Remember Tomorrow{Lithuania}

[Lithuania]

Toris felt slightly ill-at-ease over the fact that Ivan's idea of “people having a good time” involved drunken ruffians getting into fist fights. He looked at Russia anxiously for a moment and hoped that he wouldn't expect their evening to progress in a similar fashion.

“I’ll get it. You stay here.”

The brunette exhaled in relief as Ivan went to fetch their drinks. He raised his eyebrows in trepidation when the other man returned with two bottles of citrus vodka. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it certainly seemed excessive. And expensive.

The Baltic watched in fascination as the man opposite him began to gracelessly swig straight from the bottle. He wondered if perhaps this was why Ivan had dragged him into such a den of ruffians. Perhaps with all the formality of the military and with palace life, he simply wanted to relax somewhere and not have to care about manners.

Not that Ivan exactly had a reputation for caring about manners to begin with.

“After nothing but plain cheap vodka in Port Arthur, I wanted to try something different.”

“Ah...thank you...I'm sure it'll be...lovely...” he said dubiously. He stalled for a moment, wondering if there was any possible way that he could change his mind and order a glass of water instead. Or perhaps a nice cup of tea. He looked down at his own shotglass and filled it slowly, with the air of a condemned man. The clear liquid smelled strongly of lime and, while not an unpleasant scent, Toris still baulked at the idea of downing something so strong, after almost a century of having barely touched alcohol.

But to refuse would be disrespectful at best. Ivan clearly did not want to be drinking alone, and the procurement of two shotglasses was a clear signal that Toris was expected to participate. Not to mention, Ivan had paid for it (not that Toris had any money to begin with) and the last thing he wanted was to appear ungrateful.

Taking the glass, he raised it slowly and forced a smile. “На здоpовье!” he declared brightly, and swallowed his measure whole, forcing it down his throat with a pained effort. Instantly, his whole face scrunched up and he clapped a hand over his mouth.

It burned.

Tears sprang to his eyes and he began to cough and splutter uncontrollably. Blinking at Ivan, he wondered how in God's name the other man managed to sit there and drink the stuff the way a normal person would drink water. His throat felt as though it were on fire!

Swallowing hard, he winced at the violet eyed man apologetically, not quite trusting himself to speak yet. Gradually, the burning sensation was replaced by a spreading warmth in his stomach and a bitter after taste of citrus tingling on his tongue. And although the initial experience had been hideous, he found that now the sensation was not unpleasant. The vodka itself was undeniably smoother and of a much higher quality than anything he'd tried previously. Not that he was exactly an aficionado of liquor, but he could tell that at least he wasn't drinking paint thinner.

“It's...good...” He conceded with a self-conscious laugh and wiped his watery eyes with his sleeve. “It's much stronger than anything I'm used to,” He cleared his throat with another little cough, “Well, actually, I don't normally drink at all...but it's really good.”

He settled back in his chair, letting the artificial warmth from the alcohol take the edge of some of the chill he still felt from outside. He was starting to get used to the strange smell, and he found that if he ignored the noise and the other inhabitants of the room and just focused on his companion, then it really wasn't such an unbearable place.

Hesitantly, he undid his own scarf and coat and shrugged them off, hanging them over the back of his chair with such a painstaking neatness that the men at the nearest table to them openly sniggered. One of them cracked a loud comment about how women shouldn't be taken into pubs while Lithuania blushed hotly and tried to pretend he hadn't heard.

He was so very sick of everyone pointing out his lack of masculinity. It was demeaning, unfair and downright upsetting. Even when his commonwealth with Feliks been one of the most powerful nations in Europe, even when he'd proved himself in battle a hundred times over, people would still whisper behind their hands that he was too effeminate, too androgynous, too soft and yielding, and that in his leisure time he behaved more like a housewife than a knight.

As though trying to prove a point, he quietly refilled his glass and downed another shot, this time gritting his teeth to stop himself from flinching at the burning sensation.

“Sir...?” he began quietly, and checked himself. “Um...I mean...Ivan.” He paused. It had been so long since he'd dared to use the Russian's first name that speaking it now, even with Ivan's permission, seemed awkward.

“Do you think I ought to be more...” His mind flashed back to earlier, when Ivan had laughed at him and compared him to a young woman. He shrugged and glanced out of the corner of his eye to the two men who were still laughing at him. Shaking his head, he looked down self consciously. “Ah, never mind.”

By way of a subject change, he smiled again and forced a bright note into his tone. “Would you like to tell me about your travels? I'm sure Port Arthur must have been very exciting.”

[Russia]

Ivan watched with silent amusement as his drinking partner slowly filled his own little рюмка with the strong alcohol. The other man’s hesitance made him consider the fact that maybe Toris was not as enthused with flavored vodka as he was. Not that it mattered. He had bought two bottles of vodka and he fully intended to go through them, and he was not going to do it alone. Even if Toris did not care for the citrus flavored alcohol, by the time the small brunette had finished off a few glasses full, he doubted he would even notice or care what he was drinking.

Since he was not holding a glass of vodka, Russia raised his bottle slightly in acknowledgement of the cheer. An almost wicked smile spread across his face as he watched Toris down his shot of the limonnaya. It became very clear that his Lithuanian companion was not as seasoned of a drinker as he was. As the other man was blinking back tears, Ivan gave a soft laugh. There could be no doubt that little Toris was a lightweight. Russia wondered just how many shots of the liquor it would take before his companion was really feeling the effects. It could not be many.

“It's...good…It's much stronger than anything I'm used to.”

