Author's Note: This is a de-anon from the Hetalia kinkmeme!
-Summary of the request: Russia cross-dresses and seduces another nation based off of Lola by The Kinks.
CCC : Now with more DRAG QUEEN!
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. If I did there'd be more Cold War stuff. :3
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Ivan walked back into the club feeling slightly less cheerful than when he had stepped out to say goodbye to Nikolai, the man who had so kindly bought him and his co-workers three bottles of the bars finest vodka each. Now, Ivan was not one to latch unto a specific customer but when they dished out that kind of money, could Ivan possibly say no? Of course not!
Sure, he liked the attention but it was for the good of the club. Yea, right. Who was he kidding? He enjoyed seeing the men that came in lose money because he knew they'd be missing it the next day. He could only smile as he imagined the pitiful, horrified looks they would have on their faces when they fully realized just how much they had spent while extremely drunk. He sighed as he recalled all the times he had seen this happen. Yes, work was very gratifying.
Ivan called it work because the time he spent at New Age could certainly qualify as nothing else. New Age was the name of a trendy bar in the center of Moscow frequented by the city's young, hip and prominently gay.
Ivan, of course, had not known this when he had stumbled upon the establishment more than a decade ago. He had simply wanted a place to drink because on that particular night, he had deemed his living room too nostalgic of a place to drink in. His economy had not been doing so well, leaving him sick and with the biggest desire to simply get hammered. Not once did he think he would find a place that would cater to his alcoholic needs as well as give him a newfound love for dressing in drag. Of course, he only did that on certain nights of the week.
Tonight was supposed to have been just like every other Friday night; he would spend part of the day finishing up some paperwork and tidying up his house, then leaving for New Age at seven. The only added difference was that Ivan had attended a summit meeting earlier in the day. The meeting was uneventful, following the same routine as all the other meetings before it. He had seen Germany stand at the podium, stoic as always, and much like all the other times, watched as the meeting dissolved into groping and boasting of over-the-top ideas from France and America respectively to bickering among the many nations present to full blown fights. And just like always, despite the meeting taking place in his country, he had put on his giggling, childlike façade, given his input once or twice, asked everyone "to become one with Mother Russia" and promptly left. He had things to do, people to see and patrons to entertain.
Yes, tonight should have been another regular night. Unfortunately, he had run into a small problem. A small, obnoxiously American problem. The thought of someone finding out about his so-called second job was always in the back of his mind, nagging and sometimes even keeping him from enjoying himself. He also knew that with a quick show of his pipe and a thorough taking to, whichever came first, he could get away with saying just about anything.
Ivan made his way across the club towards the bar thinking back on that one particular man a couple of years ago that had tried to find out more about a certain Russian lady with pretty eyes. The man had been too drunk to remember her name, insisting that it was Livia, and declaring Ivan her older brother. Ivan would have simply regarded him as a stupid fool and left it at that but the scene the idiotic man was causing needed to be stopped. Ivan had grabbed the man by the collar and dragged him outside to the alleyway that lined the back entrance of the club. The man had to be taught some respect. And who better to teach him than Ivan's trusty pipe?
It was sufficient to say that no one saw the man around the club again. Actually, no one saw the man ever again but those who worked in the club knew Ivan well enough to know that the man's impromptu disappearance was to be expected. You did not bother Ivan Braginsky like that and live to tell the tale.
Ivan chuckled as he stepped up to the bar and ordered himself a drink. He was about to turn around and survey the crowd for his show later on, when he felt someone staring at him. Years of simply observing others' movements led him to develop a keen sense of his surroundings. He always knew if someone was watching him or even casually glancing his way. What he felt now was different. It felt like the person was trying to make him turn around or perhaps undress him with their eyes. No matter. Ivan was not one to give in to others. It was usually the other way around.
He decided to give the person a little show, whoever or wherever they were. He leaned forward placing both elbows on the counter and pushed back with his butt, creating a haughty curve in the placement of his body. He then slowly ran the upper part of his boot-clad foot along the back of his leg, almost invitingly. Maybe if the person got the hint they would come up to him and order him a drink or five. He continued his movements a few more times before he felt someone come up behind him.
"I thought it might have been some weird Russian mind trick or something," the person said and Ivan immediately stopped. Wonderful. "But... You're actually in here."
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alfred F. Jones, aka America, step up to stand next to him at the bar. He didn't miss the way Alfred seemed to stare at his lower back for a few seconds before coming up to gaze at his face. So the obnoxious American had followed him into the club. Why was he not surprised? Alfred was always so utterly irritating like that. No doubt he would want an explanation about everything.
Ivan made to answer but stopped when he noticed the person coming up next to Alfred. Now that the other man was here, he might as well have some fun. After all it was Alfred's fault for following Ivan into the club. He watched as Viktor, oh excuse me, Victoria, crept up behind Alfred, resting his chin on the young mans shoulder.
"Oh, fresh meat! He's hot. You gonna introduce me?," Victoria asked, winking up at Alfred from his place on the blonds shoulder. "I want to play with him too!"
Alfred stared shell-shocked at the man draped over his shoulder. Victoria was the clubs self-proclaimed number one drag queen, always wearing the most outrageous costumes and the most extravagant make-up. Tonight, she had chosen an all green and black ensemble complete with feathery hat. Her green sleeveless dress was shaped more like a bodice than anything else, creating curves and adding a bust to what would have normally been very defined pectorals. Long legs covered with black pantyhose extended out from underneath a very short sequined green skirt. Glittery green and black make-up covered her eyes complete with olive colored lipstick.
To say the least, Alfred was more than a little scared to be standing next to someone so outrageously dressed.
Ivan turned to look at the American with a strange glint in his eyes, visibly struggling to keep from smirking as he saw Alfred pale when Victoria stroked the young mans chin with the pad of her thumb.
"Oh, I don't know his name yet," Ivan said. No one in the club knew anything about Ivan other than his real name and the quaint little fact that he could drink half of the bar's vodka supply and still want more. He expected it stay that way. If pretending to not know Alfred would make sure it would stay that way, then so be it. "We just met, didn't we babe?" He raised an eyebrow in Alfred's direction, hoping the American would get the hint.
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