Songs: It's Not Over, by Secondhand Serenade, and Vulnerable (same)
It's really going to be over… and the Allies are going to be the winners. Soviet Russia strolled purposefully down the long outdoor corridor, the shadows of the Italian arches fleeing across his less than pleasant smile. On his right hand strode his boss, Josef Stalin, acting like the jolliest leader in the world. He smiled to everyone they passed like a true politician should. Stalin looked so calm and regular even though he was still vexed about the Allies plotting against them like the pigs they are. On Russia's left arm bounced the somber faced form of his sister, Ukraine. Purple bruises tinted the underside of her eyes and red rimmed around perfectly as if she had been crying; which she had been for hours, awaiting her little brother's arrival. "Starshaya Sestra, you should sleep more, you do not look well." Ivan told her good naturedly. He could not understand her constant tears. Why was she not happy to be in his union? Byelorussia was…
"Prostite, mo'ee braht!" she apologized quickly with wet eyes.
Russia laughed in annoyance. "Stop crying" immediately she wiped her eyes and looked down at the ground silently until they reached their destination.
Stalin dismissed Ukraine and had his nation throw open the conference doors for him. Around the meeting table were America with his President Roosevelt and Britain with his Prime Minister Churchill. Both humans looked so old it made Russia vaguely wonder where the times of being ruled by no one younger than forty had gone. Not that America ever had those years in his history, the spoiled ingrate. "Privet, comrades." Russia greeted cheerfully. "Please forgive our lateness, I was visiting my sister." And making sure she didn't try a revolt. Why was everyone so ungrateful?
"All is forgiven, Russia, please come sit. Mr. Stalin, it is good to see you." America's wrinkly faced boss replied with equal kindness. He was an idiot to think he could limit us to his vulgar ways.
The Russian leader smiled warmly and made to sit across from him, ignoring the slightly annoyed look from the British. "Same for you, Mr. Roosevelt." He said in his thick accent.
Alfred was looking up at Russia with a smile that mimicked the politician's, one that failed to cover the extreme distaste pointed at the silverette. Arthur smirked at the front of the table. Instead of saying anything to the conspirators, Ivan took his seat next to his boss and offered up a matching smile to the American. The smile dropped momentarily off Alfred's face when he stuck his tongue out and quickly had to bite it when his boss elbowed him in the side with a glare. "Let us begin…" Britain announced the time and opened the floor.
Progress was slow the first meeting. All the trivial things had to be gotten rid of first, things like terms of surrender. Then there was the dividing of Germany. Why was America smiling at him? Oh, he's smiling at his Boss… Mr. Roosevelt looks really sick. His frame had gotten frailer since the Morocco meeting. The silverette snorted in half-satisfaction, old men. Maybe the feeble thing will finally give into the right demands and give us all we need.
America began glaring, this time directly at Russia. The blonde's face withheld its usual cheery smile from Ivan. How he hated that. The smile everyone else gets. The soft sunshine that warms even the coldest bones. Taking Lithuania away for too long. Calling me awful things to my face and behind my back! I am not a monster like he is, that forgetful backstabbing brat. The Russian smiled his best smile at the privileged child, who grimaced and grit his pearly whites. How mature! He just stuck his tongue out and got elbowed from his thin boss.
Ivan snuck a glance at Josef just to see if he had been paying attention and was instantly ashamed. Stalin was looking at him with that warm look of a father indulging a particularly stupid child. That look was a warning. it waved a banner of promised punishment if you tipped him. Russia looked down at his hands with a guilty face. He would have to be perfect for the rest of the meeting now… if only America would stop boring angry holes into his head! I know he hates me but can't he be civil? For the sake of my health and old times?
The end of the meeting came painfully slow and the humans got up to take a quick stroll of the gardens and take a picture. The westerners were so fond of pictures. That left the Big Three alone in a conference room. Why had Stalin waved him away from the departing party again? So what if he was not allowed in pictures or near the press! America and his bushy browed former guardian had gotten up to converse near the door. Alfred seemed to dominate the air though, whether it be his loud voice or the fact Ivan was listening to only him. The sound was obnoxious, why was he listening?
"At least that Russian Red can supply men to fight with! Demons against Kamikazes." Alfred said impossibly louder, the glassed perched on his nose were jostling with how much his big mouth was moving. "Yeah, the old man wants me to ask him to help out with the Empire of Japan but I think I got it down" he laughed and Britain smirked before darting his eyes towards the shaking blob of black aura staring straight at them with a creepy smile.
The Russian tried to keep up his happy smile, do not let him get to you. "I am still here America." Ivan said as calmly as possible as he rose from his seat to tower above the two.
Alfred smirked haughtily. His sky blue eyes sparkled around his sunny bangs with a glint of mischief and defiance. "So you say." He replied simply.
Russia did not even want to translate that bit of slang and just assumed he was back talking. "Who said I would help you?"
"Who said I wanted to ask you to?" He shot back, raising a dark brow.
Russia giggled. "I will wait for you to crawl to me for help, kapitalisticheskai svini. Just so I can lend a hand to a valuable ally." He said in glee. What a sight that would make~
His jaw set in a tight grip. Worried about losing more than likely. "So you can treat me like the Baltics? I am not into creepers, Russia."
"Of course you would like being treated better than trash, an idiot like you could never accept his place-"
A fist connected with Ivan's jaw and he reflexively sent a matching punch that knocked Texas off its owner's face. Alfred's eyes were wide with excitement when they both regained their posture and locked gazes. Texas lay with a broken leg on the ground, forgotten for the moment. Those blue eyes racing with adrenaline looked steeled with invincibility. Finally, Ivan had a coherent thought; I enjoyed that… the feeling of fists flying and breaking each other… it felt amazingly good.
This time they came at the other in sync. The Russian pulled out his old pipe to smash it into America's ribs as Alfred kicked him in the gut. The two fell away panting lightly when a tap of the foot was heard at the door. Russia immediately fell from his euphoric high at the sight of Stalin smiling in the doorway. "America, Britain, your bosses want to see you now. Please join them to go to your lodgings." He completely ignored Ivan. That was bad, very bad.
America shot him one last look of lingering distaste. Britain seemed hard pressed not to laugh or quiver like a frightened child. But Alfred was just so fearless. When they were gone, Stalin waved his hand in a friendly manner to follow him. "It is time to retire." He said switching back to his native tongue to speak with his nation. It was so simple.
First Stalin would drink as he watched Russia squirm in his spot. Then he would ask a random question. It mattered not if Ivan got it right or wrong, he would be punished for his transgressions either way. So it was this time.
"Ivan," Josef asked eventually, a bottle of precious vodka drained already. Ivan looked up from his seat to look pleadingly at his inhibited boss. The question. "Why do you smile all the time?" he smiled. "Be honest, honesty is the best policy."