“I can tell.” That was easy to figure out, with the cute little expressions the Lithuanian had been making after his shot. The other nation hardly needed to explain that he did not drink much. Russia had to wonder why and how his servant avoided the stuff. In this day and age, vodka was not ridiculously expensive. Even the lowest peasants could usually afford some, even if it was not of as high of quality as what Ivan had gotten them for the night. There was very high quality vodka in the palace most days. With liquor so close at hand it was strange that Toris would not drink. Russia himself could drink like a fish when he was at home around the stuff.

Finally pouring himself an actual glass of the vodka, Ivan watched with curiosity as Lithuania bothered to very neatly place his coat and scarf on the back of his chair. The other nation was such a housewife about these things. Why bother taking the time to do everything so neatly when he would just have to put the coat and scarf back on before they left anyways? At the nearest table a man said something about not taking women into pubs, a comment that earned him a darker look from the tall blonde nation. An insult against his servant by anyone other than him was not at all appreciated. Had the man been within arms length it would have been all too tempting for Ivan to reach over and smash his face into the hard wooden table. He failed to see what was wrong with taking women into pubs anyways. If Toris had been a woman he would have still drug her along with him to the tavern. In his opinion, anyone should be allowed to drink, regardless of gender, age or even species. He often slipped his horse alcohol from time to time as a treat.

Toris did nothing about the other man‘s remark, even though Russia was sure he would have heard him. It must have been that fear of people coming into play again. Downing his glass like it was water, Ivan was quick to pour another one, looking to his drinking partner when addressed.

“Do you think I ought to be more...”

The Baltic seemed so solemn and it was obvious as to why with the two men still laughing nearby. For a moment Ivan merely observed his upset servant, downing his recently poured glass in silence. He knew exactly what Toris meant with the unfinished question.

“Would you like to tell me about your travels? I'm sure Port Arthur must have been very exciting.”

“Perhaps too much so. I’ll get around to telling you all about that. Eventually.” The vodka was starting to heat him up a bit, and he loosened his scarf slightly to allow more air to hit his throat. “The answer is no, Litva. To your earlier question. I like you just as you are.” He had lowered his voice considerably, keeping his gaze fixed on his servant. “You shouldn’t let the words of filthy drunks bother you.” He spoke the last part louder, so that the laughing duo at the other table could hear. Still wearing his friendly smile, he reached over and poured Toris another shot. “Drink.”

[Lithuania]

Toris sat in vaguely ashamed silence and tried to ignore the two men still laughing as Ivan dismissed his attempt at a subject change. He was busy looking down at his chapped hands when the Russian's next words, spoken so very softly, caused him to glance up sharply.

“The answer is no, Litva. To your earlier question. I like you just as you are.”

Stunned into silence, he smiled with a quiet, surprised gratitude as Ivan quietly dismissed the two men as “filthy drunks”. For their part, they had clearly heard what he'd said, but wisely decided against taking the matter up with the blonde. Even though his voice was gentle and his features boyish, Ivan still managed to inexplicably come across as so very intimidating.

Glowing slightly, partly from the compliment and partly from the vodka, Toris smiled broadly at the larger nation, unable to hide his happiness. He wasn't sure exactly why he felt so happy, all of a sudden, or why his cheeks were starting to flush again. It was almost certainly the spirits he'd been forcing down.

He watched Ivan refill his glass with some trepidation, wondering if perhaps he had already drank quite enough. But on the other man's command, he obediently downed another shot, coughing a little as he did.

Blinking, he leaned forward and propped his elbow on the table, his hand under his chin and found himself staring with a rather inappropriate intensity into Ivan's violet eyes. He wondered why it had never struck him before what an exceptionally odd colour they were.

“I'm happy...” he said eventually, because it struck him that Ivan's unprecedented chivalry merited some kind of response. “...um...that you like me, that is.”

He licked his bottom lip and smiled slightly at the citrus taste. Perhaps drinking really wasn't so bad. He was starting to feel less awkward than he had in such a very long time. And warmer too. The effect of the alcohol was starting to cancel out the usual urge he had to tense up and stammer and stare at his shoes when Ivan was around.

“I like you too,” he blurted out. “I mean...genuinely. I don't just do things for you out of fear. Well, sometimes I do, but anyway...I think I would still want to make sure you were all right and had tea and clean clothes and things, even if I actually had a choice in the matter. Which...um I don't, because you're really pretty scary sometimes, sir. But if I did have a choice...I probably still would....” As soon as the jumble of words left his lips, he mentally rebuked himself. At the rate he was going today, the Russian was going to swiftly come to the conclusion that there was something seriously wrong with him. Perhaps he'd spent too much time doing laundry and it had driven him slightly mad.

This is why you don't drink, Lietuva. Because you're an embarrassing lightweight.

In a paradoxical effort to shut himself up, Toris resolutely filled his glass and downed another shot, the warmth from the liquor instantly spreading across his cheeks. He choked and spluttered a little, but it was less this time, the burning liquid going down easier with each attempt.

“Anyway...” he added quietly, looking down at the empty glass in his hands, his voice almost a whisper. “Thank you for defending me.”

[Russia]

Russia was not entirely sure as to whether or not it had been his words or the drink that had made his servant so happy all of a sudden. Whatever it was, his partner was now smiling and flushed and seemed to have forgotten the two men’s rudeness for the time being.

After Toris had been staring into his eyes for awhile, Ivan had to wonder about his Lithuanian companion. Is there something in my eyes? [/i] Reaching up he brushed his bangs out of his face just in case before returning Toris’ gaze with equal intensity. Finally the other nation spoke, claiming that he was happy that Ivan liked him. Russia had always thought that was obvious. He would not have Toris around if he did not like him. He could have his choice of personal servants and he had chosen Toris, which he figured had made it clear that he was fond of the smaller nation.

