Can anyone spell filar chapder?
You people who review on every chapter are fucking awesome. You know who you are!
Seriously…thank you.
It's a good thing I'm not a perfectionist or I would just start over on each chapter and these things would take weeks to come out. Instead, I sort of rush and come up with half-assed fluff and badly researched information and history. XD That's what you get for daily updates~
I should really update my South Park story…it's been neglected for a week and a half…
Songs- really don't fit…at all.
'Bigger than us' by White Lies
'Surrender' by Matchbook Romance
'Rewind' by Poets of the Fall
Argh, none of these songs ever fit the tone and meaning of the story so far…but they fit for this pairing so well, so I gotta use them.
Alfred found a shopping bag in France's car. He carefully placed the heart inside and tucked the wrapped organ in a baggy pocket of his cargo shorts. He'd have to watch and make sure he didn't sit on it…
Ivan sat quietly. Alfred seemed a bit pissed off still from France's teasing. It was so very tempting to egg him on, but the last thing Ivan wanted was Alfred exploding and purposely squashing his heart. He figured that the American was more mature than that, but he still didn't want to test it.
Francis stopped the car in front of a hotel. "Alright, out of ze car boys!"
"What?" Alfred demanded. "Look you French weasel, you promised me dinner, and I intend to eat my fill!"
Francis just rolled his eyes and unbuckled. "Do you zink I vould let you just dine in a restaurant like Le Bec Fin, dressed like zat?"
"What are you suggesting then?" the American said impatiently. He scratched a bug bite under his chin furiously.
"I have zum button shirts that I vas to drop off in your home anyvay. A shipment of dezigner clothing…in all sizes," he finished off, glancing up at the tall Russian. "Follow me…"
The Frenchman led the other two up a few stories to his hotel room. Ivan hesitated at the door. He got the feeling he was about to be molested in some way. He shrugged it off, he always had that feeling around Francis, but it was hardly ever malicious…
The other two were already inside rifling through large cardboard boxes. "Dude, why haven't you dropped them off yet?" Alfred said curiously.
"Zey vill be used in a show tomorrow. So, you can not get zem stained, Alfred…I swear to God, I vill kill you…"
Alfred just laughed and held up a black button-up shirt with thin pinstripes. "What about this? I can't stain black, right?"
"Iz et your size?"
"Ah…yep!" Alfred grabbed the pair of slacks he'd already chosen and went into the bathroom to change. Normally, he wouldn't have cared about changing in front of everyone, but with France in the room it just didn't feel safe.
Alfred closed the door behind himself. It clicked loudly as most hotel room doors often do. Alfred patted his pocket and took the heart out of its plastic bag. There had to be something better to hold it in…
Why had Ivan given him this anyway? Did he really trust him that much?
Alfred sat over the toilet seat and stared at the organ. It was pulsing calmly, but no blood came out. It had somehow stayed hydrated.
The American leaned forward and poked it. Its beating sped up a little when he did that. Okay…this could be fun…
Meanwhile, Ivan was sorting through the clothes to find one that might fit him. He could feel Alfred messing with his heart again. He tried to ignore it.
"There must be one. These are clothes for America, da?" he said in frustration. America ordered triple-XL clothing for his obese citizens, why would there not be a longer shirt for a tall person?
"Ah~! I found one~!" Francis called from the back corner.
Ivan turned, France was holding up a light blue collared shirt and some khaki pants. They looked massive in his hands. He passed them off to Russia.
Ivan reached out for it, but there was a sudden lightness in his chest and a…tickling. He laughed and clutched his chest. "A-Ahalfred~" he giggled, curling in on himself.
France quirked an eyebrow. The Russian suddenly burst out in a giggling fit, crying out the American's name? He knew there was something fishy going on between those two. Let's see if some spiked wine could bring something interesting…
"Amerika, morgaly vikalyu, padla!" Ivan shouted, storming over and banging on the bathroom door, laughing hysterically.
