[fanfic] The Language of Flowers
Repost from the Hetalia comm.
Title: The Language of Flowers
Author/Artist: Me
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Russia/China, France, appearances/mentions of others.
Rating: PGish? idk
Warnings: Language, human names.
Summary: Ivan gives Yao a sunflower.
”What’s this supposed to mean, aru?”
Yao looked suspiciously at the big, golden flower that was held only a few inches from his face. When he had been called out to a small crossroad at his northern border, he hadn’t really known what to expect. A discussion about the current economical situation, or maybe some kind of threat. But not this.
He let his eyes wander to the gloved hand that held the flower, over the muscular arm that was stretched out towards him, to then look straight into the calm, ever-smiling face of a devil. At least that was what Yao thought about the man. Honestly, how could you smile like that all the time and still look so terribly frightening?
“It’s a sunflower”, Ivan said, still smiling all complacent. Oh, how Yao hated that smile. He would have punched Ivan straight in his face if he hadn’t known that such an act would cause consequences he didn’t even want to think about; the mere imagination made his stomach ache.
“Yes, I can see that, aru”, he said, getting a tiny bit frustrated. “But why?”
“Hm?” That innocent, clueless expression of his ... It only made Yao wanting to hit him even more. “Aren’t you Asian, Yao?”
“Eh?” Yao was caught quite off-guard by the question. Wasn’t that obvious, idiot? “Yes, I am, aru ...”
“Well”, Ivan continued, “doesn’t the language of flowers originally come from Asia?”
“Language of flowers?” Yao had to think for a minute before answering. “Yes, I think it does, aru. Why?”
“Well, then you should know why you’re receiving this, shouldn’t you?”
“Eh.” Great. Now he felt like a total idiot. “Ah- Ahahahahaha! Of course I know, aru! I was just checking if you were keeping up, aru.” He reached out to take the sunflower, but suddenly it were snatched away and, in less than a second, hidden behind Ivan’s back. Somehow this made Yao extremely annoyed and he gave Ivan an irritated look.
“I don’t believe you”, the smiling face said.
“Why wouldn’t you? As you said, the language of flowers comes from Asia. Of course I know, aru.”
“Well ...” the Russian said, taking a short break after the word. “If you did know, you would have reacted in a different type of way.”
“Does that even matter? Just give me the flower, aru!” He was going to have that flower, if it so were the last thing he ever did.
“No. You’re not getting it before you know what it means.” And with that, the ever-smiling Russian turned and walked away, leaving Yao standing frustrated at the road, watching as Ivan’s back disappeared behind the trees.
“All right”, he said out loud, even though Ivan was long gone. “If that’s what you want, then I’ll go check up the meaning of the stupid flower, ARU.”
-----------
“Uhhh ... Why can’t I find it, aru?” Yao let his head fall down at the desk, pulling his hair in frustration. He had been researching the sunflower’s meaning in the language of flowers for nearly five hours now, without even a hint of a result. He had studied all the books in his library regarding plants carefully, but none of them said anything about the flower language. He had found some information about it on the Internet, but nothing which told him the meaning of the sunflower. “Ayiaa! Why does it have to be so hard to find, aruuu ...”
He straightened up again and fit his chin into the palm of his hand, looking out the open window on his right, next to the desk. It was late summer, and the weather outside was really nice. It was all sunny, with only a few white cloud streaks to cover the baby blue sky, but still not too hot. The leaves had started to shift from green to red, yellow and orange, and some of them had already lost their grip of the tree branches and fallen down to settle on the ground together with the withering flowers.
A pleasant breeze rustled the foliages, forcing some more of the leaves to let go. One of them followed the wind in through the window and landed right in front of Yao at the desk, as the breeze playfully stroke his long, dark hair. Yao took the tiny leaf between his fingers, examining it with his eyes. It was small; it couldn’t be more than two inches long. It was thin and smooth with small, soft textures, and had a bright yellow colour.
Just like a sunflower.
