Work Text:
Inside the G8 meeting, the nine nations sit, bantering about extraneous matters. Alfred is animatedly speaking to Kiku about video games. Feliciano, Lovino, and Francis discuss their cuisines. Ivan and Matthew chat quietly about the upcoming winter. Arthur and Ludwig talk of the seemingly bipolar weather.
At ten o'clock sharp, Ludwig clears his throat. Somehow, the others manage to quiet down, looking at the now-standing man. "Well, today's issue is the emission of greenhouse gasses."
They all nod, keeping quiet.
"It's only fair, seeing all you've done, Ludwig-san. I can talk to my boss about more research," Kiku offers.
"Thank you."
"Hai." The older man bows his head.
"I'll try to send some more money to research!" Feliciano adds, smiling.
"As will I," Arthur nods.
"I can give more money!" Alfred beams, sending a thumbs up.
A small chuckle is heard. All eyes fall on the Russian at the end of the table. "Oh, did I interrupt? I'm sorry."
"What's so funny, Russia?" Alfred questions, eyes narrowing oh-so slightly.
"You say you'll send money, but it seems like your pride is speaking, not your heart."
"I don't see you offering any more help," the American snips.
A dark shadow crosses the face of the Russian. "I would if my boss would let me."
"What, you can't act on your own, commie?"
"Alfred..." Arthur starts, his fatherly warning tone hinting at his accent.
"You don't understand," the Russian states, hints of sorrow dripping from his voice.
"Why are you here anyways? You've been suspended from the G8, don't you remember, Rasputin?"
Ivan grits his teeth. "You don't understand."
"I understand that you're a wussy Ruskie."
Ivan stands, slamming his hands on the table. His eyes face the table, hair covering his face. "I am not a wuss."
The American, oblivious that everyone else has gone rigid, stands as well, crossing his arms. "Well then," he smirks, "prove it."
In a matter of seconds, the Russian has his gun pulled. It's pressed right between the American's eyes. Staring wildly into Alfred's eyes, he hisses "I'll damn well prove it."
The others stare, eyes the size of the moon. None of them move or even dare to make a noise. They just watch.
"Then do it," Alfred states after a minute.
The Russian stares at him, an unspoken anger held in their shared gaze. After another moment of silence, Alfred notices those amethyst eyes shining with unshed tears. Before he can react, the pressure from cool metal of the handgun is removed from between his eyes.
He watches the Russian sit, platinum blonde hair covering his eyes. Something compels the American to sit quietly, instead of throwing another insult.
The room is silent for a few minutes, before Ludwig continues. However, tension is thick in the air. The others barely speak; unlike usual, there are no other quarrels.
Once the meeting is over, Ivan speeds out, eyes downcast. He doesn't even acknowledge Kiku when he asks a question. All the while, Alfred watches as the long, white scarf flutters behind. He stares at the door long after the Russian is gone.
"Alfred." The American snaps out of his trance, looking to Arthur.
"Yeah, man, what's up?"
"Why must you provoke Ivan like that?"
"The commie deserves it."
"What did he do to deserve it?"
Alfred goes to say something, but he can't. He can't think of a single good reason other than one: their nations have bad relations.
"You know he is having a rough times right now. Especially with that boss of his."
"Well, if he and his people don't like Putin, they should impeach him."
"That's not how the Russian government works."
"Well, that's how it should."
With that, the American turns on his heel, ignoring the Brit calling after him.
Francis walks over to Arthur, slipping an arm around the Brit's waist. "What are we going to do about those two bickering, mon cher?"
Instead of fighting the older, Arthur rests head against the other's shoulder. "I don't know," he sighs.
The two hear footsteps, and look up when the door opens. "Papa, Dad!"
"Yes, Matthieu, what is it?"
"I have an idea for Alfred and Ivan, but we need Kiku's help."
-:-:-
Alfred knocks on the door, and is soon greeted by the short Japanese man. Kiku bows, speaking. "Kon'nichiwa, kangei, Alfred-san. Please, come in."
"Hey, dude! Thanks for inviting me!"
"It is no big deal. Some of the others are here as well."
"Awesome!"
The two enter a room, where Ludwig, Gilbert, Arthur, Francis, and Matthew sit, chatting. They great the American, before going back to their conversations. "Oh, Alfred-san, let me take your jacket for you."
"Thanks, Kiku!"
Before anything else can happen, a hand covers the American's mouth. He goes to yell, feeling something pinching his neck. But it's not long until his eyes slip closed, body slumping against something hard.
-:-:-
Alfred groggily opens his eyes. Around him is darkness, except for a few candles and the strip of light under the door. He goes to stand, but can't move his hands. Something, likely rope, binds them tightly together. The American yells for help, but it's muffled by the gag in his mouth. His mind is sent into overdrive, thoughts running rampantly. 'I What if I was kidnapped?' he wonders, struggling against the ropes. 'Is someone trying to start a war with me?'
Voices sound outside, and he stops struggling.
"Hai! There's something I need to show you in here."
"Why is Ludwig with us?"
"I would like him to see it, as well."
Alfred shuts his eyes as soon as the footsteps stop in front of the door. "Are you ready?"
"Da." Someone opens the door, and heavy footsteps sound. "What is i-hey!" The next two sounds are stumbling and the door slamming shut. And then a lock. "Govno..."
Alfred keeps pretending he's unconscious, trying to figure if he's happy, angry, or scared by the fact that Ivan is locked in a room with him. Ivan sighs heavily, and Alfred can almost feel his footsteps.
