2019 AN: I wrote this story four years ago, before I had fully developed some of the darker backstory between Toris and Ivan. After writing it in detail, my thoughts on this pairing and this story in particular have drastically changed. Although I do think it possible Toris and Ivan could have gotten along after 1952, I think this would have been a long, slow process, and could not have developed into anything romantic. I also would not have Ivan return to any form of violence or nonconsensual activity, and I certainly would not use this as a transition into a romantic setting or a functioning relationship.

I am leaving the story as is for now, because I believe these stories can be seen as proof of improvement in my understanding of these issues. And a lot of the other elements Toris and Ivan struggle with in their relationship in this story, I still see as something they could struggle with in a friendship. But please, my dear readers, know that this scene does not portray a healthy relationship. Ivan is not respecting Toris in any way, it is not romantic, and I should not have portrayed it as such.

Thank you,
Slovenskych

February 7, 2020

Ivan's visit is going surprisingly well. I've taken him to the main sights in Vilnius, and so far nothing 'bad' has happened. He's been very quiet. I'm explaining my history as best as I can but sometimes I'm not sure if he's even listening to me. He looks off at the castle or church, (never at me) nodding or saying 'Da' or 'hm' every now and then. He never asks questions or smiles. It's very strange, but of course talking to him at all is strange. I don't think I've spent this much time with him since before I ran away.

There's still a lot of tension between us. I just can't shake the feeling that he's lost in his head, trying to figure out some giant puzzle, but I can't think of what that puzzle might be. I just hope that he opens up a little, so we can talk about some things. The most he's said to me so far was a complaint about how the heating system in this hotel is never working.

And here I go again, because Feliks made me promise to write this every day during Ivan's visit...

If Russia even sneezes on me or touches me or hugs me or tries to kiss me or looks at me the wrong way or says anything creepy or picks up anything that could potentially be a weapon (which is everything) or breathes on me, I am to follow these Five Fabulous Steps:

1. Run away as fast as nationly possible.

(plan B) Grab anything within reach that could be used as a weapon and beat the shit out of Russia with it.

2. Scream bloody murder.

3. Call the police.

4. Call Polska The Powerful and tell him EXACTLY what happened.

5. Never ever, ever, EVER speak to that kozojeb sukinsyn again.

I keep thinking that Feliks is spying on us, but so far I haven't seen any sign of him. He promised he wouldn't, but you never know with Feliks. I have to go, Ivan is complaining about the temperature again. I don't get it, shouldn't he be used to the cold?

Toris Laurinaitis

Lietuva

The receptionist smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her hear. "Yes, sir, I'll tell them to fix it."

"Thank you." Toris turned and made for the elevator. He could have called the office, but he needed some time away from Ivan, even if it was only a few minutes. He had a strange feeling that Ivan enjoyed watching him run around and try to fix things. Like I'm his servant all over again. Toris pressed the button to the elevator and shoved his hands in his pockets. He wanted to be a good host, but at the same time he wanted to show Ivan how much he had grown. He was not the same nation that ran away from the mansion thirty years ago.

The elevator doors slid open and Toris stepped inside. He sighed and leaned against the cool metal wall as it began to surge upwards, watching the red dotted light of the floor number flash from zero to one.

He wasn't sure what he expected to get out of Ivan's visit. All he knew is that he had been running from Ivan for years, too terrified of his own past to even speak of his experiences in the mansion with his closest friends. But ever since he had called Ivan on the phone last month, Toris was sure that the Russian's cold exterior was only a mask. He was positive there was still some remaining part of the man he had fallen in love with all those years ago. Even so, he had to be extremely cautious. Toris remembered Ivan's words from the Sochi Olympics in 2014:

Amerika may claim to love you, but to his people you are nothing. In your moment of greatest desperation, he will not be there. But I will. And I am going to kill you. Slowly, painfully, beautifully, you will die.

