Moscow
22 June, 1941
It was a normal Saturday night in the Kremlin. Ivan sat in his chair, pouring over the many pieces of paper littering his desk top. A lot of times, his laziness and disinterest in politics led to him procrastinating for quite a long time. But for once, he felt productive, which was quite unusual considering he was feeling sick all day. He would usually exploit any sort of ailment he felt to go off and sleep or hide away in his home. Anything that meant getting out of work. But his nausea was accompanied by a rather dreadful feeling he couldn't quite put his finger on.
There was one more thing that was odd. It was a little after two a.m. that his boss stuck his head into Ivan's office to wish him a good night. Ivan had given him a hesitant good night in reply and his boss was gone again. Now it wasn't the good night that was odd, thought Josef usually never visited Ivan during the night, it was the time that was odd.
Stalin was more often than not stuck in his office until the wee hours of the morning. At around five a.m., one could look into the Soviet leader's office and find him in a cloud of cigarette smoke, looking out the window as the sun raised over the gold onion domes of the cathedrals across the street. This night, Josef was finished with all his work at 2 a.m., stopped to wish Ivan a good night, and left to retire in one of his homes.
So, all in all, the night had a very strange feeling for Ivan. His boss was done with his work before he was, he was feeling disturbingly nauseous with a headache to boot, and that bout of dread was sitting in the bottom of his stomach like a lead ball. However, he tried to brush these things off, figuring it was his body's reaction to some later work nights or some idiots in the east playing with some fireworks. He popped a few pills and that was the end of that.
He didn't worry when the medicine didn't work, he just assumed it was generic crap. He reached inside of his jacket for the flask he kept in one of the inner pockets, but stopped as his fingertips touched the warmed metal lid. Alcohol numbs the mind, not the body. The most he would get out of that was the regurgitation of his dinner.
Unfortunately, that was what he received even without the aid of his vodka.
At about 3:30 a.m., he promptly lifted himself from his desk and headed out of his room. Once he started walking the hallway, his footsteps began faster and faster until he was in a half run, bursting into the public bathroom and falling to his knees in front of one of the toilets, not even bothering to close the stall door. He vomited rather violently, clutching at the porcelain bowl, his back arching with his heaves. When he was finished, he didn't get up right away. He stayed planted on the floor, clutching at the toilet almost out of fear that he would fall over. His eyes were closed and his face twisted slightly. After a moment, his lids slowly opened and he let out a shuttering breath. He lifted himself from the floor and flushed his mess down the toilet, moving to the sink then to wash out his mouth and make sure he didn't get anything on his uniform.
Suddenly, while his mouth was full of water, a man ran into the bathroom, skidding to a stop when he saw Ivan at the sink. Both of them stared at each other with wide eyes, Ivan's cheeks puffed from the water they held. Ivan recognized the man as one of Josef's secretaries. A bit of an unimportant one besides the fact that he took most phone calls and directed them around the Kremlin. Ivan opened his mouth and the water spilled out.
"Sir! Telephone for you, sir. It's absolutely urgent sir!"
Ivan blinked at him as if he couldn't hear what he was saying despite the man's panicky tone and his overuse of 'sir.' When the man saw that he got little reaction from the other, he tried another approach.
"It's Comrade Stalin, sir!"
Once again, Ivan looked as if he had just been told that his office door was left open. It seemed this was very unimportant and he blinked again, slowly. The secretary swallowed thickly and saluted Ivan before moving out of the bathroom. Ivan's eyes followed him until he was gone. Ivan continued rinsing his mouth before wiping his hand with a towel and straightened his jacket before leaving the bathroom.
Usually, being sick helped one feel better and that was what Ivan hoped that the condition was, but as he made his way back to his office, he found himself feeling even worse and his brain throbbed against his ears as his headache turned into a migraine. He made his way into his office, shut the door, and went back to sit in his leather chair behind his desk. He sat there a moment, making no attempt to reach for the phone and simply leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling. He gave a heaving sigh before he reached forward and took the telephone in his hand and slowly raised it to his ear.
"Yes?"
"Braginsky."
He immediately recognized that of the voice of his boss, the same voice that wished him a good night just an hour earlier.