“I like you too.”

The Russian blinked at the suddenness of the other man’s statement. He had figured all of his servants liked him. Wasn’t he a strong, reasonable master? He certainly thought so. So he could see no reason why they wouldn’t like him. Downing yet more of the fiery drink, Russia listened to the other man’s words attentively.

“Which...um I don't, because you're really pretty scary sometimes, sir.”

Fear was always a good thing, it went hand in had with respect. Really, Toris had no need to be so fearful though unless he had done something bad; something that merited punishment. Most of the time the slender Baltic was well behaved and obedient, so there was nothing to worry about. But leave it to Toris to fret over what Ivan saw unimportant things.

“Anyway...Thank you for defending me.”

Continuing to stare at the Baltic with a certain amount of intensity, he gave just the slightest nod of acknowledgement. Reaching out he ruffled the other man’s hair and poured him another shot. Watching Toris drink himself to happy land was quickly turning into some sort of fun game for Ivan. And he figured it to be a completely healthy way to relax, so no harm was to be had. If at all possible, he wanted to see Toris finish most of his bottle of the citrus liquor. Maybe even all of it, if he could. He had never heard of a nation dieing from too much alcohol, no matter how drunk they got.

“I think you needed these drinks, Toris. You look so much happier now. The lack of alcohol must have been bothering you before.” Of course it only stood to reason that the Lithuanian would be dealing with far less excitement stuck in the palace than Russia had been in the port. The violet-eyed nation imagined that Toris had not done anything other than the usual set of dull chores day after day up until now.

With another fresh glass of his favored spirit in front of him, Ivan considered the nation across from him. “I imagine the palace was not so interesting while I was away? Then again, how could it be, in the constant shadow of His Imperial Majesty and the nobles he surrounds himself with.” Ivan absently shifted his gaze to rest on a few newcomers to the tavern; two rather loud boisterous men and what looked suspiciously like a woman of ill repute. Looking away from the trio, his eyes met Toris’ again and it occurred to him that he should probably avoid talking about his issues with his leader. It was not a topic to speak to a servant about at all, no matter how tempting. He instantly replaced his momentarily thoughtful look with one of cheer.

[Lithuania]

When Ivan ruffled his hair, the smaller nation cringed a little, wondering if the Russian was simply amused by his apparent alcohol-induced foray into verbally embarrassing himself. Still, he compliantly downed the shot that the other man poured for him, spluttering slightly as the vodka burned his throat.

Blinking heavily, he continued to fixate with a nervous intensity on Ivan's brilliantly purple eyes, almost like a mouse caught in the hypnotic gaze of a snake. He was aware that he was starting to get drunk, that he shouldn't be downing shots of spirits after over a year of hardly sniffing anything alcoholic, that he was too small and too lightweight to keep up with a seasoned Russian drinker and that, most of all, if he carried on getting intoxicated then he was almost certain to make a complete fool of himself. But still, he obediently drank. Because after all, hadn't Ivan instructed him to do so? And ultimately, did he really have a choice one way or the other?

He found that, with each passing shot, he was staring to care less and less anyway.

“I think you needed these drinks, Toris. You look so much happier now. The lack of alcohol must have been bothering you before.”

He looked up at the blonde in faint surprise. Did Russia honestly think that it was a simple matter of lack of alcohol that made him so nervous and tense all of the time? Perhaps he genuinely did. He seemed paradoxically naïve sometimes.

“I imagine the palace was not so interesting while I was away? Then again, how could it be, in the constant shadow of His Imperial Majesty and the nobles he surrounds himself with.”

The next statement made Toris visibly start in shock. Was Ivan really almost openly criticising his boss? Perhaps the hint of social unrest that he'd heard of from the other servants was starting to work its way into the blonde's psyche. It probably wasn't such a bad thing, he reasoned. There were some monstrous inequalities within Russian society and it would, in his own opinion, do the Tsar well to actually listen to the people he professed to govern.

“The palace is certainly more interesting while you're there,” he declared in all honestly, deciding to take Ivan's suddenly cheerful mask as a hint that he didn't not want to discuss the subject. Pouring and sinking another shot, he looked at Ivan contemplatively.

“It can be very difficult, when your people say one thing and your boss says another,” he said, musing aloud. “Once...a long time ago, a good number of my children wanted to stay pagan, and my boss wanted to convert to Catholicism and marry me off to Poland. And so then a lot of my children wanted me to convert to your church and ally myself with you instead.” He sighed and smiled. “You were so, so young, then, Ivan. I mean...didn't even know you. And in the end, Poland won out, because he was stronger at the time. But then suddenly, you came along...you and Austria and Prussia...all together and so strong and suddenly we were so tiny and Christ, we never stood a chance. I sometimes wonder how we ever even thought that we did.”

He shook his head to himself, wondering how he was managing to get so nostalgic. “Anyway, it doesn't matter now. Life goes on, I suppose.” Clearing his throat, he looked at the larger nation. “I think what I'm saying is that, you shouldn't worry. No matter what happens, as long as you're still standing, you'll be fine.”

He laughed lightly and poured himself another shot. “I mean...you'll never end up like me, at least. Even if the very worst happens and you lose the war with Kiko, you'll still be independent and you'll still have so much power.”

Knocking back the vodka, he ignored the little voice in his head that was telling him to shut the Hell up. He sank back in his seat, cheeks flushed and lips curled into a sorrowful, contemplative little smile, no trace of bitterness when he spoke.