Toris shuddered and hugged himself, the elevator halting to a stop and the doors sliding open. He hoped he hadn't misjudged the changes in Ivan since Sochi. If so, this visit could possibly be the worst mistake of his life.

His footsteps echoed in the hallway as he made his way to Ivan's hotel room. Toris swiped his key card across the door, swinging it open and stepping inside.

"The receptionist said she'll turn the heat on. She was nice, it's not every day you meet nice people like that, you know?" He frowned at the assortment of travel guides on the floor. Toris bent down, scooping the maps and castle brochures into his arms. "Her name was Janina. Said she was working hard to earn money for University, her parents can't afford it." He stood up and dropped them onto the bed, letting out a light laugh. "Heh…America isn't the only place where our children are scrounging around for money, yeah?" Toris tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, turning to send Ivan a warm smile.

Ivan was staring at him.

Toris tensed. Usually Ivan avoided eye contact, or never looked at him in the eye for more than a few seconds. Now he was sitting in the hotel room chair, violets burning and staring at Toris with an intensity that made him squirm.

"What?" Toris raked his hands through his hair, worried there might be something wrong with it, but he knew there wasn't. Ivan would never stare for a silly reason like that.

"Take off your shirt, Litva."

Toris froze. The world around him darkened and slowed until there was nothing but him, those pair of violet eyes, and the monster of fear rumbling in his gut.

Ivan stood up from his chair. "Take your shirt off."

Toris sprung to the door in one leap, his hands wrenching at the knob. It rattled and banged against the doorjamb, but it was locked. He bolted into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, but a boot wedged inside. Toris's eyes swept over the bathroom counter and he picked up a razor. A shoulder and an arm pushed open the door, and Toris lashed out with the razor, dragging it into the skin and drawing blood. Ivan let out a hiss of pain, but he squeezed himself into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Toris jumped into the shower, slamming the glass door behind him and leaning his entire weight on it.

"PAGALBA!" Toris's voice echoed in the glass walls of the shower. "PAGALBA, ESU BŪTI UŽPULTAM! KAŽKAM MAN PADĖTI, PRAŠAU!"

Ivan's strength was much greater than his own, and with a jerk the door slid open. Toris turned on the shower and ice cold water bit into his skin. Ivan hissed in surprise and jerked back. Toris darted out, but a hand closed around his mouth before he could reach the bathroom door. An unbearable weight pushed him to the floor, the tile cold against his wet skin. The shower sprayed on, so steady and calm while he felt legs lock over his, spreading his thighs apart. Fabric scraped his back as his shirt was lifted up to his neck.

Toris was coughing and screaming and crying so hard that he couldn't breathe. He tried to thrash, but he couldn't move. He couldn't believe he had allowed himself to be in this situation again. The moment he had been dreading, running away from for thirty years, this was it, it was here, in this bathroom of this hotel in his own country. He hated himself. His throat burned and he felt like he was drowning.

The shower water sprayed.

After a moment, his shirt was lowered back down. The shower water turned off. Toris's entire body heaved, his belly touching the cool tile floor and rising again. His gasps for air filled the small bathroom, echoing in rhythm with his pounding heart.

"You still have the scars." Ivan's voice was too soft, too innocent. "You… you still have them. Why?"

Toris didn't answer, his brain screaming with what Ivan was about to do to him.

"I thought for sure they would have… faded by now."

What was he waiting for?! Why was he just... talking!

"Litva. Why are the scars still there?"

Toris didn't answer.

Fabric shifted and Ivan's hot breath tickled Toris's ear, "I am going to let you go, Litva. You will not run away like you did thirty years ago. You will answer my question, da?"

Toris hated himself for it, but he nodded.

The fabric slipped away, the pressure was gone. Toris scrambled to his knees and slowly stood up. He took deep breaths, in, out, tried to relax. Then he flung open the door and bolted out of the bathroom.

