Bulletproof
Chapter 3: Charting Expedition
Reviews:
Mokuren no Ken: Haha, their banter is amusing. :)
Guest 1: Awwww, thanks~
woahicecream: Heh, we are masters of playing your hearts with these characters. ;)
Seven of Clubs: We heard you like plot twists in your smut~
Guest 2: Thank you!
Gemleaf: As you command, my dear. ;)
Tamagoakura: Well, it did cause Arthur to die. I mean, that's pretty awful and traumatizing. :(
Trahnael: Welp, hopefully we can shed some light on a decent pairing (when done right. I'm not a huge fan of the rape fetish/guro ones I seem to run into often).
Austriamochi: AWWW! Thank you, sweetie! I'm glad you like the AU! ^^
God! No! ARTHUR!
"Ugh!" Alfred bolted awake in his seat, his body drenched in sweat as he shook from the still burning images his dreams had brought back. His hands rubbed at his face to try and clear his vision, already feeling his stomach churn, ready to vomit. It had been a long time since those memories had haunted him in his dreams, and now they had returned.
His eyes slowly drifted to the sleeping form across from him, his fear and sorrow turning to rage coursing through his blood. He didn't even realize he was moving until his hand held his glock, cocked and aimed at the back of the Russian's head. His fingers flexed against the grip of the weapon. It was almost too easy.
This man... he was the one that day. My first missed shot in my career that cost not only civilian lives, but the love of my life to be taken from me as well.
He gritted his teeth, his body shaking as he tried, wanting desperately to take his revenge. This man had been his contracted kill who got away. Why shouldn't he pull the trigger? Why shouldn't he just end it all now?
Fuckin' damn it! I can't. Not yet, he argued with himself, reluctantly putting the handgun away before retreating to his own bench, not wanting to draw suspicion if the man woke up.
This mission is important. I can't do this on my own. I'll just use him until we've succeeded, and take him out when it's all over.
Curling back up the way he'd been, he feigned sleep, while his mind raced over plots to see his lover's murder silenced for good.
Nearly eleven hours on a train left them plenty of time to sleep. While the Russian wasn't used to so much of it, he certainly didn't complain. Where they were going, sleep would be precious and likely only occur in brief doses as the two of them wouldn't both be allowed rest. There would always need to be a lookout.
Carefully sitting up, Ivan rolled his heavy shoulders to limber the thick muscles of his upper back. He absently rubbed the back of his neck as he blinked lazily, letting the world come into focus. When it did, his violet gaze turned to the sleeping American.
"Alfred," he rumbled, voice thick from sleep. "We should be in Yaroslavl' soon. Get up."
Having been up, Alfred pretended to grumble at the Russian's voice for the need to get up. He was thankful nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The man had definitely been asleep when Alfred had held the gun pointed at his head. At least his cover was still intact.
"Uugh, rather have slept on the floor. Nothin' like bein' cramped up on a train bench for eleven hours." Alfred slowly sat up, cracking his neck and back as he stretched. "Fuck."
Ivan attempted to tame his mussed hair while listening to Alfred complain about the stiff train seats.
"Trust me, the floor is not someplace you'd like to be," he retorted, still not amused by the fact Alfred had literally shoved him onto the floor earlier. Standing up, he felt the train jolt slightly before an announcement came over the cabin speakers to inform the passengers to gather their belongings as they were approaching the Yaroslavl' Glavny train station.
"They're not that bad." He groaned as he got to his feet, reaching up to pull his large duffle bag and weapon case from the rack above them. Hitching his bag over his shoulder, he turned to the Russian expectantly.
"This is our stop. When we get off, we need to find an ATM. Hopefully we can hire a driver to take us out to the woodlands. But from there, we're going to have to walk. I hope your government remember to send you snow camouflage along with your weapons," Ivan said with a smirk.
"Alrighty, lead on," Alfred waved on.
Exiting the train, they were immediately thrust into a throng of people, though nowhere near the mess of the St. Petersburg station. Ivan lead, weaving his way through the crowd to an ATM. The Russian withdrew quite a few 1000 Ruble notes and stashed it in his back pocket.
"Should be enough to get us out of the city without questions," Ivan said as he led them out to the street before flagging down a taxi. Ivan leaned on the car, talking to the driver and explaining that they needed to be taken well outside the city, but that Ivan was willing to cover the odd fee. When the driver agreed, Ivan motioned for Alfred to put his gear in the trunk as he did before climbing into the backseat.
The drive was a bit long, but Ivan passed it by watching the scenery slowly change from big city to suburban to countryside. Alfred didn't seem too eager to talk, which perturbed the Russian a bit given their earlier bantering. Something had changed on that train ride, something that didn't sit well with Ivan at all despite the fact he couldn't identify just what that something was.