This question caught him off guard. Usually he asked something about the soviet socialist republic or the revolutions. He was unsure how to answer so he did it honestly. "Because I want America to laugh at my smile like he used to." Russia replied in a soft voice.
The smile dropped and the empty bottle was raised to strike Ivan. He made no attempt to shield himself from the blow to the head his boss dealt him. "Wrong!" the man shouted in a drunken splurge. "You smile because you are happy in the Union! Our people are happy to be free from those PIGS that PLOT AGAINST OUR HAPPINESS!" he swung the bottle in an arc and caught Ivan's already bruised cheek a la America, knocking him out of his chair to the floor. "They negotiate separate peace with the GERMANS and are building a bomb that will DESTROY MANY and threaten us! So what do you do? Pick fights like a stupid child playing with the Siberian Tiger? Be a man!" he continued striking the silent nation until he got tired and simply left to his personal bedroom. Ivan continued to just lie there, unwilling to move.
Why did everyone hate him? No one really wanted him… not even America. He had ignored him so much then gotten angry when Russia had finally achieved his goal of freedom! America just wanted to be the only right one… that he was not happy for Ivan setting his people free from the reign of terror that the Tsars had wielded really hurt and confused him. Why did America leave him all alone? He had seen him many times in battle and during D-day… but he just hated him for some reason…
"Braht… Vanya, let's get up…" Yekaterina cooed softly. Ivan was lifted into equally cold arms and held tightly against an ample bosom fleetingly. Katyusha was trying to prod him on his feet. Only now did he realize tears were leaking from his swollen eyes and leaking down his pale cheeks. Though, for once, Katyusha's were dry, if not deeply sad. "Vanya, get up to get to your bed at least…" she tried again.
Russia hugged the worker's arms for a brief moment before pulling himself up to his feet and offering his sestra a hand up as well. "Spasiba, Yeblia…" Ivan whispered almost incoherently before locking himself in his bedroom, leaving his sister in the receiving room. No more crying was allowed that night. He would not allow himself to go back down to that level again.
The next three days got considerable compromises. Stalin agreed to help join the Pacific War 90 days after the current war ended. The splitting of Poland was satisfactory to all and Stalin even conceded to give France some land. Russia's buffer lands were secure as well as part of Poland.
And no matter how much he wanted to because of America's goading, he did not hit the American again. He just smiled the best he could and pretended he was happy. He was happy. Russia was the happiest nation around!
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America's boss traveled around the old world for a while as a final act of International Diplomacy. By the end he no longer believed Stalin would hold to his promises of free election. Roosevelt died and left his vice in the office without briefing him. Within the year, a man newly brought into the circle met Alfred F. Jones and traveled to Potsdam for his first conference. Truman was informed of the Manhattan Project and current political affairs, apparently because he had been ignorant as Vice President due to his short occupation time (it was too bad Ted Hall did not inform him as well, Russia inwardly giggled at the news). This was what Hungary told Soviet Russia in her monthly reports. Czechoslovakia said the same; the New American President was like a child that had its eyes freshly ripped open to the world. What would this new child behold? Already the nuclear testing in New Mexico was a success shared openly between the English speaking nations. What came next?
Russia conversed quietly with Mr. Molotov, his Foreign Minister, waiting for the others to arrive in Potsdam. Personally, it had delighted the Soviet Nation to no end that they were completely at ease in occupied Germany. He had even been able to smile sweetly at Ludwig and tell him how excited he was to be getting East Prussia! Ludwig had even had nerve to tell him he would get him back! How cute~ Germany was always such a surprise.
Eventually his attention was torn from the dull faced Foreign Minister and refocused on the approaching blonde nations. Alfred was smiling comfortingly at a very flustered and noticeably nervous sharp nosed man. "You can do it Harry." Alfred said softly before he knew they were in earshot of the largest of their allies. "Politicians don't bite and nations are not concerned with messing with humans. Relax and lead." Such comforting words from a guy that punches you in the face and stabs you in the back, Russia thought sourly.
"America neglects to tell you that even nations do not bite people for no reason." Ivan cut in, bringing those sky blue eyes up to his in agitation already. "Although some are prone to fling fists at Allies." He added just to see the bright red face and mock glare of righteous patience. He had the cutest faces when he was worked up.
The suit clad North American let a condescending smile fall over his features as he spoke very slowly, as if addressing a child who could not understand English. "Mr. President, this is the personification of Soviet Russia. Russia, this is President Harry Truman." His country name came out like a nasty curse on the American's tongue.
The President looked just as delighted to see him as his nation was. "Good to meet you, Russia…" Truman smiled hesitantly. He looked like someone had whacked him upside the head, making him realize where he was. The human looked speculatively over Russia as if trying to discern what kind of sinister creature he was.
"Same to you Mr. Truman." Russia replied in a cheery voice. "This is Premier Stalin, Foreign Minister Molotov, and Ambassador Gromyko." He introduced them by gesturing in turn to his dignitaries. Truman explained that Britain's party would be delayed in coming but would be here soon.
Pictures were, again, taken outside in the gardens as if Politicians were elder suit models. Stalin stood out in his rather dignified military coat that buttoned down straight amidst a group of designer overlap jackets. There were even colour portraits this time!
The meeting finally took place when Britain arrived with Churchill, who was later to be replaced by his accompanying companion Mr. Attlee. Through compulsively staring at the oblivious American it was soon established that the new President was not a baby. He was unaccustomed to the ballroom but he recognized the dances, so to speak. Like a young teenager bursting with new knowledge and things to do with it, but still struggling to free itself from its wise old mother. Truman was sincerely suspicious of Stalin for many reasons. Just by his reaction to Stalin's rejection of the idea for early withdrawal from Iran showed how much he distrusted the Slavs.
Churchill was replaced by Attlee. More pictures were taken in lawn chairs. This one did not outright call Russia's boss the Devil, so he was more bearable than Winston had been. Things were agreed upon and the plans became cemented within the duration of the conference at the large round table. Well, as cemented as the westerners could convince themselves of. The Red army still covered most of Europe, so it was almost painfully obvious who was in charge. Russia almost laughed out loud when Truman leaned close to Stalin and 'let him in' on a hint of the big secret.
"We have a new weapon of unusually destructive force…" The American confided in him on the 25th of July.
Stalin, as the master of smiles, appeared disinterested. "Is that so?" he asked rhetorically, making the President look at him with a quizzical expression. Imagine his confusion!
America smirked at him-the 27th time in the last few days- and Russia smiled again. Another giggle finally dismayed the blonde's inner chagrin and he went back to business. The use of Atomic bombs on Japan was secretly approved that day.