Ivan was on him in a second, slamming his entire body into the door. Toris tried screaming, but a thick leather glove smashed his lips closed. Ivan's face was an inch away from his, violets flaming with more emotion than Toris had seen in years.

"NYET!" Ivan roared. "Nyet, you will NOT run away from me again! I have asked you a question, Litva, and you will answer it."

Toris was filled with rage. Did Ivan still think he was a subordinate? The glove slipped from his mouth, slick with his own sweat. "You are not my master," he snarled, voice shaking with terror and anger. "Let me go."

"I will not let you go until you answer me!"

"And what have you done to deserve an answer?!" Toris shouted back, his chest heaving.

Ivan's eyes narrowed to violet slits. "I put those scars there. I dug them into your very body, they are as much a part of me as they are of you. Now tell me why they are still there."

"Tell me why it matters so much."

Ivan's eyes widened at the question, his grip loosening. All at once, Toris saw a flicker of the nation he used to know. "It… it matters…" Ivan seemed to be trying to find something inside of Toris, some mystery. "It matters… because I thought… I thought you had forgotten me."

Toris didn't say anything, he was trying to understand this transformation before him.

"I thought… I thought they would be gone. You looked… you always looked so...happy, with Amerika, and your brothers, every time I saw you… You never even looked at me, Litva. You were always smiling, it was beautiful, but it was not – not at me. Never at me, Litva. Surely, I thought, those scars were gone."

Toris's eyes widened. "Ivan…"

Ivan's eyes were filled with despair. "Tell me," He breathed. "Please, Litva, you must – you must tell me, why – how – how are they still there?"

A new calm came over Toris and he looked Ivan in the eye. "They are still there, because you are impossible to forget."

"A-and – and this – this is how you remember me?"

Toris's chest ached. "I – n-no… I mean – how else, Ivan, how else was I supposed to – to – " His throat clogged. He couldn't say it.

Ivan's brows scrunched together. "That night, when you called me. I asked you what you were running away from, and you didn't answer. I thought you were running away from me."

"M-me… me too…"

Ivan stared at Toris a moment, then he slowly let go of his collar and backed up. Toris's legs gave out under him and he collapsed onto the carpet. He sat there, trying to catch his breath, trying to understand the raging emotions inside of him.

"Litva, I do not think you are running away from me. I am here. You are not running."

Toris didn't know what to say. For thirty years, he had been positive that he was running away from Ivan. He had confronted him hoping to overcome that fear. But why did he still feel like he was hiding from something? What was there to hide from?

Toris stared at his own hands. They were shaking. "I – I th-thought – wh-when y-you pinned me to the – the floor…"

"I only wanted to look at your scars."

Toris jerked his head up to glare at Ivan. "Then why did you do that!?"

"There was no other way, I knew you would not let me see willingly."

"B-But – you could have asked!"

"I did ask."

"For me to take my shirt off!" Toris cried. "Y-you – you didn't explain why, or – or what you were d-doing, or – " Toris couldn't stop himself, he started crying. He was afraid, he was so afraid… but what was he afraid of?

"In Sochi I told you I wanted to kill you. I was telling the truth."

Toris looked up, eyes wide.

Ivan sighed, his eyes fixed onto the carpet. "I thought you hated me. You… you ran away from me, so suddenly and then – and then almost a second later, there you are, dating that damn American. I thought you had done it on purpose. I looked over and I would see you laughing, and I thought, he is laughing at me. Rubbing my defeat in my face, relishing in my pain. I looked at you, Litva, and I was filled with more hate and hurt and betrayal than I have ever felt in my entire life, I wanted to kill you!" Ivan pounded a fist on the wall, his teeth bared into a pained grimace. "So badly… I hated you so much, but – but Yao said I could never hate you like that if I didn't still love you. And I hated him for saying that, but after thirty years I still wanted to see you dead, and Yao left me. He said I was obsessed. I didn't want to believe him, how could I love the man that hurt me so much?"

