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Flowers for a Weed	By : ArcadiaEclipse Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 5296 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I make no money from my writing.

Chapter List
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Warnings: Yaoi (RussiaxAmerica), extreme angst, language, violence, hurt/comfort and explicit sexual depictions ahead. This fanfic is intended for adult readers only.



~ * ~ Flowers for a Weed ~ * ~

Chapter Two

By ArcadiaEclipse

                There was no real rhyme or reason to my actions but as Alfred remained bed bound in my room I took to bringing the younger man a fresh bouquet of flowers each morning when I visited his bedside. A simple gesture really, but after seeing nothing but frowns and far away expressions on his face as he looked out my window at the world beyond I had decided to try a new approach. Alfred stared at me wide-eyed that first morning when I brought him an armful of my favorite sunflowers and his beautiful, beaming smile as I set them by his bed gave me more than enough incentive to continue my daily gift of fresh blossoms.

                Each day was something new, something even less expected surely as I brought him first common tea roses, lilies of the valley and then an increasingly more exotic collection of rare dahlias and an assortment of delicate orchids. Every morning now Alfred greeted me with a smile and touched the blooms carefully while inquiring as to the flower’s name and where it was native to. Today however the American looked openly confused when I set the vase on his bedside table and sat beside him.

                “Ivan?”

                “Mm?”

                “Where…uh.. Where do you keep getting all these flowers from? They’re beautiful but..it’s snowing outside..”

                I smiled, gently brushing a section of stray hair from the American’s eyes.

                “I am a gardener, Alfred. I have a rather extensive greenhouse year-round to eliminate the seasonal aspect of my hobby.”

                “Really? Could I see it, Ivan? I’m really, really getting sick of staying cooped up in bed all day…”

                I could sympathize with his boredom but Alfred was still not fully healed and the weather had been worsening as of late. I wasn’t certain if the American could make it down the stairs let alone trudge through the snow to the indoor gardens. At least he seemed eager enough and a bit of mild exercise might actually help his body to grow strong again faster.

                “I will take you.”

                “Awesome!” He grinned. “You can tell me all about ‘em and show me how you take care of them too! I had a cactus once back home but..I don’t think I watered it enough. I checked it one day and it was all dried out like a crouton.”

                My brows knit and I couldn’t help but chuckle at his story of pitifully inept gardening. He really was cute in more ways than one.

                “Ah…Ivan..” My grin faded slightly but I turned my head to regard a shaky Toris in my doorway chewing his lip nervously. “He..uh…doesn’t appear to be housebroken.”

                “Oh for the love of..” I growled and stood but before I could exit and assess the damage a small Siberian husky bounded into the room full force and saw fit to try and climb my leg while yapping incessantly. I stared at the wriggling pup in annoyance, raising my leg and watching the small bundle of fur fall backwards, squirm, then right himself and try to pounce my foot again eagerly. Come to think of it, he kind of reminded me of the brash American…

                “Oh my god, it’s so cute!”

                I blinked and looked to where Alfred had all but forgotten my gift of flowers in favor of shifting to sit on the edge of the bed and wincing as he bent at the waist to clap his hands and beckon the small husky towards him. The idiotic dog yipped and slid slightly on the wooden floor in his eager excitement to finally find someone willing to appreciate just how adorable he was, and Alfred looked ridiculously happy as he picked the squirming puppy up to cradle it in his arms.

                “Ivan, he’s frickin’ adorable! What’s his name?”

                “Er… He is going to be a working dog.”

                “Yeah, but what’s his name? All dogs have names.”

                I darted my gaze back to the doorway for help but Toris had already departed to take care of whatever mess the puppy had left in my house. For lack of any creativity I just sighed and shrugged.

                “Sobaka.”

                “Sobaka.” Alfred grinned, rubbing the dog’s tummy affectionately. “That’s a good name for him. What does it mean?”

                “Dog.”

                “…Not very original, Ivan.”

                “Pets have names. He is not a pet; he is going to help carry supplies through the snow once he is larger. They are a breed of working dog in these lands.”