“You'll be fine, and I'll probably still be here, ironing your shirts.”

[Russia]

“The palace is certainly more interesting while you're there.”

The blonde had suspected as much. The nobles that frequented the Winter Palace never had seemed that interesting to him. They were so formal and dull all the time. It was good to be formal and know one’s place, but it seemed to him that they overdid it. As much as Ivan himself loved to be referred to as a higher up, he did not like being “на вы
” all the time. It made everything seem so much more ceremonial and fake.

Then there was the whole issue of him not finding the same things as interesting as they did. The women in particular only appeared to have a mind for fashion and gossip these days. Uninteresting gossip about people that Ivan had no way of knowing or caring about. The male inhabitants of the palace had more interesting things to say, but listening to their talks about politics had become rather disturbing for him, thus he had taken to avoiding conversations with most of them as well.

“It can be very difficult, when your people say one thing and your boss says another.”

Ivan focused on his bottle of flavored liquor, listening to Toris’ words quietly. It really was a hard being a country in such a situation. In the end though, was it better to listen to the boss, who had complete power over him and his future, or the people, who often seemed to have better ideas but no power with which to put them in motion? Joining his Tsar in ignoring the unrest that had gripped a fair number of his people recently was probably the best option. They had to stop eventually, then they would play nice and all would be well. It was not like the uprisings were completely out of control anyways. They certainly had an affect on him as a nation, but they could not and would not threaten the Tsar’s supremacy.

“..And so then a lot of my children wanted me to convert to your church and ally myself with you instead.”

That would have been the smarter move on Lithuanian’s part. Russia had to wonder if Toris had felt like murdering his boss in his sleep for insisting on a marriage to such a disagreeable nation like Poland. The encounters that stuck out in his mind with Poland were very negative and unpleasant. He would neither forgive nor forget the “Time of Troubles” and the Polish forces taking Moscow. No matter how in the past it was or how young he was at the time.

“You were so, so young, then, Ivan. I mean...didn't even know you. And in the end, Poland won out, because he was stronger at the time...”

The Russian nation gave just the slightest scoff. He still liked to convince himself that Poland had not been stronger, just luckier than him. Besides, he had not been more than a boy back then. A young and inexperienced boy, but by no means weak. It was a much more comforting way to look at that time frame.

He had to agree with Toris’ statement about not knowing how they had even thought they could win against Prussia, Austria and himself. Such a foolish thing to think. It must have been Poland’s initial idea.

“Anyway, it doesn't matter now. Life goes on, I suppose.”

Life went on for the better as far as Russia was concerned. He would never want to go back to those times, not for anything. He hoped Toris was right in his assumption that no matter what Ivan would not end up like him. He abhorred the idea of being someone’s servant like that. He didn’t like having to take orders from his boss, but it was so much worse being some other country’s whipping boy. Just thinking about it made him grip the vodka bottle tighter. At least Toris confirmed that he would stick with Russia no matter what. That was encouraging. As many problems as he had with making friends, he hated being lonely. So it was nice to now that he would not go back to that again.

“I know I’ll win this war with Kiku.” He exclaimed optimistically. “But it’s nice to know that you don’t want freedom anymore. That you got that silly idea out of your head now.” He looked to his intoxicated servant fondly. “I think I would be lonely if you left. Not that you can.” He made sure to emphasis that last part, locking eyes with Toris as he did so. “But if you could leave, it is nice to know that you wouldn’t. You are my favorite, and the palace would be that much more empty feeling.”

[Lithuania]

“I know I’ll win this war with Kiku.”

Toris looked at Ivan with a hint of sadness. Because he could remember hearing similar things from Feliks, who had believed so wholeheartedly in the might of their Commonwealth. If there was anything that the serious little Lithuanian knew from experience, it was that there was nothing certain where war was concerned.

But he had no desire to either shatter Ivan's bubble, or incur his wrath, so he simply smiled, nodded and raised his glass in a silent little toast at the statement.

“But it’s nice to know that you don’t want freedom anymore. That you got that silly idea out of your head now.

His lips parted slightly in the very beginnings of indignation. Because of course he still wanted freedom. He was a nation...how could he help but yearn for independence? There was a difference between giving up notions of freedom, and simply pragmatically accepting what was currently an inescapable situation.

“I still want...” he began quietly, but Ivan was still talking and Toris, even in his increasingly drunken state, decided that it would not be wise to pursue the topic.

“I think I would be lonely if you left. Not that you can.”

The blonde looked at him intently and a tiny little shiver ran down the smaller nation's spine. He began chewing uncertainly on his lower lip and he found himself wide eyed and nodding compliantly at the statement. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about the whole affair. Ivan's possessiveness was utterly sinister and his occupation of his homeland was unjust. So why did Toris find it so hard to resent him?

“You are my favorite...”

Toris felt his cheeks flushing red in a way that was wholly unrelated to the vodka he'd been drinking. Swallowing hard, he tried his best not to smile in spite of himself. Because it was ridiculous...Ivan viewed him as a commodity at best and a possession at worst. Looking away and pouring another drink, he sank it quickly, hardly even pausing to wince at the taste any more. The tips of his ears were burning and his nose was starting to tingle. He remained quiet for an interminably long moment, because he knew that he was certain to slur his words if he spoke straight away.

He was intending to say something pleasant, obedient and agreeable. Perhaps smile restrainedly and nod and thank Ivan quietly. But by this point, Toris had tanked over a quarter of a bottle of vodka and caution was starting to go out of the window.