France cringed into the corner. Maybe they weren't ready to start over…
Alfred jumped when the door started shaking on its hinges. "Okay, okay! I get it!" he shouted back. He ripped the tissue box out of the side of the sink and tore it open, dumping the tissues across the counter and tearing it so he could carefully put the heart in the box. It would be a bit safer in there for now. He stuffed some tissues in the sides to keep it still, and he placed the box back in the trash bag from the car.
Ivan slouched against the door, catching his breath from laughing. "Nikogda…nota do tot snova…" he breathed.
The door opened suddenly and Ivan fell forward.
"Kay! Is this better? Can we go eat now?" Alfred yelled in his most obnoxious voice possible. He stepped out of the bathroom. He was messing with the cuff links of his shirt, so he hardly even realized that he'd knocked Ivan over.
The Russian pushed himself up, grunting. "Alfred…" he growled, still supporting himself on his hands and knees.
The American turned after setting down the trash bag. "Oh...how'd you get down there?" he said, flashing Ivan a grin.
Goddamnit…why couldn't Ivan stay angry at him anymore? He reached up and took the hand that Alfred offered and stood.
Ivan changed next and the three went for the door.
Alfred jumped when a hand gripped his ass from behind and squeezed. He turned to France, laughing. He smacked his hand away. "God, you're such a perv~!"
The Frenchman just earned a sharp slap when he tried the same thing on the Russian. "Golubaya bl'yad…" Ivan muttered coldly. Alfred laughed, understanding the foul insults from a long time ago.
…
They were taken to their seats by a middle-aged waiter with a serious expression and a pair of oval glasses. He handed out menus to all three men and walked away stiffly. Alfred dropped his bag with the heart in it down between his feet protectively. He refused to leave it in the car where it would overheat.
The restaurant was too fancy for the American's tastes, but he knew that a lot of people liked this sort of stuff, so he'd just sit and let France have his fun.
There were chandlers hanging from the ceiling, and table cloths, padded chairs, calm lighting, and everything.
Alfred pushed his glasses higher on his nose and looked down at the curly letters of the menu. He sighed, "I can't even read this…" he muttered quietly.
"It is almost completely in English…da?" Ivan said back quietly. "You should have no trouble understanding…"
The American rolled his eyes and looked back at his menu. "The hell?" he hissed. "Miso Cured Cod Loin…" he read aloud. "Does that actually sound appetizing to anyone?"
"Just choose something," Ivan murmured back calmly.
Francis watched their exchanges with interest. He remembered back in the sixties when Ivan would come to him for consolation over Alfred. It was a rough time for both of them. Alfred had grown an obsession with England and Arthur's new culture revolution. Even the Frenchman had never seen two countries so eager to bone each other.
And it drove Ivan crazy.
France knew all about Russia and America's relationship during the nineteenth century, and he hated seeing the previous love fail so epically. He knew that the two were still compatible; they were just driving themselves down into ruts and repeating the same arguments over and over.
But he could tell neither of them wanted to give up on what they had. They were just waiting for the other to give in first and call a truce. But that wouldn't happen. They were too fucking stubborn.
So they grew apart. More like…drove each other away- made the other hate them. And Alfred moved on. He did so rather gracefully too.
He showed up drunk on Ivan's doorstep once or twice to tell him just how well he was moving on and how much he supported Ivan's political relations with China. Though…he didn't really tell him…more like spit it in his face and stomp away childishly.
England had come to pick him up after one of these episodes, and their international relations had…strengthened. But, Alfred had always been family-oriented and he hated the fact that he'd argued so much with his former care-giver, so it was an accomplishment for him.
When Ivan heard about it through the grapevine, he had remained calmly stone-faced. "Vell…it vas only a matter of time, I suppose," he said. "Let them work together, they vill not get in my vay."
But they did. Not only Arthur either, most of Europe and the Atlantic countries joined NATO to regulate the nuclear arsenals. Russia even tried to join once, but Alfred had gotten suspicious of him practically drove him out. Ivan gave up.
Alfred and Arthur only grew closer with their politics weaving together disgustingly. Francis came over to comfort Ivan about it. He assured him that it would pass eventually.
