It was a cold morning in Moscow, the russian layed seemingly by himself. The man slowly opened his eyes, the man expected another man beside him just to wake for know one to be there.
"Fredya??" Ivan said.
Ivan slowly got out of bed and walked down stairs. As he got half way down he smelled something sweet coming from the kitchen.
"Morning big guy!" It was Alfred.
Alfred had on Ivans white sweater on, it went down to his mid-thigh. It made Alfred look small and it made his tan skin stand out against the white.
"What are you cooking?" Ivan asked nerviously. Alfred's cooking was always 50/50, sometime his cooking tasted to oily and greesy for Ivans liking while others it tasted like heaven.
"Well, you hate when I try to cook breakfast so I baked a apple pie instead. I know you don't hate those." Alfred said giving him a big smile knowing he was write. Ivan enjoyed Alfreds pies, his favorite were Apple and Cherry.
"Would you coffee?" America asked. Ivan took a seat at the small round table that sat in the middle of the kitchen. "Da" Ivan stated. Alfred got a white mug from the cabinet and poured the bitter liquid into the mug and sat it infront of the russian.
Alfred would always bring pies to Ivan on his brithday and they shared a couple back when they were good friends. The American say across from the Russian in sclience, which was a rare for the golden blonde. Alfred was never afraid of being his quiet un-biosterous self, which made the Russian very happy.
A couple mintutes passed, the pie was out of the oven and ready to eat. Russia and America ate with smiles and laughs talking of old times and silly storys of the past.
