OMG~ I saw a bald eagle today at the lake!
Like I said. It takes me like 2-3 hours to type these things up.
So.
I'm probably not gonna b around tomorrow…so you guys- I wrote this yesterday. I just posted it tomorrow…(if that makes sense)
All your reviews make me feel like a freaking genius or something…
It's really nothing guys. I'm using like 40 outside sources. My brain is just so ADD that somehow they just mesh together. Part of this is directly taken from TCE.
Songs- (does anyone actually read with these things?)
'In Pieces' by Linkin Park
'Hallelujah' by Rufus Wainwritght
'Seen Enough' by Cold War Kids
"So…what were you dreamin' about anyway?" Alfred wondered idly. "You were screaming for like half an hour and I couldn't get you to stop…it's like two in the morning. You woke up the neighbors. They started calling me… I'm not supposed to interact with them too much."
The Russian shook his head quietly.
"Don't wanna talk about it?"
"No…" he hesitated, "Alfred."
The American tensed. He hadn't heard Ivan call him by his first name in…at least thirty years. The last time he had-
"I swear to God… These are the Minuteman ICBM silos I was talkin about," Alfred said casually, leaning against the metal casing. "There's another fifty-or-so Sprint missiles in four of the other silos. I don't know exactly how many there were…but it was around fifty…I swear."
He was wearing long blue jeans, a dark brown bomber-jacket, and a toboggan. It was almost winter, but America's climate was fairly pleasant to the Russian. They were walking down the rows of protective anti-missile technology. The scent of cold metal and gravel mixed with the cloud of coffee steam from Alfred's morning cup of jack. "These things should keep us from killing each other…for now," he said, grinning crookedly.
"And you are using Safeguard System?" Ivan said, staring at the silo the American was leaning on.
Alfred lifted his eyes groggily. Ivan was wearing a skeptical expression. This was one of the first real motions they were taking to try and trust each other again. He understood that Ivan just wanted to feel safe…hell, that's all he wanted at this point. This technology would hopefully give them some piece of mind…if they could agree.
"You don't trust me," Alfred said plainly. He sipped at his warm coffee, rubbing his numb fingers across the sides of the cardboard cup to warm them.
"I did not say that…" Ivan said defensively. "I just vant to know how your systems vork…"
Alfred sighed. "Safeguard's the only antiballistic missile system I've got right now, so yeah that's what it's gonna run with…"
"And…it can block up to fifty missiles?" Ivan wondered.
Alfred scratched his arm under his glove. "Yeah…" he stood straighter. "Isn't this all fucked up, Ivan? It's like…I know that, since you know I can block fifty, you'll just send like a hundred. One way or another, we can always find a way to destroy each other…and this'll be a war that no one can win…won't it?"
Ivan sighed and played with the end of his scarf. He hated when the American got serious. He would prefer having another standoff at the Berlin Wall, pointing guns directly at each other's foreheads to this. When someone as carefree as Alfred got serious…
"Vell…we von't start anything. Dat is vhat dis entire thing is about," he said, motioning to the SALT technology that Alfred had built. "I do not vant to be nuked…and I am sure that you feel the same. I believe that ve have become more sophisticated as our weapons have become more complicated. Our bosses are trying to vork dis out as ve speak…"
"Yeah…" Alfred said, exhaling sharply. He gulped down the last of his coffee and crumpled up the cup. "I'm tired of fighting with you. I can't agree with you…but…"
"We vant to cooperate, Amerika…" Ivan finished for him.
"Exactly."
"Da-"
"Like before," Alfred slipped. His eyes widened and he clenched his fist tighter, noting his slip of tongue. He should just sew his mouth shut when he got home. How could he tell the Russian that he'd missed those days? How could he allude to wanting things to be like before…when they were…they were?
He'd been so caught up in trying to block all that out and focus on hating the commie…
They made eye-contact. "Um…yes…" Ivan agreed. "Something like before."
Alfred's eyes widened a fraction of a millimeter. Ivan was admitting it as well? Or was he just being cordial for the sake of being civil? It was too hard to tell… "Yeah…it would be nice…not to fight with you, I mean…" the American said calmly, testing.
"Not to be in constant fear," the other agreed.
A sharp nod. "To get along better…"
"Get all of dis fighting to cease in Africa, South America, and Asia…stop the fighting ve are causing." A smile.
"Stop your poverty, death toll, and anti-semmitism…" A smile to return.
"To be able to touch you vithout vanting to break you apart."
"Look in your eyes without wantin to rip them out of their sockets…"
"Come back and visit vhen it is warmer here…"
"See you without the scope of a gun…"
"Kiss you like none of dis ever happened."
