Author's Notes: This is technically my first fanfiction. I will try to update regularly, but I am in college, so.. anyway, please review if you want more chapters! I won't make them if you don't want them! Enjoy~

Chapter 1 - Understanding
"Alfredka, I hope you know I have to kill you now, Да?"
The smaller blond visibly winced. Despite such an action, he quickly reverted himself back to his typical heroic demeanor. He was nearly straining himself to speak in an even tone."There's no way a damn communist like you is going to actually kill the one and only Alfred Foster Jones." Was his retort. His voice was hoarse, with a hint of a growling undertone.

Laughter came from deep within the pale Russians throat, his jaw looking firm and rigid as he did so. His appearance was emanating pure masculinity and power. The sheer size of the broad-shouldered Russian made the 6-foot (182.88cm) tall American look rather small and weak by comparison. It certainly did not help that the American was currently bound to a chair, helpless and restricted in what appeared to be a form of interrogation chamber. He was attempting to make his way out of the bindings, particularly the ones around his wrists. He had been known to escape situations like this before, but Ivan had grown more intelligent in his administrations, making it far more difficult for the American to make his vanishing act. Alfred's face was stern as he looked up at the offending force that was Ivan Braginski.

"Kolkolkolkolkol~! Oh, Amerika, you always did know how to make me laugh." He said with a devilish grin as he pulled out his famous faucet pipe. He then proceeded to walk around the backside of the American, taking a special kind of care to brush the cold metal up under the tanned jaw of the bound American. Alfred gritted his teeth together, and made a sharp hissing sound as the metal brushed his skin. With that, Ivan pulled the bar into very close proximity of the tanned blond's throat, pressing it hard into his Adam's apple. This caused the American to emit a rather distressed squeak of discomfort. He writhed a little, and attempted to move his head backwards; finding only that it met the hard, firm abdomen of the Russian. This also unfortunately barred his throat further, allowing it to be even more vulnerable to the pale power behind him. Ivan wasted no time in taking this to his advantage, and pulled the pipe to a rest directly under Alfred's angled jaw, thus preventing the American from moving his head.

"Dude... I can barely… breathe." Alfred choked out. He once more attempted to move, but to no avail. The hero was trapped, and in agony, awaiting his certain doom. His typically shimmery sapphire eyes were hollow now. He was sitting on death row. He was right where Ivan had wanted him./p
"Ah, Alfredka… all you had to do was answer one question. If you had, we wouldn't be in this mess. Oh, no matter though, I suppose I can still kill you."

For once in his life, the American felt himself swallowing his pride. His words were soft and strained against the bar at his throat. "Ivan… don't kill me…" he pleaded; his sapphire orbs were brimming at the edges with bitter, bitter tears. "Please."

The platinum blond Russian stared for a few moments at the male beneath him, in utter disbelief. He, at that moment, felt not pity, but empathy. There was once before, when the young American had spared Ivan's life.

Gun point. That was right were Alfred had had Ivan. They were in Russia, a fresh blanket of pure snow was on the ground, and both had been staining the ground red; a result of a fight and struggle, along with the will to live. Both had been lying in the biting winter air. Alfred had brought himself up to one knee, clutching one side tightly with one hand, and with the other, reached for the gun at his side. He lined it up, pulled the hammer back, and placed a shaky finger on the trigger. Though, something in him had snapped. He had looked at the broken and bleeding Ivan before him, and instead, dropped the pistol into the snow, and made his way towards the Russian. He then reached forwards, and with all of his strength, heaved the large male up, thus beginning his arduous task of dragging the Russian to the nearest village for aid. They had both lost a lot of blood, and Alfred felt nauseous and dizzy as Ivan began to slip out of consciousness. "вы ДействитеЛЬно сумасшедший." (You really are crazy.) Whispered the Russian before he finally fell unconscious.

He slid the pipe away, and let it crash to the floor with a sickening clang. He then moved around to the front of Alfred, and looked him in the eyes, the perfect moment of amethyst on sapphire. His once fear-inducing expression had turned to one of softness, and slight pain. He knelt down, and moved his hands to begin unbinding Alfred. Alfred sat there, dumbstruck, and unaware. He had no clue what had made Ivan actually comply, but he couldn't complain. He just prayed that Ivan wasn't planning to torture him in some other room. Instead, he released him of the rest of his bounds. Alfred took a moment to rub the tender places on his wrists, warily watching the Russian giant as he did so. However, rather than make a break for it, like he had originally planned, he sat there still as stone.

"Hmm… is something the matter, Alfredka?"

Alfred shook his head in response. "No, dude, I just don't understand you. That's all." The American said, swallowing softly. "You could have killed me, but you didn't. Not that I'm complaining! I just…" Alfred shifted nervously.

"Да and you could have killed me that day in the snow, but instead you saved my life." Ivan whispered. He then leaned towards the American slightly, and reached a hand out to brush a calloused thumb against the ridge of Alfred's cheekbone. This caused the lean body of the American to shiver a little, being unused to this kind of treatment, especially from Ivan Braginski. He tilted his head to look at Ivan; a bit of an off expression was on his face. He wasn't sure what to think.

"Uhh… dude…?"

"Shh…" Ivan whispered softly. He leaned in more, allowing their noses to touch.

"Alfredka, I've only just realized how beautiful you are. Your heart is… so pure, and I…"

Alfred's face no longer showed pain or fear. Nor did it show the confusion that had been there moments ago. Rather, it looked innocent. The brightness returned to his eyes as he gazed dreamily into the Russian's own. His breathing was slow, and his voice was soft. "Ivan, I…" he began. "I never knew you might feel that way. Actually, I never even knew that I might feel the same." He shifted slightly out of embarrassment.

With that, Ivan tilted his head, and brushed his lips lightly against Alfred's, in a small kiss, still caressing the American's cheek as he did so. Alfred, blushing now, raised his hands up to trace along the strong back of the larger male, coming to a stop as he wrapped them around his neck. Their quiet gaze continued for a moment before they crashed their lips together in a hot, passionate kiss, with Alfred slowly standing himself upwards, using Ivan for support. Ivan laced his fingers into soft golden hair, as they continued. It did not last long however, as Alfred slipped away from Ivan.

"… Do you really think, I mean, dude… should we even be like this? We're supposed to hate each other, so why do you make me feel…?" Alfred tried to back away from Ivan, but bumped into the chair instead, and he realized he had nowhere to go.

"Да, I don't understand it either. Just… go for now…" He said quietly as he unlocked the door. "Return home, Amerika."