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“I’m sorry, darling,” his lover said tiredly, voice barely audible against the pitter-patter of rain against the window on Alfred’s end, “I know I promised I would arrive early to meet you tonight, but something has come up that must be taken care of before I depart for the meeting. We had to push the flight.”
“Of course,” Alfred responded, voice understanding but equally tired as he watched the rain crashing down over the city from his hotel room. He did understand, truly. As a nation, there were things they had to deal with personally, and sometimes those things couldn’t wait. It didn’t make him any less disappointed that he wouldn’t get a chance to spend some time with his lover before the rest of the world arrived for the meeting. And once they were all there...it was too risky to be seen together. “Of course, big guy. I understand.”
“You are still upset,” his partner deduced shrewdly, “It is in your voice, Fedya.”
“I am, of course I am, Ivan,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face, dislodging his glasses, “I miss you. We haven’t spent any time together as us in ages, big guy. Of course I’m upset. But I understand.”
“I will make it up to you,” Ivan promised, “We can arrange something, perhaps after the conference... сколько? Да, да, я знаю. Да. Спасибо. Fedya, I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“That’s alright,” Alfred sighed, “good luck, darlin’.”
The dial tone came on abruptly, and he sighed, hanging up, and leaving the echoes of the abrasive tone to bounce about in the room. He set the phone down on the nightstand table, and reclined against the wooden headboard, tugging the covers around him as he settled in. This was becoming an uncomfortable routine.
It wasn’t that he didn’t understand. No, just as he’d told Ivan, he did understand the necessity. He understood the need to take care of their duties, and that their relationship carried with it a level of secrecy, which made it too easy to compromise on that end for others.
It was just that...he sighed. It had been so long since they’d been able to just be together as themselves. No masks to separate them, no nation duties to intervene or take precedence; just Alfred and Ivan, wrapped together so seamlessly no one could ever deny they were any less than each other’s.
They’d gone longer, of course. He knew this. But, he supposed, he’d gotten spoiled. He’d gotten used to seeing Ivan more often, and with far more ease, than he had during their nearly half-century long spat.
Lightning flew, a bolt across the sky, as thunder crashed and roared. He frowned at the rain washed windows and the furious weather beyond it that was an eerie reflection of his own mood.
There was nothing for it, he acknowledged reluctantly. He would just have to wait.
.
The sky was still overcast two days later, when the meeting began. Alfred ducked into the conference center across the street from their hotel not long before it started drizzling, the remains of his hot breakfast coffee still wrapped snugly in one hand. As he shouldered his way through the door into the lobby, he reviewed his memory of the map that had been included in the meeting packet he’d picked up the night before.
The conference center was huge, and he didn’t want to be amongst the nations he knew would get lost inside it.
Confirming with his own mental map that the conference room was where he thought it was, he glanced at the milling crowd in the lobby lingering around the elevator, slugged back the rest of his coffee, and made his way into the stairwell.
Dumping the empty cup in its appropriate receptacle - he knew most European countries took recycling far more seriously than his own people did - he began to climb, and let his thoughts wander.
It had been a while since they’d been able to hold the full world meeting. They’d had to delay and reschedule it twice now, natural disasters and elections gone wrong making it impossible to do otherwise in those particular instances. But they were here now, and Alfred was grateful it was the full complement of them, instead of just the G7 and standard guests. His brother would be more likely to give him some space the moment he noticed Alfred’s distraction - Matthew rarely didn’t notice, which made hiding things like a scandalous international relationship next to impossible - with the increased eyes on them. Carlos, though forever messing with him, would take the cue from Mattie, and Maria would probably confront him on it later. Though there would definitely be a later, it wouldn’t be in the middle of the meeting. Unlike when Arthur and his brothers went at it.
Sometimes, he really loved his siblings.
Most of the nations were probably there already, he mused, doing a quick check of his watch to make sure, even if they were all early. Definitely East Asia, the subcontinent, and most of Africa. Australia and New Zealand usually came in with the Commonwealth. The Middle East was a toss-up, if they’d be early or late, given that they tended to stagger their arrivals. If his siblings were here then South and Central America were definitely there already. If they weren’t...well, he wasn’t about to be held responsible for the chaos. It definitely wasn’t his fault if the entire American continent went missing during chaos. Nope.