A few moments pass, when Alfred hears the Russian sharply intake his breath. "Alik!"
The larger man kneels next to the American, removing the gag and untying the knots. He takes Alfred's hands, rubbing his wrists gently. "Oh, podsolnechnik, what did they do to you?" Ivan picks up the shorter man, lying him on the sofa. He gently kisses the other's temple, sighing.
Alfred, shocked at the Russian's gentle, almost loving behavior, decides to cut it off. He acts as if he is slowly waking, startling Ivan. The taller jumps up, moving away. Alfred blinks open his blue eyes, looking around, as if dazed. He lets some time pass.
"Hey, commie, where are we?" he drawls, a southern accent gracing his speech.
"Somewhere is Kiku's home," he states coolly, unlike the worried tone he just spoke in.
"Why is there rope over there?"
"I don't know. It was there when I got here."
'He isn't telling the truth... But why?'
"Do you know if the others are here?"
"They are."
"Did they lock us in here?"
"Yes," Ivan states, sounding strained.
"But why?"
"Stop asking those stupid questions!"
"Oh."
The silence falls heavy in the room like a thick blanket of snow. Ivan inspects the bookshelves on the walls, staying as far from Alfred as possible. However, the distance couldn't be much farther than couple metres, if that. Alfred just stares at the Russian, scrutinizing his every move. He studies the taller man, trying to imagine what he's thinking.
It takes ten minutes, but he finally says something.
"What don't I understand about your situation with your boss?"
Ivan turns abruptly, staring into Alfred's eyes. "What?"
"You and your boss... What's wrong there?"
"Why do you want to know?" he nearly hisses.
"Because you said I don't understand, but I want to."
Ivan states at him long and hard. "He's very... Controlling, but hardly accepting."
"Accepting?"
"He won't let me take in refugees. He won't let me fix some relations. He won't allow same sex couples to marry."
"But why can't you try to defy him?"
Ivan clenches his fists. "Because, if I do, he threatened to hurt everyone I care about. My sisters, Eduard, Raivis, Toris, you..."
"Why would you care if I got hurt?"
Ivan freezes. His gaze falls to the ground, fingers messing with his scarf. Alfred continues staring, wanting to hear an answer.
"Because... Because I care about you, Alfred."
"But why?"
"I don't even know. I just do."
Alfred gets up, wincing at some pain in his shoulder. He shuffles closer to Ivan, tripping on a rug. Ivan quickly turns, catching the other by his waist, pulling him close. Alfred gazes up, locking eyes with the Russian, whose face is merely fifteen centimetres away. Even in the crude lighting, he can see tears shining in amethyst eyes.
"Why are you crying?"
"Why do you hate me?"
"What?"
"Why do you hate me?"
Alfred stares, not sure how to answer. He opens his mouth, but closes it again. He thinks about the question, and the crying Russian in front of him. 'Do I really hate him? No, not possible. Look at him.'
"I don't."
"Then what was that at the meeting? Why did you harass me?"
"I-I...I don't know... I think our nations' relations our messing with my brain."
"Did you mean those names you called me?"
"No," the American states firmly.
"You didn't?"
"Not at all."
Alfred notices one of the tears slip down Ivan's face. He reaches up, pushing it away with his thumb. Ivan catches his hand, leaning his face into it. He allows his eyes to slip closed, letting out a contented sigh. Alfred doesn't have the heart to try and move his hand, and he's honestly not sure if he wants too.
Ivan looks at shorter male, eyes flickering between azure irises and pink lips. Slowly, he leans closer, pressing his lips to Alfred's.
The American doesn't respond at first. Ivan pulls away, a dejected look on his pale face. "I... I'm sorry..."
Alfred ignores the fact that the Russian is about to say something. He rests his other hand on the back of Ivan's neck, and pulls his head down. The American catches the taller man's lips, ignoring him tensing up. Slowly, but surely, Alfred feels Ivan ease into the kiss.
The American lets himself get lost in the moment, taking in everything. Arms surround him, pulling the two closer. He takes in Ivan's warmth, smiling into the kiss. Alfred's nose fills with the sweet smell of their colognes mixing, and he can't miss the small noises that Ivan makes. The American can almost hear his heart beating in his ears, as the kiss carries on.
They pull away for a quick second, before resuming. Alfred skillfully removes Ivan's fleece jacket, sliding it off the Russian's broad shoulders. The clothing hits the floor, but neither seem affected, lips still interlocked. The shorter grabs Ivan's shirt, pulling him backwards. They shuffle back until Alfred's legs hit the sofa. The pair sit, but it's not long before Alfred is under the Russian. The kiss becomes needier by the second, hands roaming each other.
In the heat of the moment, neither notice the door unlocking and opening. Curious blue eyes peek in, catching sight of the two.
All he sees are Alfred's hands reach under Ivan's shirt, slowly pushing it up.
Francis screeches. "Mon dieu!"
The two look up with wide eyes, a thin trail of spit connecting their lips. Footsteps sound, Arthur coming view.
"Why are you- bloody hell! Get off my son!"
Ivan immediately gets up, helping the other. Alfred smiles at the nervous man, eyes shining. Arthur begins ranting feverishly, but the two don't take notice. Alfred pecks Ivan's lips, smiling lovingly up at him. Arthur becomes angrier, words spilling quicker and more profanely. Francis shushes him with his own kiss, ignoring the few weak protests.
Alfred smiles slightly at his father figures, and back to Ivan.
"I care, too, you know."
Ivan just smiles, happier than he's been in a really long time.