A melancholic look appeared in the Chinese man’s eyes. “If it goes on like this, he won’t give me the sunflower ...” he thought aloud. Then, when he realized what he had just said, he shot up from his chair, which fell back and hit the floor with a loud BANG. Yao demonstratively marched around the room in circles, sometimes pulling his hair, sometimes hammering on his own head, all while he shouted in exasperation: “GAAH! Why would I even care?! That smiling idiot can do as he like, aru! I - DO - NOT - GIVE - A - DAMN - ABOUT - HIS - STUPID - FLOWER - ARU!!!"
He ran around for another three minutes while insulting Ivan, giving him names, cursing him et cetera, before he managed to calm down. At first, he just sat down on a chair for a while, mumbling something about “that bastard owing me apologies rather that flowers”. But eventually he started to throw glances at the book that was still lying opened at the desk ...
It didn’t take long before he had risen the chair up again and continued reading.
-----------
After another two hours of futile looking, Yao finally realized that this wasn’t going to lead anywhere. “This isn’t helping, aru. What should I do?” He thought for a moment, but then had an idea. “I know - I’ll ask someone who might know, aru!” He went to his phone, but at first just stood with the receiver in his hand without dialing any number. “But who to call, aru? It has to be someone who might have knowledge about the subject, and someone who definitely won’t tell Ivan. That would be embarrassing, aru.” Wait. Why would that be embarrassing? Ivan knew he was researching this, right? So what would be weird with Ivan noticing? “AAGHH!!” Yao hit himself a few times again. If things went on like this, he was going to get a bump. Several bumps, actually.
“Ah! I’ll call Kiku, aru! He knows a lot, and he hates that Ivan bastard just as much as I do, so he wouldn’t tell, aru.” He quickly dialed Kiku’s number, and after a couple of signals he could hear a calm and familiar voice in the other end.
“Moshi moshi, Honda Kiku speaking.”
“Ah, ni hao, Kiku! This is Yao, aru!”
“Hello, Yao-san. May I ask why you are calling?”
“Well ...” Yao hesitated a little before continuing. “I just wanted to ask if you know something about the language of flowers, aru?”
“Yes, I do have some knowledge about that.”
“Then”, Yao went on, “do you know what the sunflower’s meaning would be?”
“Sunflower ...” There was a long break of silence, and Yao didn’t realize that he had been holding his breath until Kiku spoke again and he exhaled. “No, not the sunflower, I’m afraid. I do know about some other flowers though ...”
“No, it’s alright, aru”, Yao interrupted him. “But thank you anyway.”
“Is this something important?”
It took a second before Yao answered. “Yes, rather important, aru.”
“Then maybe you should try calling someone else”, Kiku suggested, and Yao gave him a silent thank you for not asking why it was important. “I believe that the language of flowers is much more popular in the West than here these days. How about trying with Alfred-san?”
America, huh? “Okay, I’ll try that, aru. Do you have his phone number?” Kiku gave him the number and they hung up. Yao called Alfred immediately, not being very sure if this would help. He knew Alfred a little from when they had both been parts of the Allied Forces, and what he remembered wasn’t really promising. However, this was the only lead he had, and he had no choice but to follow it.
He waited for quite a long time, and was just about to hang up when the call was answered.
“Tche hechho cko sho cchechish!” was the first thing he heard.
“Ex ... cuse me, aru?” Yao replied, confusion clear in his voice.
“Faah ... shaiwt ...” You could hear some muffled sounds, and the sound of someone swallowing, and then finally some understandable words reached Yao’s ear. “The hero to your service! Who am I talking to?”
Yao sighed. Why was he even trying? “This is Yao, aru.”
“Ah, hello Yao!” the always-hyper nation of the United States said. “You caught me in the middle of my meal. But nevermind that, what can I do for you?”
Yao grimaced. Alfred was one the last persons he wanted to ask for this kind of advice. But who knew, maybe he could give him an answer? “Yeah ... There’s this thing I’d like to ask you about, aru. Do you ... know about the sunflower’s meaning in the language of flowers, aru?”
“Nope”, Alfred said, and Yao could more or less hear the careless smile on the American’s face. “Why you asking anyway? Received one or something?”
“O-of course not, aru!” Damn it. What was he supposed to say now? “I-I’m writing a book, aru! I need it for a story, and Kiku said I should ask you, aru.” A pretty crappy lie, but it was the best he could come up with offhand. And it seemed like Alfred swallowed it.