He felt the smirk curl on his lips at the thought of the last time that had happened.
Western Europe was probably running late, he knew. Ludwig was usually early - and with him, he dragged Gilbert with him - but today, as the hosting nation, he’d probably be at the entrance directing nations to the conference room and giving the late arrivals their info packets. He wouldn’t get in for another ten minutes at the earliest. He’d heard Arthur and Francis run into each other earlier, which would stall the rest of their neighboring nations to try and pull them apart. Eastern Europe was always early, to avoid the chaos.
Which meant Ivan would be there by now.
He pushed that thought away, knowing that even if Ivan was here, it didn’t mean that they would get the chance to meet up without slipping. That was why they usually pre-planned things, or visited when no one else was expecting it. With all the nations here for the meeting, it would be stupidity of the highest caliber to let anything slip.
He sighed, feeling his mood slip again at the troublesome thought, and tried to refocus on the meeting as he came up on the right floor. Maybe he should go over the agenda again before he sat down? Hmm, decisions.
He slipped inside the conference room tailing another group of nations just coming in from the elevator bay.
A quick glance pinpointed the North American delegation seating, and as soon as he was out of the doorway he meandered towards his seat. He rummaged idly through his laptop bag as he walked, half aware of the odd hush amongst his fellow nations, looking through the material there for the slim binder with the meeting agenda, fully intent on going over it before everything started up.
Fiddling with his laptop bag as much as he was, he missed the cause of the startled hush amongst his fellow nations until he’d reached his seat and looked up.
And stared.
There were flowers on the table.
He let his laptop bag - agenda and all - slide to the ground, pushing back his chair so he could slip into the space and get a better look. His hands were tentative as he reached out, cradling the wide mouthed glass vase. It was like a bowl, he realized, a pretty, opaque cerulean blue with a cord of braided glass wrapped around the widest part of the vase. It wasn’t too tall, but he still wouldn’t be able to see over it if he was sitting down.
And it was filled to the brim with flowers.
Two large, double bulbed white hyacinths in the center that had him blushing, ringed by red roses, and surrounded by elegant heaps of ivy and dainty purple petunias.
It was beautiful. It was personal.
It was for him.
Oh, he thought wondrously, mind thrown back to every soft, romantic moment where Ivan had stolen his heart anew. Oh, Ivan.
He brushed a thumb delicately over the soft petal of a purple petunia, not even noticing the smile that had curled on his lips. Your presence soothes me, it whispered to him softly, that flower the color of his lover’s eyes. The ivy hummed gently of fidelity, an old promise reaffirmed in front of dozens of unknowing eyes. The roses, he thought, as his fingers curled around the flowered bulb softly, touch gentle, were a robust red that proclaimed their love. And the white hyacinth...well.
You’re beautiful, his lover’s voice whispered through hundreds of nights shared under starlight, through thousands of encounters and even more flowers that snuck their way to his front door, aimed at that black hole of doubt that lived in the center of him. All the way back to that very first arrangement that had been given to him in Alaska, just after his Civil War.
Lilac, for the first feelings of love. A bushel of apples, the symbol of temptation. Chervil, for his sincerity. Purple roses, for the way he’d been so enchanted. And at the core, a single, double bulbed hyacinth in pale white, to call him beautiful.
Words could have a dozen meanings, could be indirect, could be meant at someone listening instead. Words could be misleading, misdirecting, and dangerous. Words were ephemeral, impermanent. Ivan had always been cautious with his words.
In the flowers they shared, he refused to be.
As he took in the wealth of flowers before him, he also noted that there was a card carefully tucked underneath the vase, just barely noticeable. The card was a cream colored stationary, with ink dark typing that offered no hints as to the sender’s identity.
As if Alfred was in any doubt as to who had done this for him.