                Alfred rolled his eyes but begrudgingly allowed me to take the pup from his arms though Sobaka whimpered in protest at being set on the floor once more as I helped my young rival stand. Alfred was stronger now but I did not wish to exacerbate his injured condition even for the brief distance between my back door and the large greenhouse. At my insistence he kept the thick blanket from my bed wrapped around his body to stay warm and my arm around his waist provided additional support as well as reassuring the American that I would catch him should he stumble and start to fall on a patch of icy snow.

                The walk to my indoor oasis was thankfully uneventful though Alfred seemed upset with me for making him leave Sobaka in the house. The last thing I needed was an ill-behaved puppy running wild through my prized blossoms.

                In spite of his eagerness for this trip just an hour before, Alfred seemed only half interested as I proudly named every bloom in my collection, each one a tribute to my acumen as a superior gardener among men. A veritable forest of blooms in every shade of the rainbow greeted us, some shooting up from the earth, others packed into planters or basins and even more hung from the ceiling in an ocean of indigo, amber and burgundy as far as the eye could see.

                I was in my element among the flowers, pruning away a few faded blooms from my favorite chrysanthemums but when I turned back to gauge the younger man’s appreciation for my blossoms he had disappeared without warning. Had I been an idiot to believe that he was still too weak to escape from my forced imprisonment? Already Alfred had demonstrated that he was far stronger than I could even comprehend that a country so young would be. Perhaps I had made a terrible error in judgment permitting him out of my sight even for just a moment.

                I grit my teeth and strode angrily towards the door of my greenhouse but before reaching the exit I spotted my young prisoner crouched on the floor beside a wooden basin full and overflowing even with a delicate cascade of indigofera in bloom. The vibrant purples and wine reds were a gardener’s paradise but Alfred barely seemed to notice them, smiling up at me apparently oblivious as he pointed instead to a tiny white blossom barely peeking out from a crack in the cement floor.

                “What’s this one called?”

                “A weed.”

                “It looks like any other flower. What makes it a weed to you?”

                “Because it grows wherever it wants to, it can’t be controlled and no matter how many times I spray it or cut it down the whole damn bush just keeps coming back stronger than before. There are whole fields of them come springtime. It’s a real nuisance to everyone trying to sow their crops for the summer.”

                Alfred didn’t seem swayed by my description of the small, scraggly plant. It was a wonder that in a faux forest of beautiful lilies and exotic orchids my rival had been inexplicably drawn to a pitiful little spring of chamomile stubbornly trying to grow out of the unforgiving cement.

                “I still think it’s beautiful.”

                “It’s a pretty weed.”

                “I think it’s a lot like me.” Gently Alfred took a small handful of fertile soil from my begonias and patted it tenderly around the little plant that he was so fond of suddenly. “You said it yourself. Goes where it wants, can’t be controlled, …still here annoying you even after you cut it a bunch of times…”

                I wasn’t expecting the American to turn my words against me but Alfred’s tone didn’t suggest hate directed towards me and the younger man continued to pat the soil around his pitiful little flower gently.

                “You don’t annoy me, Alfred.”

                “Oh. Well, I wasn’t really making an effort before.” He tipped his head up to regard me with a lopsided grin. “I’ll try harder.”

                My amused chuckle was cut short upon spotting a growing stain of blood on the blanket that Alfred still clutched to keep his healing body warm. My sudden frown must have alerted him that something was not quite right and the smaller man watched as my hand moved to lift the bottom hem of the blanket and examine the damage underneath.

                “You ripped your stitches open.”

                “Uh..heh. Yeah. My mistake.”

                “Are you strong enough to walk back?”

                “Of course. I’m a weed, remember?” He stood, wincing for only a moment before the expression dissolved back into a grin though I could tell that the American was in pain and simply trying to mask it as we began the trip back to my home. Alfred struggled and seemed keenly aware of the strain upon his body now as he trudged through unshoveled snow beside me and I again slid an arm around his waist to help him remain upright. Right then and there I made a mental note to curse Raivis for failing to shovel the walkway. Where was that diminutive Latvian when I needed him anyway? I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him for quite awhile.