Ivan's eyes searched the carpet, refusing to look up at Toris. "But then… then last month, you called me. I thought you would be begging me to get out of Ukraine, I was ready to strip you of everything right there on the phone. I wanted to give you nightmares. But – but you were crying, and – and you asked me for help, and… I didn't know what to do, I wondered if it was some kind of prank or… or something. I was so confused. And now – now I am sure, but I must ask you, I must have an answer." Ivan looked up, and for the first time Toris saw in those eyes the same man he parted with thirty years ago. Ivan's voice was so soft, so cracked and hopeful and desperate, as if his entire existence depended on this one question.

"Do you hate me, Litva?"

It was such a simple question, but the answer was so complicated. Toris took a deep, suddering breath. "I hate me. I never hated you, Ivan, I only hated myself for – " The tears again. Toris had never told anyone this, not Eduard, not Raivis or Feliks or Alfred. He didn't even dare tell himself, but it was true and it had eaten away at his gut for thirty years. And now Ivan was here, asking him this, and if he didn't say it now then he'd never say it and it might end up killing him from the inside out.

"For – for…" Toris looked up and said in a soft, terrified whisper, "For wanting to go back."

Ivan's eyes widened in shock. Toris felt numb. He wasn't sure if he was in his body anymore, he had just told the thing that was killing him, and it had left all at once and now he couldn't even think. I did it. I did it, I said it!

Ivan's voice trembled, tears formed on the corners of his eyes. "You wanted… to come back?"

"I never hated you, Ivan. How could I, when – after everything – I missed you, I missed you so much, and I was so afraid of that because I wasn't supposed to. Everyone would hate me, my brothers, my friends… I would be a traitor to my own people. That's why – that's why I ran away. I ran away because I had to. That's why I dated America, because I was so afraid of running back. I saw you everywhere, I thought about you every day, I – I – missed you, Ivan, I missed you!"

Toris laughed, it felt amazing to say it out loud. Ivan was crying now, too, and before he even realized what was happening, the Russian had crashed into him and pressed him into a tight, relieved, elated hug. Toris wrapped his arms around the soft material of Ivan's scarf, remembering the way it scratched against his skin. He buried his head into that familiar smell of sunflowers and vodka. Everything rushed back to him – Ivan's strength, Ivan's smell, Ivan's hair and Ivan's shoulders and neck and the deep rumble of sobs that reverberated through his body. Everything, everything he had been running away from for thirty years, hiding from, dreaming of… it was here, it was now, and Toris had no idea why he had been terrified of something so warm, something that made him feel more happy than he had in centuries.

Toris didn't know how long they stayed like that, crying in each other's arms. It was as if a giant weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He felt happy, he felt free. He felt like he could run a thousand miles and never be tired. He had nothing else to hide!

At last they pulled apart. Ivan's huge hands came to cup on the side of Toris's face. They were calloused and warm, Toris couldn't help but lean into the touch. He smiled through his tears to see Ivan looking at him with wonder, disbelief, awe.

"All these years…" Ivan whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "All these years…"

Toris laughed, reaching up his hands to touch Ivan's wrist. His hands jerked back when his fingers brushed liquid, and he gasped. "You're bleeding!"

Ivan forced himself to tear his eyes away from Toris to look at the long shallow cut across his arm where the razor had scraped him. "Da."

"I have First-Aid in my suitcase – " Toris made to get up, but Ivan's hands tightened on his face.

"Wait, Litva – "

"It'll just take a minute, let me patch you up."

Ivan stared at Toris a moment, then slowly pulled his hand away. "Da," he whispered.

Toris stood up, his legs still shaking as he walked over to his suitcase. He rummaged through, pulling out a large box full of bandages and disinfectant. Funny, he thought, the kit was meant for him, not Ivan. "Clean it under running water," He said, placing the box on the bed and snapping it open.