Their driver stopped the taxi as the road started to turn hazardous, and offered an apologetic smile. Ivan rolled his eyes but handed the man more than enough to cover the fee. The driver thanked them with a lazy grin before Ivan got out and retrieved their gear.
A hefty sigh escaped the violet-eyed man as they were left to stand in the cold and snow, watching the taxi vanish into a haze of white.
"If Elise's information is correct, and I doubt it isn't, then the meth lab we're looking for is hidden inside a bunker complex left over from the second World War. I'd guess it would be in the hills," he said, motioning to the path sloping upwards into the sleeping trees.
Dropping his duffel bag, Ivan knelt beside it to pull out his heavy snow camouflage jacket and pants. He wore them over his black peacoat and denims. He was extremely quick about removing his shoes in favor of his treaded boots. Flipping the deep hood of the jacket up, he quickly had his AA-12 shotgun strapped over his shoulder at the ready. Glancing over, he waited for Alfred to mostly finish dressing before turning towards the path and beginning the long hike up.
Alfred had followed along in gearing up and was quickly chasing after the large Russian. He had faltered in putting his own boots on as the snow felt like razors to his socked feet in the freezing temperatures. Once he was ready though, the extra layers of clothing really helped fight off the cold.
As he neared Ivan, his eyes lingered over the AA-12 on the man's back. It was a beautiful weapon, finely painted in a flat black finish and perfectly kept. He couldn't help but comment on it.
"Been a long time since I've seen one of those."
Ivan never ceased his strong pace, even as Alfred spoke, wanting to be out of the open trail as soon as possible. He suddenly veered off the path, heading into the woods with an attentive alertness. Waltzing straight into an armed base on the open path was asking to be shot between the eyes.
"I've owned AA-12s ever since I joined the military. This one I made sure to bring with me to Africa, though she only spilled blood once." He glanced back at Alfred. "When you see them, it only means trouble."
Hearing the mention of Africa again only set the hairs on the back of Alfred's neck on end. He really wished he could get the guy to shut-up about Africa. He needed a level head if he was going to let the man live 'till the end of the mission.
"Yeah, I've seen them mow down some targets. Not somethin' I'd like to be in the way of."
Ivan ducked beneath a low hanging branch as they continued on. In an attempt to make conversation, he finally spoke up.
"Barretts are not exactly common either," he said, "when did you get that one?"
Alfred looked down to the case that carried his own weapon.
"Oh, this one..." The one he used now had very little significance to him other than the power and accuracy of the weapon itself. However, the one he had replaced was the one he had trained on. He had never once missed his mark. He was in the top tier of mercenaries, but on that one mission in Africa, when he missed the man who now walked in front of him, he felt a cold death linger on the trigger. Because he had missed his target, he was ordered to take out the bomb-laden civilians Ivan had sicced on him. With their deaths on his hands, all he ever felt was their phantoms attached to his weapon.
"Ahh, it's nothin' special. Pretty new actually. Figured I'd give the A1 model a run," he commented, now finding a need to change the subject once again. "Ahh, so, shouldn't these bunkers be listed on a map? Do we have coordinates? I know we weren't allowed GPS or satellite phones."
"No. This place is long forgotten. The only ones who would know of this place are our enemies, our governments and the dead that lay frozen beneath the icy soil. These bunkers scatter the base of the mountains and all across Western Russia from when Hitler betrayed Stalin and attacked us in World War Two. If we fail here, there will be no one to find us." His forewarning was cut short as he suddenly stopped. They'd reached the crest of a small ridge. The steep slope below lead into the first of many concrete openings that had once been concealed behind camouflaged doors. Over the years, the snow and flora had collapsed them in, leaving gaping holes in the frost-crusted earth.
Ivan slowly moved to a crouch, loosening his shotgun from his shoulder to cradle it against his shoulder. The satin black finish on the weapon would keep light from reflecting off of it, and the snow outfits left Ivan nearly invisible as he moved low to the craggy, icy ground. He peeked through the scope into the large complex that spread out before them, buried into the side of stony hill. From inside, he caught a glimpse of movement, but the scope wasn't strong enough to clearly define anything from the distance.
"Check the complex, I can't get a decent range on this scope." Ivan shifted, moving to carefully inch his way down the slope. "Get what numbers and positions you can, then follow me," he whispered back up to the American.
Without falter, Ivan walked into the dark threshold of the underground entrance as he flicked on a Maglite, holding it beneath the barrel of the AA-12 The bright beam illuminated the walls, showing the decaying plant life that had shriveled with Winter's coming. As he scanned the first room he entered into, his violet gaze alighted on large crates stacked against the wall, along with tables, maps and strewn about tools all damaged beyond the point of recognition. Most of the rotten furniture was broken and the lone light that dangled from loose wiring clearly wasn't about to work.