August 6th of the same year Stalin and his nation received the news. Little Boy had been dropped from Enola Gay onto Hiroshima. Two days later Bockscar dropped Fat Man on Nagasaki. The reports and photos that were stolen and transferred to Moscow were breathtaking. A weapon that created destruction akin to volcanic eruption, and surpassed it by far. Nippon surrendered easily to the nation of Godlike power… power that could protect Russia from enemies if he had his own. How many did America have? Certainly a supply in case of incident. They could be used against him, overpower any and all he could hope to throw at the awesome destruction.
Russia was not the only one unsettled. "Ivan, we are going to make our own. For the people." Stalin declared to him.
His dilapidated heart almost wanted to fall out of his chest. For the people! He could protect his children now! Work started immediately on a Soviet nuke. Four years was all it took to detonate.
America could never stop bothering him with converting to the Filthy ways of Western Democracy. Russia rebuked the offensive Marshall Plan that America flaunted with the other Allies and offered to the Soviet Union for the sake of being a gloating pig. The Eastern Bloc and COMECON battled that. Then later NATO was formed as a backlash and Ivan set up the Warsaw Pact. There was no end to the little battles. There was even resistance when he began his wall between the Russian part of Berlin and the west! Though he had gotten the inexplicable pleasure of finally having China with him, Ivan's long struggle to become close with Yao had finally bore fruits! He had even launched Sputnik into space! It was an allover win kind of decade, except when Khrushchev was denied entrance to the American Disneyland during his vacation to the states for whatever reason. It was evened out though when Russia shot down an American spy plane~
They always watched each other like hawks. Oh, but Russia had two legs up on Alfred in espionage. He was everywhere. Every branch of American government held a socialist sympathizer. If America thought Truman had ratted them all out he was dead wrong. America had nothing on him! But the things Ivan knew were endless…
The worst of these plots against the Soviet people unearthed through espionage was the American missiles in Turkey Cemal-bey had approved of. It was just like Sadik to do this to him! Russia could hardly name a time when he hadn't wanted to punch the old man, politically or personally. Alliances with him never really turned out right. But Ivan digressed, there was a problem that they were short range and trained on Moscow. They were already waging secret war with each other in the Koreas; it was not as big a step as one would think to shift to direct combat.
So, in retaliation, he got Cuba to agree to do the same. Fidel Castro was all for secretly building Soviet missiles trained on most of continental America. Russia was sure this would turn out like any other underhand threat America made against him. Like the Bay of Pigs, he would win. Then America discovered his Cuban missiles.
This was when everything blew out of proportion (no pun intended, since it was perfectly in proportion). America had come racing to confront him immediately. There was not the usual show of dramatics in his visit. Kennedy did not come with him and likewise Stalin was not informed on the subject of the personal confrontation. Alfred came as a human, not a nation bent on being political about this.
"Russia, I am not here on formal business." Was the first thing he said when he confronted Ivan on the streets of Moscow. "We need to talk." He demanded calmly.
Pushing aside all his curiosity of how Alfred had snaked away from his government, Ivan silently ushered him to his personal little house on the edge of the city that he kept the nations behind the Iron Curtain. It was the only place absolutely no humans were allowed in. Not that Stalin cared, in his eyes Russia was all of the nations. He had assumed that under the Union all the nations would simply become part of the Russian personification and left it at that.
Lithuania was the only one that greeted them and was quickly shooed away by Russia's glare upon the man gaping at Alfred. The American made no qualm against his old friend being dismissed before he could greet them. They moved swiftly in a beeline for Ivan's study, away from all ears. This was only for them.
The study was a cozy place that Toris took great pains to keep warm by stoking the fireplace twice daily. Shelves of books littered the walls and stacks took up the better part of the goodly sized table settled between two plush high backed chairs. Alfred would probably recognize the ones on the table as his own volumes of mechanics and science, coupled with new Cyrillic versions that were based off of the American's work. The shelves were crammed with everything from German poets to the pitiful few Soviet cynics. History books were numerous as various political Manifestos and Declarations. French titles were certainly not scarce here.
Yet none of those humans mattered at the moment, they were merely to be a human backdrop for an entirely human conversation. Ivan took his usual reading seat to the left of the fire, the red one with large carved knobs on the top, and gestured for America to take the dark green one across the table from him. As he acquiesced Russia noted his strange clothes. Alfred was not in his usual bomber jacket or suit. Instead he wore a long sleeved turtle neck with diamond designs under a loose black jacket that flipped up at the wrist to reveal sun kissed skin and brown leather gloves that hardly covered his palms. The bottom half of his jeans belled out strangely in an excess of fabric. All in all, he looked different in his teen fashion. All this time he just sat there silently watching the Russian take in his casual appearance with a torn look on his face. Debating whether to say something first or let the other man do it. The air was so thick with tension it was almost palpable, but Russia remained silent.
When it became apparent that the unfriendly and unaccepting mood would prevent them from getting anywhere if left up to the blonde, Russia finally took the initiative. "America, why are you here alone?" Ivan finally asked.
The Western superpower let out a deep breath and looked at his biggest adversary eye to eye. "I'm here as Alfred because my people don't know yet." The blonde admitted.
"Letting them live in ignorance?" Russia commented snidely with a cute innocent smile.
The American's eye twitched subtly. "It's not any worse than the complete ignorance your people live in." he shot back.
Ivan clucked his tongue. "At least they are liberated from your devious ways." Then, when Alfred seemed about to open his mouth with another retort, he added. "Alfred, you did not come all this way for a snarky argument. Get to the point before I will not hear you out."
Alfred resigned himself to save his prepared insult and get back to the reason he was here. "Russia, you need to remove your missiles from Cuba." He ordered informally.
"Nyet. Why should I leave myself open to your attacks from Turkey?" Ivan denied. "And do call me Ivan since we are on such an informal note apparently." He smiled pleasantly at the frustrated looking American.
"Because this is not what we want. If this continues we will have Mutually Assured Destruction. I can't take the missiles out of Turkey" he tried to explain.
Ivan shook his head. "And I cannot in sound mind remove them from Cuba while I have a target on my head."
Both men fell quiet for a moment, knowing there was no middle ground. There was no compromise that would come about from this meeting. The crackle of the fire seemed to laugh at their folly in getting into this precarious situation. Neither wanted to die, so they could not go either way it was a stalemate.
"Why can't you just stop?" Alfred whispered to himself. Russia barely heard it.
"I can only stop when you quit barreling forward."
America looked up angrily at this reply. "So you are okay with endangering an entire continent's worth of people just to make sure I am not in charge? How petty, Ivan." He spat.
Ivan laughed. "Me? Petty? That's a bit hypocritical for a narcissist like you, Alfred." There was no smile on his face and his voice dropped down to its natural pitch. He was no longer in the mood to play if it was this far.
