(read desc.)Countryhumans Oneshots

M!USSR x M!Russia(R/F/D/ER/SF)

AU? yes
Different depiction? yEs
Drabble? yaaaaaAAASSSSS—
Word count: 439 words

Russia sat quietly in his rocking chair, sipping at his cup of milk. The small fire in the fireplace was crackling softly while he waited for his husband to return. There was currently a blizzard whipping the walls of the aging house like crazy, its winds prolonged howls, loud and sometimes deafening against the meager crackling of the fireplace. Russia hoped he would get home safely, and soon.
Russia was almost finished with his milk when he heard the door open, momentarily allowing in the screeching winds before it closed with a loud thump. Russia closed his eyes and silently sighed in relief. He listened to his husband kicking off his boots. A minute later he finally came into the living room where he was still rocking in the rocking chair in. Russia smiled softly when he felt large, firm hands place themselves on the shoulders of his smaller frame. His husband leaned down and gave him a soft kiss to the cheek. Russia turned his head to capture his lips in a peck. The heavier-build man smiled down at him, to which Russia gladly returned.
"How was your trip, Soviet? Productive I hope?" he asked. Soviet nodded.
"They're in the kitchen," he replied. Russia turned back around and set his cup down on the table next to his chair, and he gestured to the spot in front of him.
"Putting those away can wait. I feel like it's been ages since I've seen you." Soviet chuckled and moved in front of his legs where he sat down on his knees. He took Russia's smaller hands in his own. They looked like that of a baby's compared to the tough skin of his own calloused ones, battered and scarred from years of conflict. Soviet rubbed the back of his hands gently, then turned them over to place a kiss just as gentle on each palm. Russia watched him tiredly, but contented nonetheless.
"I've missed you too, my dear," Soviet spoke in a murmur, looking back up at him. Russia hummed and slipped his hands from Soviet's grasp then moved them up to his cheeks, pulling him closer so that he was now hovering over his lap and watching him curiously. Despite his rough exterior, he had on a soft expression with eyes full of love, reserved only for his beloved husband. Russia leaned down and kissed him again. Nothing too passionate, just a loving, quiet, drawn-out kiss for two tired, aching lovers.
When they pulled away, they lingered close a little longer, staring into each other's eyes.
"I love you."
"I love you too, my dearest Russia."