A long, dragged out sigh came from Alfred. It was just becoming too much. His people were constantly terrified because of the constant threat on their safety and survival from the Communist forces. Even other countries were unable to keep from Ivan's apparent wrath as he devoured them into his own large 'empire', the USSR. Half a century later and America was close to just giving up. It hurt enough that people he cared about were suffering, but it was hard not to morn his own loss. Sure his family had been mostly supportive, it wasn't their praise he wanted or their presence.

Picking up the phone, Ivan dialled the familiar number. It rang a few times before being picked up. "Alfred. This is Ivan." He said simply.

A lengthy pause held over the line before America grunted. "What do you want." He didn't fail to notice the fact he used their human names, but it didn't put him in any better of a mood. If anything, it just made him more upset. After all these years of hate and contempt it couldn't be patched up by a phone call, no matter how long he had been waiting to hear his name with a Russian accent.

"...A meeting." Was the only thing Ivan said. This 'Cold War' had gone on long enough, and it needed an end.

Frowning, Alfred said. "What the fuck are you talking about?" What 'meeting'? Was he trying to find another weak spot to exploit other than by bombing him from Cuba?

"I am at a hotel down the street from you. We can meet in the lobby. It is full of people, so neither of us can do anything there." Russia said, voice wavering slightly. They hadn't met face to face for a long time. What if America declined?

Hearing the apprehension in Russia's voice made Alfred sigh again. "Fine. When?" It probably wouldn't stop Ivan from putting lead into America's skull when there were other's around, but he was going to take the chance. After all, he didn't sound angry. If anything, he sounded scared.

"It should take ten minutes for you to walk here." Ivan said before hanging up the phone. He left to go downstairs, to the full lobby. There really was no way someone could commit murder in here without people noticing.

Hearing the dial tone, the American put the phone back on the cradle and sighed once more. This was going to be painful, no matter just what happened.

Since he didn't want to appear eager, he took his time getting a jacket on as well as making sure he looked business like and professional. Alfred never really cared about things like that, but this time he wanted to make sure that Russia knew he meant what he said. He was a man of his word, especially since he still kept the promise he made his boss so long ago.

Even though he didn't want to see the commie, he barely contained himself as he all but ran to the hotel. America wanted to see him again, even if it was painful to do so.

Sitting at a table, Ivan waited for the seat opposite him to be filled. It was rather warm in the lobby, so he took off his jacket, but didn't touch his scarf. People sometimes said that the purple brought out the colour of his eyes. He hadn't worn it in public for many years, until today.

Walking inside the hotel lobby, a quick scan of the area had Alfred's eyes locked with Russia's. Determined not to back down, he went over and sat across from him. It was obvious that he would notice the scarf, but he wasn't about to say anything about it. "Braginski." He said with a curt nod.

Nodding back, Ivan put his hands on the table. "Unless you think that even this is not good enough? Well, I'm sure you have your own protection, in a few holsters." Russia had never been one to carry concealed guns. If he had a gun, he wanted people to know.

Not letting Russia know he was correct, he just snorted. "Obviously you have something more important to discuss than the possibility of me packing heat." Why else would he have phoned in that slightly wavering voice?

Nodding once again, Ivan reached into the pocket of his coat on the chair. He saw America stiffen, so he put his hands back up. "I don't have a weapon." He said, slowly lowering one hand while his left one went for his pocket. "I can't shoot with my left hand." He explained.

Still staying alert, Alfred mumbled. "I wouldn't put it past you to try." Maybe he was just trying to lure him into a false sense of security and he was actually ambidextrous. Nevertheless, his own hand was inches away from the closet gun on him and was ready to grab it on a moments notice.

Keeping his eyes on America, and a hand in sight, Ivan grabbed what was in his pocket. Slowly, he pulled it out. It had been amazing that he had fit the whole thing in his pocket without damaging it, but even so, the edges of the petals were turning slightly wrinkled.

"What's that about?" He asked slowly, his voice losing a bit of its edge. What in the world was Russia doing with a sunflower in his pocket? Alfred's hand had stilled its path to his concealed gun as he leaned forward a bit in curiosity.

"It's for you. I want to end this war." Ivan said, handing over the yellow flower. That was all he said. The rest was up to America.

Taking the flower with a slightly shaking hand, Alfred looked into Russia's eyes. There was not a hint of cool reasoning in them; they were the same as if the war had never happened. "But... Our bosses?" He didn't want to accept right away, mostly because after more than fifty years of being hurt and hurting, he wasn't quite up to opening his heart so quickly.

Ivan took a breath. "I spoke to my boss. Our economy isn't doing well, so he agreed to end the war if I could convince you."

The bitter part of his heart wanted to yell out at him how he was using Alfred to help his country, but he knew the real reason. Ivan wouldn't have given him something so precious to him if he wasn't looking to restore what they had before. "I...Ivan..."

"Yes?" He asked, looking at the sunflower on the table. It was looking sad, being out of the sun for so long. Pairs like that should never be separated for long, especially when they were so obviously made for each other.

Keeping himself from launching across the table, Alfred just stared into Ivan's violet eyes. "You don't know... Just how fucking much I've hated myself for the last five decades. I had to constantly lie to myself that I didn't give a rat's ass about you, and now it's going to end. Just like that."

A little confused, Russia looked back up at him. "So... you will agree to a truce?" Was this it? He couldn't understand the emotion in Alfred's eyes. There was emotion, oh yes, lots of emotion. But just which one he couldn't tell.