"Why are you so intent on making yourself look good?" Alfred shouted, leaning forward in his seat as if preparing to launch himself across the table.
"Why are you intent on fooling everyone into thinking you're perfect so you can give them false hopes of being saved?" Russia seethed as he matched his guest's position.
"Because I want everyone to be happy!" the blonde replied through his gritted teeth.
"Ha, you spread more misery with your broken promises than you do happiness!"
"GOD, I HATE YOU! YOU SICK BASTARD." Alfred announced in an unnecessarily loud voice.
Ivan grunted in amusement. "At least that makes two of us" he said acerbically.
That was it. Alfred's little self-restraint snapped and Ivan was only too happy to meet him halfway across the table. They fell upon each other with gnashing teeth and grappling hands, both seizing the other's throat as they rolled to the floor in their struggle. Russia felt like he was in ecstasy, seeing those blue eyes boiling over with fitful hatred. The feel of his hands wrapped around the tanned neck of his enemy. He growled at the foot that collided with his stomach and kicked him off the blonde. Ivan's back struck the rock mantle of the fireplace and was quickly assaulted with an American body wielding a fist that immediately slammed into his face. Alfred got in another hit before Russia could knock him back with an elbow to the jaw.
In no time Ivan had thrown himself back on America and was tangling legs with the Capitalist in an attempt to immobilize him. But no matter what, no one was budging on their equal hold on the other. Ivan, in his unthinking mind, simply did what his instincts told his muscles to do. He leaned down and connected lips with Alfred and was met with no resistance. Even through their continued struggle, Alfred was kissing back violently. There were teeth and imposing tongues battling as their limbs were, but their newest battle was failing. Hands attempting to strangle each other contrasted startlingly with their gradually passionate make out.
For a moment, Ivan thought the American was going to stop fighting and loosened his grip. Wrong. Two feet kicked him across the room this time and he crashed into his chair, knocking it over. Immediately Ivan steeled his countenance as he locked eyes with the sprawled out American on the floor. Slowly, Alfred rose and wiped his mouth of blood and Ivan on the back of his sleeve. There was no emotion between them, just blankness when there had only before been hate. America walked out of his house without a word and Russia made no move to even get up.
And, as it happened, from his position on the ground he could see a very conspicuous white lump under the table. The plain cloth had been pulled just enough to reveal his apprehensive dilated rubies following the giant's every move. Prussia would have run for his life if he was not still bound and gagged from when Russia had left him as a joke during his last visit home. Lithuania had been afraid of untying him in case Russia wanted him kept there, but thankfully fed him.
Russia smiled sweetly at him and crawled playfully over to touch noses with the bound German. He giggled when Gilbert squirmed with eyed wide in fear of what might happen. The Slav just listlessly ran his fingertips over his Albino victim's face gently. "Silly Gilbert," Ivan whispered softly in his falsetto voice. "You must take your punishment for listening. That way I can know you will be quiet, da?" he giggled, latching onto Gilbert's neck and tearing him away from his bastion.
The former empire struggled uselessly as he was pulled up on his knees in front of Ivan with his face pressed into the carpet. A loan moan of pain made its way past the cloth gag tied across his mouth as his bound arms were pulled harshly up to make him assume the proper position while Ivan deftly undid the knots around his knees and ankles. His legs were spread wide and not another moment was wasted as Ivan unbuttoned his pants and impatiently slammed into the awaiting entrance. He savored the distressed grunts from the GDR Nation and continued to thrust into him. He was not going to think about Alfred. He was NOT going to think about ALFRED. He was… still uncontrollably thinking about Alfred. How he had been writhing beneath him. The feel of those lips that recalled to mind a few precious others. Times he had been happy because of Alfred. But Alfred himself had taken that happiness away before it could bloom. What kind of hero ostracizes the one that loves him most?
Love? Ivan ceased movement briefly, to Gilbert's secret dismay. No, not love… he continued with his thrusting in an attempt to stop thinking, how could he have thought that? He finished up and pulled out of the Albino and stood, leaving Gilbert with a hard on and no hands to relieve it. He was too busy trying not to think.
He failed horribly. A few months' time brought a secret agreement between the two governments to mutually vacate the third party with their missiles shipped back home and sign a Test Ban Treaty. But Russia could not keep his mind off the blonde all through the exclusive agreement between humans.
That was why, in 1963, Ivan used Canada to escort him to Dallas, Texas where the current President of America was going to garner support in his reelection campaign.
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It had been a while since Alfred had visited Texas, his southernmost state. He remembered when the rascal had first joined up, before the Great War- the First World War. Texas had wanted to be in the United States, but separate with its own laws and everything. He had agreed to let the former Mexican territory into the States and fly its flag on the same level as America's. Alfred was going back this week with President Kennedy and the wife.
Due to one of JFK's people warning him to put off the trip, Alfred had to wear a secret service suit and ride with the security cars during the parade around Dallas. He was just glad Jackie was coming along, he missed seeing her. This was going to be her first trip since the baby died. Alfred could honestly say he loved the woman to death- she was the most elegant, American, kind hearted and educated lady he had met in a long while. He was proud to call her one of his favourite citizens.
And as much as he loved the multilingual First Lady, he adored his President. At first there were some reservations about his religion and a few leftist rumors but overall; he really felt attached to this one. Kennedy was the just the most honest guy, and he believed in equality (not the Commie kind though). His kids brought cheer into the White House as surely as Jacqueline brought style. John had a naval background and was a light hearted family man. There was not a situation he couldn't throw an appropriate joke into.
In short, he was taking a trip to Dallas to reelect the couple he absolutely enjoyed having in office. It was a plus that they were exciting enough to claim all his attention and turn it away from things he didn't want to think about.
So when that plane touched down in Lovefield and Jackie stepped out first in her petal pink suit to dazzle the crowd, there was nothing but pride swelling up inside Alfred for his people. John followed on her heels as Americans shouted their welcome, in both sides of the coin that is southern hospitality. Then America emerged behind them in his guise of the secret service men. He missed his jeans and was itching for his puffy tie-dye shirt he was growing fond of. Jacky had already shaken her finger at him and insisted he never wear it in public. She always made him laugh, reprimanding a nation, though she was not exactly sure what his purpose was. To the First Lady, he was just a strange man that followed her husband everywhere then just disappeared for weeks to return in the latest street fashion.
Man, oh man, was he so happy when the Kennedys immediately went to shake hands with the crowd! They just did an impromptu detour into the throng of awaiting citizens. The actual secret service guys were exasperated when they had to find the President amidst all the people and lead him to the convertible.
