Sorry this took so long!! I went to Disney World in Orlando (OMGWTFBBQ!! My first time in the United States of Alfred!!! It was marvellous.), had no internet and now I'm loaded with work and thought I should at least post the first part!! (I'm not happy with it at ALL, though!) This was written for Mylovelylaith in the LiveJournal RoChu Secret Santa Fic Exchange! Merry (late) Christmas, dear! I hope you have a great time and enjoy opening (reading!) your presents (rofl).

Dear Santa

It was that time of the year again.

January 7th.

Christmas in Russia.

He didn't like Christmas.

Of course he would smile. Or pretend he was.

Of course he would celebrate.

That didn't mean he felt merry.

Christmas had always been a rather depressing affair. For one, there was General Winter to contend with. That meant that it was cold.

And it wasn't nice-cold like it was in Northern England when the first snow fell and people packed themselves in front of the warm ovens, telling stories and drinking tea; or exciting-cold as it was in America, where children and adults alike practically flung themselves into the streets and parks full of freshly-fallen snow to build snowmen, igloos and make snow angels.

In Russia, it was cold. It was a creeping, bone-deep coldness, with terrible, icy-winded weather.

And then there was Christmas. Christmas was even worse.

Each year, Ivan would make a list. One of those lists that small children fill with all their wishes for Christmas and send to Santa. Children usually received the presents they wanted. They wrote to Santa andtheir wishes were heard.

Ivan wrote a list every year. And unlike the lists those greedy children made, his list only contained one word.

Yao.

The first time he had sent his letter to Santa, he had been sure he would be heard. He was only asking for one thing, after all.

But when Christmas rolled around, there were only the usual things under his tree.

The following Christmases, he had written the letter again. He had even added "please" to it. And still, his wish went unheard.

But with the years, he had gotten desperate.

One year, he wrote a longer letter, cursing and threatening Santa. Needless to say, there had been no gifts that year.

Another year, he wrote to Santa and promised he wouldn't drink vodka on Christmas. Nothing.

This year, he had decided to do his utmost to please Santa.

He had made sure he was a good boy, made a point of not declaring war on anyone, bit his lip whenever he felt the urge to make someone become one with Mother Russia and he even didn't bully Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia as much.

And today was the day. A few weeks ago, he had kissed the letter before throwing it in the slot of a letterbox.

He was sitting in the Cathedral of St. Basil the Blessed, that colourful, imposing church on Red Square in Moscow, listening to religious hymns.

But his mind wasn't on the Russian Orthodox priest in front, nor was it on the large choir singing so beautifully.

Ivan was glancing at his watch repeatedly, wondering when exactly Santa and Snyegorochka, the Snow Maiden who always accompanied Santa to Russia, would stop at his house to deposit presents under the tree.

In Russia, the festivities began with the rise of the first star and ended with the opening of the presents. He couldn't help but hope that he wouldn't have to open any presents except for that one present he wanted most of all.

The hymn ended and everyone knelt on the little cushions placed before them.

There were many hours left to go.

-888-

When he arrived back at his brightly decorated home, Ivan was greeted by Belarus, Ukraine, Lithuania, Estonia and Latvia. He noticed that the latter wasn't as scared as usual, which was probably related to the red tint of his cheeks and the glass of sparkly wine in his hand.

Just in time, he remembered to decline the glass of vodka that Belarus was offering him and when they all sat down to eat the traditional Holy Supper, he couldn't take his mind off the fact that soon, soon, soon they would go to the adjacent room and unpack the presents beneath the tree!

Unfortunately, Holy Supper was extremely long by tradition. It consisted of 12 different foods, each symbolising one of the twelve Apostles. Russia repeatedly threw anxious glances toward the closed door leading to the next room, the exciting room.

"Say, Ivan, what did you wish for this Christmas?", Belarus asked him across the table, her voice slightly husky as she slid one of her feet over his.

Ivan glanced up distractedly. "Hm? Me?"

"Yesss." She extended the word into a hiss of pleasure of having his eyes rest on her.

He couldn't help the pang of hope and fear when considering whether his only wish would come true.

"You'll see. It might be under the tree." But he knew, deep down, that it wouldn't be. It hadn't ever been.

-888-

It was finally time! They were all getting up rather slowly while he was already standing by the door, by far the most excited, but that was true every year. He first got excited and then everything came crashing down and he'd spend the rest of the night drinking away his disappointment and sorrow.

It was always the same.

The other nations were already watching him worriedly, knowing the deterioration of his mood that would soon follow.

The door opened and the tall, glowing Christmas tree momentarily drew his attention before he dropped his gaze eagerly to the presents beneath the tree.

They were of all sizes and shapes, but none was what he had hoped for.

As the others filed in and took in his facial expression, they backed off and kept their Christmas cheer to themselves.

He unwillingly walked to the presents and opened his own.

It hurt.

It hurt because each year, he was surrounded by cheer and was forced to compare two lists. The list he made for Santa and the list of things he actually received for Christmas.

Dear Santa, please, please this year give me the only thing I want. Give me Yao. Please. Ivan

And what he did receive:

Five bottles of expensive Vodka

One pair of new mittens (beige)

A book titled "International Relations—The Art of Peace and Treaty-making"

A pair of socks (beige)

One nuclear warhead

A scarf (white)

The two lists couldn't have been more different.

It was the discrepancy that hurt.

He moved over to the sofa by the dark window, watching the thick snowflakes tumbling from the night sky and gathering on the outer window ledge.

The excited voices of Latvia, Lithuania and Ukraine rose from where they were unpacking their own gifts and reminded him of what he didn't have.

Damn Santa. He had asked every year. Every year. And this year, he had done everything to be good! Even no vodka on Christmas! But screw that. Santa wasn't complying? Well, so wasn't he.

He rose to grab one of the bottles he had been gifted with and was about to drop onto his sofa for the rest of the evening when he heard the knocker on the main door.

"Are we expecting someone?", Ukraine asked him tentatively and Ivan could only shake his head. Unless England had decided to pay them a visit as he sometimes did, there was no one they were expecting.

"It might be England", he said and left the others to their unpacking and cooing over their presents.

Passing the windows, the weather outside looked absolutely terrible and Ivan wondered who would be brave enough to travel in a snowstorm such as this.

He grabbed the doorknob, twisted the key and then opened the door.

It was Yao.

Excitement washed through him. He was struck speechless for a moment, looking at his granted wish, standing on his doorstep. Did Santa... He did!

A wide smile blossomed on his face and he could feel the years of hurt and disappointment vanishing.

"...Did Santa send you?", he asked, barely able to contain his excitement.

Silence. Yao regarded him with a surprised look and a slightly disbelieving lift of his left eyebrow.

"You believe in Santa?"

TBC

:D Merry Christmas and a happy new year 2010 for all of you!! (yes, yes sort of late ;))