"You know we both want more than a truce Ivan." Alfred stated simply. What he really wanted to do was hug and kiss him, but currently he was kind of disappointed they were in a public place. "I want you."

Ivan nodded. Yes, that is what he wanted as well. But was it really that easy? To just decide the past fifty years meant nothing and to act like they used to? He didn't want to believe that and get his hopes up.

"But," Alfred continued. "We both won't be ready to open up again if we have this stupid Cold war lingering over our heads. Can we both promise to push it aside and call it off with no winner?" There was no way either of them would lose, so this was the best way.

"I can." Russia said simply. He hadn't wanted to fight in the first place. He wanted to be communist, but that was it. He had gone through many bosses the past few years, and all of them liked war. That was them, not him.

America barely contained himself as he all but jumped into Ivan's arms and hugged him tight. "I feel like such a fag saying this but you have no idea how much I missed you."

Smiling as he hugged him back, Russia put his head on Alfred's shoulder. "I have missed you as well, comrade." Even if they were much more than comrades. Ivan didn't think it would be a good idea to mention that he had a hotel room upstairs.

.oOo.

America was now throughly disappointed both with the gift and with Ivan. Why the hell did he feel the need to remind him about that? It wasn't something he particularly enjoyed thinking about, and he didn't think Russia liked it either -if them fucking like mad for the next few days meant anything.

Now the gift was big enough to hold a baseball if not smaller. There was no way Ivan had managed to get a hamburger in there. Really though, Alfred was becoming more curious about the walk down memory lane than the lack of food. Was there a point to this?

Now there was only two or three boxes left. Ivan waited patiently for him to take them out. Finally there was a small box with dark red wrapping paper and white ribbon, which had small hearts on it. That had taken a while to find.

Looking down at the box in his hand for a few seconds, Alfred then stared at Russia. "Your heart I'm guessing? I still have it, and it's still as fucking creepy as when you gave it to me."

.oOo.

The water from the shower poured down Ivan's chest. He rubbed off all the grime from their night of making love only a few hours ago, and waited for America to join him. "What is taking you so long?"

"Hold your horses jeez. Just because you're all quick and nimble after all that doesn't mean I am." Stepping into the shower, America let out a small hiss of breath. "I don't care what you say, I'll never get completely used to how fucking big you are."

"Well, perhaps I could get a surgery to become smaller. I am sure it can be done." Of course, the Russian had no intention of becoming smaller. He liked seeing his boyfriend in pained pleasure too much. He leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

Holding onto Ivan's face, America brought them into a kiss. "Like hell you would do th-" He was cut off though as he felt and heard something slimy fall onto his foot. Looking down with his eyebrows furrowed, he just about kicked the object away before he realized what it was. "How the fuck did that happen?!?"

Looking down as well, Russia saw the red lump of flesh, blood washing down the drain. "Oh, that is just my heart. It does that." He bent down and picked up the still-beating heart, about to put it back like always, but paused. Then he smiled and handed it to Alfred. "Here."

Backing up, Alfred shook his head, shedding water. "No way! What would I want your heart for? Don't you kinda need it to live? We couldn't have you dying cause your heart came out, even if it has happened before." How weird was that? And he was acting as if it was as normal as giving someone a flower or a box of chocolates.

"I don't need it, really. As long as it's still beating. I think you have a pirate movie like that." Ivan said, still holding it. For just coming out of his body, however, it was fairly cold. But it was still alive, so it would be fine.

"Yeah, but that guy's fucking Davy Jones, not you. I don't trust myself with anything, that's why I have a boss and a bro that will do everything for me." Plus what was he going to do with a heart? A living, pulsing human heart?

His arm was starting to get tired, holding it out straight in front for so long. "Don't you think the largest country in the world is better than Davy Jones?" He asked, waiting for Alfred to take it from him. He wouldn't take no as an answer.

Watching the strong muscle pump strongly as it sat in Ivan's hand, America ignored the diluted blood running down his arm to pick it up lightly. It was much colder than he would have expected from something so vital, and the beat felt strange in his hand. "Uh, thanks I guess? Do I need to feed and water it or what?"

"Just cherish it." Ivan said, kissing him again.

.oOo.

With the way that Ivan was looking at him, Alfred had a sneaking suspicion that this was the last box. It had taken him more than twenty minutes to open all of them because of his random memories popping up, but now he would find just what Russia got him for his awesome birthday! "Can I open it?" He asked hesitantly, unsure why he was even asking.

Giving one single nod, Russia sat back and waited. This was going to be so fun! He loved giving Alfred gifts because he was always so happy, like a child on Christmas morning.

Swallowing his anxiety down, America smiled as he slowly pulled the ribbon undone before taking the top off. Whatever he was expecting, it surely wasn't this. "Uh... Is this... What I think it is?" His face fell; not in disappointment but shock. Nestled in the small velvet box inside was a gold ring. That wasn't so shocking as the fact that it was already on what looked to be the first two joints of someone's severed finger.

Watching in anticipation, Ivan twisted his own ring, waiting for Alfred to ask the obvious question.

"Who's is it?" Of course, he had to stop himself from crying as he accepted it like a girl (he was much too heroic to cry) so he asked the other burning question. It was a bit thick, but for some reason he couldn't figure out whose it was. Maybe his crazy lover just got it from one of his recently deceased citizens. That fact was more than a little bit gross.

Grin widening, Russia slowly brought up his left hand. On his ring finger was a similar ring, sitting on the newly-healed stub.