Alfred loaded up into the follow up car and almost bounced in his seat. The agent next to him gave him a look and the nation ignored it, his spirits were soaring with the reception. Look how peaceful his country was! Good American people, that's what. He could always count on Texas for patriotism nowadays! He felt exuberant as if it was a big celebration and nothing could touch on his mind.
The Presidential Parade was going on for a while when they came up to Dealey Plaza. Alfred remembered seeing this weird water thing surrounded by a white stone fence and wondering if it actually had water in it and how deep it was. Was there water in this heat? They turned on the street and Alfred took a closer look to see it indeed had water in it. But, as a clock struck 12:30, he locked eyes with a brilliant purple and a loud boom echoed through the streets.
Oh, god no! He tore his eyes away without thinking about anything but the noise. He had known too many wars to not recognize it. The applause continued, like an intangible background. Another shot rang out followed by a third when the President raised his head after going down during the second. Alfred's head exploded in agony. John slumped in the seat and Jacqueline turned around and simply let out a disbelieving "oh no!" a fourth shot was heard.
She immediately threw herself over the seats to check him and a bystander shouted in horror. "Oh god, they shot Jackie!" Oh, wrong person! Alfred wanted to scream. He already knew what happened, drive to a hospital! The agent next to him jumped out and traversed the back of the black convertible to see the damage.
They drove out of the parade to stop on the side of the road and reach a decision. It was quickly ascertained that a hospital was necessary. The Governor would live but John's heartbeat was getting soft in Alfred's ears by the time they reached a hospital. At one a 'clock the Catholic Priest pronounced him dead after Last Rights. A terrible emptiness fell over Alfred.
For some reason, he found himself in his brother's arms. His mouth was dry and salty, and he knew it was the tears of those that already understood. The President was assassinated. Kennedy was not coming back…like so many naturally before him. It wasn't his time! There was no war waging. Who had done this? A dark wet spot appeared on the shoulder of Matthew's button down shirt as Alfred wept. He did not have the mind to even wonder why his twin was so far south. The familiar tickle of long French hair against his cheek felt comforting to him. The soft Canadian slur of French words soothed the pounding silence in his head, even if he didn't remember what it meant.
The name rang from his tongue as he watched Jackie don her mourning veil that afternoon after Mattie had left; Lee Harvey Oswald, a man with absolutely no preexisting criminal record. Hiding out in the Texas Theatre he had shot an investigating cop. Everything matched up with the man that played dumb. If he was not overseeing the inauguration of Johnson into Presidency…
Then, almost like a double hit, that man in the hat shot Oswald right after the press asked him if he had anything to say in his defense. This man was Jack Ruby, a defector with a Russian wife that he brought back to the states with him. He had been in the Soviet Union!
An elaborate conspiracy unveiled in Alfred's head as he rolled up a joint of cannabis and lit up in his Texas Apartment. He was secretly glad he had slipped away effectively from the chaos. Lyndon would have to understand his human qualities after all… but there was something he had to think about. He went over everything about the whole ordeal. The shooting, Oswald, Ruby, the detainment of the body.
A conspiracy.
That's it. Jack Ruby was a Commie. The Reds were corrupting Americans to assassinate the President, and then send Jack Ruby to clean up in case he spilled about… the government! The Reds were corrupting the officials into a National plot to establish communism! It all made sense… America took another long drag and banged his head back against the wall he was leaning up against in his cheap bed.
Who knew one trip to win over Texas and secure his next term would end in such horrid tones... revealing Socialist plots against American freedom… corruption of government…
By the time he could work up the energy to go back to the White House in D.C. he had a surprise waiting in the form of a blatant teletype sitting in the Oval Office. At first he laughed, thinking Lyndon had some stupid sense of style. "Get tired of the phone?" he asked right before noticing that the old black phone was still there.
Mr. Johnson shook his head at his Nation. "No, I tried to locate you but I read in the Presidential diary that you… would object no matter what…" he trailed off looking at the bright object of the conversation uneasily.
Alfred set his jaw and asked sternly. "Where is the other end?" he demanded with heavy authority.
The President was reluctant to continue. "We had a meeting between the Premier and I- without the personifications present- while you were missing. This links us to the Kremlin 24/7."
Alfred stormed out and refused to touch the thing until '67 when Soviet Union forces cooperated with American during the Egypt-Israel war, and then only to avoid confusion or accidental attacks. Alfred could hardly stomach talking to Ivan for longer than a second and kept all their conversations short and to the point, never addressing him. Russia did the same.
Dragging him through the negotiations for SALT I was the hardest thing Nixon ever did. Listening to America gripe about what they had being enough of an agreement between them. He never had an easy way of literally bringing a drag footed Alfred to Vienna for the first meeting and never expected it to get worse than that.
The moment the doors opened America was no longer the depressive nation, letting his sickness get the best of him because he was wholly against meeting with the Russians. Immortal blue and purple locked gazes and suddenly the blonde straightened his posture and slapped on an exaggerated grin that seemed a little too sharp for friendliness. The silverette kept his saccharine smile pointed directly at the American. Nixon's face drained at the sudden loss of a friendly air and considered it a mistake to bring the blonde along. Not that Alfred seemed to like him anyways but it could detract from their miniscule progress towards peace.
"Russia." Alfred greeted curtly.
"America." The Russian returned.
The two continued their friendly façade as everyone took their seats silently. They fought constantly- every five seconds for the first two hours until it was mutually agreed that the nations should keep their comments limited to using their representative (since Ivan spoke English and Alfred had some passable understanding of Russian that he denied, this did little to the silent stew pot between them.) nothing was agreed on the first day and everyone was let out to go their own way.
"What the hell, Jones! Is there not a diplomatic bone in your body?" Nixon hissed quietly when they got out.
Alfred just snorted as he watched the petal pink tips of a scarp disappear behind a corner with the Russian party. He only then turned to his President with an irate grimace. "Just call me America, Richie." He corrected in his bias against this certain man. "And you shouldn't push aside my prejudices; I've known Russia for longer than you're grandma has lived." Alfred rebuffed as he strode forward to their allotted corridor.
The darker haired man stopped him with a hesitant hand. "But you should still know how sick you are because of this Arms Race. I am supposed to take care of you and I don't think you will make the right choice to fix this before you drive my country into the ground with the Reds."
Alfred looked back at him sharply, yanking his arm out of the weak grip. "I belong to the people, not you. Have a great day, kiddo." He snapped before smiling sweetly as he turned on his heels and stormed into his room.
The final day at first marked another day in succession of Alfred talking back to his boss and understanding the general extent in which Russia was willing to concede- which was mutually a pittance. After arguing at the meeting, arguing with Russia silently, and being an ass to Nixon all the way back to his room, Alfred found himself extremely restless. Not a bed tossing restless. It was a need-to-get-up-and-roam kind of restless.