“A book, you say? Well, make sure to send me a copy if there comes a version in English.”
“Sure, aru!” Yao said, thanking the heavens for making Alfred so thick-headed. “Er ... do you know anyone I could ask then?”
“Dunno ... Hey, how ’bout Arthur?” Alfred suggested. “I can give you his number.”
“Yes, that would be appreciated.” Yao still hadn’t gotten on very good terms with Arthur since the Opium War, but their relations were okay, he guessed. And Kiku did say that the language of flowers was popular in West, so why not trying in Europe?
-----------
Yao was about to seriously give up now. He could no longer keep count of all the people he had been calling now, whereof half of them were people he had barely even met. Some of them were also pretty close to Ivan, and one of them had even suggested calling him. Yao had asked the same question over and over again, always with the same response, and for every time it got even more embarrassing. So now he had disgraced himself towards half of the globe, and now he was talking to a guy whom he didn’t even know who it was. Ma-something.
“No, I’m sorry, but I don’t know about that,” the guy said.
“Don’t worry. It’s nothing important anyway, aru.”
“Hm ...” The other one seemed to be thinking about something. “But I do know someone who I think may be able to help you.”
“Huh. You do?” Yao said without any enthusiasm. How many times hadn’t he heard that line the past hour? “Who?”
“Francis. I think he should know a lot about flowers and their meaning. For example he always brings me lots of them.”
Since the other person had been lowering his voice gradually as he spoke, Yao wasn’t able to hear the last line clearly. “What did you say?”
“Ah-! No-nothing!” He sounded flustered, but Yao couldn’t seem to get why. Well, never mind. “D-do you have his number?”
“No, I don’t. Could you give me it, aru?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Yao dialed the number. He was getting tired of this. This was going to be the last call, and then he would give up. He would have to tell Ivan the he couldn’t find it. The thought sent an awful feeling to his stomach, but he ignored it and waited for Francis to answer in the other end.
“Allô! Francis Bonnefroy here.”
”NihaothisisYaodoyouknowthesunflower’smeaninginthelanguageofflowersaru?” Yao went on monotonously in one breath.
“Pardon?”
Yao just sighed. He felt really dejected by now. “Ni hao, this is Yao, do you know the sunflower’s meaning in the language of flowers, aru”, he said a little slower this time, but still monotonously.
There was a pause. And then: “Oui, I do, monsieur Yao.”
It took exactly ten seconds for Yao to understand what the Frenchman had just said. During that time he simply stood with the receiver against his ear in silence. Then his brain took it all in.
“YOU DO, ARU!?!”
“Oui, of course I do. I’m not the country of amour for nothing.”
“Thank you, aruuuu~!” Yao couldn’t believe it. He was nearly crying tears of joy, thinking that he must send the Frenchman his thanks in some kind of way later. “What is it then, aru?” You could clearly hear something close to excitement in his voice.
“Ah-ah, monsieur Yao, first you will have to tell me why you’re asking.”
Damn. “I-It’s for a book I’m writing, aru”, he said, going with the same lie he had told Alfred.
“Hmm?” was the only thing you could hear from the phone, followed by a pause. Yao did not find Francis’ tone very promising.
The silence was finally broken. “That would be quite an interesting book, I believe.”
“Yeah, it would. Just tell me it now, aru!”
“Non, non, not so impatient”, Francis said. “You have to do something for me first.”
Yao could tell Francis was simply mocking with him now. He took a deep breath. He never knew what to do with the Europeans.
“Then, what do you want me to do, aru?” he said, hoping it wouldn’t be too bad. Knowing Francis, it could be anything.
“Tell me the real reason, mon ami.”
Yao frowned. He would rather give Francis a third ... no, half of his territory than that. But this was probably the only chance he would ever get to figure out the meaning of the goddamn fucking flower, and he was not going to let it slip away.
“I ... got one, aru. Or rather, I’m going to get one, but not if I can’t find the meaning of it, aru.”
“My, that’s surprising!” Francis said, his mocking smile showing in his voice. “From who, I wonder?”
“That’s a secret, aru.”
“Then I won’t tell you.”
Yao gave away a whining noise. “It’s ... Ivan ..."
