People Fall in Love all the Time

Shit to Spare

*knock* *knock* *knock*

Russia stood outside a intricately carved door, which was attached to a really nice house.
Three stories, well kept yard, beautiful fruit and vegetable garden. A garage, and a billion crystal-shining windows.

He felt wrong standing in front of such a beautiful door. In front of such a gorgeous home. The people who lived her must be pretty comfortable.

When he knocked, he only waited about five minutes, before the sound of some dogs yipping came from behind the door. Curses were muttered in Mandarin, then a soft crash, and the sound of someone yelling. Another, younger sounding voice yelled back. The first one grumbled loudly and the door wooden door clicked open, a screen door still separating the two.

"Oh! Russia, I barely recognized you! You're so big now! Strong looking, too. Course, you always looked a little meatier. Except for that little Belarus. Cute little chubby thing. Come in, come in!"

Russia hadn't really expected this person to be so inviting. The letter didn't give way to any of that kind of tone. He gulped and stepped through the door China had opened for him.

He stepped over a skateboard, and China kicked it out of he way.

"That damn kid. I keep telling him to pick up this skateboard. I'm gonna trip over it one day. HONG KONG! Come pick this up!"

"I'm coming, alright?! I'm busy!!"

"My ass. He plays video games all day, that's what he's doing."

"So, who are you, sir?"

"Wow, i knew i hadn't seen you in forever, but...Soviet never mentioned me?"

Russia shook his head apologetically. China sighed.

"That's fair. Sit down."

Russia sat in a comfy, floral-patterned couch, while China took his seat in the armchair across from him.

"It's nice to see you, Russia. I wasn't lying when I said it's been a long time. Last I saw you, you were a child. Of course, that was at the...well, you know. Hmm. My name is China."

"Nice to meet you," a whistle sounded from the kitchen, "Oh! I think I promised tea," China winked and went to retrieve it.

Russia was left by himself on the couch, feeling awkward, but taking the opportunity to look around. It was a beautiful home, with little Buddha and monk statues over the fireplace, and painting of nature hung on the walls. Yellow tassels hung from the curtains, and complicated patterns covered them. A jade vase stood on a small table near the TV, and a dragon statue was placed on the center of the glass coffee table in front of him.

A teenager came huffing and stomping down the stairs, looking annoyed. He trudged over to where the skateboard lay, and pick it up and trudged and stomped back up the stairs.

Hong Kong, I guess.

Shortly afterwards, China came back in with a tray carrying a kettle and some ceramic tea cups.

"My apologies to keep you waiting."

"It's no problem, thank you," Russia smiled kindly as he accepted the tea.

"So polite," China hummed.

"So, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

"Oh! Right. Well, I was hoping we could discuss your father."

"My father?"

I figured as much.

"Yes, I wanted to talk about Soviet. He and I were old co-workers. He was my mentor, really. I was an intern at the time, desperate to learn under him."