So he decided to put on his contraband jeans and open chested button up shirt under his beloved bomber jacket. Curse it if the outfit stood out, he was comfortable. There was no resistance from anyone as he slipped away into the streets of Vienna with a wad of shells in his pocket. Nixon must have been talking to them about dinner plans or something, because none of the other American attendants bumped into him on his way out. There were still a couple hours before it would be dark, it sounded like a good idea to get some grub for himself.
He skipped hopping on the cable car and chose to oversee the scenery instead. It occurred to him that he could get Austria to show him around, but that was quickly shot down. Roderich was too stiff and would make this an awfully boring excursion. He eventually found himself singing to himself, attracting strange stares from everyone around him. "I Can't Quit You, Baby, so I'm gonna put you down for a while." He sang out with a funny smile. A window passed by and he started up again. "Said you messed up my happy home, made me mistreat my only child. Said you know I love you, baby, my love for you I could never hide. Oh, when I feel you near me little girl, I know you are my one desire…" his head did a double take at the record window store he just passed. Crazy hair and wild boy smiles looked back at him from the Led Zeppelin cover in hanging there. Austria had cool Musicians? No way!
He laughed loudly and continued on his way. Up ahead he saw something that looked like a nice Austrian restaurant. "When you hear me moaning and groaning,
you know it hurts me deep down inside. Oh, when you hear me... You know you're my one desire. Yes, you are." He continued, doing a neat grind into the air as his head whipped side to side, making it hard to walk straight. Oh, that man had a groove!
He locked gazes with his feet a moment, thinking about launching off into a Beatles song when he crashed into the side of the restaurant door and realized he was there already. Walking in the commandeered an entire booth to himself to fit all the food he was going to order out of Nixon's fat paycheck. The waitress took in his embarrassed smile when he simply said. "Bier unt alles, bitte." This was most of his conversational German he had learned after WW2 during the meetings in occupied Germany. The woman shook her head in amusement and replied in actual Austrian knowing she would not be answered before bounding away to fill the order.
America kicked back to flip through the unused menu on the table and took up softly singing the time away, not expecting anything interesting to happen. "Joan was quizzical, studied metaphysical, science in the home. Late nights all alone in a test tube ohh-oh-oh! Maxwell Edison, majoring in medicine, calls her on the phone. Can I take you out to the pictures, Joan?" Alfred's gaze was caught up in playing with the silverware on his table, unaware of two fellow foreigners entering the establishment. "But as she's getting ready to leave, a knock comes on the door…"
Tap tap
Alfred's eyes shot up to meet purple ones and decided to continue the song for the Russian smiling at him from beside his Premier, who started sitting down across from the American in the booth, dodging the pipe that had called attention to them that was resting on the table. "Bang, bang. Russia's silver faucet came down on her head. Bang, bang. Russia's silver pipe made sure she was dead." He smirked as the elder gave him a look that made it obvious he had no such understanding of the joke. Gah, he probably hadn't even heard of the Beatles before!
Ivan looked down at him for a moment before his boss spoke up in Russian to tell him to stop it. The silverette sat down promptly next to Brezhnev with a certain reserved submission that made Alfred smirk happily as the metal weapon disappeared under his tan coat. "ah, Amerika, vere is your Prezident?" the old man spoke up in a heavy accent.
Alfred smiled blindingly. "Got no idea, man."
Confusion crossed Leonid's face and he turned to ask Ivan what the American had said. Ivan translated a bit lengthily and Brezhnev smiled at a Capitalist children joke that was thrown in there. Ivan even flashed a smirk at Alfred, letting him know he knew Alfred got the gist of the discussion. "He wants to know why you do not eat with your President." Russia announced eventually.
The waitress showed back up and smiled at the two Russians as she set Alfred's beer down and asked the newcomers what they wanted. The two turned to engage in some deep debate about what they wanted. Alfred sighed when the unwanted guests caused the girl to make a distressed face so he vetoed their choice in the matter. He held up two fingers and nodded his head towards the Slavs. "Bier… unt vurst." He pulled the only other food word he knew. The waitress nodded and laughed before leaving them again. "And I don't always have to be with the President, that's why." He replied defensively. Why did they even sit here? No one invited them to share this booth… even though Russia doesn't exactly look happy about it…
Russia again translated for his boss. "And you're speaking awful German to an Austrian, you know." Russia teased. "And Leonid wants to thank you for ordering, though he is not fond of beer."
"He can get over it, they don't sell vodka here and I don't speak Austrian." He retorted. "Besides, German beer is as good as Iggy's bro's beer… Ireland, in case you were wondering." Alfred supplied at the raised eyebrow.
Russia held up his hands in defeat. "I was merely translating his tastes that I happen to have." He grinned.
Alfred huffed at him as the food and beer were brought. The Premier looked at the assortment of plates covering the table in astonishment. He said something along the lines of 'holy shit, he got us a feast'. Then Russia calmly informed him that America was a pig and it was all his. Needless to say, the look crossed into disgustedly amazed at the comment. "Whatever, you guys will get your own food in a minute." Alfred said, choosing to ignore the 'secret' jokes.
"I think I will get some now." Russia commented slyly as he snatched a piece of meat with his fork and quickly plopped it into his mouth.
Alfred was slack jawed. "What the fuck, commie? Stealing my food!" he spat in bewildered anger.
"That hurts, America, I am merely tasting it." Ivan giggled cutely, that gleam in his eye begging Alfred to contest.
Eyes slitted in suspicion, Alfred set to devouring his food as fast as possible. But even his super speed was not fast enough to stop Ivan from stealing more food. Here they threw English insults at each other like missiles in Armageddon. Brezhnev sat quietly sipping on his beer and getting another when the waitress dropped off their wurst. America laughed in victory since Russia had no excuse to steal his food any longer but was quickly cut off when he stole another forkful from Alfred's plate, even with his own sitting in front of him. To combat the fiend, he ate open mouthed in an attempt to disgust Ivan. It worked. Russia looked away, his usual smile looking tighter than usual.
Then Russia kicked his shin under the table. "You know what, Red? I eat radioactive socialists for breakfast." Alfred informed him smoothly.
The Russian cocked an eyebrow and giggled. "Is that code word for American 'fast food'? Because then it would make sense that you are so obese." Ivan countered.
"At least I don't shoot my people."
"At least I do not lie to them and crush them with sadistic Capitalist ways."
They both ground their teeth behind friendly smiled that fooled no one. The mood was destroyed after the food was discovered to be gone and Russia's boss spoke up. "It is time to go, have a good night, Amerika." Brezhnev bid farewell, pulling Russia out behind him.
"Yeah, later." Alfred said off handedly following them out after grudgingly paying their part of the bill. Damn, why couldn't Kennedy still be here? Or even Lincoln! There were no commies back then!