Alfred had nodded his agreement as he got down low to the ground. He watched briefly as Ivan disappeared into one of the busted entryways into the bunker. They were still far from the enemy's main congregation, but being attached to the same building felt a bit reckless.
Getting back on task, he quietly opened the case to his barrett and pulled out the weapon. Minding where the sun was, he made sure the lens wouldn't come in contact to give off any reflection. Getting down on his belly, he positioned himself at the crest of the hill - hidden behind frostbitten shrubs - he shouldered the rifle and set about taking inventory of their enemy.
Looks like this section of the bunker isn't high priority. Only two armed patrols walking the perimeter, but armed with... shit, AKs? Certainly not a minor outfit. He waited a few more minutes, checking to see for any other signs of enemy movement, as well as scoping the area for other possible snipers, as well as good spots for himself to take up.
With a general map of the area in his head, he moved back down the small slope to follow after Ivan.
Slowly approaching the entrance, he pulled out his glock and eased his way with his back to the stone wall. The interior was dark, and there was no sign of Ivan, though the heavy boot prints amidst the dust and dirt gave him something to follow. He also noted that there was only one set of footprints. This area was certainly not being used.
With his voice low, he called out to his new partner.
"Ivan?"
"Over here, American. And keep your voice down!" a harsh whisper resounded from the darkness before Ivan turned the corner, the bright beam of his Maglite illuminating Alfred's figure.
He approached Alfred with the shotgun lowered but still gripped tightly in his hands.
"This portion of the complex seems abandoned. The doors at the far end of the hallway are sealed shut. The only way in and out is through the entrance behind us. The munitions supplies are gone or were never here. This was probably a tactician's or a cartographer's room, judging by all the old maps." He motioned to the warped and worn papers on the wall and table with the muzzle of his gun.
"It's not the best, but it's our safest bet for now. It hasn't been touched in a long time, so I doubt the enemy even knows of this small portion. It's rather far off from the main sleeping quarters and larger facilities if I'm reading that complex map properly."
Ivan shifted his sight to Alfred.
"What did you find out?"
Alfred rolled his shoulder, a little annoyed he'd been told to be quiet. He was being quiet, he was a sniper for fuck's sake!
"We're definitely far from the main hub. They've only got two patrols walkin' the perimeter, but they're packin' AKs. This definitely isn't a light operation they've got goin' on here."
Ivan grimaced at the mention of assault rifles. He hadn't wanted this to turn into a firefight if it came down to it, but he'd known better than to get his hopes up too much.
"Perhaps we'll be lucky. AK-47s are cheap weapons, so this group might be untrained if that's all they can afford." Ivan shook his head, moving to the get a closer look at the complex maps. "Or it could just be they want guns that won't jam or break with the cold. Either way, we are still going to be heavily outnumbered and outgunned."
Slinging the AA-12 across his back again, Ivan traced an imagined route of attack through the complex.
"Without knowing the exact number of enemies, we won't be able to plan a strategic offensive. We're going to need to do reconnaissance to establish as accurate a number as we can get. But it's inadvisable now. We'll wait until the sun sets to give us the most cover. Agreed? Or did you have a better plan?"
Alfred shook his head.
"'Bout the same conclusion I came to. Though..." he involuntarily shivered, "just the thought of being out there at night is going to be brutal. It's one thing to be moving around, but when you're camped out in a spot like I have to be, the cold cuts to the bone quick."
Ivan smirked, that same knowing and vicious grin that he'd flashed to Alfred at their heated kissing.
"If it's any comfort, you can always come back to warm up with me," he rumbled, before moving back towards the entrance. When he was close enough to see the angle of light, and realized the sun was beginning to set, he returned with orders.
"We have a few hours until night is upon us. I suggest resting after that long hike if we intended to be crouched and creeping all night. That kind of terrain and cold does damage to the joints quickly." Ivan sat himself down against the far wall, laying his shotgun across his lap as he patted the ground for Alfred to sit beside him and hopefully share body heat.
Alfred eyed the obvious intention for a brief moment, knowing he wanted the warmth of the other man, but not desperate just yet. He would need to keep up pretenses that there was nothing wrong. For him to suddenly be adverse to warming up with the man - which was strategic in its own right, even if they took it to a more extreme method - Ivan would certainly question what was wrong. He wasn't in the mood to think up a lie he'd need to adhere to.
"Good idea," he agreed, though rather than sitting down beside the Russian, he brought his barrett up onto the lone desk and began to look it over, striping a few of the pieces for some brief maintenance to make sure everything was in proper order. He hadn't used the weapon in some time, and shelf life wasn't always kind. "Though first, my girl needs a little TLC."
