more and more insistent.
The first few days after they had come back from the world meeting, Latvia had started to have second thoughts. His smashing up the house after finding Poland's makeover of his bomb shelter basement into a lilac glittery nightmare – all paid for by his credit card – had not helped.
What on earth had she been thinking – sleeping with her boss? Granted, she'd slept with him before – a cold winter night in 1944 to be exact , but neither had known who the other was. But now... it was different. She'd carried a torch for him for near on 40 years and now after finding each other after all this time... Hungary's warning also echoed through her head and kept her awake at night. 'He'll never let you leave,' Elizaveta had told her. She knew him well enough to know this to be true. His possessiveness would take new heights the more she yielded to him. And what would she do if and when her country became independent?
She needed space, but Russia would not give her space. That seemed to be one thing he didn't want to give her. And in the confines of the mansion, as large as it was, she felt she was being smothered and that every time she turned a corner he was there.
He obviously wasn't thinking clearly. So she would have to think for the two of them.
Russia sighed and pulled her onto his lap and snuffled into her hair, it had a fragrance of apples, flowers and the sea. He held her tight, so tight it was hard to breathe.
Latvia allowed herself to be cuddled for a while, her ears straining for anyone approaching the room. She stiffened as she heard Ukraine clomping back and what was that? Surely she couldn't hear the older Nation's boobs bouncing?
She jumped off Russia's lap hurriedly and, despite her misgivings, not without some regret.
Russia grumbled and stood up to pull her back, but she put her hand up to his chest to stop him, "Later..." she said.
Russia grinned happily at this. 'Finally,' he thought, 'I've gotten through to her,' and, as his sister came in carrying her knitting and a romance novel, he took himself off to his bedroom, changed into his combats and went for yet another five mile run to be followed by yet another cold shower.
Author's Notes:
5¼ inch floppy disk – the only external storage available at that time for a computer (before 3.5 inch floppies and long before USBs, CD ROMs etc).
Aija is Latvia's alias from the Second World War.
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