Insert usual disclaimer of non-ownership here. As mentioned, it isn't necessary to have read 'In Your Place' to enjoy this - especially if you like short stories about feelings - but it wouldn't hurt, either. I hope you enjoy.

It was snowing. Little Russia sat at the window, curled into a ball, watching the fluffy flakes fall to the ground silently against the solid grey sky. Nothing else outside moved, hiding from the frozen rain. Russia jumped as a woollen blanket was wrapped warmly around his shoulders. England smiled at him and wrapped comforting arms around him.

"You alright, little man?" he asked "You look a little down."

Russia shook his head.

"I don't like snow." He confessed, although it was a little embarrassing "It feels lonely."

"Hmm, I know what you mean."

Arthur put his chin on the top of Ivans head and looked out of the window.

"It doesn't snow often in England." He assured the little boy "Why don't we make the most of it and make a snowman tomorrow?"

"Uh-uh."

"No? Not even if we give it a big old carrot nose?"

"Don't want to."

"Oh, alright!" England pouted "And I was looking forward to it, too."

Ivan leant back against Arthurs chest, and the two of them watched the snow fall in silence.

British houses were made to be sturdy and dry, not warm, and the rareness of snowfall here meant that the bedding wasn't nearly warm enough. Still wrapped up in all his sheets, Ivan made his way to Arthurs room and opened the door a crack. Arthur sat up in bed, reading a book by candlelight.

"Big brother Arthur?" Ivan called, slightly wary.

"Hm?" Arthur looked up "What is it?"

The boy edged into the room and closed the door behind him, as not to waste the warmth flowing from the fire in the hearth.

"I'm cold." He whimpered "The eiderdown isn't warm enough. May I please sleep in here with you?"

Arthur smiled.

"Alright." He agreed, putting the book aside "But only because you used such a big word correctly."

He patted the bed beside him, and Ivan eagerly clambered in, wrapping himself up in even more layers of blankets. Blowing out the candle, Arthur lay down and put his arm around the boy.

"Warm enough?" he asked.

"Da."

"Good, now go to sleep."

The bed was empty when Ivan awoke. Beneath the sheets was delightful and warm, especially as he felt the frigid cold air that hit his face above them. He pulled the sheets up over his head and tried to go back to sleep. With the clatter of boots and the throwing open of the bedroom door, the bed creaked down as weight was put on its edge.

"Ivan, get up!" Arthur ordered, pushing the bed to make it bounce up and down "Get up, get up, get up!"

"Niet! Its cold!"

Arthur laughed.

"If you don't get up, you won't get any of this tasty treat I made just for you!"

That can't be good. With extreme reservation, Ivan peaked out of his sheet fortress, violet eyes meeting a happy Arthur. With a smile, he held up a clear golden star. What was that? He pushed the sheets back a little more to examine it properly.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Taste it." Arthur suggested, holding it out to him.

Carefully, very carefully, he took the odd star from Arthur and took a tentative lick.

"Syrup!" he declared.

"That's right!" Arthur confirmed "I froze it out in the snow last night. I made a bakers dozen, but my favourite is this one."

Ivans jaw dropped when he saw it. It was a work of art. It was as big as a saucer, and just as round, with layers of syrup making up the tan petals and criss-crossing centre. Realising he was staring (open mouthed), he blushed and looked away.

"Wh-why would you make a sunflower?" he asked England.

"Oh? You don't want it?"

"I want it!"

"Make a snow man with me, and you can have it." Arthur bargained.

Ivan chewed over his options. He really didn't want to go out in the snow.

"Do you promise you'll give it to me?" he asked, doe-eyed.

"Cross my heart." He promised.

"Ok, then."

"Great!" Arthur was thrilled "Pull your clothes on, love, we've got porridge for breakfast!"

Ivan threw the covers back over himself, wrapping them firmly around him.

"Niet!"

"Hey!"

Despite his protestations, little Ivan had a great time making a snowman with Arthur. Some of the other children in the village even invited him to join them in a snowball fight. He returned home happy and exhausted, falling asleep wrapped up in sheets and blankets in front of the fire before dinner was even ready, frozen sunflower treat half-finished beside him. Arthur carried him to bed, lamenting that he was getting heavy, before closing up for the night, placing the rest of the treats into the freezing pantry, before having an early night himself. As he climbed into his warm bed, Ivan snuggled up next to him.