The air went stiff and tense. The commie had slipped but somehow the mistake made them both feel raw and naked. They both braced for the other to say something.
Alfred knew this was only Ivan's regret talking. They both were chock-full of it- regret that is. But, that didn't change the fact that they still hated the shit out of each other.
"Commi-…Ivan…"
The Russian went numb. What was he saying? He hated America. He hated what the American had done and everything he stood for. He hated how he tried to stifle him and threatened his life almost constantly. Alfred was just an obstacle in his path…but he was one that he couldn't destroy. Taking America down would be suicide…he might succeed, but only in both of their utter destruction.
And he might hate himself for it, but…he just wanted things to go back. Back to how they were with the Tsars before Lenin…when things were palatable- when they were easier… Maybe not easier for him, but things between their countries had been simple…and that had made their relationship simple.
He couldn't handle hating Alfred but still wanting to be with him in one way or another.
"I've…kinda…um. I missed you…" the American blurted suddenly, wringing out the crumpled cardboard cup. If Ivan didn't return this…oh Jesus…
"Ameri…A-Alfred…" the taller man started, unsure and not quite in reality anymore. He reached over and stopped the American's nervous gloved hands.
Alfred looked up at the commie, trying to ignore the innocent hand-holding. "You haven't called me that since-"
Ivan cut him off, pressing his lips against the American's gently. Alfred's eyes widened, but he didn't flinch away. This was a first… Ivan hadn't kissed him in thirty or forty years.
Things got complicated after that.
The brace of his glasses pressed into the bridge of his nose and chilled his face as the taller man pressed their lips together. It left a cold line across Ivan's cheek. He pulled back.
"I…I am sorry," the communist said. Alfred blinked at him with large blue eyes. "I did not mean it." Ivan smiled as pleasantly as he could manage.
America smiled back, noting how false and strained Ivan's smile had become. Of course he didn't mean it. He would probably never mean it. They wouldn't be quite right. Not for a long time- if at all. And they were both hurting over it. But, things like this should be simple, right? So he shouldn't think. He should just be impulsive like he always was.
He gripped the taller man's neck and drug him back down again to press their faces together. His fingers buried in soft, cold, windswept hair, and he gently held the crease of the Russian's jaw between his thumb and pointer finger with the other hand.
Ivan responded, sliding a gloved hand behind the American's neck as he slid past Alfred's lips and invaded his mouth. A soft, shuttering, brittle whimper escaped someone's throat.
It was warmer. Alfred quickly unbuttoned the communist's coat and pulled himself closer to Ivan, letting the taller man wrap him up inside his clothing. His arms wrapped around the commie's waist so he's have a better angle to nudge their hips together.
Ivan leaned forward, swallowing the American in his arms and pressing him back against the metal wall of the silo. His heart was racing where it was sewn back in.
This was just formality. They still had to hate each other. Ivan was under communist dictatorship. Alfred was scared shitless of how Ivan was treating his people. They'd probably never go back to the way things were- no matter how much easier it would be.
Ivan broke off, smiling broadly- fakely. Alfred quietly wondered how long that smile had been there…
"Alfred…I…"
"I'll hate you too…" the American cut him off. "But can't we do that later?"
That was the last time they'd been anywhere close to what they had been in the eighteen hundreds. It was also the last time that Ivan had used the word 'Alfred'. It had been wiped clean off his vocabulary.
So it was a shock to hear it off his tongue again. Alfred just sighed and wiped at his counter with a dish rag. He wasn't sure if he liked hearing his name from the Russian.
Just then, the phone rang brightly. It startled the American and he jumped to answer it. "Ah…hello?" he said carefully. He expected it was just another one of the neighbors calling to make sure he wasn't murdering anybody.
"America. Where are you?" the deep voice said on the other line.
Well, Alfred scratched out the idea of it being the neighbors. They wouldn't call him 'America'. "Oh…hi Obama…um…"
"Alfred, we're having a meeting about your healthcare. You should be here…" his boss hissed on the other line. Alfred figured that he was talking on the phone during the actual meeting, probably trying not to get caught.
"I'm sorry! You'll have to take notes for me. I'm entertaining right now."
"Entertaining?" Obama demanded. "What is that supposed to mean? No one ever comes to visit you… Is the royal family here again or something?"
Alfred sighed and leaned onto his elbows. "No, it's not Iggy again."
Ivan watched the American closely. He was speaking with his boss? What did the president want? Why did he think that England would be over? And why was Alfred calling the british tea-sucker 'Iggy'? It almost sounded like a title of endearment.
