http:/library. thinkquest .org/10826/thaw. htm While doing research, this article said that Russia and America have been growing closer since 1991, over the last twenty years... The fangirl in me squealed. They can mend their relationship! …And they will.
Songs-
'Life in Letters' by Lucy Schwartz
'Say it's Possible' by Terra Naomi
Alfred passed out right after eating. It was almost ten o'clock anyway. He hadn't unpacked a thing. His bags were still sitting in the mudroom where he'd left them. Ivan kicked them over as he paced. He was tired of wandering about the house. He considered taking the car and leaving, but he really had no idea where he was to get himself home. He could call someone, but then they'd know he was here…
The bag scratched against the tile as he kicked it across the floor. Something slid out the bulging side. Ivan silently wondered why Alfred would pack so much to be gone for four days. He picked up the object that had fallen.
It was a flash-drive.
Ivan glanced around his feet for the American's laptop case. He crawled over to it and unzipped it, warming it up. Alfred hadn't shut it down completely, so he didn't even need a password. Ivan snickered to himself as he pushed the flash-drive in the usb port.
He opened the computer's files and found the usb's information. He clicked and scrolled down a large mass of files on each country and American history. The last one added was filled with pictures from the shuttle launch.
He covered his mouth as he giggled at some of the photos. Alfred making obscene gestures at the cameraman with one arm over his twin, Arthur completely wasted- head dipped into a storm drain to be sick, Francis hugging his former charge with one arm over a half-naked-drunk British man. Then there were pictures of the actual launch, Alfred posing in front of the actual launch, Americans watching the actual launch, and the shuttle before the launch.
There was one picture that Alfred had tagged 'print 4 wall'. Ivan clicked on it. It seemed simple enough. To man standing and looking out over a crowd of people to watch the launch, but to the left the same men were watching again, only much younger. Ivan glanced at the dates. They'd seen the first launch then come back to see the last thirty years later. He didn't have to think very hard to wonder why Alfred would highlight this picture out of the ones of his people.
Ivan was going to close out of the file, but he stopped himself. If Alfred had files on all the countries…than he would have one on Russia as well…
He found his file and looked through the information and pictures. There were pictures of Gorbachev and Regan, most of the pictures of political figures were files on Stalin and Lenin. Alfred seemed obsessed with Stalin in a murderous sort of way…if you could kill a memory.
There were images and reports from the wars in Korea and Vietnam. There was a whole folder for pictures of tunnels used for guerrilla warfare in Vietnam. More pictures of protests in America, calling for an end to the war.
Ivan pulled out of that folder quickly. He snooped over to his own folder to see the images Alfred had of him personally. Most were just pictures of Ivan with his bosses from world summits.
There was one or two that seemed like they might be incriminatingly flattering; pictures that Alfred had no reason to have. Then there was a scan of the photograph of the scars.
Ivan knew Alfred would have a copy. It still bothered him to see his own body so shamelessly exposed for the American's computer screen. He was sure that Alfred had the pictures for other countries as well…that fact didn't help though.
Ivan pulled the flashdrive from the computer, putting it back to sleep.
"What the hell are ya doin' Ruski?" a voice shouted from two rooms away. Ivan jumped to his feet. He expected Alfred to barge into the mudroom and snatch away his computer, but nothing happened.
Ivan walked out through the kitchen to the living room where Alfred had passed out earlier. The America was sprawled out listlessly on the couch, muttering in his sleep. Ivan shrugged, figuring that Alfred must've just been having a nightmare and called out his name; it probably had something to do with human flesh soup.
The Russia rolled his eyes and Alfred's leg kicked uselessly. Ivan giggled, immediately relating the American's motion to a sleeping puppy. He leaned over and gathered up Alfred's limbs and carried him back into his bedroom. He placed him down in his bed carefully and tossed the blankets up over him.
…
The next morning, Alfred slept in until far past noon. He didn't even question how he'd gotten in his bed. He tried to ignore the fact that it smelled so much like Russia.
It had gotten warm again with the air conditioner off. A heat wave was on its way into America's Midwest. He ate a few bowls of sugary cereal and read the newspaper. The curtains of to the kitchen windows were drawn back so the sun shown in brightly. There was a lazy Sunday-morning type attitude in the air.
Alfred sipped at his coffee while he read. "My God Iggy…" he muttered in frustration.
"Vhat is wrong?" Ivan questioned. He was carefully stacking the American's Jenga blocks into a tall tower…out of sheer boredom. One or two had fallen into Alfred's cereal when the tower had lost balance and tipped.