                “Maybe I should…get back in bed, huh?”

                “Yes. I think that would be best.”

                Once inside again Alfred made for the stairs but after only two or three steps I could see his fist turning white from gripping the banister in pain. Although he said nothing I could see a hint of wetness collect in his lashes and before I knew it I had bent to scoop the American into my arms and carry him the rest of the way back to my awaiting bed. There would be no more tears in my presence. I would make sure of it.

                Our routine remained fairly regular for a few weeks after that; my morning visits always accented with fresh flowers and smiles for him. This particular morning I settled on an armful of cheerful pink and white lilies to decorate Alfred’s sickbed but upon entering my bedroom I noticed immediately that my rival was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t entirely unusual to run into the grinning American in the hallways or especially the kitchen these days now that his wounds had nearly healed in full. It baffled me that this man didn’t seem to notice his obvious weight gain as he decimated my winter food stores but considering the near absence of sustenance for a month while he was chained in my cellar I could forgive his recent gluttony.

                Humming softly, I set the flowers down upon the bedside table and left in search of my young prisoner in the kitchen as a most likely starting point. Upon descending the central staircase, however, I quickly spotted the American dressing in a thick outer coat, winter boots and gloves already upon his slender frame. My eyes narrowed.

                “Where do you think you’re going?”

                I purposely lowered my voice to a malevolent growl but the Western nation barely seemed aware that Toris was backing away from him slowly, the Lithuanian’s fingers stiffly holding a winter cap evidently intended for the oblivious foreigner. Alfred didn’t seem to notice his fear in the least nor did he give my threatening tone much thought, happily petting Sobaka while he kneeled on the floor fully dressed to do battle with General Winter. My cold heart warmed slightly to see him so apparently unaware that he was dressed in full Soviet military garb. Maybe even the American idiot had the common sense to forgo his anti-Communist ideology for the sake of staying warm.

                Upon approaching the younger man, I earned a low growl from my dog now bristling protectively in the American’s arms. Lately, I found the small husky loathsome more often than not and I didn’t bother suppressing a threatening growl shot back in his direction making the dog yap at me in retort. I would have kicked him had Alfred not been coddling the pup on the floor. Sobaka was becoming such a pet in Alfred’s care, ignoring me now in favor of licking my young prisoner’s cheek as the American picked him up and made boldly for the door.

                “I’m taking him outside to play. The snow is great to romp in!”

                “You’re still my prisoner, American.”

                Alfred blinked at me as if he hadn’t considered his captivity to be a deterrent to him playing outside.

                “I’m not running away. It’s not like I could get far in this snow anyway.”

                “You’re not going at all.”

                “If you don’t trust me, Ivan, then just come with me.”

                I probably could have resisted him had the American not turned those beautiful, pleading eyes on me and whittled away my anger and stubbornness in a single look. Sighing in defeat, I withdrew my own coat and gloves from the closet, wrapping my long scarf about my neck and taking the cap from my still-trembling ally.

                “I..Ivan, uh..d-do you have a minute to-“

                -“Later, Toris.” I left him standing alone in the hallway, plopping the cap on Alfred’s head as we made our way outside together.

                It was lucky that the snow wasn’t terribly deep yet considering the season. Sobaka leapt from Alfred’s arms to jovially romp around barking with the American in tow. Laughing. I didn’t really have any memory of Alfred laughing before in my presence. Tears I remembered vividly on more than one occasion, but the joy in his voice as the younger man threw snowballs at my husky was new to me. He laughed to see the dog attempt to catch them in his mouth and though I felt like a useless third wheel it made me genuinely smile to watch the dog knock him over into a snow bank leaving the American flailing as the mutt licked him eagerly.

                It was all unconventional- the Communist moving to save his American rival with an armful of snow summarily dumped on Sobaka making the dog scramble away elsewhere in the yard. Alfred shakily climbed to his feet and though he seemed relieved when brushing the snow from his borrowed coat the younger man suddenly shoved me.