"Yes, sir?" Ivan asked, an eyebrow raising as he slowly grew more curious as to what this whole thing was about. However, the line was quiet for a moment and Ivan had to wonder if he'd hung up or not. He was about to ask when Josef suddenly said something again.
"How are you feeling?"
Now that immediately struck him as strange and he knew something was wrong. His boss really only asked him how he was feeling when it had something to do with the wellbeing of the country as a whole, not just Ivan. Of course lying to Stalin wasn't an option in this case. Most the time that was Ivan's first option as he liked being just as secretive to his boss as his boss was to him. But he could tell that this was a rather severe case.
"To be honest, not so good. Why?"
Again, silence on the other line. This time it was long enough for Ivan to actually say 'hello' into the receiver once to get Josef's attention back to the matter at hand.
"General Zhukov has informed me that the Germans are bombing our cities."
Ivan's stomach flipped and he felt like he was going to be sick again.
"I'm calling a meeting of the Politburo. Be there." The line dropped.
Ivan held his phone to his face, staring in confusion at the empty space in front of him. It wasn't until he heard the loud pounding in his ears that he finally hung the phone up, his coming up to cover his mouth as he thought. Ivan was shocked and angry. Not angry at the Germans, but angry at Stalin. Out of all the things that he could do when being told that his country was being bombed, he calls a politburo meeting instead of mobilizing the army.
Now, Ivan usually didn't do something very big without consulting his boss first, but this was a rather dire situation. He picked the phone back up and dialed and soon after, he mumbled softly into the receiver before hanging back up. While he had the power to mobilize the Red Army, he wouldn't go that far considering this wasn't the time to have his boss blowing up in his face because he was trying to defend his people. He merely sent on of his own private squads out to see what in the hell was going on. A possible suicide mission, but what could he do?
It was then that he stood again and left his office. As he walked through the halls of the Kremlin, it was then that he could hear the man-made thunder and see the artificial lightening flashing against the dark sky in the distance from the windows. And Ivan could only assume blood was falling from the people like rain.
...
By the end of the meeting, a decision was made and the politburo was dismissed. Ivan pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood in the hallway outside the door, exhausted and feeling like he had been kicked in the head multiple times. It was then that the big man himself had pulled Ivan aside to speak with him privately.
"What the fuck?!" General Zhukov hissed at the nation, trying to keep as quiet as he could through his anger.
"Braginsky, there is a pact of friendship between us and the Germans! You of all people should know what the hell is going on!"
Ivan looked him dead in the eye, mulling over what he could possibly say to appease the angered man. It was then that he realized the answer was nothing, because even he didn't know what was happening.
"Well, sir, this goes to show how trustworthy Hitler really is."
Apparently that was the wrong answer considering Zhukov's face began reddening with his anger. But it was the honest truth. Ivan hadn't heard anything from Ludwig, or even his insane brother-in-law in over five months. Actual communication between them grew scarcer and scarcer over the years.
"Listen, Braginsky. You call your… husband," the word was sneered, "And find out just what in the fuck is going on!" His voice raised just slightly which caused them to receive a few looks.
Ivan's brows furled slightly as he looked to the General. "Call him? I believe he would be on the front lines with his men, as most of us nations do."
"Then go out there and meet him for all I care! It would be even better if you captured the traitor." Zhukov had thrown his hands up in anger before shoving past Ivan, storming through the halls to catch up with Stalin.
Ivan stood there with his stomach gurgling as he felt like vomiting again. He put his hand over his mouth and tried swallowing it down before he began walking through the Soviet politicians still lining the hallways to make it back to his office to make a rather hopeless phone call.
He was right to think that Ludwig wouldn't answer. Ivan dropped his phone on the receiver and put a hand to his pounding head, trying to work through the pain to be able to think.
He and Ludwig had been married for a solid ten years out of politics' sake. Two unlikely countries joined under a common banner of hate towards one particular country. That was what started it. And over those ten years, to strengthen the weakening union, the Nazi-Soviet pact was introduced, binding them together once again. Ivan immediately knew that the pact was basically no good. Hitler and Stalin never even met. The meeting was basically carried out through representatives and Ivan and Ludwig meeting again.
...
