"Well then," Stalin said haughtily, "if you've nothing more to say, I shall be on my way." He turned, putting on his hat. "Fare well, Adolf. Perhaps one day, you will make Germany as flourishing as Russia." He laughed loudly as he started walking to the door.

Hitler stammered and blushed, trying to find a retort, but found himself at a loss for words. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to let it out. He leapt to his feet, blurting, "Herr Stalin!"

Stalin paused in the doorway, and turned around. "Please, Adolf. Call me Joseph."

Adolf swallowed. He couldn't believe what he was doing. "J-Joseph," he said, feeling dominated just by being in his presence, "you...you can't leave just yet."

Stalin raised a brow. "Why not? Mother Russia needs me."

"I-I know, Jo," Adolf said, stepping with earnest. "B-But...I need you."

"What?" Stalin inquired. "Jo? Adolf, where is this coming from?"

"This has been on my mind for too long now," Adolf insisted, walking up to him. "Our countries are at odds, but...I do not see why we must be."

"I fight for my people," Stalin scoffed indignantly. "I know what you are. I see right through you. You write your books, posture about what's good for the world, but you only do it out of self-interest."

"Nien," Adolf said fervently, shaking his head. "I only do what I do...for you." It felt so good to finally confess.

Stalin's eyes widened, taking the news quite unexpectedly. "Wait. Me? You mean to say...everything you've done...? The camps..."

"All just to get your attention," Adolf said.

Stalin was taken aback for a moment. But, he started to smile his big, jovial Russian smile again. "I...must admit, I...never took you for such a meticulous planner, Adolf."

"It's all a man like me can do."

Stalin chuckled deeply, proudly. "You may not look like much, Addy, but...you have gumption, more than any man I've seen. I respect that."

Adolf's heart soared at Stalin having a nickname for him. "And I respect you, meister."

Stalin smiled further as he took Adolf's hands into his own. He gasped a little. "Oh. Adolf, your hands are...so soft and delicate."

"An artist's hands," Adolf said sheepishly. He looked down, Stalin's beefy, burly hands holding his own. "Yours are...so strong and sturdy."

"All the better to embrace you with, comrade."

Adolf gasped and blushed. "Comrade?! Jo, I..."

He suddenly felt Stalin's finger on his lips, gently shushing him. "Now, now," Stalin said. "No more words, Adolf, no conquering. The only subjugating I want you to do is on me."

Adolf stared at him with an agape mouth, but also found himself growing coy. "And if I refuse to initiate~?"

Stalin pressed their bodies against each other. "Then you may find yourself in my gulag, little man."

"I feel I am already there," Adolf returned with a smile.

"Da," Stalin said, pulling Adolf's leg up to his hip. "The gulag of my heart."

"And the Auschwitz of my soul..."

They inched closer and closer, tantalizing, their eyes full of passion. Their mustaches made contact, them both hesitating for just a second, but they couldn't contain theirselves any longer.

Finally, after so many years, they touched lips.

They fell into each other's embrace, sinking in deeply, kissing and not stopping. It was meant to be, the highlight of both their military careers.

Forbidden or not, they didn't care. No walls, no chains, no territories no war, the only thing for them now was to make history.