“What did you say?”
Yao, feeling something inside him snap, shouted into the phone receiver: “I GOT IT FROM IVAN, ALL RIGHT? WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE, FRENCH BASTARD?!”
For a moment, Francis just sat silent in the other end as Yao breathed heavily, trying to calm down. When three minutes had passed and there was still no sound from the other one, Yao started to wonder if he had hung up. Then Francis finally spoke.
“Fine. Then I’ll tell you.”
-----------
Ivan was already there waiting when Yao arrived to the crossroad the next day, greeting him with a gentle smile. He was standing in the middle of the path and holding one of his hands behind his back as he stepped forward towards an irritated-looking Yao.
“Привет, Yao”, the Russian man said when he had walked up to him. Yao didn’t answer. He held his eyes fixed to the ground and kept his expression sour.
“How are you today?” Yao kept quiet, face not changing.
“So ... did you check it up?” Ivan continued, and the question suddenly made Yao’s façade to completely fall apart. He startled, his eyes went wide in an instant and he could feel a burning blush pop up all over his face, spreading down his neck.
“So you did” Yao threw a glance at the other man. He was still smiling as sweet as ever with his eyes closed, looking completely oblivious. Then he all of a sudden opened his eyes, and something in his expression changed. “Do you still want it?”
Yao immediately looked down again, stretched his hand out and mumbled something which sounded somewhat like “Justgivemethestupidfloweraru”.
Ivan showed the hand he had kept behind his back, revealing the same sunflower as he had brought the day before. He handed it over to Yao who took the flower with both hands, holding it gently between his fingertips as he simply stared at it. His gaze then moved back to the face of Ivan, who just gave him his usual smile.
“Thank you, Yao.”
-------------------------------
Notes
The idea to this story came when I was reading some random book about love, and there stood a little about the language of flowers. And there I found the meaning of the sunflower, and just couldn't help myself. |D
Also, in my headcanon Yao is the 4th biggest tsundere in Hetalia, after Iggy, Norway and Romano. XD
Oh, and by the way, the meaning of the sunflower is "I worship you" ♥
This is my first fanfic, so I'm pretty nervous now. |'D Please comment!
Title: The Language of Flowers
Author/Artist: Me
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Russia/China, France, appearances/mentions of others.
Rating: PGish? idk
Warnings: Language, human names.
Summary: Ivan gives Yao a sunflower.
”What’s this supposed to mean, aru?”
Yao looked suspiciously at the big, golden flower that was held only a few inches from his face. When he had been called out to a small crossroad at his northern border, he hadn’t really known what to expect. A discussion about the current economical situation, or maybe some kind of threat. But not this.
He let his eyes wander to the gloved hand that held the flower, over the muscular arm that was stretched out towards him, to then look straight into the calm, ever-smiling face of a devil. At least that was what Yao thought about the man. Honestly, how could you smile like that all the time and still look so terribly frightening?
“It’s a sunflower”, Ivan said, still smiling all complacent. Oh, how Yao hated that smile. He would have punched Ivan straight in his face if he hadn’t known that such an act would cause consequences he didn’t even want to think about; the mere imagination made his stomach ache.
“Yes, I can see that, aru”, he said, getting a tiny bit frustrated. “But why?”
“Hm?” That innocent, clueless expression of his ... It only made Yao wanting to hit him even more. “Aren’t you Asian, Yao?”
“Eh?” Yao was caught quite off-guard by the question. Wasn’t that obvious, idiot? “Yes, I am, aru ...”
“Well”, Ivan continued, “doesn’t the language of flowers originally come from Asia?”
“Language of flowers?” Yao had to think for a minute before answering. “Yes, I think it does, aru. Why?”
“Well, then you should know why you’re receiving this, shouldn’t you?”
“Eh.” Great. Now he felt like a total idiot. “Ah- Ahahahahaha! Of course I know, aru! I was just checking if you were keeping up, aru.” He reached out to take the sunflower, but suddenly it were snatched away and, in less than a second, hidden behind Ivan’s back. Somehow this made Yao extremely annoyed and he gave Ivan an irritated look.
“I don’t believe you”, the smiling face said.
“Why wouldn’t you? As you said, the language of flowers comes from Asia. Of course I know, aru.”