Ivan scoffed, but instinctively held the AA-12 closer. The beloved weapon had always been a familiar comfort to him. Though was a tad bit confused by the acronym he was quite unfamiliar with.
"TLC?" he repeated, obviously looking for an explanation.
Alfred smirked, teasing, "and here I took you for a girl band kind of guy." Alfred chuckled under his breath, though he stopped a moment realizing what he was doing.
Why am I joking around? I can't get soft now.
Clearing his throat he answered, "TLC is tender loving care." He then resumed stripping his weapon, his attention completely on his work.
Ivan furrowed his brows, still equally as confused he was before. But he didn't exactly like looking so foolish or ignorant, and left it at that with an annoyed huff, but did add his own commentary.
"I'll have you know I'm not particularly fond of any of your strange American music. It makes no damned sense." The Russian shrugged into his heavy coat a bit more, a faint draft picking up and chilling him now that he lacked physical exercise to keep his muscles warmed.
Alfred shivered as he paused in his work before continuing the neutral topic.
"American music: that's a pretty broad sweep. I know Russia's not all classical and opera." He had checked most of the barrett's components and was pretty satisfied with their condition. He then began to put the weapon back together as he added, "what kind of music do you listen to anyway? Or do you prefer the sound of your commie propaganda?" he chided, nudging his boot against Ivan's side teasingly.
Ivan growled at the Communist joke.
"The Soviet Union dissolved years ago. I do not support governments that leave their people starving." The big Russian grabbed Alfred's ankle lightly, tugging faintly. He wanted the younger's warmth to share, and maybe steal a kiss or two.
He softened though as he spoke fondly of music though, glad to move away from politics.
"I love classical music, yes - preferably with a deep cello - but when I studied in England, I found I quite enjoyed their older rock bands. And well-" Ivan staggered, feeling a bit embarrassed for admitting it, but the heavy beats and bass drops of the London underground always fascinated him, though he'd been looked at rather stupidly for suggesting it when he'd returned home. "I think they call it dubstep these days?"
Alfred laughed lightly.
"I know, I know. Russia's cool now." Getting the gist from the movement, he finished putting his barrett together and finally took a seat down beside the Russian.
As Ivan spoke, he had been about to comment on the man's interest in dubstep, but the thought of England sent a sharp pang through his chest as he hissed inwardly through his teeth.
That's right. Arthur is dead because I didn't kill this guy when I had the chance. Arthur...
Wrapping his arms around himself tightly, he buried his face into the thick collar of his jacket as he tried to force the pain away.
"It's fuckin' cold..." his voice was muffled, but he had lost his earlier interest in their conversation.
Ivan sensed another of these dramatic shifts in the air between them. It pissed him off to no end that he couldn't figure just why they kept happening. When had the first time been triggered? When he'd spoken of his scar? Now it was over dubstep? Alfred didn't even seem outwardly upset, but the strange stiffness and subtle measure didn't elude his Spetsnaz training.
Determined to rid the tension away, Ivan looped an arm around the American's neck to pull him close. Bowing his head some, he tipped Alfred's chin so he could brush his lips against the younger's.
"I'm warm," he purred.
Being pulled close and having the Russian's lips brushing against Alfred's own quickly set the American's blood pumping, but his mind was still being thwarted by memories.
He shot his gaze away to the side but remained in the Russian's grip. He couldn't meet those violet eyes, not while his thoughts were on Arthur. It felt like such a betrayal to his memory. Even though it wasn't out of love, any sort of intimacy with the man who was ultimately Arthur's killer felt entirely wrong. How important was this mission? They were suppose to just be busting a drug lord, but Alfred's instincts screamed at him that there was more to it than that. A feeling that even more innocents would be hurt if this mission wasn't carried out.
Fighting with himself, he finally relented, and with a warm sigh against the man's chapped lips, he whispered, "you are," before closing the gap and sealing his lips against the older's.
Ivan grinned against the American's lips, and moved softly against him for a moment. But once he got a taste of Alfred, his blood heated beneath pale skin, a sluggish warmth crawling through his veins. The easy kiss quickly turned to one of force as Ivan pressed back with an almost bruising force, repeating his aggression from the train ride to tangle his tongue with the blue-eyed man's.
While his mouth was busy, the Russian carefully pushed his shotgun aside, and turned his hips some to pull Alfred into the curve of his body.
"You see?" he whispered breathlessly upon withdrawing. "Nice and warm." His hands skimmed up and down Alfred's side as he nipped his bottom lip. "Now then, care to keep warm with me a bit longer?" he mused aloud, hugging Alfred to his flank, teeth grazing his jaw suggestively.