So instead he looked up and met Ivan's gaze and blurted out, “Your favourite what?”

And in the moment he said it, he suddenly wasn't sure that he wanted to know the answer.

[Russia]

Toris must have really been feeling the alcohol already, because the other man was so flushed. It struck the violet-eyed nation as odd, since it never really had that effect on Ivan himself. He could drink an entire bottle down rather fast and still not go red in the face like that. At it’s worst, it made him feel overly hot and a little tired, but it never had the same effects on him that it had on his lightweight servant.

He watched with a blissful contentment as the Baltic drank. Pouring himself another two shots one right after the other, the Russian sat back and enjoyed the familiar warming sensation that the liquor provided. It was a good night to be out, and despite the rowdy company that surrounded them, he felt as though there was not any other place in the world he would rather be.

“Your favourite what?”

He studied the Baltic in mild surprise at the question. He thought it obvious as to what he meant. Toris was his favorite… He blinked in mild confusion for a moment, trying to find the right word to describe the man across form him. Was Toris merely a favorite servant? Or was he something else entirely? Such a simple question shouldn’t be so confusing and he had to wonder why he had suddenly found it to be as such.

“Aww, Toris, why ask me such a silly question?” He laughed softly both at the question itself and his own inability to give a more sure reply. “You’re my favorite. Take it as you will.” Leaning far back in his chair, a curious expression crossed his pale boyish features. “What did you think I meant with that statement?” He supposed there really could be many ways to interpret his comment, and he was curious as to which Lithuania would go with.

He honestly was not quite sure how he felt about his servant, beyond the fact that he liked him way more than the others. He enjoyed the brunette’s company and listening to his stories and ideas about things. When Toris felt like sharing them. He suspected that fear of punishment often got in the way of the Baltic being more vocal more often. Strange, since he rarely punished servants for talking unless it was anti-Russian chatter. Silence and all, he genuinely felt more at home and at ease with Toris than anyone else. As much as he loved his sisters, he was not nearly so comfortable around them these days as he was his faithful servant. He could not consciously describe his feelings for the other man, because he had not experienced such an odd sense of comfort before. He did know that he wanted the other’s company and did not really care whether or not Toris himself felt the same. In the end it was Ivan’s call to make anyways, since he was the master in this situation.

Ever the good, proud Russian male though, Ivan did not wear his heart on his sleeve. He tended to assume that those around and close to him knew exactly how he felt at all times. It was just easier that way. Surely Toris somehow knew how he felt about him.

“You don’t look so well my lightweight comrade.” He rose to his feet. “You need some fresh air I think.” Grabbing the other nation by the arm, he hoisted him up with ease. Still clutching his own bottle of vodka in his right hand, Ivan pulled Toris towards the door.

[Lithuania]

“You’re my favorite. Take it as you will.”

Toris was not entirely sure how he wanted to take it, and the alcohol was making his head far too muddled to sift through the complex and neurotic array of emotions he felt around his captor, so he simply nodded.

“What did you think I meant with that statement?”

His eyes widened in slight horror and he went that little bit more red. Was Ivan teasing him, or genuinely asking?

“Well...um...I...” he floundered and drank another shot to fill the burning silence. “I don't know...it was a silly question...I think I'm just drunk...”

And Christ, he really was drunk, he realised. In such a short space of time, he'd managed to get himself well past the point of being tipsy. He had a momentary flood of panic as he realised that his current state was not in the least bit appropriate. Or dignified. But hadn't it been Ivan who'd made him drink in the first place?

“You need some fresh air I think.”

As though reading his mind, Ivan grabbed him by the arm and began to haul him towards the door. Cheeks burning crimson with shame, he only barely managed to grab his coat and scarf before he was dragged to the exit of the pub. The two men from earlier jeered openly as he stumbled and tripped and he swore quietly at himself under his breath in Lithuanian.

The night air hit him like a freight train and he gasped at the cold. A light, lazy dusting of snow was falling quietly from the inky black sky, and the sensation of tiny, icy spots falling on his face and slowly soaking his thin shirt made him stop in a kind of inebriated wonder for a moment. The cold hit a second later and he shrugged his threadbare coat on, buttoning it hastily and winding his scarf clumsily about his neck.

As they left the tavern, Toris stumbled slightly again and grasped Ivan's burly forearm for support. “S...sorry...!” he said, looking up at the blonde man and smiling bashfully. “I think I really did have a bit too much.”

The blush had died from his cheeks, his skin returning to its usual pallor in the freezing cold, with only the tip of his nose turning red. He laughed slightly to himself, a bemused little giggle spilling past his lips as his own lack of co-ordination suddenly became unfathomably amusing. As they turned into a deserted side street, he let his head rest briefly against Ivan's shoulder.

“Thank you for taking me out,” he said, watching the falling snow with wide eyes. “I didn't mean to get so drunk but it's been such a nice evening.” He glanced up at the Russian with wide green eyes and smiled lopsidedly and wantonly ignored the marginally sober voice in his head that was telling him to shut the Hell up. “You're not always so scary.”

[Russia]

Warmed from the vodka and still wearing his heavy coat and scarf, the cold did not bother Russia in the least as he opened the door and pulled Toris along outside with him. Looking out at the sea of gently falling white snowflakes, the larger nation frowned slightly. Reaching up he tightened his scarf, knowing that the warmth he still felt from the liquor and having been indoors would quickly fade.

At least this was a calm, quiet sort of wintry day. A far cry from the nasty blizzards that would no doubt come in a few months time, once General Winter started his attack in full force. For now though the smaller flakes of snow were gently drifting towards the ground, and there was only a slight breeze to blow them off course every now and then.

