[Fic] Matvey
Matvey
by Bleedred (Toilinthefields)
Last updated: December 29th, 2011
Characters: Russia, Canada
Pairings: Russia/Canada
Rating: Teen
Genre: Romance
Warnings: Russia, Canada, cocoa, human names, Russian accent, mentions of affection, implied homo-romanticism
Summary: Canada makes cocoa for Russia and himself.
FF.net: Here
A request for darkseraphim04 on the
hetachallenge 2011 Advent Challenge
Canada watched the mugs go round and round in the microwave as he heard someone with bulk settle themselves in on the couch in his living room. He sighed happily, despite the fact that he had gotten really cold from their trip to the ice-skating rink, but that was what cocoa and a hot fire was for. Well, he assumed that was what Russia did before annexing the couch by flopping down across the entirety of it.
The cups had another couple of minutes to go since he had the temperature on a lower setting to avoid boiling the milk and thus having a horrific mess to clean up. That was what always bugged him when he made cocoa with America. America always put the temperature too high and boiled the milk, which got everywhere, especially if he already put the powdered chocolate in... adding stickiness to the abomination left in the microwave. At least this time, Canada was in his own house, making the cocoa by himself... leaving Russia to just... go sit for a moment. Hopefully he wouldn't spill it all over the place once he got his mug.
It had been a fun evening. They'd been on a few very casual, very low-key dates in the past that couldn't really be called dates, but today was actually the first one that could honestly be called a date. Canada knew this for a few reasons as he watched the clock on the microwave tick down the time remaining on their mugs of cocoa.
They'd actually held hands at the ice-skating rink, for one. At first, Canada had thought Russia was just trying to help him balance as he transferred from solid ground to the ice, but when the much taller man didn't let go of his hand, it kind of clicked for him that this was one of Russia's socially inexperienced attempts at affection. It was almost precious to find out how shy he actually was, as opposed to being the menacing, rip-your-throat-out-as-soon-as-look-at-you type everyone else seemed to think he was. Hell, America essentially had an entire genre of movies developed for the purpose of exploiting this stereotype. Granted, nowadays his spy movies weren't quite so blatantly aimed at the Cold War stereotype, but that was neither here nor there. To be frank, Canada was grateful that what he'd been made to expect wasn't the case.
Secondly, he called Canada "Matvey" instead of "Kanada" or "Matthew" (the last one was only ever when they were by themselves) like he had a million times before once he remembered who Canada was and stopped sitting on him. The day, though, that Russia realized that Canada actually existed and was neither a ghost nor was he America, had been a really nice day despite the fact that he'd been referred to several times by the bear as "Quiet Amerika" until he could remember the name "Kanada". He found that he liked being called "Matvey" but, honestly, he was still ecstatic that he was even recognized in the first place.
The microwave beeped, waking Canada up from his thoughts with a slight jolt.
"Sounts like cocoa is done~!" Russia called from the living room, apparently having heard the damn thing from in there... almost like he'd been listening for it.
"Y-yes, I know!" Canada stuttered slightly as he scrambled to pop open the microwave before shoving his glasses back up his nose from where they'd slid down. He took out the mugs and set them on the counter, closing the machine with his elbow with practiced efficiency. "Maple..." he grumbled as he struggled with the lid of the cocoa container for a second before managing to get it open and the correct amounts of powdered chocolate into their mugs. A few moments of mixing the drinks and a few seconds of adding marshmallows later, Canada took the drinks into the living room, carefully to avoid spilling.
The first thing he noticed upon setting down the mugs on the coffee table, was that not only had Russia taken up the entire length of the couch (which he'd expected), but that the fire had not been started in the fireplace. He sighed with disappointment as he stood back up, mentally trying to remember where exactly he'd left the matches.
He'd thought that Russia would go straight for one of the mugs of cocoa and chug it down, since he seemed to have a penchant for everything warm (which was why he was a bit surprised that the other man had not lit the fire yet). However, when Canada went to walk towards the fireplace, intending to load it with logs from the nearby stockpile, he froze at the feeling a hand wrapping around his wrist. It wasn't a painful or... possessive grasp, so much as a "I would please like your attention" kind of grasp... light, loose and almost non-existent. It almost felt like the hand was afraid to hurt Canada.
He looked over to see that Russia had reached out for him. Granted, he should have known, considering no one else was in the house, let alone even near him. Canada felt like he should probably be frightened, and for a moment he was, despite the fact that he'd gotten much more used to Russia's presence lately.
"I-ivan, I need to go... light the fire..." he said, tugging very gently to try and get his wrist back. He forced a shiver to try and emphasize the point.
Russia didn't let go, only smiled at him with that one smile that he wore for almost every occasion, thus making it a little difficult to know how exactly he was feeling at any given moment. In fact, the other man pulled back a bit, gently.
"No neet for fire, Matvey~" he said, "Just be sittink with me, ant you will be warm~"