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Alfred had been trying all morning to commandeer enough of Ivan’s attention to get him to paint American flags on his cheeks for him.
However, he quickly found that seeking Ivan’s attention was not quite the missing ingredient needed for his agreement.
“Come on, Vanya. It’ll royally piss off my dad,” he tried. Alfred’s parents would be visiting to watch the match, but the far more important detail was that his father was a proud Englishman and fan of the Three Lions.
“I prefer pissing you off. Perhaps I should support England for the day,” Ivan mused.
“You do that and you’re on the couch tonight,” Alfred threatened, realizing only halfway through that that would mean he couldn't nestle into Ivan's warm chest. But Ivan was launching another thought, tipping his chin up to look him dead in the eye.
“Why do you get to decide this? As if you have won the right?”
“Well…I’ll fight you for it then,” Alfred smirked with a playful punch to Ivan's shoulder. He loved how the larger man never budged. Well, unless Alfred wanted him to.
“Will you?” Ivan asked, sounding mildly interested.
“Yeah. Unless you paint the flag on my face. Then you can keep me close all night no questions asked,” Alfred chirped, reaching behind him for the paintbrush.
“We will have this out after your parents leave,” Ivan answered, taking the brush from Alfred. Alfred's cheeks warmed a bit with anticipation.
“I’m kinda curious what you’re thinking about now,” Alfred said, suddenly very close to Ivan's intense violet stare.
"You'll find out. Look at me so I can start," he answered with a smirk. Ivan then turned to squeezing white, blue, and red paint onto a plate. From the look in his eyes, Alfred almost let the suspicion that Ivan was planning something get to him. But really, those eyes almost always looked like they were plotting something if you looked closely enough. Luckily, Alfred got the chance to look a lot closer than most.
When they first met, Ivan's eyes had been sort of lifeless even when he smiled. Now they were practically wells of mirth, especially when Alfred was around, he'd like to think. Even if half the time their shine came from saying something tormenting.
Then, when they first started dating it had been a series of self discoveries for Alfred that the year before would have drawn a deep, scarlet blush from him.
“Can’t I just paint stripes?” Ivan asked, sounding slightly exasperated. It tugged Alfred from his thoughts. Ivan hadn't started painting him yet but the brush hovered over his cheek.
“Babe, no. Then it’ll look like I’m supporting France. Or Russia, which, as much as I love you, I’m not doing that when there’s a US game on,” Alfred justified.
“France and Russia are not even playing. No one would even connect the stripes to those flags,” Ivan rolled his eyes, taking Alfred’s chin in his hand to have better access to his cheek.
“I would—” Alfred stopped abruptly when Ivan moved his hand to cover Alfred’s mouth.
“Stop talking if you want me to do this,” Ivan murmured. Alfred pushed Ivan's hand away.
“Y’know, since you’re actually doing it, that means I owe you,” Alfred said anyway, cheekily. But from the look he got from Ivan, he didn't think he was displeased.
“We will talk about what you owe me after I finish this,” Ivan answered, turning Alfred's face to the side to drag the first stroke against his cheek.
Alfred could feel the stripes glide across his skin, counting them as he went. Ivan was such a good boyfriend for this. Alfred stared at his face while he worked, watching his feathery lashes shadow his eyes as he focused. It was clear, however, that he noticed Alfred's smitten gaze, sometimes meeting it head on, other times turning back to the plate for more paint. Alfred swore he was a little flushed.
Before he knew it though, the brushstrokes that began as a tickle and ended as a caress stopped and Ivan was stepping away.
“That was really fast, babe, how’d you do that?” Alfred asked.
"Hm. Go look," Ivan grinned. Alfred warily stood and started to the bathroom mirror. He'd almost forgotten about the mischievous look in Ivan's eyes before he started. But Alfred definitely felt him do thirteen stripes and dot his cheeks for stars, right?
But when he looked at his reflection there was a conspicuous Russian flag on each cheek. Alfred took it all back then. What a dick move! He fought the urge to wipe it off while it was still wet but left it on for proof.