Starting out onto the street, his inebriated companion suddenly grabbed his arm tightly, stumbling from the alcohol he had downed. Ivan stared down at the man clinging to his arm, an amused sort of look on his face.

“S...sorry...! I think I really did have a bit too much.”

“Too much vodka? There is no such thing, Toris. You just need to walk it off a bit is all. You’re such a small country, and not used to drinking so much. It’s no wonder that you can’t hold your liquor.” He began leading the intoxicated Baltic aimlessly along the snow covered street. Given the late hour, there were not many people outside. In the daylight hours, streets like this one could be packed with people of all sorts. Once the sun had started to set however, most of Ivan’s citizens understandably went back into the comfort of their homes. A few people stayed out and about after dark though, hustling too and from places without a care as to the ever increasing darkness or the snow.

Partially supporting Toris’ weight with his arm, he led the way down one of the many small side streets. The chilly night air seemed to have not cleared Toris’ head enough to stop the other man from his drunken giggles, and Ivan patted him on the head when he rested against his shoulder.

“Thank you for taking me out. I didn't mean to get so drunk but it's been such a nice evening.”

Did anyone ever actually mean to get drunk? Being the somewhat naïve creature that he was, Ivan could not understand why anyone would. He figured that getting drunk was just something that happened to those who could not handle their alcohol. Nevermind the fact that he had been inebriated many times before, and with his drinking habits would certainly be that way many more times in the future. Even at the height of his drunkenness though, Ivan never considered himself to be drunk, so by his reasoning he did not fit into the “can’t handle their liquor” category he had created.

“You're not always so scary.”

Stopping for a moment, he turned to face Toris, considering briefly what they should do and where they should go. Setting the vodka down on the stoney path, he grabbed the other man’s chin roughly with his gloved hand; staring into the Baltic’s green eyes with an almost predatory look. “When you are obedient Litva, you don’t need to fear me so much.” Tilting the other nation’s chin up he leaned down and crushed his lips against Toris,’ releasing his chin as he did so and instead wrapping his arm around the slender Lithuanian’s back. He was confident that with the poor lighting and falling snow-not to mention the fact that they were off the main road- even someone passing nearby would be none the wiser to any displays of affection.
___________________________
((Okay, I was writing on little sleep here and it is already past 1AM, so I can’t guarantee how this turned out. Please let me know if any glaring mistakes made it past me. ~))

[Lithuania]

As Ivan grasped his chin aggressively, Toris flinched, closing one eye and waiting for a blow. Had he overstepped the mark?

“When you are obedient Litva, you don’t need to fear me so much.”

There was something about the way that Ivan was staring at him which made him want to shrink back. It was the way a lion might regard a gazelle. Suddenly, he felt a wave of sobriety hit him, from the cold and the strange, possessive glint in the other man's violet eyes.

His heart was clamouring in his chest as he looked back at the Russian, doe eyed and slightly breathless, unable to shake the feeling of apprehension and anxiety.

And in the next instant, Ivan did what was possibly the most unexpected thing in the world. As the taller nation stooped down and kissed him roughly on the lips, Toris froze and his eyes flew wide in shock.

“Mppphh...!” He couldn't help the muffled noise of surprise as Ivan claimed his mouth with his own, and one burly arm wrapped around his waist, pulling his slender form tightly against the other nation.

Ivan's embrace was impossibly warm, and his skin smelled like soap and snow and his lips were hard and cold. He could feel a bubble of panic welling up in his chest as his pulse fluttered erratically. The kiss was deep and possessive and masculine and dominant and all the things which Toris had reminded himself over and over again that he didn't want, because he wasn't a girl and only girls were supposed to crave such things.

He could barely breath and he fought to relax, too afraid to kiss back and too afraid not too. What if this was a joke? What if it was some bizarre Russian custom that he didn't know about? What if Ivan genuinely had romantic feelings towards him? What if Toris reciprocated?

Oh God, it was all too much and happening too fast!

The Lithuanian parted his lips slightly, involuntarily, and the faint taste of vodka and something else he couldn't quite place made his head swim. And he realised that nobody had ever kissed him like this before, demanding and in a way which made him feel so very wanted.

And as their lips parted again, he found himself leaning forward for just a split second, wanting more. And then complete and utter shame overtook him and he squeezed his eyes closed and looked away. But since Ivan still held him in a tight embrace, there was nowhere he could go and so he eventually hid his face in the crook of Ivan's shoulder and trembled for a few long moments, a guilty blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Why...?!” he mumbled into the fabric of the other man's coat. He looked up at the violet eyed nation, confused and distressed. “Why did you do that?! I...I'm not...not like that...I don't want...” He bit his lip and flushed scarlet because he was and he did and he realised what a careful art form he'd made from repressing it all until that moment.

His hands were shaking violently as he rested them against the other man's broad chest, letting his freezing fingers twine in the warm fabric of Russia's scarf as he looked away guiltily, letting his chestnut hair fall into his face in messy disarray. Breathless and panicked, he avoided the other man's gaze, tried to avoid letting Ivan see the stupid, hopeful need which must have been written all over his face.

“Were you making fun of me?” he demanded, still shivering, suddenly no longer feeling the warmth from the vodka, even though his words still tumbled out clumsily. He bit back tears. “Isn't it already enough that you own me...do you have to...to get me drunk and mess around with me like that?”

Because it was the only explanation. Because Russia...strange, wonderful, terrible, impossible and beautiful...would not have kissed him otherwise. And because Lithuania could not have possibly wanted it.