"Good night, little man." He said, quiet as a mouse.

"Good night, Arthur." Was the half asleep response.

Commonwealth is a wonderful world. It suggests prosperity, a shared heritage, and healthy trade and diplomatic relations. While England had enjoyed being an Empire while it lasted, that pressure of maintaining power across the globe took its toll before long. Some nations fought tooth and nail for their independence, others asked and bargained. Those that were left were no longer ruled by him as an empire, but stayed with him as a commonwealth, and truth be told, he preferred it. He didn't have to govern from afar, or watch for daggers aiming for his back when he travelled. Although he still checked all this clothes thoroughly every time he went to Australia – Ozzy may tell him the spiders aren't as bad as he's heard, but he's not taking chances.

Russia was never part of the commonwealth – he had never been invaded by England (he had never been invaded by anyone. Some things are just impossible), and the Anglo-Russian alliance had held strong enough for hundreds of years. Russias revolution in the early 20th century, however, was inevitable, and bought about the massive social change one would expect of a revolution. The two of them sat up all night many times as the revolution spread across the nation, Russia begging England to help save his Tsar and his family, discussing what it meant for their alliance, for their mutual future.

The revolution passed. The Tsar and Tsarina stayed in Russia, and were executed by the proletariat. The Tsars cousin, the current king of England, begged Nicolas II to send his children to safety in Europe, hiding the girls and their little brother in the many stately houses and estates in his land. The new order taking over Russia saw this as a deliberate undermining of their power, and many threats shot back and forth between the politicians, making things difficult for Ivan and Arthur at home.

"I don't like this, not at all." Russia confessed, arms wrapped around Arthurs waist and head in his lap during one of their all-night discussions "I don't want to leave, Arthur. I don't want to go live back in the cold."

"There, there," Arthur cooed in return, stroking his broad shoulders comfortingly "We'll find a way out of this. People will calm down once the excitement of the revolution has passed. Who's going to call for the murder of a bunch of children?"

A depressing number of people, it would seem. King Edward, along with the good ministers of parliament, used every trick in their bag to appease the new Russian government. They could tell, from Ivans affection toward the children, that the people of Russia did not want the young Romanovs killed. Many compromises were made to keep the peace and the childrens heads. They would be stripped of their names and titles, never to be able to claim the throne of Russia and live as peasants (but how likely was that, when your guardian was the King of England?), and many of their long-standing trade agreements were skewed in heavy favour of Russia. Finally, when things had settled, and the new government was faced with the massive task that lay stretched at their feet, talk of joining the commonwealth came up.

Sat in the Prime Ministers office in the houses of parliament, Ivan fiddled with the hem of his suit jacket as the ministers hammered out the final details. Arthur sipped at his tea beside him, happy that this whole affair was finally being put to rest without further bloodshed. Ivan fidgeted happily.

"You alright there?"

"Da!" Ivan confirmed "I am happy that my people are joining to be with the commonwealth!"

"Of." One of the ministers corrected.

"What?" both nations inquired.

The minister smirked, a little too happily.

"Russia will become part of the British commonwealth."

Semantically, slight, contextually, a chasm opened between their expectations. You could hear a pin drop in the room.

"Beg…pardon?" Arthur laid his teacup down.

"The commonwealth is run by Britain." The minister pointed out, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world "Those trade arrangements may have changed in their favour, but we've got the commies by the short and curlies with this. We'll have a massive amount of power over them!"

"That's not what this was about!" Arthur insisted, jumping to his feet.

"Oh, don't worry." The minister went on "You've been keeping Russia in your own home for hundreds of years now, right?" he clapped an over friendly hand on Arthurs shoulder "You just don't have to pretend to care about him anymore!"

Ivan stood suddenly, knocking back his heavy chair, surprising everyone. He loomed over them, casting a glare at the minister that could freeze the very heart of hell, before turning heel and wordlessly leaving the room. Arthur gave the minister a look so heated that it threatened to melt the ice Ivan had left in his wake before taking after him. For being so big, he was surprisingly fast, and Arthur couldn't find him anywhere in the houses.