Ivan suddenly wanted to be sick. Alfred and Arthur? Eww….
"Well, if not England…who would you have over? Japan, China, Iceland, or Canada?"
Alfred chuckled. Ivan didn't know what to think was going on in the conversation. All sorts of thoughts of the perverted conversation they could be having were invading the Russian's mind. Alfred glanced over at his questioning and angry stare. He grinned.
"Okay. No. The royal family isn't here. Japan didn't bring over videogames, China isn't buying metal from me, Iceland isn't getting Coke, and I'm not smokin' weed with Mattie," Alfred clarified.
The president laughed on the other line. "Wow, Alfred. Good to hear your not bakin with your brother. That would be against your own laws."
Alfred cracked up. "Ahaha, Canadian Bakin'. That's a good one, Obama," he laughed, slapping his palm down on the counter.
Ivan caught the just of the conversation and giggled into his palm.
"But seriously, Alfred. Who's over? I should really know." Obama said, suddenly serious.
Alfred looked over at Ivan who quirked a curious eyebrow. Alfred laughed, "Ah, it's just Russia."
"Oh really?" the president said. He seemed pretty eager to hear more. "Things going well? You two aren't tryin to kill each other again, are you? We're trying to become allies again with the Russians. Don't fuck this up, Alfred," the president said, both serious and happy.
"Yeah, yeah," Alfred said, waving his hand dismissively even though the president wouldn't see it on the other line. "I know. I won't. Now, get back to your meeting…" He hung up and put the phone back into the wall receiver.
"Vhat vas dat about?" Ivan wondered. His accent had grown thicker as he finished off another bottle of Smirnoff.
"Just Obama wonderin where I am," Alfred responded casually. "Pack your things…let's leave…" he muttered.
…
Ivan gathered his coat, scarf, and the clothing Alfred had let him borrow. He didn't have much else he was traveling with. The American already had clothes and utensils in his other homes so he didn't even pack at all.
Ivan met him down by the stairs at the front door. "Ready?" he asked.
Alfred nodded. "We've gotta drive to the airport," he said calmly. He would get someone at the airport to bring his car back to this house.
They traveled southwest, Alfred driving. It was still pitch black considering it was only about two in the morning. "I'm gonna miss this place…" the American muttered. "Chicago has one of my favorite skylines…"
Ivan just stared blankly out the window.
"It's the birthplace of the modern skyscraper, you know?" Alfred continued. "We didn't have the tallest buildings, but there were the most tall buildings around…if that makes sense."
"It does," Ivan answered shortly. He stared out the window silently. A city-marker sign passed by on the freeway. The Russian stared at it as it passed. "Only you would have a city named 'Justice'…" he monotoned.
Alfred laughed stiffly. "Yeah…there's one of those in several states. There are also a few 'Freedom's and a 'Liberty' or two."
They drove on in silence after that. Alfred tried to make some idle conversation again to get his mind off the highway. He felt a bit safer with the massive country in the passenger's seat, but Ivan didn't know the history of this place, and there wasn't much the Russian could do to protect Alfred from what he feared.
The car was roughly quiet, until Ivan noticed something that the American had passed. "Go back! There vas a hitch-hiker…."
Alfred looked in his rear-view mirror, and sure enough, there was a woman in a white dress standing by the road with her arm up. The blonde was on the verge of a panic attack. He hated driving on this road! "Ah dude! No way man! This is Archer Avenue…I ain't stopping for nothin."
"It is common courtesy!" the Russian replied heated. "Vhat is wrong with dis being Archer Avenue?"
"It's fucking haunted!" Alfred cried, speeding up the car.
"Vell, dat vas not a ghost. It vas a girl."
Alfred started shaking and sped up the car. Ivan sent him a glare. He unbuckled himself, pushed his leg over Al's lap, and pressed on the brakes. The American was crying and babbling, trying to floor the car, but the wheels were locked.
"Get out of the driver's seat, Alfred."
There was a soft tap on the window of the backseat.
"No, no, no!" the American screamed, trying to lock the car.
Ivan pressed two fingers into the soft spots in Alfred's shoulders. The American whimpered and his arms dropped limply off the wheel. "Bastard! You can't drive, you're drunk!"
Ivan ignored him, unbuckled the American, and pulled him out of his seat, kicking and screaming the whole way. Once in the driver's side, Ivan unlocked the back door. The woman in white held up her dress as she sat in the back. "Hello, Alfred…" she said softly.
Alfred was crying, shaking his head slowly, and trying to pretend that she wasn't in the back seat. "Too scary…too scary…too scary…" he chanted over and over.