He went out in the same way the Russians had gone a few minutes before and paused outside. He pulled a blunt out of his pocket and quickly nursed a flame to bloom on the end. A deep drag was exhaustedly breathed in before he dropped his hand in time with his head, kicking the pavement with the tip of his polished business shoe. Maybe he should have changed out of them so they wouldn't get scuffed out on the street… it's the last day anyways, he justified.
The pot slowly pulled his speeding heart back down to a normal beat and calmed his flip flopping stomach. He always got this way around Russia. It made him sick to be around him unless they were fighting or something, which was happening a lot lately. Hopefully he would get a no-compromise-with-commies President next, like Kennedy was. If that fucking Red hadn't taken him… the fag burned down to his lips before he dropped it to the ground to crush it undertow. Now he was ready to get back to the rooms and answer the Secret Service guys where he had been, Alfred thought gazing up at the sunset around the buildings, if he can remember the way to get there…
,,,,,,…..…..`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`..(^_^)..`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`…,,,,,,
Why Russia of all places? Why not some other country? Or mine- no. No, those commies will stay out of my country. Alfred paced along the back of the plane to bring the flow back to his legs. Damn Nixon actually wanting to go through with this (admittedly necessary) agreement! Now they were flying in the Presidential jet on their way to finish up and sign the culmination of SALT.
"Sit the fuck down, America." Richard chastised.
Can that guy ever act cool? He looks like is going to shoot someone any moment, and that's just his face. Alfred made a face at him and sat down again, trying to get comfortable. Maybe he could go to sleep? "Sir, we are approaching Moscow." Shit! Too soon!
"Seriously, you're making me nervous. Stop it." Nixon said again. Can't he shut his trap? Why is it so hard for him to get along with me?
The plane touched down and brought Alfred's nervous fretting down to a generic distrust of the world. But he was not paranoid, no. everyone was after him! A large party of people were waiting for them, foremost Brezhnev and Russia, with his creepy smile plastered on like a face lift… but his face was too chubby like a cute baby to have a face lift… Wait, what?
"Welcome, Mr. Nixon!" the Premier greeted warmly.
"Mr. Brezhnev!" the thick browed President replied in kind, shaking hands at the base of the stairs. Dude, their eyebrows look the same! Bad omen! America silently shouted in his head doing a weird jig to emphasize his inner revelation.
The two Nations locked gazes in a nervous game, flames of hate edition. The ambassadors and party of circus Russians followed as everyone piled in various cars to drive around quickly to see a few sites. Then on May 26th everyone gathered around the table to sign the two very important treaties. But… there were no cameras anywhere. Aren't they supposed to document this crap? Oh, right, they're Soviets. They don't do normal things. Alfred thought. Though it did give him the pleasure (was it pleasure? No because-) to stand by Russia and watch the two Iggy browed Diplomats sign the papers. Both the Anti-Ballistic Missiles Treaty and the ridiculously weirdly named Interim Agreement Between The United States of America and The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics on Certain Measures With Respect to the Limitation of Strategic Offensive Arms
Then everyone went out for drinks, as was Soviet tradition for everything. They went out and all of them got pretty hammered. Alfred did his best to sit on the most American part of the party. Just the harsh taste of vodka was bringing up unwanted memories from Russia. Especially that last night before the Bolshevik Revolution, the day the good Russia had been ripped out of Alfred's arms. There had been no kisses and tasting of vodka that night. No, it was the shattered bottle of it in the corner, a monument to their broken relationship. With a few shots already under his belt, Alfred found himself accepting the possibility of a relationship between them for the first time in forever, or at least it seemed that way. He was no Britain, getting all emotional and screaming at people. America drank quietly and just got really honest. He forewent the conspiracy theory to get them all drunk and wring government secrets out of them and just poured another shot to kill his frazzled nerves.
After a full bottle he got up and walked past the security that were too busy with the inhibited politicians laughing boisterously with their Russian counterparts. Humans were such children… Alfred stepped outside and walked down a block until he was sitting against some monument that looked like one guy heiling to some kneeling Jesus guy in front of the huge ice cream castle. Actually… it looked kinda like a more colourful version of something he had seen once before… oh! The Mosque in Turkey from when he visited to get the missiles set up. Were there Muslims in Russia? But they're atheists… he digressed personally and just lit up a joint. Maybe it was not such a good idea to drink and smoke pot at the same time but… it was White Widow, his favourite. Not to mention being in Russia with the President made him frazzled.
Scowling old babushkas scurried around trying to get home before it was too dark, masterfully avoiding the strong looking men carrying purses around. Some businessmen with weary faces passed workers with drawn and dirty faces, etched with years of working constantly for next to nothing. No one smiled at the passive looking American they passed. Hell, no one even looked up. Alfred sighed and started walking back to the bar when the sunset had long passed to darkness. He took a few wrong turns on unsteady feet but eventually snuffed out his butt against the wall outside the bar and entered.
No one he knew was there. Not even a guy to watch for his return. Where were they staying again? No clue, he replied to himself. He made his way back out of the bar and set to wandering around, trying to find somewhere he recognized. An embassy, perhaps. Instead he found the Kremlin. Or rather, the wall of the Kremlin. Alfred flailed around the edges trying to find an entrance drunkenly, slapping the bricks with the back of his hand. "Fuck, theresh gotta be shome kin'a commie entransh!" he shouted frustrated in his badly slurred southern drawl.
A quiet chuckle interrupted his epic battle with the strong wall as a hand clasped over his mouth and an arm constricted tightly around his arms and waist. He kicked out his legs and tried to snake his way out of the grip to no avail; he was being pulled around to an entrance and taken inside under the guise of night. He was dragged an awfully long way until he was thrown into a dark room. A lock clicked into place and a light switch flipped on. In his fervor, he thought the bedroom was made of water. Attempts at rationalizing what was happening without turning around failed as miserably as the secret entrance thing did.
Things ranging from the KGB holding him hostage to Cat Woman kidnapping him for sexual fantasies (she was Russian, right..?) all ran through his head. For all he knew, the Mystery gang was investigating him. But, even in his bad judgment, he had to turn around. He had to turn around. Right. Now.
His feet stumbled to do as they were told and his knees instead decided to act up. Russia was right in front of him, looking down. The breath that assaulted the American's face was thick with the stench of alcohol. Whoa, he wasn't even smiling like he usually did! "Alfred, why were you trying to slap a hole in the wall?" he asked simply.
What to say? To lie or- "I thawt some commie shecret entransh wud let me in. cuz ya guyz tuk mah paypole!" Alfred shot back in the thickest southern talk possible.
"I have no idea what you just said." Ivan admitted. Then his eyes gleamed. "I guess Americans really are illiterate fools."