Once Ivan pulled back from the kiss, Alfred was surprised by the shudder in his breathing. Since the incident, Alfred had only felt the touch of others merely to fight off the loneliness that came on occasionally. However, none of them had stirred such a reaction as this man had in him. He wasn't sure what it was, but it scared him.
Finding his voice having left him. Alfred simply nodded to Ivan's want and moved a bit closer. He couldn't bring himself to do much though. Warring emotions were not something he was used to, and Ivan seemed to have set off WW3 inside the American's mind and body. The outcome was looking bleak.
The lack of retort bothered Ivan more than it should have. Since when was the quirky American silent about anything? He looked down, wanting to ask what had come over him, but he noted the almost faraway look Alfred's eyes, and knew it all too well. He was sure his own eyes took on that same glaze when he remembered becoming an orphan overnight, or when thinking of the brutal African warlord he'd once been forced to serve.
Growling out a sigh, Ivan simply wrapped his arms around the younger. He took pity on the man, that was all. Everyone had their past and Ivan could relate to having an awful one.
I'm getting soft in my old age...
"Get some rest. I'll wake you when it's your turn to take watch."
Alfred nodded as he blew out a sigh, relieved Ivan didn't push him any further. The man was rather considerate, but not enough to keep Alfred from remembering this was disgusting enough to strap bombs to innocent civilians.
Forcing it from his mind, he tucked against the man for his warmth, though paused when he realized he had nuzzled against the soft cotton of the scarf the man always wore.
This scarf... if only he'd kept it on. This would have been so much easier then.
With his thoughts still belligerent, he tried to force himself to sleep as the cold bit at his back.
Ivan sat still as the American drifted off, the tiniest of smiles on his lips when Alfred nuzzled into his scarf more. The older shook his head, grooming a hand back through Alfred's hair before settling in for a few hours of watch.
And when the time came to wake the younger, Ivan shook his shoulder gently, hoping not to startle him awake. That typically ended badly with highly trained killers like themselves.
"Hey, up with you, lazy American. I let you sleep too long as it is."
Alfred woke, feeling rather groggy, but surprised at just how restful it had been. In fact, he felt better than he had with eleven hours on the train ride.
Clearing his throat he leaned his head back a bit to look up at the Russian.
"Alright then, your turn." With his mind still hazy with sleep, and without realizing it, he angled his head upwards to press a few soft kisses along the man's strong jaw. "Better be ready to move out when I wake you. I don't care to be out there too long."
"Hypocrite," Ivan teased in good nature, his gloved fingers grooming the soft hairs at the nape of Alfred's neck. "Telling me to be up in an instant when you're the one still curled up with me." He did his best to hide the little of bit of unidentifiable pleasure bubbling up in his system. It wasn't the usual heat he felt when aroused, but something more passive and less scalding.
Ivan decided it was simply experiencing something new. He'd never known the softness of gentle kisses along his jaw. The sharp, rough bite of a good fuck was far more familiar. Just dealing with the animal need for release and dominance were all he took lovers for. But Alfred wasn't exactly a lover, so allowing a little bending of the rules was alright.
Right?
Ivan tilted his head down to press a kiss to Alfred's lips, letting them linger there as he spoke.
"Need help waking up? You seem rather groggy," he offered with a deep rumbling purr from within his thick chest.
Alfred hadn't comprehended a word that Ivan said, more or less enjoying the sound of the man's heavy accent as he spoke. All he knew was he wanted more of those lips on his own.
"Help, yes," he mumbled out, too busy bringing his hands up to run through silver hair and meeting the older's lips again. This time he pressed back a bit more needily. His tongue darting out to lick along the Russian's lower lip before biting lightly. His body was beginning to warm up much quicker now, and the restfulness that was bogging him down slowly began to ebb.
"Gladly." The Russian chuckled before complying with Alfred's needy kiss. Tilting his head for a better angle, Ivan helped the American stir with an open-mouthed kiss, flicking his tongue across Alfred's to stir him a bit. It wasn't long though before his instincts naturally picked up as heat flooded his body. Cupping the nape of Alfred's neck, he squeezed lightly, rolling his thumb in the kinked muscle and much more heatedly kissed the younger.
Beginning to feel himself become more awake, realization began to dawn on him. He hadn't intended to be lulled so easily into this, but he wasn't about to play the coy maiden, especially not with Alfred's true feelings for Ivan returning to the forefront of his mind.
With an aggressive growl, Alfred finally found the strength and rolled Ivan back against the wall they'd been rested up against, the American coming over to straddle the man's legs in the process. Repositioned and with more of an advantage, Alfred fought back against the kiss, wanting his own dominance over the man. Tongues tangling, he pressed back, wanting to be inside Ivan's mouth, greedily wanting to hear the older moan with his want for Alfred.