"You two know each other?" Ivan wondered, turning to the girl in the back seat. She was pretty. She had curly blonde hair that came just below her shoulders. She was wearing a white party dress that seemed at bit dated, but it was nice.
The girl nodded silently. "He never stops the car," she whispered.
"You're not there Mary! You're not there-! Not there-! Not there-! Not there!" Alfred shouted, pounding his fists into his knees. Ivan finally snapped and smacked him across the cheek to temporarily shut him up.
"Vhere are you going Mary?" Ivan asked.
She didn't answer.
"She's not there…this isn't happening…too scary…too scary…not there…" Alfred was whimpering quietly.
"Do you know Alfred?" Ivan asked. He needed to know where he was going. He wasn't used to driving in America.
"She's not there!" Alfred cried.
Ivan turned and looked at the girl. She seemed pretty 'there' to him. The girl smiled and brought a hand up to ruffle Alfred's hair. The American screamed like a schoolgirl and cried harder. "She's looking for her grave!" Alfred cried.
"Vhat?"
"Her grave! They moved her grave…" Alfred cried, bringing his knees up to hide behind. He expected Ivan would stop the car at hearing that their passenger was a ghost.
"Vell, vhere is it?" the Russian asked instead. "You vould know…wouldn't you, Alfred?" he said, driving onward. They were nearly to the cemetery.
"That's why I've been trying to get him to stop for ages…" Mary said in the backseat. "He's always just speed up…"
"Too scary! Get her out!" Alfred cried into his knees.
"He is afraid, dorogory…" Ivan said kindly to the ghost in the back seat. He turned to the American. He knew exactly how to end this childlike fussing over the paranormal. He had to piss him off somehow to distract. "Alfred. Stop pissing yourself like a gradeschooler. You are a superpower."
"You shut the fuck up Commie!"
"Vhere is the grave?" he said hastily, quickly before Alfred freaked out again.
The American rolled his eyes, clueless. "Just past the gates at resurrection cemetery; it's down the fifth row, third grave on the right. Now shut up fucking Communist!"
In the back seat, the ghost smiled and faded through the back of the car. Ivan watched her walking down the street through his rear-view mirror. "She seemed nice…" the Russian mused. He smirked at Alfred who seemed to have calmed down a bit.
Alfred just huffed. "I seriously hate you sometimes."
…
Ivan slept through the entire plane ride- probably knocked out after all that alcohol and the stressful car ride.
Alfred just sat and stared at the dark atmosphere below. His glasses were sitting, folded neatly, on his armrest. He was tired, but he didn't feel like sleeping anymore. He didn't feel like thinking either though.
He hated long silences where he had nothing to do but let his mind wonder. He was always as loud as possible to avoid the quiet.
When would things be easier? Even now, he was still at war. Even when most of Europe and Asia were a peace, he still had to keep troops in Iraq. Why the hell were they even there anyway? He could hardly remember.
He vaguely remembered being hit…maybe a punch in the face or something from Iraq. He forgave whatever it was, he just wanted to leave. He wanted his boys back…
Ivan mumbled something in his sleep, his head lolling off to the side, almost onto the American's shoulder. Alfred gently tilted his head back onto the headrest and returned his eyes to the window.
What was there to do in Philly? It had been awhile since he'd been there. He just remembered it was a very clean city and pretty quiet compared to like…New York or San Fran. It had been awhile since he'd visited Illinois. Maybe he should stop by to say 'hi' while they were nearby.
"Alfred?"
The American's gaze tore from the window. Ivan was awake. The dim light of the quiet jet made his sleepy features blur and distort… Oh yeah. Alfred didn't have his glasses on.
Texas had just been decoration at first, but his vision had begun wavering and now they were imperative to America's daily life.
"Sorry…did I wake you?" Alfred said quietly. "We've still got like an hour to go…you can go back to sleep if you want."
"Nyet…I am just awake. Vhat is bothering you?" the Russian questioned.
"Nothin. I'm just thinking about what's there to do in Philly. I think I should call Illinois just to check in with her. I haven't seen her in awhile."
"You could have her meet vith us…" the Russian offered. He wasn't really sure why the American was going through all this to entertain him, but it was all very amusing to see Alfred's country again. Whether he would admit it or not, Ivan still loved visiting America. It was warm here and the people were always so enthusiastic. If the American wanted to visit his daughter, than Ivan would put up with them.
Alfred tipped his head against the headrest and gave the Russian a warm smile. "Yeah…I thought about that. But, she's probably busy. I should really be busy myself…"
"Slacking off vith me?" Ivan laughed.
