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A motorcade cut through Moscow beneath the streetlights.

From the back seat, Alfred watched the city move past the window in long streaks of amber and shadow. The wide Soviet avenues stretched almost eerily empty at this hour, cleared well in advance of their arrival. Every few blocks a police officer stood waiting at an intersection, stiff beside a motorcycle, watching the line of black cars glide past.

The engines hummed steadily beneath him, the quiet vibration traveling through the leather seat. Outside, rows of apartment blocks rose in endless gray walls, their windows scattered with soft yellow lights.

A siren could be heard ahead, and then faded again as the convoy moved forward.

Alfred leaned slightly toward the glass, eyes following the city lights. Moscow at night looked different than he expected. It’s darker, quieter, heavier. The streets felt controlled, as if the city itself knew something important was passing through it. Something to be protected.

Then the buildings opened suddenly, and the skyline shifted.

Ahead of them the red walls of the Kremlin rose from the darkness, floodlights washing over the ancient towers and casting long shadows across the river.

The convoy slowed as it approached the gates.

Alfred smiled faintly.

Somewhere inside those walls was Ivan.

The following morning fell into a blur of handshakes, paperwork, and speeches. Conference tables covered in ashtrays and glasses of alcohol. The shuffling of papers. Translators moving back and forth between the two delegations. Cameras flashing whenever someone important entered the room. By the end of the day, Alfred was exhausted from pretending to be polite, sitting beneath the chandeliers of the Kremlin.

It was all noise to him. Numbers between his government and the Soviets about missile counts. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting across the table now and then. There sat Ivan, sitting up straight with a serious expression. Paying attention to every detail, every word, and every number.

Complete opposites of each other. Which was exactly how the world saw them, always on opposing sides.

Finally, the negotiations wrapped up. Papers had been signed, photos taken, and the hallways of the Kremlin flooded with advisors and officials. Amongst the chaos, Alfred slipped away. His eyes scanned the halls for an ashy-haired blond that towered over everyone. Once he spotted his target, he followed behind.

The halls of the Moscow Kremlin were impressive, a fact that Alfred had no issue admitting.

The hallway stretched far, lined with tall white columns and gilded walls. Massive crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their golden light reflecting on the polished floors. Every footstep echoed against the marble. Guards stood along the walls, silent and unmoving.

It was massive. