Author's note: LALALA, PROCRASTINATING AGAIN~ (shot) Anyway, I got bored, so I decided to write more RusIta. Please feel free to kill me. :D

"Russia-san," said Lithuania, approaching the larger nation, "a package has arrived for you." Russia didn't look at Lithuania. He was looking at the crackling fire in front of him. "Russia-san?"

"Lithuania," said Russia, still mesmerized by the fire, "why couldn't I have been blessed with land that never snows, da?"

"Well… Um…" said Lithuania, unsure of the answer himself. Russia finally looked at him and smiled.

"It's a rhetorical question, Lithuania," said Russia. "Who sent the package?"

"I can't quite read the writing…" said Lithuania. Russia sighed.

"Well, bring it here then." Lithuania quickly handed the package to him. "You can go now, da." Lithuania had a brief look relief, and almost ran out of the room.

Russia turned his attention to the package, which was surprisingly warm. The Cyrillic handwriting on the letter was absolutely horrible. A genuine smile crept on his face as he guessed who it had come from. He opened the letter. It read:

"Hi Russia!

I've been practicing my Cyrillic writing, and Germany says I'm getting better! Though, I don't think he knows how to read it… So I decided to write to you! Ve~

I heard that it's winter over there, so I sent you some pasta, to keep you warm~ I also drew a picture for you~ You like sunflowers, right?

I've got a cold right now, but when I get over it, I'm going to go visit your house again! I wanna make more snowmen~ Is it okay to bring Germany and Japan along?

Also, England told me to give you a note. It's the folded piece of paper that smells like beer. I haven't read it yet, though…

I hope you're having a lot of fun!

Feliciano North Italy Vargas."

Russia laughed softly. Sure, the writing was almost unreadable, but at least Italy tried. He put the letter down, and ripped open the package.

Almost instantly, the room was filled with the smell of pasta. It was a very welcoming smell, to be honest. Russia looked at the pasta container, which was coloured in the colours of his flag. He set it aside, stomach growling slightly.

He picked up a folded, rough paper. It was probably the drawing that Italy mentioned. Russia unfolded it, and gasped. It was a picture of a sunflower in the middle of a snowy plain. Russia instantly thought it was a photograph, but then he saw the faint pencil marks and paint strokes. The other nations had told him that Italy's drawings were really good, but now he found that as an understatement. They were freaking brilliant. He couldn't tear his eyes off it.

Warmth started travelling though his body. Warmth that was hotter and more comforting than a fire. Russia couldn't quite explain it, but it was a feeling more than happiness. He put it aside, deciding to frame it later. At that moment, nothing could bring him down. Not even the terrible snow and howling winds outside his house could make him feel sad.

Russia almost forgot that England had given him a note, and he looked at the package. There was a brownish, folded paper laying there. He picked it up, and smelt it. As Italy said, it smelt of beer. He unfolded it, reading:

"To Russia,

You suck and I curse you.


"…I see that England-san wants to die sooner," mumbled to himself, smile turning slightly maniac. He was pissed that England just had to ruin a perfectly good package sent by his darling Italy.

He stood up, looking for a paper that he could write a letter on.

Author's Note: … I can't believe I typed this in 30 minutes. I CAN'T BELIEVE ITTTT. :D