You yawned and sat up in bed to find that there was a stunning lack of Russian beside you. You sighed, rubbed your eyes, and flung the covers from your form before swinging your legs over the side of the bed. You winced slightly at the foreign cold feeling that raced through your bare feet.
You knew that Ivan wasn't up to anything horrible, at least that was what you hoped, but that didn't curb your curiosity. He was always up to something interesting. One night, you woke up to find him making beef dumplings in the kitchen because he, quote, "felt like it was a beef dumpling morning."
You smiled at the memory. You may not completely understand everything he does but you thought that all those things added to his charm.
You padded down the long and dark hallway of his house, staring at the multiple pictures along the wall as you went. They were framed pictures someone took of you and Ivan during random intervals of your life. Your favorite was a picture of Ivan wrapping one arm around your waist, drawing you in close as the wind whipped his coat to and fro. The sky was pitch black and stars littered the sky. He had on his childlike smile that most people found intimidating for some reason or another, and you were smiling happily. There was only one thing off about the picture and that was the fact that Ivan didn't have on his scarf, you did. You remembered that day perfectly.
You had only worn a short sleeve shirt on a spring day. The weather forecast had said there would be little wind throughout the day, and the temperature would stay in the 80's range. Unfortunately, weathermen lie, and so you were stuck wearing short sleeves in 55° weather.
Ivan had his heart set on taking you with him to stargaze that night, and you could never dream of refusing him such a little thing, especially when you knew it was the little sweet things you both did that kept him a little more sane than what he used to be. You figured that it was just the stress of being a nation that got to him, and that stress wasn't lessened when all the other nations were so cruel to him. Always running away or excluding him. You didn't see what was so bad about him, he was a little intimidating at first... but once you had gotten to know him more, you viewed him as more of a teddy bear. "Cold exterior, but a warm heart!" That is what you told your friends whenever they so much as questioned your romantic interest with Ivan.
So that pity of sorts is how you ended up standing in the field, looking up at the sky, and shivering slightly as Ivan babbled on about how tiny the stars looked this far away, but if you got close to them then they could burn you to the point that you were only a pile of dust. Actually, listening in he was probably going too in depth about just how dead a person would be, and in too much of a happy tone, but you couldn't bring yourself to mind that much. Even when he tended to get a bit violent, you knew he would never do anything to hurt you, so there wasn't in harm in letting his darker side through.
After a while of Ivan's talking, you had found yourself shivering, the wind beginning to blow so coolly that it seemed to go straight through your very body. He had noticed your occasional shivering or course, after all he was rather protective of you. You were his very own sunflower. Bright and warm, and most importantly accepting of him. He found himself frowning. He had forgotten that most people got cold...
The next thing you had known, he had wrapped his long scarf around your neck, and an arm was looped around your waist as you were dragged into his muscular side that was surprisingly warm. After a moment, he had taken out a camera from one of his jacket pockets. Leaving you no time to question or even wonder why he even had a camera on his person he aimed it towards both of you.
"Smile, my little Sunflower."
You shook yourself out of your daze and continued down the hall, checking the multiple rooms of Ivan's large house. Ivan was not in the living room or dining room. There was nothing in the oven, so he must not have had another one of his beef dumpling mornings. It looked like he was nowhere to be found inside the house.
You flopped on the couch and sighed. Where on earth was that Russian? You sighed and looked out of the glass patio door, trying to come up with possible place he could have gotten to. After staring out of the patio door for a few minutes, it managed to register in your sleep-filled mind that a man was lying on your lawn. It was, of course, Ivan. You didn't have to look twice to know. His hair, so blonde it was almost platinum, was sprawled on the grass, making it look like a holy light shone around his head.
You jumped off of the couch and made your way to the door before slowly opening it. Ivan immediately whipped his head back as if he was looking at an intruder, but let a small innocent smile light up his face once he realized it was only you.
"Good night," he said happily, before widening his violet orbs in realization. "I did not wake you up, did I?"
You shook your head wordlessly and laid down onto the grass beside the ever-faithful Russian. He could get so worked up and worried over such little things. Even if he had managed to wake you up before you were actually willing to, you wouldn't admit it to him in fear that he would get too worked up over it. When Ivan got worked up over anything, he tended to first go into a very short stage where he was gloomy and rather displeased with himself, and then he got rather irritable, taking his slight anger out on the other nations or even random citizens.
You heard Ivan let out a sigh of relief. You knew that he would have hated to cause you discomfort of any kind, even if it was just a hour of sleep.
"The stars are beautiful tonight," he whispered. "The weatherman said they would be shooting tonight. I did not want to miss it."
You smiled. "Have any luck?"
Ivan frowned. "No... I was just beginning to think that man was lying."
You nodded sleepily and rubbed your eyes with your fists. "They do that."
Ivan looked at your quickly tiring form carefully as though he was examining some foreign specimen before wrapping a single arm around your waist and pulling you very tightly to his body. You buried your head into his jacket and breathed in the scent of vodka, snow, and him. Yes, he had his own scent. It couldn't be described as anything but Ivan. You would know.
You found yourself thinking how amazing it was that he was so warm after staying out here on the cold ground for who knows how many hours. Even after being with the powerful man for so long, he could still manage to surprise you.
Ivan continued looking up at the stars as he felt you get more limp in his arms with every passing second. He ran his fingers through your hair, which he believed was one of the most beautiful shades of (h/c) he had ever seen, but then he could be biased towards you at times. The rather true thought made him again smile to himself. This was perfect. He was actually happy, more happy than he had ever been or thought possible. You were the one who could actually make his smile real and could make him chuckle in a nonthreatening way, which had been something of a different experience for him.
"My beautiful sunflower," he murmured to no one in particular, maybe he was talking to the universe itself. "My beautiful sunflower," he had claimed you. You were to be forever his.