The beginning of their union was awkward considering neither really liked each other. The meeting was bland with bland conversation and bland food and bland beer. The two sat across from each other at what was assumed to be an antique table belonging to the old Prussian kingdom long ago. Ludwig was stoic as usual as he ate quietly. Ivan had idly picked at his food, soon deciding that he probably wasn't going to eat most of it and took to sitting with his hands folded and watching the German. It obviously made Ludwig uncomfortable considering his blue eyes kept flicking from his food up to the Russian, his cheeks flushing when he found the larger staring down at him. Eventually, Ludwig ceased eating and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin.
"Why do you insist on staring at me?" Ludwig asked quietly, not meeting his Slavic companion's gaze.
Ivan looked away, gazing out at the sunny scene outside the window. He had been to Berlin many times before. He had sat in this same room many times before, most meetings to be dealt out with Ludwig's idiot brother. This meeting held a different weight as it was with not only a different person but had a much different meaning.
"Maybe it's because I find you much easier to look at than your lawn." Ivan returned his gaze to the German who seemed to have become a bit flustered at Ivan's response. "Ludwig, you're young, and your unions have been little."
Ludwig looked up at Ivan then, lowering his beer from his lips. His blue eyes shown with curiosity for what Ivan had to say.
"A marriage between nations is much different than a marriage between humans, although they can function the same."
Ludwig's drink came to rest on the table. "Well… go on…"
Ivan cleared his throat. "You're obviously not ignorant of Roderich and Elizaveta's union, I'm sure. They're marriage was arranged for their countries which resulted in the Austro-Hungarian empire. Now our goal here obviously is not to create an empire but is to sort of… cease the animosities between us."
Ludwig looked a bit confused, "I have shown little hostility towards you-"
"Your brother, Ludwig. Gilbert gives you a nasty reputation sometimes."
The German's eyes fluttered closed and he rubbed one of his temples as if the mention of his brother gave him a headache and for once, Ivan honestly felt sorry that Ludwig even had to deal with him in the first place.
"As I was saying, Roderich and Elizaveta didn't have anything between them that would make them want to pursue a human-like marriage, but time tells a different story. As well as public humiliation."
A servant came into the room and began clearing the table of plates. When she moved to take the beer from before Ivan, he touched her arm and asked her to bring him some tea before letting her continue.
"We will be married, but I have no intention of living here just as you have no intention of coming to Moscow I'm sure. Remember, we're not building an empire."
"So, what are you saying?" Ludwig finally asked, eyes narrowing slightly but with a raised eyebrow.
Ivan cleared his throat and the servant returned with his tea. She poured him his cup and he took a lemon slice from one of the dishes on the tea tray and dunked it in with his spoon.
"What I'm getting at, Ludwig, is that our marriage is for political purposes only, I harbor no feelings towards you and I'm sure you feel the same. Therefore I will only visit you when visits are scheduled by our respective parties. Same goes for phone calls. They want us to act like a married couple, but we don't have to. And I'm not going to." He took a sip of his tea.
...
It seemed the understanding was mutual between the two and Ivan had left there with nothing but a German stuck to his back. The Slav sighed as he stared out the car window. Dawn was approaching and the rumbling of artillery grew louder and deeper as he drew nearer. The army was being mobilized but he knew it was in a complete disarray. They weren't necessarily expecting an attack.
However, in a way they were- see, this was another thing that ground his gears. Apparently, warnings had flooded into the Kremlin about the German army being on their doorstep, but Stalin had chosen it was better to ignore them. He also decided that it was a good idea to hide these warnings from Ivan. So not only could Ivan do nothing, but by the time he could, the Germans would already have the advantage.
Since Ludwig obviously didn't answer the phone, this was Ivan's only option. He would meet Germany on the battlefield and he would either convince Ludwig to step aside and speak with him in the midst of gun fire or he'd have to force him to step down. And to be honest, the latter option didn't seem possible at this moment. Ivan was in a weakened state and even his own army couldn't offer him much back up.
He couldn't help but wonder though. Wonder what drove Ludwig to just… dig that knife into his back. No doubt his boss had something to do it. Man hated the Slavs just as much as he hated his Jews. Hitler's plan from the beginning was to infiltrate the Soviet Union so that he could have living space for his 'perfect race.' He intended to use the Soviet Union.
Now Ivan has heard of nations following their boss's every order. But he knew Ludwig wasn't an idiot, unlike the one who raised him. He could see it in his eyes from one of their more recent meetings that Ludwig was unsure whether Hitler was truly his saving grace or not.