“Well ...” the Russian said, taking a short break after the word. “If you did know, you would have reacted in a different type of way.”
“Does that even matter? Just give me the flower, aru!” He was going to have that flower, if it so were the last thing he ever did.
“No. You’re not getting it before you know what it means.” And with that, the ever-smiling Russian turned and walked away, leaving Yao standing frustrated at the road, watching as Ivan’s back disappeared behind the trees.
“All right”, he said out loud, even though Ivan was long gone. “If that’s what you want, then I’ll go check up the meaning of the stupid flower, ARU.”
-----------
“Uhhh ... Why can’t I find it, aru?” Yao let his head fall down at the desk, pulling his hair in frustration. He had been researching the sunflower’s meaning in the language of flowers for nearly five hours now, without even a hint of a result. He had studied all the books in his library regarding plants carefully, but none of them said anything about the flower language. He had found some information about it on the Internet, but nothing which told him the meaning of the sunflower. “Ayiaa! Why does it have to be so hard to find, aruuu ...”
He straightened up again and fit his chin into the palm of his hand, looking out the open window on his right, next to the desk. It was late summer, and the weather outside was really nice. It was all sunny, with only a few white cloud streaks to cover the baby blue sky, but still not too hot. The leaves had started to shift from green to red, yellow and orange, and some of them had already lost their grip of the tree branches and fallen down to settle on the ground together with the withering flowers.
A pleasant breeze rustled the foliages, forcing some more of the leaves to let go. One of them followed the wind in through the window and landed right in front of Yao at the desk, as the breeze playfully stroke his long, dark hair. Yao took the tiny leaf between his fingers, examining it with his eyes. It was small; it couldn’t be more than two inches long. It was thin and smooth with small, soft textures, and had a bright yellow colour.
Just like a sunflower.
A melancholic look appeared in the Chinese man’s eyes. “If it goes on like this, he won’t give me the sunflower ...” he thought aloud. Then, when he realized what he had just said, he shot up from his chair, which fell back and hit the floor with a loud BANG. Yao demonstratively marched around the room in circles, sometimes pulling his hair, sometimes hammering on his own head, all while he shouted in exasperation: “GAAH! Why would I even care?! That smiling idiot can do as he like, aru! I - DO - NOT - GIVE - A - DAMN - ABOUT - HIS - STUPID - FLOWER - ARU!!!"
He ran around for another three minutes while insulting Ivan, giving him names, cursing him et cetera, before he managed to calm down. At first, he just sat down on a chair for a while, mumbling something about “that bastard owing me apologies rather that flowers”. But eventually he started to throw glances at the book that was still lying opened at the desk ...
It didn’t take long before he had risen the chair up again and continued reading.
-----------
After another two hours of futile looking, Yao finally realized that this wasn’t going to lead anywhere. “This isn’t helping, aru. What should I do?” He thought for a moment, but then had an idea. “I know - I’ll ask someone who might know, aru!” He went to his phone, but at first just stood with the receiver in his hand without dialing any number. “But who to call, aru? It has to be someone who might have knowledge about the subject, and someone who definitely won’t tell Ivan. That would be embarrassing, aru.” Wait. Why would that be embarrassing? Ivan knew he was researching this, right? So what would be weird with Ivan noticing? “AAGHH!!” Yao hit himself a few times again. If things went on like this, he was going to get a bump. Several bumps, actually.
“Ah! I’ll call Kiku, aru! He knows a lot, and he hates that Ivan bastard just as much as I do, so he wouldn’t tell, aru.” He quickly dialed Kiku’s number, and after a couple of signals he could hear a calm and familiar voice in the other end.
“Moshi moshi, Honda Kiku speaking.”
“Ah, ni hao, Kiku! This is Yao, aru!”
“Hello, Yao-san. May I ask why you are calling?”
“Well ...” Yao hesitated a little before continuing. “I just wanted to ask if you know something about the language of flowers, aru?”
“Yes, I do have some knowledge about that.”
“Then”, Yao went on, “do you know what the sunflower’s meaning would be?”
“Sunflower ...” There was a long break of silence, and Yao didn’t realize that he had been holding his breath until Kiku spoke again and he exhaled. “No, not the sunflower, I’m afraid. I do know about some other flowers though ...”