I might have moaned your name before, but that was before I knew who you were. Now, I want to hear my name come from those lips. You're going to want me. Beg for me. Plead for me. Those eyes will be wide with hurt, as I rest the barrel of my gun between them. I want you to hurt the way I hurt, when you took Arthur away from me - if only for that short moment your heart still beats.
Ivan hadn't expected Alfred to be so aggressively in his lap and forcing him back against the wall. It startled him a moment, and he found Alfred suddenly reversing Ivan's original intent. It didn't deter the Russian though. This could be a rather fun game if that's what Alfred wanted to play.
While he didn't submit, he eased himself some to lull Alfred deeper into the game. Besides, he certainly didn't mind the younger's fiery return and the feel of the American in his mouth and in his lap. Ivan got an arm around Alfred's waist to keep him with the Russian, while his other hand gripped his jaw.
The violet-eyed man may have went lax for a time, but he began to press back harder again, wanting to force Alfred to work for this. Let the younger think he could dominate the older; Ivan wasn't about to lose to some spry American mercenary. Gripping him tightly, Ivan grinned into the kiss, a burning thrill in his blood.
Alfred felt the heat rising in him again as it had on the train. Gaining the upper hand on the man sent his nerves ablaze. He hadn't initially anticipated this reaction when the thought came over him, but it didn't last long before Ivan began to take over.
He found himself retreating, trying to force his tongue against Ivan's but losing ground quickly. Before he knew it Ivan was dominating him once more, and he felt something between a whine and a moan begin to bubble up in his throat.
Finally, after more willpower than he realized he needed, Alfred wrenched back away from Ivan, but still kept in place by the man's hand at his waist.
"Alright, alright, I'm awake. Shit," he grumbled, bringing a hand up to rub at his jaw from the practically vise-like grip the man had held him in.
Ivan rumbled a throaty chuckle, brushing his knuckles along Alfred's jaw where he'd held him fast.
"Good," Ivan started smugly, "I always get the job done, no matter the task." Nipping lightly, he gave Alfred earlobe a quick lick before he released the man. That lovely whine Alfred had made still rang in the Russian's ears, leaving him with a satisfied smirk gracing his thin lips.
Bring a hand up, he rubbed his eyes tiredly with the heel of his palm.
"Unless you want to sit in my lap as I sleep, would you mind moving?" Grinning with a devilish playfulness, Ivan lightly ghosted his fingers under Alfred's jacket, gloved fingers brushing the heated skin on his hip. "Not that I mind you in my lap, that is."
"You're really cocky, ya know that? Commie bastard," Alfred growled, shivering briefly as Ivan's gloved hand touched skin.
"I have every reason to be," Ivan retorted with a smug tone. The Russian moved to lie down on his side, grumbling back a, "hush, Capitalist pig," before he let the cold lull him back to sleep after the heat dwindled from his system.
Clearing his throat, he shifted off the Russian to rest back against the wall. Crossing his arms over his chest to take his turn at watch.
"Alright, get some rest. I'll wake ya."
Alfred had settled back, content to wallow in his thoughts on what he was to do with Ivan, though he didn't have long before the man had finally fallen asleep.
Like hell I'm goin' to sit around here for the next four hours. I can get plenty done without him at me.
Moving slowly as to not wake the Russian, Alfred grabbed up his rifle and quietly made for the single entrance out into the fading light. There wouldn't be much to watch for here. The lack of footprints in the area made it abundantly clear they had a safe place to set up as a base.
Taking a final look behind him at the busted entryway, he wondered just how long this whole mission was going to take. Whether he'd be able to wait as long as it took before he needed to end Ivan's life. He didn't like the idea of having to wait so long. The man was already doing a number of getting under the American's skin. When the time came, he couldn't hesitate. Once Ivan was onto him, he wouldn't go down easy. There was just something telling Alfred he needed to really find out the kind of strength this man had, and he had a feeling he knew just how to invoke such a response.
Turning back around he then set off to scout the area. He'd bring back plenty of information on their enemies movements and locations, along with whatever he could sneak into the facility and get. Part of their mission was to procure necessary items on site. They had few provisions with them, and would certainly need more if this job lasted as long as Alfred thought.
He had been gone for a few hours, and was grinning from ear to ear at the success of his lone venture. He had located more of the enemy, and could easily recount their locations on the map they had of the facility back at base. Not only that, but he had been lucky and found a vehicle loaded with recently purchased - or stolen - provisions. Along with one particular item he felt would come in handy.
