On the twelfth day of Christmas...
Snowman (Russia/China)
China tilted his head to one side and bit his lip. There was something wrong with his snowman. Or rather, snow-panda. China went through a mental checklist- eyes, nose, mouth, ears, paws. Yet something wasn't quite right. China glanced up when he heard footsteps.
Russia was coming to check on China, his boots making the snow crunch beneath his feet. Russia had invited China over to his place for the winter so he could enjoy the snow and the fresh air. China was grateful to Russia, so he had no choice but to accept the offer.
"It looks good," Russia commented, a gentle smile on his face. China nodded, frowning. Something was still off.
"It does, but don't you think it's missing something? I just don't know what..." China looked on thoughtfully. Russia peered at the snowman, then lifted his hands. China was about to call out but Russia brought his hands to his own neck, lifting the scarf that rested there. He carefully wrapped it around the snowman's neck, folding it, and stood back to admire the addition.
China looked at the snowman for a second before his eyes drifted to Russia. China was one of the select few that had seen the scars that resided there. It reminded China of his own scars, less visible, but just as painful. He remembered how Russia had helped to heal some of those scars, how gentle he was. It had always surprised China, when the two of them were together, just how soft Russia could be.
Before he realized what he was doing, China had reached out and found his fingers tracing the scars on Russia's neck. Instead of lashing out, Russia closed his eyes and gave a soft sigh. Pain was the one thing they could understand about each other. China took off his own scarf and hooked it over Russia's head.
Still clutching the scarf, China leaned up and kissed Russia. He worked his way with little kisses down Russia's jaw line, to his neck. Russia's breath hitched when China's lips pressed firmly against a jagged scar. China sucked a pulse point directly below another scar and Russia threaded his fingers through China's long hair.
When China pulled back, he looked at Russia's face. Gone was the gentle smile, instead it was replaced with a calm look. He had seen this look before many times, just like he had seen Russia's many other masks. China often wondered what Russia's true face looked like. He also wondered why Russia was keeping him around, he wondered just how badly he was being used. And he also wondered why none of it really mattered to him.
"You must be getting cold," Russia murmured, "Let's head back." Russia walked on ahead, while China looked at him. He knew why none of it mattered but he didn't want to think about just what it meant. Shaking his head, China took off after Russia as the snow-panda looked on.