Countryhumans oneshots

🇷🇺x🇨🇵 Behind the closed office door France x Russian Empire

Hello!
I'm still alive.
This is a mini oneshot because I'm still working on the next big story and didn't want to keep you waiting even longer.

This is set in the same world of "behind closed doors" but before the napoleonic wars, or well at least before France's defeat. I wrote this because I liked the idea and thought it gut them. I had the story for them set up already and I think I made the part they actually spent together far too short in the original oneshot.
Words: 942
So enjoy this short piece!

Oh, yeah and curse you clair_de_lune- I am having a difficult time finding something I like for this ship that is in a language I can understand. So now I have to work for it myself and I don't like that.

The castle's windows were dark, for the most part at least. Only a few still remained lit at such a late hour. One of those being the Russian Empire's. He was working far too long into the night again, letting the day's light fade into his candle's. No servant dared to bother him about it, or voice any concerns in his vicinity.

Only two people ever expressed their dislike to this particular bad habit of his. The first being his trusted personal doctor, after he had fainted in the middle of a meeting the loyal human had snapped and given him a piece of his mind. He was the first of his kind to ever talk to him like that, he listened to his orders for a while afterwards.

The second had been his lover, France. He had been there, in said meeting, and catched him just in time. He often complained about him working this late and exhausting himself. Whenever the Frenchman visited he made it his mission to take his work's place and become the thing he fell asleep to. In an actual bed, surrounded by warm comfortable blankets and pillows, instead of on a hard, wooden desk and a stack of papers.

Tonight was no different. A fast knocking on his door broke the Russian's fragile focus and before he could even sit up properly to answer, the door swung open, revealing an angry France leaning on the doorframe.
"What have I told you about working yourself to sleep?" He barked, eyes piercing right through the tired man before him. Nothing was left of the beloved, soft touch the French language usually carried over on his tounge.

The Russian Empire lowered his gaze and his posture slumped, as if he were silently begging France for mercy on him, like a child doing something forbidden and being caught in the act. When no answer came he pushed off the doorframe, locked the door and walked over in front of the huge oak desk. The lack of a response from his partner seemed to fuel his annoyance and his eyes narrowed to slits. He bent forward, supported his weight on the desk using his left hand and with the right roughly grabbed his lover's chin to yank it upwards and make their gazes meet.

Fiery, mismatched, red and blue eyes indeed met tired, almost pleading, honey golden ones and immediately softened, as did the firm grip on his chin. It turned into a gentle embrace, a gloved thumb delicately stroking over the Empire's cheek and thumbing at his bottom lip, pulling it down ever so slightly. The tired man leaned into the soft touch as if it were his anchor, keeping him from slipping away and getting lost in the endless seas of his work again.

The room was quiet, the dirty joke that laid on France's lips just a moment ago forgotten and discarded, now replaced with another pair of lips, rough and chapped from the cold and unforgiving, lashing northern winds.
They softly laid on his own smooth and plush lips, well taken care of and not exposed to such harsh climates.

It was a long and sensual embrace, no sexual intentions, or lust behind it, just a need, a longing for closeness and comfort.

The chair silently scraped against the wood as the Russian Empire pushed himself upwards, his white, ink stained hands going to wrap around his beloved's neck and said man's left hand now also moving to cradle the other side of his face.

They just stayed as time slowed around them and passed. Too invested in their embrace to care about anything but themselves for this moment.
As they slowly parted their lips from one another's they stared into each other's half lidded eyes. The Russian came back for one last short kiss of the Frenchman's lips and then let his arms fall from his neck, in order to put away his pen and clean up his desk in a comforting silence.

"We should go to bed, cher. You've been working for far too long again..." France trailed off, gaze fixed in the far landscape outside the window.
"You know me, love. I'd probably be dying if I weren't..." The Russian Empire breathed out with a silent sight towards the end of his sentence.

Their eyes met again, a silent understanding. Their relationship needed a lot more time, a lot more attention, a lot more care, a lot more work, from both sides and it would not always be easy, but to them there is no greater gift than their shared love.

And so, they shared a last kiss in each other's embrace, before stepping out of the office into the dark hallway and retreating to spend the night cuddled up closely in a warm bed.
Together.