“No, it’s alright, aru”, Yao interrupted him. “But thank you anyway.”
“Is this something important?”
It took a second before Yao answered. “Yes, rather important, aru.”
“Then maybe you should try calling someone else”, Kiku suggested, and Yao gave him a silent thank you for not asking why it was important. “I believe that the language of flowers is much more popular in the West than here these days. How about trying with Alfred-san?”
America, huh? “Okay, I’ll try that, aru. Do you have his phone number?” Kiku gave him the number and they hung up. Yao called Alfred immediately, not being very sure if this would help. He knew Alfred a little from when they had both been parts of the Allied Forces, and what he remembered wasn’t really promising. However, this was the only lead he had, and he had no choice but to follow it.
He waited for quite a long time, and was just about to hang up when the call was answered.
“Tche hechho cko sho cchechish!” was the first thing he heard.
“Ex ... cuse me, aru?” Yao replied, confusion clear in his voice.
“Faah ... shaiwt ...” You could hear some muffled sounds, and the sound of someone swallowing, and then finally some understandable words reached Yao’s ear. “The hero to your service! Who am I talking to?”
Yao sighed. Why was he even trying? “This is Yao, aru.”
“Ah, hello Yao!” the always-hyper nation of the United States said. “You caught me in the middle of my meal. But nevermind that, what can I do for you?”
Yao grimaced. Alfred was one the last persons he wanted to ask for this kind of advice. But who knew, maybe he could give him an answer? “Yeah ... There’s this thing I’d like to ask you about, aru. Do you ... know about the sunflower’s meaning in the language of flowers, aru?”
“Nope”, Alfred said, and Yao could more or less hear the careless smile on the American’s face. “Why you asking anyway? Received one or something?”
“O-of course not, aru!” Damn it. What was he supposed to say now? “I-I’m writing a book, aru! I need it for a story, and Kiku said I should ask you, aru.” A pretty crappy lie, but it was the best he could come up with offhand. And it seemed like Alfred swallowed it.
“A book, you say? Well, make sure to send me a copy if there comes a version in English.”
“Sure, aru!” Yao said, thanking the heavens for making Alfred so thick-headed. “Er ... do you know anyone I could ask then?”
“Dunno ... Hey, how ’bout Arthur?” Alfred suggested. “I can give you his number.”
“Yes, that would be appreciated.” Yao still hadn’t gotten on very good terms with Arthur since the Opium War, but their relations were okay, he guessed. And Kiku did say that the language of flowers was popular in West, so why not trying in Europe?
-----------
Yao was about to seriously give up now. He could no longer keep count of all the people he had been calling now, whereof half of them were people he had barely even met. Some of them were also pretty close to Ivan, and one of them had even suggested calling him. Yao had asked the same question over and over again, always with the same response, and for every time it got even more embarrassing. So now he had disgraced himself towards half of the globe, and now he was talking to a guy whom he didn’t even know who it was. Ma-something.
“No, I’m sorry, but I don’t know about that,” the guy said.
“Don’t worry. It’s nothing important anyway, aru.”
“Hm ...” The other one seemed to be thinking about something. “But I do know someone who I think may be able to help you.”
“Huh. You do?” Yao said without any enthusiasm. How many times hadn’t he heard that line the past hour? “Who?”
“Francis. I think he should know a lot about flowers and their meaning. For example he always brings me lots of them.”
Since the other person had been lowering his voice gradually as he spoke, Yao wasn’t able to hear the last line clearly. “What did you say?”
“Ah-! No-nothing!” He sounded flustered, but Yao couldn’t seem to get why. Well, never mind. “D-do you have his number?”
“No, I don’t. Could you give me it, aru?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Yao dialed the number. He was getting tired of this. This was going to be the last call, and then he would give up. He would have to tell Ivan the he couldn’t find it. The thought sent an awful feeling to his stomach, but he ignored it and waited for Francis to answer in the other end.
“Allô! Francis Bonnefroy here.”
”NihaothisisYaodoyouknowthesunflower’smeaninginthelanguageofflowersaru?” Yao went on monotonously in one breath.