Ivan made a huffing sound, then stood up and disappeared into the bathroom. Toris could hear the faucet water running, and in a flash he remembered the shower spraying while he was pinned to the floor. He shuddered, spreading out the bandages and gauze. He rubbed his eyes and cheeks with the back of his hand, smearing the tears away. The faucet stopped, then he could hear Ivan approaching behind him.

"Sit on the bed."

"You keep telling me what to do, da?"

"You're in my country," Toris reminded him, a slight smile on his lips.

Ivan frowned, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed. Toris noticed that he, too, had wiped away any sign of crying.

"Give me your arm."

Ivan held out his arm, and Toris carefully rubbed the disinfectant over the bright red flesh. He almost apologized for attacking Ivan, but stopped himself.

"I can do it myself, Litva."

"You wouldn't use the disinfectant."

"It would still heal."

"It would get infected." Toris could feel those eyes watching him. He tried to fight down a blush as he picked up the gauze and medical tape, carefully patching up Ivan's cut.

"Litva, I can't help but think you have been watching too many of Amerika's Disney Princess movies."

Toris felt his face flush red. "We did not watch – those movies!"

Ivan's chest rumbled with a deep kolkolkol. Toris's hands darted away and his muscles tensed at that sound. Ivan stopped laughing and cocked an eyebrow.

"I – I'm sorry," Toris mumbled. Then he cursed in Lithuanian. Don't apologize! He could feel Ivan studying him.

"You've changed. You're… how to put it…" Toris looked up to see the Russian looking at the ceiling in thought. "You are more like your old self, da? Before Communism, but even before that, during the Commonwealth. But still, you are different… more wise, I think. You have the confidence of an empire, but the wisdom of a fallen one." His eyes fell to look at Toris. "That is a good combination, da?"

Toris felt his cheeks flush. "I… don't think I have that much confidence."

"You have more than I do. We are both fallen empires, Litva. You have recovered from yours, I have yet to do so from mine."

"Yours was much more recent," Toris whispered. "I've had a long time to heal."

"Da."

The room lapsed into silence. It was as if they were fascinated by each other – this nation in front of Toris was no longer the Ivan he thought he knew. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, so much he wanted to discover. He wanted to spend every hour of the waking day by Ivan's side, figuring him out all over again. He could tell by the way Ivan was looking at him that he was thinking the same thing. An unspoken excitement buzzed in the air around them, just waiting for someone to make the first move.

Just then there was loud banging at the door.

"Atverti! Tai policija!"

Toris jumped in surprise, rushing to open the door to be met with several policemen. He frowned. "Is there a problem?"

"We got a call saying there was some screaming coming from this room."

Toris felt his face flush with embarrassment. So somebody had heard. He hated to imagine what would have happened if Ivan had actually... he shuddered. "Oh, there's nothing to worry about, everything's fine." He flashed his best 'everything's fine' smile, but the officer wasn't convinced.

"We will need to take a look around."

"Ah, um... yes, of course!"

The policeman shouldered into the room, their hands ghosting over their holsters as they scanned the area. Ivan's face darkened, obviously not appreciating the presence of police officers in his hotel room.

"Livta, what is the meaning of this?"

Toris flushed. "It's nothing, someone heard me screaming and they called - "

"You!" The first officer exclaimed, pointing a finger at Ivan. "You are Russian?"

Ivan looked ready to rip the man's head off right then and there. "Da," he growled between clenched teeth.

The officer's brows creased. "I will need identification. For both of you."

Toris and Ivan both found their wallets, handing over their government ID's. One officer ran back to his police car, while the others continued to search the hotel room and ask Ivan more questions.

"What's the purpose of your visit? And you were sent here alone, without any military protection? Why are you not at the Russian embassy? Which places have you visited here in Lithuania? And you've been taking pictures? Of what, exactly?"