They were still the two countries with the 'special relationship' technically. But, that meant nothing to Alfred anymore. He wasn't in love with Arthur, and never was. He was just obsessed with his culture.
Alfred was perfectly content alone now. He made alliances, but kept things political for his own good.
But France was starting to wonder how long these two would make it before they started fucking again…
Alfred slammed down his menu in victory. "I found what I want," he said calmly.
"Vhat?" Ivan said carefully.
Alfred pointed at the menu.
"You can eat dis much?"
"Course!" the American said almost immediately.
"Um…alright…"
…
The waiter took their orders and rushed off to the kitchen. Francis and Alfred made some idle conversation while they waited for their food. Ivan just sat quietly and looked around at the Americans eating their fancy food.
Alfred ate an eight-course meal, dessert, and drank three cups of wine. He sat back in his chair after licking his plate clean. "Who's up for seconds?" he challenged.
Francis looked away in disgust. Ivan just laughed.
"Let's zee ze bill first…" France suggested. "Holy-!"
Ivan tipped the little black case down so he could read the receipt. He winced. "Just pay for your own food…" he told the Frenchman.
"Are jou serious?"
"I vill pay…" Ivan offered.
France just reached in his pocket for his wallet. "Alright…but I vill get ze tip."
Alfred leaned over Francis' shoulder to read the receipt. His breath caught. How could three people eat over two-hundred dollars in food…? He wasn't even full yet…
This was exactly why he preferred McDonalds' dollar menu.
He reached for his pocket to get his wallet, but Ivan covered his hand and shook his head calmly. "That's a fuckton of money," the American snapped. "You guys aren't paying that on your own."
"It is alright. I am quite vell off right now, da?"
Alfred knew that if he let them pay for the whole thing, especially when he'd eaten eighty-percent himself, then his guilt would start acting up. But, then his pride would prohibit him from admitting he felt any guilt. "I'll pay for mine," he said stubbornly. It was the easiest way to avoid the whole thing.
Ivan shook his head and snatched away Alfred's wallet. "You have kept me as your company. I am sure dat I owe you at least dis much money anyvay."
Alfred sent him a glare and tapped his fingers on the table, holding his hand out for his wallet. Ivan just held it until the waiter came back for the check.
…
"Why'd you do that?" Alfred demanded later on while they were walking to Alfred's condo. He'd been silently seething the entire time, so the walk had been moderately peaceful for the Russian.
"Dat is the whole reason vhy we became allies, da? My economy is well off, and you are the superpower. So, you protect my heart, and I vill help you if you need a small amount of money like dat."
Alfred just huffed and hitched the plastic bag higher on his shoulder. "Shut up, I'm trying to be angry at you."
Ivan just closed his eyes for a moment as they walked. "Vhere are we going tomorrow?"
Alfred turned and looked at the Russian for the first time since the restaurant. "You're staying?"
"I thought you vere gong to make me, da?"
"Ah…yeah! Totally. You've gotta stay for the movies! It'll be fun, we'll eat popcorn and we can build a tent out of the couch cushions to watch it in. I used to do that all the time with…somebody…when I was little. England always got angry at us for tearing up the living room though…"
"So, vhere are we going to meet…Japan?" Ivan asked. He wasn't so sure about going to see the Asian man. He had history with Japan too…
"Oh, he usually meets me in D.C. So, I can check in with Obama real quick too!"
Russian Translation-
Amerika, morgaly vikalyu, padla!- America, I'll poke your eyes out, fucker!
Nikogda nota do tot snova- Never do that again
Golubaya bl'yad- Gay Whore
Yep. I hope I'm getting Alfred perfect. I mean, he's a bit calmer, but so is everybody. I'm trying to make them more realistic. I really hate fics that make America into some kind of retard or something. He might be a bit immature and annoying, but he's not stupid.
But, that was a bit fluffy, huh? At least Alfred found a way to transport that heart. That bothered a lot of people…kinda bothered me too…and apparently him.
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