"Iggy's fining my president again," Alfred said casually, he slurped on his spoon. "He used to do this all the time like twenty years ago. Somethin' bout holding up traffic in London with his presidential entourage…"
"Vhat a large word you used…entourage," Ivan teased idly. He placed another block on the tower, turning it vertically- long ways so it would be taller.
"Shut up," Alfred said plainly, not really caring. "Why does he always have to pick out every little thing that we do over there…aren't we in enough debt?"
"He does that to everyone," Ivan said calmly. Another block. "Prick," he added coldly. England would never be very high on Ivan's list of 'friends'.
Alfred looked up at the Russian. The tower had grown so tall that Ivan had had to stand up to continue. Alfred set down his paper, drank up the last of the milk in the bottom of the bowl, and slammed his fist down on the table.
The tower tipped over, making loud clacking noises as the little wooden blocks fell. Ivan's arms dropped to his sides indolently. "Fuck you…" he muttered apathetically.
Alfred shrugged and took a sip from his coffee mug and capped it. "It's a kid's game, man. And you're playin it wrong."
"Didn't know I vas playing," Ivan replied smartly.
Alfred leaned back in his chair, tipping it onto two legs so it creaked in protest. "I'm boorreed…" he whined. He turned to the Russian. "Say something interesting."
"Cлабоумный," Ivan said calmly, ignoring the blocks scattered across the kitchen and pulling up a chair.
Alfred sighed and leaned forward again, nestling his chin in his arms. "I already know that means 'idiot', so you can stop using it."
"You are learning," Ivan said in mock appraisal.
"Fuck off…"Alfred muttered, tilting his head away so he didn't see Ivan's face anymore. "How long are you gonna stay anyway?" he demanded.
The Russian just shrugged. He hadn't really considered leaving for some reason. If he went home, he'd be alone- as usual. At least here, he had company…even if it was poor company.
Alfred wasn't really trying to drive him out. He was just surprised that Ivan hadn't called in a jet already. He had been begging to go home just a few days ago. "Well…we should go do something," Alfred finally decided. He was growing stir-crazy already.
"Vhat do you suggest?" Ivan said carefully…he was almost afraid to ask.
Alfred sighed. He'd kinda been hoping that the Russian would have an idea. There wasn't much to do in Wyoming. There weren't many people, and where there were, they were usually pretty quiet. There were a few good places to get some real western cooking, but they were remote and probably empty. Alfred was tired of being alone with the Russian.
"I could use a Mocha Frappe from Micky-D's…" he muttered.
Ivan rolled his eyes. "You just drank coffee, Amerika."
Alfred shrugged despondently. "Just an idea…"
Ivan stared at the American. He looked like a kicked puppy. Ivan sighed and rubbed his forehead. There was a time that he would've loved to see Alfred look so dejected, but now he only felt sympathy. Boredom was depressing in itself. "Alright…we can go, if you'd like…" Ivan relented.
The American's head shot up. "Really? You wanna go?"
"Well, I vouldn't say I vant-"
"Awesome!" Alfred said, leaning over and grabbing Ivan's wrist, pulling him around the table. The Russian gave little resistance.
…
Alfred ordered some food, even though he'd just eaten three or four bowls of cereal. The smell of this place was making Ivan feel a bit nauseous again, but he held it down and watched while the American ate happily.
Now that he thought about it, Alfred seemed happiest when eating lately. It had gotten worse over the last fifty years, since this phase of fast food had started. The food really wasn't good, Ivan mused. Why did it make Alfred so happy? Maybe it was just because he'd made it so iconic of who he was?
Ivan absently nibbled on a French fry while the American ate down another burger. He'd ordered two caramel-mocha frappes.
Ivan figured one must be for him, so he picked out up and sipped at it idly. Alfred had some ketchup on his cheek that he didn't really notice. Instead of just saying something, Ivan picked up a napkin and dabbed it off.
The American froze- mouth still full of food. He swallowed roughly. "What the hell, Ruski?"
"You had ketchup."
"Ya coulda just told me," he snapped, cheeks flushing slightly.
'Hm…he doesn't like being embarrassed in public…' Ivan mused, smirking. "You vould've just left it," he said calmly.
"Naw, I woulda wiped it off on my sleeve at least…"
"Disgusting…"
Alfred shot the Russian a glare and buried his face back into his food.
Ivan sighed. He hadn't eaten yet today, not finding Lucky Charms particularly appetizing. His stomach was growling. If Alfred heard it, he'd probably force-feed him. So, he grabbed a cheeseburger and took a bit off the side.
Alfred stared at him. He hadn't expected that Ivan would eat anything. "I've got an idea…" he said suddenly. Ivan looked at him. "We should go to Chicago."