Could he?

[Russia]

Toris’ lips had the pleasant taste of lemon vodka, and although the other nation had seemed surprised at first concerning Ivan’s advancement, he still parted his lips slightly to allow the Russian’s tongue past. Either Toris was completely fine with the sudden, inappropriate display of affection, or he was realizing that he really had no choice in the matter anyways. As much as Ivan favored him, the fact remained that Toris was still a servant. Russia owned the smaller nation, in much the same way that people in the past had owned slaves in his lands. It was not, and never would be a relationship of equals, no matter how fond he was of Toris, or how receptive the other was to his advances.

Deepening the kiss, the larger country savored the moment, and the feeling of closeness. Though he had been with lovers before, the encounters had been brief and lacking any feeling of the obsessive attachment that he had developed towards his servant over the years. He had not even remembered the names of his former one-night stands, so unconcerned had he been with their fates. Lithuania on the other hand was an obsession; he couldn’t help but to think of the other man that he had been so happy to claim after breaking up that damned commonwealth. The very first years after dragging the Lithuanian back to his house, Ivan had looked upon him more like a walking trophy of his military accomplishments. Somehow over the years that feeling of pride had turned more of an obsession, which was highlighted now by his insistence on keeping Lithuania on a metaphorical leash.

Russia finally broke the kiss, but maintained his iron grip on Lithuania. The other man must have been cold, because Ivan could feel him start to tremble. His eyes glanced down towards the vodka by their feet, considering giving Toris another drink to warm him up again. His servant mumbled something into his coat, drawing his gaze back up quickly.

“Why did you do that?! I...I'm not...not like that...I don't want...”

He stared at the distressed nation calmly, amused by the outburst and Toris’ face reddening. A soft laugh escaped his lips. Did Toris think that he had a say in these things after all? Russia had never thought of himself as being drawn towards men either, but he wanted what he wanted and he could honestly care less what gender the object of his affections was in this case. Toris not being “like that” would do nothing to change his mind.

“Were you making fun of me? Isn't it already enough that you own me...do you have to...to get me drunk and mess around with me like that?”

He laughed all the more at the questions. “Litva, I didn’t get you drunk, you did that on your own. But no, I wasn’t making fun of you. What an odd conclusion to come to.” He stared at the other man curiously, noting how Toris was now so cold that he was burying his hands in Russia’s scarf. “I like you Toris, but you can be so silly sometimes.” He gave a slight sigh as he reached out and pushed some of Toris’ hair away from his face. He was getting a feeling that this would be a forced relationship after all, despite Toris' previous claim that he really liked Ivan. Hopefully the other nation would come around eventually.

“You really don’t need to worry about whether or not you are like that.” He informed his servant cheerfully. “As you said yourself, I own you Lithuania. You’re in no position to complain or be so defiant.” He ran a hand through Toris’ hair before releasing the Baltic and kneeling down to grab the vodka bottle off the snowy path. Opening it, he offered the liquor to Toris. “You’re cold. Drink.”

[Lithuania]

Ivan was laughing at him!

As Toris turned more and more scarlet, the taller man simply stood there and laughed softly at his panic and indignation.

“Litva, I didn’t get you drunk, you did that on your own. But no, I wasn’t making fun of you. What an odd conclusion to come to.”

Of course you were! He scowled up at the blonde, his heart hammering in his throat.

“I like you Toris, but you can be so silly sometimes.”

As the Russian reached out and smoothed his hair away from his face with his other hand, Toris felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The touch had a slightly electric effect, out in the cold, with Ivan's arm around his waist, pulling him impossibly close. And he almost, almost wanted to believe that the other nation had meant it.

“You really don’t need to worry about whether or not you are like that.”

Confused and troubled and utterly distressed, Toris winced at the statement. Ivan's expression and tone was almost reassuring, but the smaller man felt anything but.

“As you said yourself, I own you Lithuania. You’re in no position to complain or be so defiant.”

And at this, eventually the tears which had been threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes finally made two little trickles down his flushed cheeks. He bit down hard on his lower lip and closed his eyes as Russia's hand ran roughly through his hair.

When he opened them again, Ivan was abruptly releasing him from the embrace and thrusting a bottle of vodka towards him. “You’re cold. Drink.”

Stunned, he reached out mutely and grasped the neck of the bottle with a solemn air, shoving it to his lips clumsily and taking two large gulps. If nothing else, it had a warming effect. As he did so, his eyes never left Ivan's, his gaze wide and green and hunted. He handed the bottle back to the other nation and let the warmth of the drink settle in his stomach. Now his mouth tasted of limonaya again, instead of Ivan, and somehow that eased his nerves just ever so slightly.

Even in a drunken haze, he couldn't help but feel so very disconcerted at Ivan's cheerful lack of regard for his wishes. The violet eyed man seemed to view him as some kind of pet, some kind of amusing diversion. And if Toris was being utterly truly honest with himself, that was probably the worst part of it all.

“What's going to happen now? Is this what you expect from me?” he asked uncertainly, his bottom lip shaking as he wrapped his arms around himself against the steadily falling snow. Russia's arms had been so very warm a moment ago that he almost wished the other man would hold him again.

“I...I'm not a toy, Ivan...” His tone lacked any kind of conviction. “You can't just decide that I'm...” His voice cracked a little and he looked at the ground, at his worn-out shoes and he shook his head in defeat.

And eventually he managed to mumble, with a slightly heartbroken edge to his voice, “Please tell me why you did that.”

