The instant Canada's fingers tuck over his hand, Russia smiles. Gently, slowly, a smile that speaks of unconscious pleasure. His thumb traces the lone of Canada's palm and he idly brings their joined hands up to his lips, brushing a kiss over knuckles.

"'Twas nothing, Matvey." He's silent for a moment longer, gaze lingering on the turn of Canada's wrist before it sweeps up to land on his purple eyes. There's a crinkle of a smile at his eyes despite the perplexed look Russia's own purple eyes hold. Yes, Canada knew the role he had in this relationship, just as Russia knew his. And Russia could never resist showing affection, especially to someone who accepted it so easily.