He wasn't back at the flat when Arthur arrived. Fuck. He threw his jacket over the back of the chair in the living room and collapsed onto the sofa. Ivan had to know that uppity fucking toff has no idea what he was talking about, but the way he reacted. He didn't have much of a temper, so when he did get mad, it was startling. Suddenly overcome by tiredness, Arthur fell asleep where he lay.

He awoke to the smell of steak-and-ale pie and roasting potatoes. As his eyes cleared, he saw Ivans large back to him at the kitchen counter, cutting vegetables. Stiff from sleeping on the sofa, England sat up.

"Hey," he greeted "Why didn't you wake me?"

"You looked peaceful." Ivan said bluntly, clearly still mad.

Arthur groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. Trying a different approach, he clapped his hands jovially.

"Can I help you cook?" he asked.

"Niet."

So much for that. Arthur crossed the room anyway, gently placing his hand on Ivans large forearm.

"Hey now, you know that Tory bastard was talking out his arse, don't you?"

"Da, I know." He said, although he didn't look at him "Stalin wanted those children to die, not me. That minister wanted to use me, not you."

"Then what's with the sour face, old chap?"

Ivan stopped chopping. Knowing himself, he put the knife down before turning to Arthur. England could see his eyes were red.

"Things are only going to get harder." Ivan reasoned "Even after your civil war, things here stayed much the same. I don't think that will happen back home. I'm afraid I will have to leave. That I will have no choice. Afterall…" he trailed off sadly before looking Arthur strait in the eye "Our 'relation' is only skin-deep. We don't share any blood, we can be torn from each other easily."

"Ivan…" Arthur could understand how he felt – he had thought as much many times himself "Come on now, nothing's going to change-"

"That's just it." Ivan interrupted "I think I want them to change."

"What?"

Russia looked at him seriously. Arthur sighed. He had heard such a speech from others before.

"You want your independence." He concluded "You want to leave. Well… if that's what you want, that's fine."

"Th…fine?" Ivan seemed shocked, violet eyes wide "That's 'fine' with you?"

Of course not!

"I would rather let you leave," Arthur told him, barely above a whisper "Than try to keep you here and have you hate me."

Arthur tried to smile. At his limit, Ivan grabbed the smaller man by his shoulders, throwing and pinning him against the wall, forcing himself on his lips. His tongue tore those lips apart to invade his mouth, embracing the first non-chaste kiss they had shared. He wrapped his arms tightly around Arthur, far too tight to allow any chance of escape, making his feelings, and his intentions, perfectly clear. Finally short of air, he let the kiss end, taking in Arthurs shocked expression.

"I don't want to leave you." Ivan promised "I want to be closer to you. So close that no-one can tear up apart."

Arthur stared at him, at a loss for words. Ivans heart seized, waiting for his answer. He would see a million thoughts running through those emerald eyes. Finally, they seemed to settle, and Arthur put his hands on Ivans shoulders.

"Alright." Was his quiet reply.

Ivan waited no longer. He picked Arthur up and carried him hungrily to the bedroom.

"Hang on, you left the oven on!" Arthur pointed out.

"Don't care."

Summer had come. Still nursing the wounds he had gained at sea, Arthur turned his hands to a more gentle pursuit, trying for the first time to grow a garden. He knew Ivan loved flowers, and gardening turned out to be a great way to keep children busy. He laughed a little as he saw the boy checking on his sunflowers once again.

"We buried them too deep!" he worried, as they had not sprouted after just a few days.

"They're fine." Arthur assured once again.

"But they're so small! Will they really be okay?"

Arthur got off his knees, wiping his dirty hands on his rough trousers.

"They'll be fine." He said again "They're little now, but soon they'll be the biggest flowers in the world."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"You swear?"

"Everyday."

Ivan pouted. Arthur couldn't help himself. He grinned and picked the boy up.

"I'll take care of them." he promised "I'll watch over them every single day until they're fully grown, okay?"

"And what then?" Ivan asked in his childish innocence "Will you let them die just because they're full grown?"

"Of course not." Arthur said "I'll keep taking care of them, as long as they need me to. Now it's getting late. Let's get washed up and ready for dinner."

These things take a hell of a lot longer to write than they do to read. I hope you enjoyed it, or at least didn't hate it. This is really helping me remember why I love writing so much :)