"Vhat?" Ivan demanded, confused and a little skeptic.
"Totally," Alfred said, eyes lighting up. "Just for a day. Then we'll go to Philly…then we should go to D.C. and New York…" he was tapping his chin while talking.
Ivan just stared at him. "Why?"
"Cause, they've got awesome food and there's stuff to do!"
"I thought you didn't vant anyone to see me in your homeland."
"Well…yeah…but…" Alfred said, voice fading off. He looked around at the people in the McDonalds they were currently eating in. He took a sip of his frappe. "Well, all the people here have already seen you, so it's too late for that…"
"I do not think it's the same thing, Amerika…"
"I can disguise you then!
…
"This is probably one of your most stupid ideas…" Ivan droned. He was standing in front of the mirror, wearing a long red hoodie that must've been five or six sizes too large for the American to be owning.
"Nuh-uh!"
"Ah, maybe not. That acoustic cat you tried to spy on me with might've been your dumbest. Didn't it get hit by a car or something?" he laughed.
Alfred huffed. "Well, it's better than that Tsar Tank you tried to make. How could you not know it would get stuck in mud? You can't build a tank with wheels that big…"
Ivan turned away, cheeks flushing. "At least I didn't put explosives in pancake mix…"
"Hey! Aunt Jemima was a success!"
"Do you ever think of anything but food?" Ivan smirked.
Alfred folded his arms over his chest. "It still worked…" he muttered.
Ivan just grinned. His pants felt a bit tight, but he insisted on wearing long pants. Alfred hadn't questioned it, knowing how many scars Ivan had from the Mongols. He did allow the American to take his scarf off, but he had scars there too, so he wore a high collar.
Alfred never shied from Ivan's past wounds. They were countries. They all had them. Sometimes, they could hide them to fit in, in public and other places, easier. But, around other nations, there was no need to…unless it was a mistake…but it couldn't be helped in that case.
Alfred packed up some extra clothing and called in his jet. It would arrive in twenty minutes. So, he worked on packing up his essentials. "Hey, Commie? Where's my flashdrive? You seen it?"
"Did you look in your suitcase?" Ivan said carefully.
"Ah, no…forgot…brb."
Ivan watched him rush off to the mud room for the third time. If they were going on a trip, he should try and make friends of the American. He wasn't being too overbearingly insufferable lately. It wasn't that Alfred had ever been insufferable…he was just…different.
Most of the time, when a nation was powerful, their egos stretched alarmingly fast like it had for Rome. Alfred was the same way…almost to a tee. It was almost disturbing how much he acted like that old man from the legends.
But there was another side of Al that was much more humble.
Both he and the Roman Empire had lost wars before. The only difference was the reaction afterwards. When Rome lost a war, he only increased his morale. The old man had issues accepting the reality that he had lost. Alfred on the other hand…let it spread throughout the country. He let his people hate him…for as long as they needed. In the end, they would always come back.
So, Alfred continued being in love with himself. He'd always been alone in the world because of his status as a superpower. Other countries would make petty jabs about it. Other nations' people would pick on his culture and ego, but it didn't matter. Alfred would pop right back up and say something stupid again and it wouldn't matter, because he was on the top of the stack. The others were just jealous.
And Ivan could get jealous over this. Alfred had gotten the isolation that Russia had always wanted. He was safe. His land was his own, and this circumstance showed no signs of changing.
All Ivan had ever wanted was security. He wanted to know that what he owned was his and no one would change that. But, living in Eurasia…that was always an impossibility.
Nukes had fixed that for him. He felt pretty confident about the holding of his borders now. And, if he made strong allies of America…they would be impenetrable.
They could keep each other sane. If one tried to overstep their power and started harassing other countries, then the other could always put them in their place; just as Alfred had done when Ivan had been bullying Israel a hundred years ago.
Alfred rushed back in, carrying two suitcases. "Okay, all ready?"
The photograph for Alfred's wall was, of course, the one of Kenneth and Chris Bray at the two launches. The internet went crazy over that picture. So I figured Alfred would hang it up somewhere in his house.
The Mayor of London fined Obama $200 for holding up traffic in his city…yeah…I know.
And have you ever had a Mocha Frappe from McDonalds? …it's like you died and went to heaven…I swear...
Road Trip anybody?
Ima bring in sum more characters soon. Real soon. Hopefully.
I just love these two's interactions…so many opportunities~
More people should ship this pairing. It's totally cuter than USUK and it makes more sense…(to me at least) I mean these guys've got history. It might not always be good history, but they've had that too.