"Eh…we'll both get in trouble eventually. Our bosses can only handle everything for so long…"
Ivan chuckled and rolled his head over on the headrest to face Alfred. Their shoulders were about as close together as they could be without touching. There was an easy, loose feeling in the air. Alfred wondered when he'd become so comfortable with the Russian.
Maybe they'd always been comfortable together. Maybe the Cold War just happened because, for once in their lives, they weren't the same.
There was a reason why Russia and America had never fought before the Cold War. The two nations had never given each other any trouble. There had never been a reason to. They were always sided against the same enemies. And the reason why they never fought was as simple as that.
For Alfred and Ivan, it was just a little different. There was a silent understanding. 'You're not Europe. You're an outsider. You're like me. Let's be alone together.' And that little bit of common-ground built an instant camaraderie.
Two people who feel alone will gravitate to each other naturally. It is human nature to build groups. It makes one feel safer having someone they believe will protect them. Alfred and Ivan were only human.
And, groups of humans will behave the same cumulatively, as a single individual will act alone- because all people are, more or less, the same. This was why each nation took on a personality of its own. They befriended countries who seemed strong enough to help them, or shared the same ideals.
The entire time during the Cold War, Ivan kept one of the photographs he'd taken with the American in 1867. He tried to tear it up every day. He'd sit there with trembling fingers poised on either side, trying to rip the flimsy picture, but he could never do it. He would just tuck it back underneath the carpet in his bedroom- somewhere Stalin couldn't find it.
He'd hoped that, maybe, if he held onto that one little inkling of want for freedom, than eventually it would happen. But, Stalin broke him again- just like Ivan IV. He took Ivan's heart and locked it in a box that he kept in a guarded vault. And…Ivan forgot how to wish. After the children grew old and a new generation was born…he forgot what he was even wishing for.
Alfred had grown more and more paranoid every day during the rise of communism. He had already been scared shitless of being a superpower before he was ready, but then Russia had to go and threaten the world order with his domination plans. Alfred, being the strongest nation on earth at the time, had no choice but be the one to handle it.
But he didn't want to. This was Ivan. The same man that he'd shared his first kiss with. The same one that had tried to stitch up Alfred's wound when his nation had split in half and his ribs had cracked and opened.
But, that didn't change the situation. It didn't change what Ivan had become, and it didn't change Alfred's opinion of him.
So yes. They would fight. But, never in their own land. They would point guns, scream curses, stare down, flaunt wealth, make spiteful alliances, sleep around to make the other jealous, spy on each other, even try and infest the enemy's psych with psychological warfare. But, Alfred would never attack Russia, and Ivan would never attack America.
It was too risky. They would threaten everything.
And they'd worked it out. At first, it might have been through gritted teeth and with fingers crossed, but as time passed, so did the past. It became irreverent.
And that's where they were now.
At least, that's what Alfred figured.
"You are being quiet," Ivan observed.
"Hm…?" the American muttered contentedly. He had his head back up against the back of the seat and his eyes were closed calmly.
"You are not a morning person."
"At least I'm not a morning bear like you," Alfred teased languidly, his eyes were drooping. He shouldn't have started thinking again.
"Amerika?" Ivan said, gently prodding Alfred's cheek. The American's head lolled over onto Ivan's shoulder. Alfred mumbled something in his sleep and scooted over unconsciously to snuggle more comfortably. Ivan's heartbeat picked up a little at the unfamiliar contact, but he allowed the American to stay there until they landed.
…
Alfred's jet pulled down the runway at about six A.M. that morning, arriving in Philadelphia. The American was still sleeping against Ivan's shoulder when they landed. He was drooling pretty excessively and the Russian figured he was doing it on purpose and refused to get mad.
Lately, Alfred only laughed when Ivan was angry. And that only pissed the Russian off even more. It wasn't worth it.
He shook the American awake. Blue eyes opened blearily, not really focusing. Alfred grumbled and reached for his glasses. "We're here?" he wondered.
"Da."
"Mmm…okay."
"I vill go home after this…" Ivan said calmly. He figured now would be a good time to break it to the American.
"What? Why?" Alfred demanded, suddenly feeling wide-awake.
"Because I am being a burden…" he said calmly. After the incident last night he couldn't stay here anymore. He couldn't have the American seeing him so vulnerable. It was demeaning.
"Damnit Russia! You're not being a burden! We're tryin to be friends again, remember? You're being my company so I'll have an excuse to get around my own country again."
Ivan frowned. "So I'm just a tool for you to procrastinate your responsibilities as a country?"
"Well…kinda…" Alfred muttered. That was about as close as he'd come to admitting that he wanted the Russian around.