...
"Ivan, do you think… Do you think I can talk to you about something?"
A more wearied Soviet Union looked to his 'husband' sitting next to him under the shade of a willow tree in Ludwig's courtyard. They sat on a blue checkered blanket with a rather extravagant picnic laid out before them. Ivan was enjoying a bit of vodka he had brought from home as a gift which Ludwig had urged they open then, probably because the German wouldn't drink the whole thing himself.
Ivan lowered his glass holding the clear liquid fire from his lips, setting it down on a silver tray before leaning his back against the trunk of the tree. A leaf fell onto the shoulder closest to Ludwig, so the blonde gently reached over brush it away, earning him a strange but not unpleasant glance.
"What is it, Ludwig?"
The German sighed, obviously uncomfortable with the topic he was about to broach. He even looked around slightly to see if he could spot anyone watching the two. Which there were. He could see their faces up in the window of the sitting room with the best view of the courtyard. Stuffy politicians of course, however that was good enough. They wouldn't be able to hear the conversation. Regardless, Ludwig dropped his voice low.
"You've… read Mein Kampf, haven't you?"
Ivan felt like barking out a laugh but the sound came out as a soft chuckle, the Slav keeping a bit of elegance to him. "Ludwig, you underestimate me. My boss and I read it together even. It was a good laugh. It's a shame you don't have more comical writers."
Ludwig frowned.
"Ah," Ashen eyebrows raised, "Forgive me. But yes, I have read it."
The blonde nodded then, his cheeks dusting a soft red from his impending embarrassment. "Well, there's no sense in asking what you thought of it because obviously you found it a laugh. But in all seriousness, what do you think about that actually becoming, well, a reality really."
Now it was Ivan's turn to frown. What Ludwig was talking about was genocide. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out those underlying tones in the book. And that absolutely did not sit well with Ivan.
"If you implement any of those ridiculous blueprints in that book Ludwig, you will become an enemy of mine and an enemy of the world."
Ludwig turned his gaze from Ivan, directing those ice blue eyes of his to the sky. The clouds were starting to mesh together, forming a blanket over them. It would rain soon.
"Hitler is popular among the people. He promises jobs and security and my old glory."
"You have no glory Ludwig."
Violet eyes met blue, the blue confused and the violet stern.
"You're too young to have glory. All you would be receiving is the weight of old states and that of your brother tacking over your head. You'd be carrying the baggage of what used to be before you were born. That's not your place and it's not your honor. You made a mistake in the Great War and that utterly made you a laughing stock before you could even give yourself a credible name."
Silence passed between them and their eye contact remained unbroken. A gust of wind made a few more leaves fall from the trees, making their homes in the nation's hair. Ludwig was the first to turn away, hesitantly reaching for his untouched glass of vodka. Ivan relaxed back against the tree trunk, unclenching his fists once he felt his nails digging into his palms. After Ludwig took his sip he grimaced and set the glass back down. Ivan smiled.
"That'll get your heart pumping again."
"Or stop it."
The two looked at each other for a moment before a bout of soft laughter shook between them.
...
Ivan knew that when Ludwig took about zero offence to something his brother would have immediately jumped at, it meant that he had a better brain in his skull. Ludwig knew what would happen if Hitler was elected. However, that wasn't something he could control, and Ivan knew this as well. Ludwig generally had no power over his boss, just like all nations, whether it be from an election of the people or a good fit of corruption.
And of course Ivan's threat went unattended considering. Ludwig had no choice but to follow his boss's lead. The most he could do was gently guide his boss into a better light. But trying to reason with Adolf Hitler would take a lifetime in itself, time that Ludwig had, but the dictator did not.
Ivan stepped out of his car to be transported to the small airplane that would take him the rest of the way to his western front. In these hours from the time of the politburo meeting to Ivan being moved to an airplane, the Germans probably got good headway into the Soviet Russia, and Ivan could feel it. He had to pull the car over once to relieve his stomach of more bile, the driver giving him a swig of his own vodka out of pity which of course made Ivan worry that the man had it on him while driving but it was beside the point. Medicine wasn't going to help him. Going to the front was dangerous in the sickened state he was in. But what choice did he have?
