A/N: Heeheehee. Sorry for the wait, school has been insane. XP You're all gonna hate me, but I hope it's worth it! Special lulz to Lawli! Enjoy!
Following their early-morning spat, the two personifications had done exactly as the younger of the two wished. Ivan cooked blini and got fresh milk while Alfred fried eggs and bacon, and they ate in silence. Alfred had his coffee, and Ivan had his tea. Ivan read the daily Moscow newspaper and Alfred read his latest issue of Newsweek. They had dressed warmly and spent nearly three hours building snow forts. Alfred's fort kept falling down because he tried to make it taller than he was, and Ivan couldn't seem to get the snow to pack right. He was constantly distracted by the spectre of General Winter hovering on the edges of his consciousness. Eventually he gave up and used the trees for cover as he threw snowballs at America. The blond hit him with as many snowballs as struck his own body, and they eventually went inside, exhausted and not really agreeing on a tie.
"I still think I got you more."
"Haha, nyet, Fredka," laughed Ivan, "I hit you more."
"You're not gonna win if I can't win!"
America laughed with Ivan, stripping off his thick jacket, gloves and hat, hanging them on the convenient rack by the large fireplace, which was burning brightly. Ivan removed articles of clothing a second behind Alfred, until they were standing in little more than pants, shirts and socks, though Ivan's scarf remained snug in place. Alfred flopped onto the couch, snatching up the remote from the coffee table. He turned on the wall-mounted TV, flicked through a few channels, and gave up.
"I wanna watch a movie."
"Which one?" questioned Ivan, who was adding a couple of logs to the fire. "You have given me so many."
"I don't know, dude! Something awesome!"
"No horror films."
"But whyy?" whined Alfred. "They're so awesome!"
"Nyet. I do not wish to have you shaking and quivering against me. You're no fun when you're scared by fiction."
Alfred chose to ignore the sexual implications of Ivan's first sentence. "Then how about something not scary? Like..."The American debated for a minute, staring at the expansive case of movies under the TV. "Pirates of the Caribbean!"
Ivan sighed. "Really? You must have seen that a few thousand times by now."
"More than a few thousand."
"Mm." Rather than argue the point, Ivan decided to instead kiss Alfred, who responded favorably. An added arch in the spine, the movement of a hand from the couch arm to Ivan's hair, and all it took was a single second.
Ivan broke the kiss and transferred his attentions to the American's neck, nipping the skin lightly and making good use of his hands. He laid Alfred down on the couch, his hands on Alfred's torso. The blonde's shirt rode up, exposing his slender physique, and Ivan massaged his hands over the tan skin, Alfred's equal balance of smooth muscle and soft flesh delighting him at every touch. The blond moaned, forcing Ivan's head down to suck on his collarbone as the hand which wasn't tangled in Ivan's hair traveled south to the Russian's own back, scrabbling frantically for a hold on Ivan's shirt. Ivan speedily divested Alfred of his shirt with the grace of much practice, removing his own a moment later.
His scarf was in disarray, but still securely in place. Even for Alfred, the length of cloth rarely got removed during the day. Despite that, Alfred thought, it didn't detract from the Russian's sex appeal. It hid the worst of the scars on his neck, though a few of the larger ones which snaked their way across his shoulders were partially visible. Alfred didn't have a problem with Ivan's scars, but the thought of what had caused them almost made his stomach churn. His thoughts were wiped from his mind as Ivan licked a nipple, smiling when Alfred shuddered and moaned. He moved a hand up to grasp the little cowlick that Alfred called Nantucket, pulling on it. A hard bulge made itself known against Ivan's leg mere seconds later, the stimulation of the American's erogenous zone (which wasn't the cowlick itself, but rather, the skin it grew from) causing his hormones to go wild.
"Ah! Vanya!" Alfred moaned and bucked his hips up, earning himself another tug to Nantucket. Ivan shifted slightly to the right, and their groins met.
Alfred moaned at the sensation, Ivan hissing a stream of air through his teeth.
"Ah...Моя любовь ..."
Alfred didn't respond. He was too busy trying to undo two belts at the same time. Ivan caught Alfred's lips in another kiss, and attempted to help Alfred in freeing each other from confinement.
The second they got their pants undone, the telephone rang.
"Shi-iit..." hissed Alfred. "Shut up, phone..."
Ivan silenced Alfred by grinding his hips down on the American. "Ignore it."