Stepping back into their small base of operations, Alfred was immediately relieved at the distinct temperature difference thanks in part to the bunker being so heavily enclosed. It wasn't a major change - he wouldn't be stripping out of his thickly lined winter camo - but the difference from having been in the dreaded elements themselves to inside was noticeable.
Resting his barrett on the ground at the door, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkened interior. He didn't sense the Russian was where he had left him. So as slow as he could, he reached for his glock and quietly called out to him.
To say Ivan was unamused would have been an understatement. The way he brought forth undocumented and unapproved training learned in the dead of winter - usually with a sheen of blood and sweat across his skin - to silently stalk behind Alfred should have said that. The instant he was within reach, a bone-breaking grip went around Alfred's wrist holding the glock and he held an Irbis knife to Alfred's throat.
He was glad he stood behind Alfred, where he couldn't see the furious snarl on his lips. Rumbling a deep growl from within his chest, he pressed the blade against Alfred's skin.
"You fucking idiot!" he managed in English. "Do you have any idea how furious I am? I thought you could have been dead! I thought you could have been captured, being tortured or worse!" But the rest was lost in snarled Russian until his chest, flush to Alfred's back, heaved.
Alfred's eyes widened in shock, surprised at just how well the large Russian had stealthily managed to come up from behind him. He didn't really expect the man to have been still sleeping, but his reaction was certainly intense.
"Shit! English, man! English! And get this fuckin' knife away from my throat!" He dropped the glock for good measure. The weapon spinning away uselessly on the stone floor. "Come on, relax, man. I didn't blow our cover or nothin'. Just chill."
Ivan thrust the knife back into his belt, but wrenched Alfred around to face him before balling his fists in the American's collar.
"Chill?" he snarled in English, a bit calmed by Alfred's voice. "It's cold enough, Alfred. God save you from me! I worried about you! I just spent two hours pacing this room like a caged animal thinking you might be dead!"
Alfred tried to lean back away from Ivan upon hearing his words. His eyes widening now more than they had when the knife was at his throat.
He... worried about me? That was his biggest concern? Not that I might get caught and blow the mission, but specifically about me? No... no, it couldn't be that. He just worried that he'd lose his partner in this difficult mission.
With an awkward laugh, Alfred brought his hands up to wrap around Ivan's at his collar. Patting them gently he responded,
"Hey, we're all good now, right? You've gotta give me a bit more credit than that. I was hand-picked for this job as you were. You'd think I'd get caught that easy?" he joked, trying to ease the Russian further.
Ivan grunted, but dropped his hands at the touch. He could have thrashed the American for the trouble he'd put him through.
"You may be good, but you're still an idiot!" Ivan retorted. "You had better have brought back something useful for this."
Alfred's eyes went from wide to glinting with mischievous glee. He took a step back from Ivan, pulling off his pack and kneeling down beside it.
"Am I such an idiot now?" Alfred grinned up at the Russian, slowly pulling out two full bottles of vodka and waving them at him suggestively. "Oh, there's also beef jerky, and 'round twenty-five to thirty armed guards patrolling or stationed around the entirety of the bunker," he lowered his voice, "which is fuckin' huge, by the way." Looking at one of the bottles in his hand, he turned his gaze back up to the man and waggled it provocatively.
"Peace?"
Ivan snatched the bottle, turning it over in his hands and eying it with approval. He grunted before nodding and tucking it under his arm.
Offering a hand to get Alfred up, he made motion for them to settle back where they'd been sleeping earlier.
"Since I can't say no to decent liquor, I suppose I have to agree to your peace treaty. Though I'll break your leg if you think to do it again. Now then," Ivan grinned devilishly, his anger having dissipated, "let's enjoy some of your spoils."
"Awesome!" Alfred grinned as he took his own seat and rested back against the wall, beyond thrilled with his job well done. "Though, I have to say, I'm more of a rum guy," he added as he unscrewed the cap of his own bottle. This wasn't exactly the greatest idea. Getting drunk on the job wasn't too smart, but with the temperatures they were facing, a little alcohol would be a good way to warm up.
"Hmm, what should we drink to?" He smiled, his earlier hate for the man beside him gone for the moment to simply bask in his success and good booze in general.
"To me and my patience!" Ivan grinned, downing a gulp of the fiery liquid with practiced ease. "I should have at least broken a finger or two for that little stunt." The Russian playfully elbowed Alfred's side, more than happy to rejoice in alcohol.
Alfred laughed.
"I was gunna say to a successful mission but that works too." He grinned, tilting the bottle back and taking a swig. Lowering it down again, he shook his head as the alcohol slid down his throat and warmed his insides. If nothing else had come from his little excursion, the alcohol had been worth every minute of it.
"I like vodka," Alfred began lazily after taking another swig, "but I'd still go for some rum any day."