“Pardon?”
Yao just sighed. He felt really dejected by now. “Ni hao, this is Yao, do you know the sunflower’s meaning in the language of flowers, aru”, he said a little slower this time, but still monotonously.
There was a pause. And then: “Oui, I do, monsieur Yao.”
It took exactly ten seconds for Yao to understand what the Frenchman had just said. During that time he simply stood with the receiver against his ear in silence. Then his brain took it all in.
“YOU DO, ARU!?!”
“Oui, of course I do. I’m not the country of amour for nothing.”
“Thank you, aruuuu~!” Yao couldn’t believe it. He was nearly crying tears of joy, thinking that he must send the Frenchman his thanks in some kind of way later. “What is it then, aru?” You could clearly hear something close to excitement in his voice.
“Ah-ah, monsieur Yao, first you will have to tell me why you’re asking.”
Damn. “I-It’s for a book I’m writing, aru”, he said, going with the same lie he had told Alfred.
“Hmm?” was the only thing you could hear from the phone, followed by a pause. Yao did not find Francis’ tone very promising.
The silence was finally broken. “That would be quite an interesting book, I believe.”
“Yeah, it would. Just tell me it now, aru!”
“Non, non, not so impatient”, Francis said. “You have to do something for me first.”
Yao could tell Francis was simply mocking with him now. He took a deep breath. He never knew what to do with the Europeans.
“Then, what do you want me to do, aru?” he said, hoping it wouldn’t be too bad. Knowing Francis, it could be anything.
“Tell me the real reason, mon ami.”
Yao frowned. He would rather give Francis a third ... no, half of his territory than that. But this was probably the only chance he would ever get to figure out the meaning of the goddamn fucking flower, and he was not going to let it slip away.
“I ... got one, aru. Or rather, I’m going to get one, but not if I can’t find the meaning of it, aru.”
“My, that’s surprising!” Francis said, his mocking smile showing in his voice. “From who, I wonder?”
“That’s a secret, aru.”
“Then I won’t tell you.”
Yao gave away a whining noise. “It’s ... Ivan ..."
“What did you say?”
Yao, feeling something inside him snap, shouted into the phone receiver: “I GOT IT FROM IVAN, ALL RIGHT? WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE, FRENCH BASTARD?!”
For a moment, Francis just sat silent in the other end as Yao breathed heavily, trying to calm down. When three minutes had passed and there was still no sound from the other one, Yao started to wonder if he had hung up. Then Francis finally spoke.
“Fine. Then I’ll tell you.”
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Ivan was already there waiting when Yao arrived to the crossroad the next day, greeting him with a gentle smile. He was standing in the middle of the path and holding one of his hands behind his back as he stepped forward towards an irritated-looking Yao.
“Привет, Yao”, the Russian man said when he had walked up to him. Yao didn’t answer. He held his eyes fixed to the ground and kept his expression sour.
“How are you today?” Yao kept quiet, face not changing.
“So ... did you check it up?” Ivan continued, and the question suddenly made Yao’s façade to completely fall apart. He startled, his eyes went wide in an instant and he could feel a burning blush pop up all over his face, spreading down his neck.
“So you did” Yao threw a glance at the other man. He was still smiling as sweet as ever with his eyes closed, looking completely oblivious. Then he all of a sudden opened his eyes, and something in his expression changed. “Do you still want it?”
Yao immediately looked down again, stretched his hand out and mumbled something which sounded somewhat like “Justgivemethestupidfloweraru”.
Ivan showed the hand he had kept behind his back, revealing the same sunflower as he had brought the day before. He handed it over to Yao who took the flower with both hands, holding it gently between his fingertips as he simply stared at it. His gaze then moved back to the face of Ivan, who just gave him his usual smile.
“Thank you, Yao.”
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Notes
The idea to this story came when I was reading some random book about love, and there stood a little about the language of flowers. And there I found the meaning of the sunflower, and just couldn't help myself. |D
Also, in my headcanon Yao is the 4th biggest tsundere in Hetalia, after Iggy, Norway and Romano. XD
Oh, and by the way, the meaning of the sunflower is "I worship you" ♥
This is my first fanfic, so I'm pretty nervous now. |'D Please comment!