America was most certainly NOT drunk enough to let that slide, but too drunk to actually control himself at all. He swung a ruddy fist at the silverette freak for insulting him. "take tha' ya yella bellied bastarrrrd!" Alfred had to basically force the sentence out of his locked jaw. Sadly, he was also drunk enough to have too much strength and no coordination.
Ivan caught his fist and quickly shoved him up against a wall, effectively pinning the struggling form with his body, their arms above Alfred's head. Ivan leaned down to look straight into the American's eyes with a playful yet murderously serious intent. "Was it because of what you were thinking at the bar? You looked…" the Russian struggled to find an English word for it as he paused. "… preoccupied and bitter." he settled on that wording. "What were you thinking about?"
Alfred scowled his face flush as he thought about the last time Ivan had been like this. When this whole nuclear spiel started. "What's it got ta do wichew?" Alfred burst out.
Ivan growled with a feral smirk. "Were you so bitter about not being able to blow up the whole world with your toys anymore? Angry that you could no longer blow me up so easily? That you can't slaughter innocent-"
"What if I wuz fuckin' thinking 'bout chew and vodka!" Alfred shouted. " I'm nawt a monsta'!" he defended angrily.
The room went silent for a moment. Ivan stared at him uncomprehendingly as Alfred continued breathing heavily in his anger, not realizing what he had said. "You were… thinking about me how?" Ivan asked hesitantly, hopefully.
Alfred rolled his eyes. "Like this." He pressed his smoky lips to Ivan's and started kissing him. The large man immediately responded out of surprise and a basic lust it seemed. Alfred bit his lower lip harshly in response to a stray knee slipping between his wobbly legs. It rubbed against his crotch and he moaned, letting go of the bleeding flesh for a moment. Ivan took his chance to completely dominate the kiss for the open window of opportunity before the blonde plunged right back to struggling with him. The progress was quick and suddenly the American had his legs wrapped around the Russian's in an attempt to get more friction to his heated areas. "Pants!" he commanded in a breathy moan as Ivan moved to push his jacket back and nip at his neck.
The Russian complied as best as he could but it took a fair amount of jostling to slip Alfred's off as opposed to Ivan's own. The American's suit jacket was off and he was already working on the silverette's. Ivan growled when Alfred ripped off the pink scarf hastily but chose to bite his neck harshly instead of stopping to protect his precious object, causing the American to yelp. Even though Alfred was fumbling drunkenly with the buttons, he was surprised when Ivan's length prodded his entrance none too gently. The broad shouldered Russian impatiently began to slide himself in as his partner cried out in pain.
"I-Ivan! Gawd-" he was silenced with an aggressive pair of lips. Ivan was fully sheathed inside the drunken Western nation that whined and let out short breaths from being so painfully stretched. There was not much time between penetration and the first thrust that made the American whimper. The second thrust rubbed his prostate just barely, making the huge girth suddenly a little bearable. Maybe hearing the pleasured gasp, Ivan angled to keep on hitting that special spot.
Soon Alfred was moaning and scratching his nails down Ivan's back under the open shirt. They broke the violent kissing only to dip down and nip at each other's jaw and necks, leaving obvious and painful bruising. Alfred could feel a huge network of scars-some new- under his lips but he set about to probably add more in the shape of crescents anyway.
All at once it became too much and America cried out in ecstasy before shooting out all over their shirt tails. Feeling the clench of Alfred's insides, Ivan orgasmed inside of the suddenly limp Alfred with a stifled moan of pleasure. Alfred was slipping off into a deep slumber, his body unable to keep going with so much alcohol and overpowering sex. He didn't even feel it when his body was redressed and slung over a sturdy shoulder to be carried to his actual room where the Secret Service man self-posted to watch for the unknown man named Alfred looked the other way upon seeing his Russian employer. Ivan just nodded his head before unceremoniously plopping the American on his bed and leaving as silently as he had come.
DMITRI: 10,954 words long… I guess first I should say the Summit meetings of the 80's are next chapter. Yes, I'm augmenting this. The Summits are important. Now to historical stuff…
Stalin is a really smiley guy who silenced/executed a lot of people but was great at speeches. Roosevelt didn't think he was all that bad until after the Yalta conference (in Ukraine, the Livadia Palace belonged to Tsar Nicky) where they basically set tentative goals and stuff. Stalin agreed to join against Japan (he joined on the 8th so he didn't fight much teehee) and Ukraine worked on a Kolkhoz and was poor at dirt. Churchill called Stalin a devil. The whole plotting capitalists thing was cuz Josef was sore about not being invited to a meeting that didn't involve him. Good going, guy that does what he accuses others of.
Cuban missile crisis. Basically, America had Sadik 'hold' a missile trained on Russia so Russia gave Cuba some too. There were (3) deaths during this but the politicians freaked out. Eventually the American government 'got Russia to back off us' but secretly agreed to remove their missiles too. Oh, and U.S. citizens were not informed of this for years.
Blame my trip to Dallas for including the Kennedy assassination in here. I thought it was important. Dude, they have Jack's hat on display! Ok, Lee Harvey Oswald shot three bullets, a fourth was heard, and two injures, president died of head wound. Look it up, too many conspiracies to count. But Ruby was a defector to the Soviet Union and had a Russian wife. She was really bitter and never returned to the Union… Kennedy was a no go on Détente. Johnson was sworn in on the Prez plane with a crying Jacky. Kennedy administration basically landed Apollo on the moon to spite Sputnik.
Truman was vice when Roosevelt went on his big trip before returning home to die. Truman was told on his inauguration about all this government stuff (that Stalin already knew) and ordered the nukes dropped on Japan/Nippon. He didn't like CCCP either. Geez. Real situation right there, as recorded.
Nobody likes the cursing, lying, and conspiracy helper named Nixon. He was the only one to ever resign and he did so after signing the SALT stuff.
Brezhnev had big eyebrows, Nixon did too… Ok, signed in Moscow. No pictures yielded to me for this one for some reason, though everywhere else had dozens that are saved on my phone… and in the Union; it was chill to buddy up with strangers at the diner, more so with frenemies.
Yes, Austrian and German are different. Oh, and the Soviets used Canada to get spies to America, and Czechoslovakia and Hungary were spies in their American Embassies. Espionage will be exploited next chapter too.
Yeah, that one agreement has a long name. The 'Ice-cream Palace is St. Basil's Cathedral. Pfft, yes, it was they stole the design from the Aya Sofia (blue Mosque) in Turkey.
Tom Cruise, now that that is over, please drop a review. I LOVE reviews. They ward away slumps that come with having to go back to school next week.
Serelinda: ...17 pages... You are so lucky that you have such a nice beta, Dmitri. I guess I should go through the other chapters now... Or do something else. My brain hurts.