                “That wasn’t nice! He was just playing. How would you like it if I did that to you?”

                I cocked my eyebrow watching Alfred purposely pick up an armload of snow and, unable to reach my head given our height difference, he instead deposited it purposely against my chest and trouser front. Although I only stared at my snowy torso initially I did manage a quirked grin for Alfred making the American hesitate.

                “So it’s the American that strikes first in the Cold War? How should Russia respond?”

                Alfred’s eyes went wide and the smaller man instantly tried to run away from me though stumbling and landing face-first on the ground granting me more than ample opportunity to gather an armload of the chilly snow and dump it on his head while my rival flailed in protest. It was terribly amusing seeing Alfred brush snow from his flushed cheeks and forehead, blinded now that the powdery white clung to his glasses but his lack of sight offered me an unanticipated opportunity and I kneeled over him in the snow while my former ally floundered. My grip on his wrists was sudden and Alfred tensed for a moment before my lips pressed to his in a firm but tender kiss.

                I didn’t expect the American to remain docile let alone return the kiss but Alfred’s lips parted, warm and welcoming, and I found myself pressing my tongue between them on a mission to taste and discover all that my young rival had to offer. The brash foreigner was soft and supple beneath my larger frame and had the temperature been above freezing I wouldn’t have hesitated in exposing more of his flesh to my mouth for a more intimate exploration right where we lay.

                Our private moment was broken suddenly by Sobaka’s obnoxious interference, my husky eagerly wriggling in joy to find Alfred again and licking the snow from his glasses repeatedly to demonstrate his undying adoration. I growled.

                “I’m going to kill that dog.”

                “No! He’s just a puppy. Don’t hurt Ivan!”

                My confusion at his words must have been utterly transparent on my face because Alfred laughed suddenly and cupped my cheeks with his snowy hands.

                “You kept calling him ‘dog’ so I named him. He’s ‘Ivan’ now. Well, because he looks a lot like you. You have the same eyes.”

                “Won’t that cause some confusion with the others?”

                Alfred chuckled, carefully wiping his glasses clean and replacing them on his face.

                “Only if Toris and Raivis hear me yelling ‘Stop licking me, Ivan! Get off me!’ late at night.”

                I couldn’t help but chuckle at the mental images and even the prudish American grinned this time though his cheeks turned slightly redder.

                “And Eduard?”

                “I haven’t seen Eduard around lately.”

                I paused, carefully considering his words and in truth it had been quite awhile since I too last set eyes upon my Estonian ally. Even Raivis was strangely absent as of late. Perhaps that was what Toris was forever trying to get me to discuss but there was really no pressing need to sour my good mood with mundane politics.

                “Are you worried that you might give them the wrong impression?” He nodded and I smirked. “Don’t be. They know what sounds a man makes when he’s being taken.”

                “But how would they-“

                “-You learn by having done.”

                “I bet I could tell too though.”

                “Have you been taken by a man, Alfred?” My grin turned slightly more malevolent. “Is there a sweet, little Baltic nation that I need to go maim for having deflowered you?”

                “No! No man has touched me. …No one but you, Ivan.”

                My smile returned to its usual warmth as I leaned down again to capture the younger man’s lips in a lingering kiss. Afterwards, having risen from Alfred’s prone body, I offered him a hand to stand as well and though he didn’t ask for my aid I silently brushed the snow from his back. Already I could see flurries falling but this time the clouds overhead were grey and ominous suggesting that a much more substantial storm was coming.

                I wondered if the American realized that the longer he waited the more likely it was that he would be snowed in with me all winter. Christmas was only days away and Alfred had mentioned on more than one occasion that he wished to spend it with his family back home. I said nothing to him as we brushed off our coats and headed back inside but part of me remained ever hopeful that maybe, just maybe, the American knew his favorite holiday was all but upon us and this year Alfred had decided to celebrate it with me.

~ * ~ To Be Continued ~ * ~
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- 4
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Flowers for a Weed