“Ivan! What the—what did you do? I felt you do thirteen stripes!” he exclaimed as he stomped back into the kitchen.
“I did. They were just not the stripes you thought they were,” Ivan chuckled.
“You asshole. Why go through all the trouble?”
“Because I wanted to see your face. It is just stripes,” Ivan laughed. “I think you look good.”
“Good?” Alfred crossed his arms.
“Cute,” Ivan amended, pointedly smiling down at him. Fucker. He wanted Ivan to say it like he meant it.
“You think so?” Alfred asked, fingers creeping closer to the plate with the rest of the paint on it so he could smear his palm in it. Ivan hadn’t noticed yet and had even been leaning down to taunt him some more. It both annoyed and sent pleased shivers down his spine when Ivan emphasized the few inches he had on Alfred.
But in that moment it just made it really easy for Alfred to plaster his paint covered hand all over Ivan’s face. Though, he saved it at the end with a soft pat to his cheek.
Ivan caught his wrist before he could drop his hand back to his side. The smile that followed was pure intimidation. Eyes narrowed, he spread paint on his own hand and wrapped it around Alfred's neck. Alfred did notice that he avoided getting paint on his white USA jersey, however.
“You think you are clever,” Ivan murmured with the beginnings of a smile.
“No. Just wanted us to match,” Alfred teased, laughing even with the hand on his throat.
“Match or get even?” Ivan challenged.
“Maybe both. I think you look pretty good though," Alfred said, mirroring Ivan's words from earlier.
“Are you saying this because I said that to you?” Ivan asked.
“Are you saying you didn’t mean it?” Alfred asked with a pout. Ivan took notice and bit his lip when he kissed him.
“No,” he replied. Alfred pushed a hand into Ivan's chest.
“You taste like paint."
“I wonder why,” Ivan said dryly.
“We can be even if you make burgers tonight after USA totally wins,” Alfred remarked with utter arrogance.
“That is if they win,” Ivan agreed.
Before they could tease each other further a few knocks sounded at the door.
"Shit, that's dad and papa. How does my paint look?" Alfred asked, whirling back around to face Ivan before opening the door.
"I told you, it just looks like stripes. I do not think anyone is mistaking you for a Russian," Ivan chuckled. Alfred rolled his eyes as he opened the door to find his parents' stunned looks.
Francis laughed instantly upon seeing them while Arthur looked absolutely unimpressed.
“I don’t even want to know. You both look ridiculous,” Arthur sighed as he followed a still cackling Francis inside.
"Leave them alone, Mon Cher. They are clearly having fun," Francis said as he kissed his son's cheek.
“At least it’s a little ambiguous which team Vanya’s going for,” Alfred quipped to Arthur. Arthur shook his head as he walked inside, eyeing his son's jersey and face paint. He then scowled at the 'abstract' paint job Alfred had given Ivan.
“Not enough. I think he has been converted by you,” Arthur scoffed. Ivan shrugged from where he stood in the kitchen with Francis.
“The other way around actually,” Ivan laughed, patting the flag on Alfred's cheek.
"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. It's coming home, lad," Arthur asserted with a proudly raised chin.
"No chance," Alfred laughed, "Even Mattie said he'd rather the US win," Alfred said.
"There is much less chance of that being true than England winning the World Cup," Arthur dismissed.
"So you admit it's barely a chance for England to win?” Alfred asked.
"Wipe that bloody mess off of Ivan's face," Arthur averted, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"He wants us to match," Ivan reasoned, tossing a smirk over his shoulder for Alfred.
And yeah. Alfred really did want to match.
"Y'know if we win, we're gonna have to match like this every game, right Vanya?" Alfred posed, begrudgingly standing on tiptoes to rest his chin on Ivan's shoulder.
"No. Next time will be more…experimental," Ivan grinned. Alfred flushed and suddenly wished his parents weren't in the other room.
He wasn't exactly sure what Ivan meant but was pretty sure it was going to be a hell of a lot of fun finding out.