He carefully tugged the card from under the glass vase, steadying it with his other hand, and then broke the golden wax seal that had closed it, pushing back the flap to withdraw the card within it. Ignoring the audible silence that had grown since the moment he’d seen the flowers, he flipped the card open.
And inside the card that had lain untouched by any other, for his eyes alone, was a hand drawn flower. Dogwood, his memory whispered sweetly, a smile unlike any other the nations had seen before coming to his lips almost unconsciously as he realized, for a love undiminished by adversity.
It took all he had not to turn and search out his gifter with his eyes. To keep himself still, by his seat, instead of turning to face the one pair of eyes he knew were watching him. To keep any emotions from exposing them both after decades of keeping the secret.
But even if he managed that, it was impossible to contain the smile that lit up his face. The smile he’d only ever given one person before.
So instead of keeping himself still, he folded the card back up, sliding it back into its little envelope with his name written in ink-dark typing and tucked it away inside his jacket. And then, he sat down, moving the flowers off to the side corner of his seat on the conference table between him and Matthew, who was sitting next to him, and pulled out his laptop and his notes, as meeting-ready as he could be.
When he looked up, he wasn’t at all surprised to see all eyes turned his way. He flipped the laptop open, and booted it up, raising a brow at all of his watchers and watching as they flushed and turned away. And as they all set about their own meeting preparations, just as Ludwig swept in through the main door to take the podium and start their meeting, he let his eyes drift back to the bouquet that had been crafted just for him. He let his thumb brush gently against the soft petals, feeling warmth curl through that precious space in his chest, and smiled.
With violet eyes watching him.
.
It was pitch dark outside, only the moonlight seeping through the window to illuminate the shimmering vase sitting atop the room’s standard desk, set against the wall. It pushed past the curtain, half drawn, to brush gently against the petals, curling warmly against the soft-colored vase in the dimly lit suite. Further inside the hotel suite, past the impersonal living space, and the sprawl of paperwork covering the dining table, a light flickered on.
Alfred stepped out of the brightly lit bathroom, shouldering past the door as he toweled down his hair. He scanned the room consideringly, by rote, and his eyes softened as they settled on the pale vase holding the lush bouquet sitting in a gentle curl of moonlight. Letting the towel settle on his shoulders, he moved over to the bouquet and brushed the pad of his finger against the soft petals.
The door closed softly behind him, and he smiled as arms wrapped around him. He twisted to look over his shoulder as a voice mused, “You like it, then?”
His grin was warm, “I love it,” he returned, turning to wrap his arms around Ivan in return, as the other man tightened his grip and dropped a chaste kiss to his lips. “Risky, though,” he added, once they’d parted, “I got nearly bulldozed by the questions at lunch.”
Ivan smirked, “Still worth it,” he laughed, even knowing about the increased speculation, the more attentive eyes on them. “I promised I would make it up to you.”
Alfred’s grin turned soft, “You did,” he agreed, curling into his lover’s embrace, “I missed you.” I missed us.
The way Ivan’s grip tightened, face buried in his hair, was a response of its own.
A heartbeat passed. And then, Ivan hummed, “Enough to let me stay the night?”
Alfred pushed against his lover to create a little space between them, tipping his head back to pierce the other man with a look, a single brow raised.
“We’ve still got the meeting in the morning,” he warned half-heartedly, taking in the warmth of those arms around him and the happiness at having Ivan so close, “and after that stunt, I’m gonna have all eyes on me.”
“You’re rather fond of that,” Ivan countered lazily, “and it makes it all the more entertaining to watch them flail afterwards, does it not?”
Alfred snorted, “It would be hilarious,” he acknowledged, then huffed, “But Mattie wants to go for breakfast tomorrow morning before the meeting.”
“We’ll just have to be sneaky about it,” Ivan retorted, resting his head atop riotous blond locks, still wild from the towelling down Alfred had given them earlier. “One night, Fedya?”
Alfred hummed contemplatively, leaning into the embrace as his gaze returned to the vase in front of him. He smiled.
“Come to bed with me?”
A smile pressed against his neck, “Of course.”