Alfred arched and moaned. The message machine picked up the call. An angry female voice made its way to their ears, even through the haze of lust.
"Alfred mother-fucking Franklin Jones, pick up the goddamned phone! It's me, Madison! You and your Russian need to drop whatever you're doing and get your asses back over here now!"
Ivan and Alfred froze, thoughts of sex forgotten. The voice continued her tirade. "-and don't even try to ignore this call, you bastard! Why didn't you mention that the Confederacy had a human personification? He just showed up in the White House and tried to impersonate you!"
Alfred flipped Ivan off him so fast that the Russian smacked his head on the nearby windowsill. "Shitshitshitshitshit!"
Dazed, Ivan stood and glanced mournfully southward. "Wonderful."
Alfred was already jabbering into the phone. His English was so fast Ivan could hardly understand it, and the fact that Alfred had started speaking in his 'New York' accent wasn't helpful in the slightest. Upon hearing it, Ivan was instantly reminded of old mobster movies.
"-Whaddaya mean he just marched on in dere an' tried to impersonate me? He don't even look like me!"
Ivan's whole body went cold. Aside from being an instant bonerkill, he was now frightened for his lover's safety. He buckled his belt back up, rearranged his scarf and slipped his shirt back on. Doing up the buttons with hurried hands, he grabbed Alfred's shirt and watched as the blonde paced around the room. His voice had an unusually thick accent, and Ivan had only ever encountered it once before. It had been in 1861, during Alfred's Civil War.
He had gone to visit the American and had been shocked by the dry husk of a man he was-though he was a boy, really, back then. The only thing Ivan had liked had been the way Alfred spoke, how he slurred some vowels and forgot R's here and there. Of course, once he realized that it was due to the Confederacy's existence, he'd hated it. He didn't want that accent around. If it was showing up now-he could tell Alfred didn't even realize he was doing it-then this was bad. Not just bad, horrible. Sure, Alfred could do that accent along with a myriad of others whenever he wanted, just as Russia could change his accent from the Moscow variety he usually had to the Vladivostok version(which was highly influenced by Japanese), but only with warning.
"Alfred?" He tried to hand Alfred the shirt.
No response came other than a flapped hand in the universal symbol for "GTFO." So, Ivan got the fuck out and returned to their bedroom. Since he assumed their return to Alfred's territory was imminent, he began pulling clothes from the dresser. Yanking his suitcase from the closet along with Alfred's obnoxious stars-and-stripes suitcase, he folded in enough clothes for a couple of days, toothbrushes, hairbrushes, phone chargers, Alfred's iTouch, his own iPod, and a bottle of lubricant. Just in case. American brands were just deplorable quality.
Ivan even fished out the garment bag from the depths of Alfred's side of the closet, putting his good suit in it along with Alfred's. One never knew when an emergency meeting would be called, especially is a situation such as this.
He could still hear Alfred yelling into the phone from the front room. Packed, Ivan sat on the end of the bed, pinched his nose between the fingers of his left hand, and waited for the windowsill-induced headache to dissipate.
"This is crap."
"Calm down, Alik."
"No! This is crap! I hire th' best Secret Service agents in my whole damn house to find this bastard, an' he just walks right on in past my guys t' yap at my boss with his goddamn hick mouth!"
Ivan sighed. Alfred had hardly calmed down enough to hang up the phone and leave the house. Ivan actually considered slipping some sleeping pills into Alfred's Coke on the plane, just to shut him up.
"Alik, we will deal with this when we get there, da?"
"Heeelll no! I'm gonna whoop his sorry ass inta th' next century!"
"Alfed, I think you're overreacting. Listen to yourself."
"Whaddaya mean, listen to myself? I can't even hear my tunes over your voice!" The blonde had his iTouch in one ear. Ivan could hear the faintly tinny sound of 'I Will Always Love You' coming from the other speaker. He sighed and rubbed his temples again. Maybe he would slip those pills into Alfred's drink. And maybe he'd just jump out of the plane without a parachute. He'd already survived that once.
"Let's just...get on the plane, da?"
A/N: Mwahahahaha. Well, the chapter title kinda has to be inferred, but whatever. Next one is more obvious. Although, will anyone read this now? I bet you all hate me. Also, sorry if my attempt at writing Alfred's Brooklyn/Jersey accent failed. XD R&R lovelies!
Translation:
Моя любовь-My love (you guys should know this by now.)
Next Chapter-Nation Mentality