"Vodka is better," Ivan commented, taking another sip, "always." Leaving no room for argument, he grinned down at Alfred. After taking another draught, he set the bottle on his thigh, swirling it absently as he let the alcohol burn its way into his system like a dull fire. He didn't want to necessarily get drunk, not here at least, but relaxing with the familiar ail-killer was always nice.
Turning his head, he gazed down at the American still nursing his drink. The man had always been attractive, but Ivan licked his lips at just how good the younger looked handling a drink Ivan had a terrible fondness for. Combining good looks and good alcohol was starting to be too much of a temptation.
Making sure the bottle was settled on the ground, Ivan let a gloved hand casually wander to touch Alfred's thigh, gauging the American for some kind of resistance to the motion.
Alfred had relaxed his head back against the wall. Eyes shutting a moment as he let out a sigh. He had taken a longer draught - after seeing Ivan do so and not wanting to be shown up - and could already feel a comfortable buzz starting. He couldn't go too far, as if they were suddenly attacked - even though he had covered his tracks and knew for a fact he hadn't been followed - he needed to still be able to hit his target. That specific target being an enemy... even though technically Ivan was his enemy. But that was a minor detail now as he slowly opened his eyes to look sidelong at the Russian, having noticed the suggestive touch to the American's thigh.
"What? You finish yours already? Damn lush." He grinned, feeling his face warm a bit, and unsure whether it was only the effects of the strong liquor.
"Not quite," Ivan drawled, finding English getting harder and harder to speak with each passing second. "But I think I want the taste of something else too," that said, he squeezed Alfred's thigh before moving forward to steal a light kiss. He licked Alfred's bottom lip, tasting the lingering flavor of the vodka there. Unable to resist such a coupling, the Russian darted his tongue into Alfred's mouth, his hand also moving more intimately to thumb at Alfred's zipper.
Alfred had made to retort but it was quickly lost as Ivan's tongue was thrust into the American's mouth. With the alcohol in his system, any of his previous thoughts of wanting to kill the man seemed moot as he met Ivan's tongue with his own. The hand at his zipper didn't go unnoticed either, and Alfred was immediately growling into their kiss with heated desire.
"If you want this..." he trailed off while pulling back a moment, "you're goin' to need to work for it." He nipped at Ivan's lower lip, gazing deeply into those violet eyes, steadily being overtaken by lust filled pools of black. "After all, you slept all damn day."
The devilish grin on Ivan's face could have put Satan himself to shame. He pressed his lips to Alfred's ear, growling heatedly against the pliable skin.
"You already worked my nerves with your vanishing act. I think that deserves some compensation," Ivan returned, but quickly felt the need for the physical again. "But I'll play nice. What exactly do you want?" the Russian rumbled, taking the younger's earlobe between his teeth and nibbling lightly.
Biting back a moan as his earlobe was nipped at, Alfred grinned as he snaked a hand around Ivan's waist to squeeze at the older's ass in answer.
"I want exactly what you want, but only one of us is 'havin' it our way.'" He smirked, playfully teasing as he angled his head to kiss and nip at the man's jaw.
"Mmm, we both know it'll be me," Ivan said, validating his point as he used his superior weight to wrestle Alfred to the ground on his back. He didn't give the American much time to protest either as he hungrily attacked his mouth with a domineering kiss. Besides, Ivan didn't want words deciding exactly who was on top of who.
Alfred welcomed the sudden force from the older. That cocky and determined attitude was sending jolts of pleasure through him as he relented to the man. As much as Alfred had his own pride and cockiness, he loved the challenge Ivan presented to him with such a like-minded personality. It churned the fire in his gut, forcing his want by pressing his hips upwards to meet the Russian's. Grinding against the man, he was looking for friction as well as a lull in the man's defenses.
Ivan met Alfred's raunchy motions with an eagerness displayed in the hungry growl emitted from his throat. Feeling Alfred submit beneath him sent Ivan's blood ablaze with want, and as he drew back from the rough kiss, he bit at the younger's lower lip.
"Give up yet? Or have I not worked hard enough for this?" he asked slyly, wedging a hand between them to grope Alfred's groin.
Alfred grit his teeth, bucking into Ivan's hand, his erection already growing with the fire throbbing through his veins. This time he did utter a moan, giving in to Ivan a bit more while sensing the man weakening his grip on the American. It was finally his chance, and with his hands on Ivan's chest, he quickly threw his weight against the man and off to the side, successfully catching the Russian off guard and pinning the man beneath the American.
With a smug smirk, Alfred grinned down at him, taking the man's scarf in a tight grip and tugging him up to his face as he said, "nah, not givin' up yet."
:D