[Russia]

His green-eyed servant reached out and accepted the bottle of vodka as he held it out to him. Ivan watched curiously as the tears continued to make their way silently down Toris’ cheeks. The other country must have been completely crushed by the realization that he really didn’t have any say in anything. By the realization that Russia was going to get exactly what he wanted no matter what, and Toris was powerless to do anything about it.

And the other nation truly looked powerless as Ivan stared at him intently. The look in his servant’s eyes reminded him of some sort of innocent prey animal caught in the clutches of a hungry tiger. Which was not such a bad analogy to their situation. He was about as likely to let Toris go as a tiger was to release its hard earned prey. Of course Russia was not going to kill his captive, so he had to wonder why the other man looked as though he was on his way to the gallows. Did Toris really think that being around him was that bad? He simply could not understand how it possibly could be.

His somber little subordinate handed him back the bottle and he took a drink as well, savoring the bitter citrus flavor of the hard alcohol. Studying the effeminate man before him, he considered that they should probably head back soon.

“What's going to happen now? Is this what you expect from me?”

“I expect what I have always expected from you, Lithuania. Why would that change? A favorite servant is still a servant nonetheless, да? You have all the duties you’ve always had since I took you to live with me.” He stared at the Baltic; a mild look of dismay shadowing his youthful features for just a moment. Then it was gone and he resumed his cheerful smile as though nothing had bothered him for even a fraction of a second.

“I...I'm not a toy, Ivan...”

He never thought he had acted as though Toris were a toy, so the statement caught him off guard. All of that evening he had been dead serious when he spoke with the other man. No toying around and no tricks.

“You can't just decide that I'm...”

Apparently Toris was having a hard time dealing with the fact that yes, Russia could decide exactly what he was. The blonde considered that perhaps the alcohol was making him more delusional than what he might have otherwise been. Or perhaps it was merely wishful thinking on Toris’ part. The slender brunette eventually hung his head in defeat and Russia reached out and grabbed onto one of his arms again.

Pulling on the other man to lead him along, the tall Russian nation started off towards the end of the snow covered street again. Even if Toris was not happy with how things had turned out, Ivan was perfectly content with the evening. He couldn’t force Lithuania to be happy with his lot in life, but that hardly mattered to him. The other man would adjust somehow and someday he would appreciate having the violet-eyed Russian for company.

“Please tell me why you did that.”

“You’re a strange one, Toris. I hear that most people like these simple displays of affection. Lithuanians are different? I admit that I know very little about your people’s customs. Here, people usually like such displays though, even if they don’t publicly show it.” He had to wonder what Lithuanian’s did to show affection. If they did not kiss or anything of the sort, they must have had other ways. It just went to show what a weird, backwards society they had had before his people had conquered them.

The snow was falling heavier now, turning every exposed surface a fluffy white. Making it back onto the main street, Russia blinked for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the lamplights. Had he not been used to associating snow with such negative emotions, he would have thought the scene to be beautiful. For all its chill and promises of horrendous weather to come, the gentle snowflakes did cover up the filth of the streets and the blandness of the less luxurious buildings.

[Lithuania]

As Russia grabbed his arm and began to drag him out of the alleyway and back into the main street, Toris dug his heels in slightly. He wasn't sure why he was resisting, but there was a part of him that wanted to stay there, hidden away from the glare of the streetlamps, and find out why Russia had kissed him.

But much to his dismay, Ivan dismissed him with a breezy, non-descript answer.

“You’re a strange one, Toris. I hear that most people like these simple displays of affection. Lithuanians are different? I admit that I know very little about your people’s customs.”

What was affection? What did he mean by that? Russia hadn't simply hugged him, or kissed his cheek, he had kissed him in the way that only couples were supposed to kiss, the kind of kiss that was only supposed to take place between a man and a woman.

“Here, people usually like such displays though, even if they don’t publicly show it.”

“It's not so simple as that!” he exclaimed suddenly, pulling his arm from Ivan's grasp and wrapping it about himself protectively. “You can't just ki....” He stopped abruptly and looked around guiltily, before lowering his voice significantly. “Just kiss me like that...like a...” He winced and swallowed hard, his cheeks turning crimson again. “...like a lover...and then say that it's simple.” It occurred to him rather dangerously that, if he hadn't had so much vodka, he might have shut himself up long before now. He leaned back against a nearby wall and covered his face in his hands, ignoring the strange glances he got from a couple of passers by.

And although he always, always spoke to Ivan in Russian, and hadn't dared to do otherwise ever since the other man had forced him to learn it, in that moment he had the good sense to switch his tongue to the unique language of their own kind.

“It's not simple,” he informed the other man mournfully. “For you maybe...I don't understand how the world is for you...but it's not simple for me at all. I...you...I can't...” He looked at the ground and things were spinning slightly and he vehemently regretted accepting the last couple of gulps of vodka that Ivan had offered him.

“I like you...” he tried to explain. “And I'm scared of you...and when I'm around you then I don't feel sure of anything and...and I want to run and I don't want to at all and...” His words were tumbling out as a car crash of mixed emotions.

“I think you're going to hurt me,” he said urgently. “I mean not just physically...I think you're going to really, really hurt me in a way that I won't recover from because, for you, everything is simple...and for me it really isn't.”

And in a fit of drunken clarity, he blurted out the one thing that he absolutely, one hundred percent did not want to say, that he did not want to be true.

“I think you're going to really break my heart.”

He paused for the longest time, the words hanging in the air and something cold worming in his chest at the fact that he'd really said that out loud. Blushing, ashamed and utterly humiliated with himself, he looked up at the violet eyed man, his voice less than a whisper.

“Please...can you take me home now?”