The rough ascent of the plane only shook up Ivan's stomach more, so he laid down and tried not to think about his body. Even when he wanted the moments in the plane to be used for relaxation, how could one be relaxed during something like this? It was irritating. Not to mention being in the air when the Luftwaffe was having their fun was a bit dangerous. Ivan could survive a plane crash but he couldn't drag himself to the battle field to find Ludwig with a broken body.
What would Ivan even say to him? 'Hey, a little bird told me that you're not supposed to beat the shit out of your husband?' Of course their marriage became a little rickety after Hitler came into power. Their supposedly pleasant phone conversations were riddled with petty arguments, just something to get under each other's skin because of a mutual hatred for the other's politics.
It wasn't until the Nazi-Soviet Pact that they became more civil with each other and it was probably only for one reason. Sex.
Of course the two dictators themselves wanted things to be friendly between their countries not because they liked each other but because they both wanted to destroy Poland. They wanted to carve it up between them and they knew they couldn't do that unless the countries themselves were getting along.
...
"Braginsky, come sit with me."
Being summoned to his boss's office was not uncommon but just the air between them reeked something awkward and left Ivan standing uncomfortable in front of Stalin's desk, shifting his weight idly. When summoned, he moved to sit in the chair across from the desk, but Stalin shook his head and motioned to a seat that was directly across from him. Ivan swallowed thickly before he took a seat, the leather chair groaning against his weight.
The Soviet commander leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach, the fatherly gleam in his eye very apparent as he looked to his mother nation.
"We need to talk about your union with Germany."
Ivan winced slightly and looked away from the other to the window, watching the busy streets. Josef wasn't too pleased but he ignored it.
"Your marriage is… unconsummated, am I correct?"
Ivan's head snapped back into Stalin's direction. "I don't understand this conversation. There is no point in this conversation-"
"But there is, Braginsky. Our Western ally is offering a new pact of friendship. It's to strengthen our relations. You and he have been married for a few years, and if I know anything about marriage, that's something that can't be properly held together through phone calls and picnics."
Ivan was silent, his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed into a hard line. He mused over Hitler giving Ludwig this same talk and thought about how red his face would be. The German was so easily embarrassed by such simple topics, yet Ivan couldn't help but be humiliated that he was having this conversation with his own boss.
"Braginsky, I can see in your face that this is the last thing you want to be talking about and it's probably the last thing you would want to be doing with a fascist, but-" Josef sat up a bit straighter, "When we have those fascists offering his friendship, trade, and the promise to leave us out of, whatever nasty business it is they're doing, then we can at least offer a little something to keep the peace, no?"
Ivan's boss stood from his chair then and gave the ashen blonde a hard pat on the shoulder. "I know you'll do what's expected of you." And like that, he lit up a fresh cigarette and took a walk out of his office, leaving Ivan in the ornate room to stew over what he had just been told. It wasn't an option. He had to make Ludwig like him using different tactics than idle chat.
The phone conversation was even worse.
"Beilschmidt…"
Ivan could basically hear the grimace of the other on the line. He wasn't so lucky to have Ludwig pick up the phone.
"And why do I have a communist calling my house?" Ivan could hear the Prussian chewing on something.
"Last I remember, this is Ludwig's house. You're stuck in Konigsberg, surrounded by Pols."
That wasn't really something Gilbert wanted to be reminded of, so he cut to the chase, figuring exchanging pleasantries wasn't the best idea.
"What the hell do you want, Braginsky?"
"I need to speak to your brother, obviously. Why else would I be calling his home? You don't even need brains for that one. Just a bit of common sense. I suppose you're lacking in both."
He didn't hear anything on the other line besides Gilbert yelling for Ludwig saying, 'West, get your ass on the phone! Your shitty boyfriend is on!'
There was a fumbling noise, probably Gilbert dropping the phone on the table because he didn't want to deal with Ivan anymore. It took a minute's wait, but soon enough, the phone was picked up and Ivan could hear the much softer, docile voice on the phone.
"Ivan?"
He let out a sigh, obviously not excited for what was to come. It was a strange conversation to be having, even though he knew Hitler probably had the conversation with him and he knew the call was coming. He could hear the unevenness of Ludwig's breathing indicating his assumptions were correct.
"I think you know what I'm calling for, Ludwig, and I'd much rather not be having this conversation over the phone. Especially with your brother lurking about."