Ivan grew more and more irritated, all the while answering the policemen through a deadly smile, cold aura strong enough to make any child burst into tears. But the policemen didn't seem to notice. One of the younger officers could barely speak Russian, and Ivan winced at every grammar mistake. At last, one officer returned with the ID's and confirmed that Ivan was a government official on a business trip. After several more questions and another thorough examination of the room, the officers finally bid Toris a good day and left.

After the door clicked shut and the officer's footsteps faded down the hall, Toris burst into laughter.

Ivan frowned. "What is so funny."

Toris gasped and clutched his stomach, leaning against the wall with one hand. "You - your face - hahaha...You looked about ready t-to - and they didn't even - Hahaha!"

Ivan folded his arms across his chest. "That is nothing to laugh at, Litva. They were disrespectful."

"Ne!" Toris chuckled. "Ne, YOU were disrespectful! They're the police, Ivan! Hahaha, oh my god!"

It was a long time before Ivan asked, "Litva... are they teaching Russian in your schools?"

Toris wiped his eyes, at last gaining control of his laughter. "It's an option. Most kids these days want to learn English. Why do you ask?" Ivan just stared at him, eyes wide. Toris felt his face flush. "What?"

Slowly, a smile found its way to Ivan's lips. "Perhaps I should stop calling you Litva. You are Lietuva now, da?"

Toris stared at Ivan in shock. After centuries of abuse, friendship, and twisted romance, Ivan had never once called him by his real nation name. It was always my Litva, Little One - names of ownership, possession. With a swell of pride and joy, Toris realized that Ivan no longer saw him as his subordinate.

"Ivan, I - th-thank you..." He closed his eyes, feeling the tears threatening to spill over again.

There was a moment of silence, then, "It's getting late, da? We should go out to dinner."

Toris was glad for the change of subject. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Where would you like to go?"

Ivan shrugged his great shoulders. "This is your country, not mine."

"I could take you to one of my favorite places downtown, they have amazing soup."

Ivan smiled. "Da, that sounds good."

Toris looked into Ivan's eyes. He felt a sudden thrill overcome him, but all the words they wanted to say remained unspoken as they got ready to leave. The door clicked behind them and Ivan's heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. Toris watched the red numbers of the elevator count down. 8. . . 7. . . 6 . . . He glanced sideways at Ivan and felt a stir inside of him.

Something big is about to happen, he thought, smiling to himself. And I don't think the rest of the world will be ready for it.

"Lietuva?"

"Taip?"

"Tell me a story about your country."

"A story?"

"Da."

The elevator door slid open, and Toris immediately knew which one he wanted to tell. They walked out into the streets of Vilnius, the night sky glistening with stars. Ivan was looking down at him, waiting for him to begin. Toris took a deep breath.

"Legend has it that the Grand Duke of Lithuania, Gediminas, was hunting in the sacred forest near the Valley of Šventaragis. He was very tired after the day's hunt, and so he fell asleep and began to dream. In his dream, a huge Iron Wolf was standing on top a hill and of hundreds of other wolves were howling from inside it, filling all of the surrounding fields and woods. When he awoke, the Duke asked the priest to interpret the meaning of the dream. And the priest told him: 'The Iron Wolf represents a castle and a city which will be established by you on this site. This city will be the capital of the Lithuanian lands and the dwelling of their rulers, and the glory of their deeds shall echo throughout the world..."

Translations:

kozojeb sukinsyn - (Polish) goatfucker s.o.b (I'm sure Poland has a magnificent collection of names he calls Russia)

PAGALBA, ESU BŪTI UŽPULTAM! KAŽKAM MAN PADĖTI, PRAŠAU! - Help, I'm being attacked! Somebody help me, please!

Atverti! Tai policija! - Open up! This is the police!

AN: Like I said, this story has pretty much nothing to do with current (or future) Lituanian/Russian relations. I read somewhere that Lithuania has issued war manuals in case of a Russian invasion. O.o

Thanks for reading, and please review!