"I… agree."
Ivan was silent a moment. "Do you think you could come here? I'd… like to meet you in St. Petersburg if that's alright."
"Why not Moscow? Isn't that a bit of a trek for you?"
Ivan shrugged even though he knew Ludwig couldn't see. "I would just… I just don't want to be in Berlin again. In Peters I don't have my boss breathing down my neck. I'm almost afraid he would be sitting outside the door."
He could hear Ludwig swallowing and figured he didn't like that idea as much as Ivan didn't. Ludwig was hesitant, but he agreed.
...
Ivan's plane landed smoothly. The sound of artillery was deafening and the flashes across the sky were brighter than the afternoon sun. Thick clouds of smoke wafted from the burning buildings. This was where he would meet Ludwig for the first time in a year and Ivan couldn't help but catch himself wondering what the Germanic nation would be like now. A lot had changed since their last meeting. Ivan imagined he would look more tired, maybe have a new wrinkle or too. His face would be smudged with dirt and his voice would be hoarse from shouting orders to his troops, making sure that whatever he did, it would twist that knife good. Ivan could feel it in the pounding of his head and the pit of his stomach and now, the ache in his bones.
He stepped down from the plane and made his way to what he could see as a make shift camp, no doubt the makings of the people he had spoken to earlier on the phone. Making his way there he stepped inside, immediately being greeted by a salute from three men. They were standing by a table in the center of the shelter which had a map spread. Ivan crinkled his nose.
"You're sitting here thinking of strategies?"
The three looked to each other for a moment before one spoke up to inform him that that was the least they could do instead of sending their small squad headlong into the fray. The nation rolled his eyes but he understood nonetheless.
"Your rifle, please." Ivan held his hand out, expecting a weapon to be laid there.
"Sir?"
Ivan gave the one who spoke up, the one standing in the middle, a look that meant to keep his mouth shut. A rifle was given to him and he pulled back the bolt to check if the thing was loaded, pleased with the results, and reached for a pouch of ammunition.
"Don't get killed while I'm gone. Reinforcements will be here momentarily."
The three looked off at him, unsure if they should let him go or not as he left them behind, making his way towards the gun fire, hoping he could spot his husband out there.
...
Watching Ludwig leave his plane and step into St. Petersburg was something else. Ivan felt his stomach in his throat and his heart was pounding. He was nervous, of course. Why? He wasn't so sure. This was different. So different. Not only were he and Ludwig complete opposites, but just the fact that they were being forced together like this didn't sit well with him and he figured his partner felt the same.
When the two stood face to face they looked at each other for a moment. Ludwig's face was flushed with embarrassment and Ivan's held a look of sympathy.
"You aren't making us stay in a hotel are you?"
Ivan let himself laugh despite the weight of their meeting. "That sounds like something your brother would say only I'm sure it would sound a lot fouler coming out of his mouth. No, we aren't staying in a hotel. I usually stay in the palace when I visit here, but that seems a bit extravagant. I have a town house that seems a bit more appropriate."
Ludwig nodded. They shuffled there a bit awkwardly at first before Ivan lead him to the car.
Their first union was clumsy, to say the least. Ivan denied any kisses aimed towards his mouth which only further embarrassed Ludwig and they both had it in their heads that they would be the dominant one. They actually had to stop for a moment to actually talk out how it would even work considering they both had their own delusions and were having a rather hard time communicating with each other. Ivan made it very clear that he had no intentions of lying down for Ludwig and after some persuasion, the German let things play Ivan's way.
Ivan didn't mean to make it any more humiliating for Ludwig than it already was, but he just didn't go about things the right way. Ludwig knew why Ivan took him from behind. He didn't want to see his face and while Ludwig couldn't help but think he'd feel the same, it still sort of stung.
However, Ivan didn't let either of them go unsatisfied. He may have fumbled a bit, but he let himself learn Ludwig, putting which things that made the stoic man gasp away into memory in case this wasn't the last time. Their skin, slick with sweat, slid smoothly together. Ludwig took to burying his face in one of Ivan's feather pillows and Ivan leaned forward to let his forehead rest between the German's shoulder blades. They rocked forward and back together, finally finding a rhythmic melody both could follow and enjoy. The two nations allowed their bodies to press close to each other, Ivan desperate for the heat that came off Ludwig, and Ludwig using the coolness of Ivan's body to help relieve the heat of his own. Both of them turned out to be rather quiet in bed, neither having some horrible moaning fit. The most they could get out of each other was gasping and soft, short groans. Even when Ivan climaxed first, his breath hitched and his jaw dropped but no sound came from him besides his own shuddering breaths as he let his weight fall onto Ludwig for a moment. Realizing his new blunder, he helped Ludwig upright after he had regained himself and took the Aryan by the mouth, finishing him off and leaving them with nothing left but silence and dampened sheets.
The deed was done and their bosses would be happy, and even in their awkward toss, there was something that happened between them, like a mutual acceptance between them. Their marriage was consummated. They were on friendly terms. And maybe they would come together again to try and fit with each other better.
...
And they did. The second time was better played, a bit more romantic, a bit more passionate, letting them experience something a bit more intense than before. The third time their best and last. That was a year ago.
Yelling 'Ludwig' out to a throng of German soldiers was one of the more stupid things that Ivan had done. There were probably twenty Germans in front of him with the name Ludwig and all the yelling did was grant him a storm of gun fire. His next idea was still stupid but worked a bit better. He spotted the biggest German he could see, shot him down and was able to recover the body without getting himself filled with lead. He donned the uniform, which fit him a bit tightly, but went in all the same, smearing grease on his face. As long as he didn't speak, he was okay.
In fact, he was better than okay. He made it to the commanders. He knew he would find Ludwig. And find him he did. Ludwig was standing inside a tent, speaking with one of the officers when he spotted Ivan, his eyes widening for a moment. However, Ludwig didn't bring attention to Ivan's presence surprisingly. He excused himself and made his way outside. Ivan immediately grabbed the collar of Ludwig's uniform and all but dragged him to the side of a bombed out warehouse.
His rifle was aimed between the German's eyes in no time.
"Ludwig. I assume you know why I am here. But I don't know why you are here."
The "Beilschmidt" held his hands up near his head, knowing full well that the Soviet would shoot him in the head without hesitation if he so much as saw his finger twitch. Ludwig definitely did not expect Ivan to show up, at least not in his own camp.
"Why did you do this?" Ivan asked, his eyes narrowing but showing a look of honest confusion. Ludwig's own face was stone cold, taking on no emotion.
"My boss-"
"Don't drag him into this. This is between you and me, Ludwig, why did you come here? Why are you destroying my home? You, who are so obsessed with your documents and your work. Does a piece of paper regarding peace suddenly seem nonexistent to you?"
Ludwig was silent, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water for a moment as he tried to think of something to say. He eyes went to the ground and back up to Ivan's face.
"I think… I understood something."
Ivan let out a snort, lifting his head to glare down at Ludwig. "And what would that be?"
"That, you and I aren't meant for each other. We never were. I want the Soviet Union. I don't want Ivan." He suddenly stood up straight, his face distorting slightly. "I'm going to rule for a thousand years, Braginsky. I'm going to have my honor. I won't make any mistakes."
And that shattered any hope of having a relationship with Germany. Ivan's finger tapped the trigger of his rifle slightly.
"I'm sorry, Ludwig. But you just did. You must understand that now I can't let you go."
"I can yell-"
"And by the time they find you, they'll have to help pick pieces of your skull off the ground. You come with me or retain a bit of brain damage for the rest of your stay here."
They glared at each other for a moment. Ivan understood. Ludwig was right. They weren't meant for each other. They never liked each other. Even in their feigned contentedness with each other, it was all just more political masquerading. Nothing was real. Ivan felt nothing for the past ten years except for regret at what a waste of time it was. He was ready to remove the German thorn from his side. Yes, neither felt anything more than hatred for the other and the situation they had found themselves in for the last decade. And if there was any aching in either chest, that was just the contentment that they had done the best for their respective bosses with what they had.
Ludwig reached for his pistol and Ivan pulled the trigger.
And here we have a little historical drabble I pushed out one night. I got the inspiration after reading like the first four pages of a book on the Nazi-Soviet Pact. My attention span didn't let me finish the book but the bit I read was enough inspiration for this.
A special thanks to We're All to Blame for beta reading this and helping me look less stupid v u v
Fair Winds guys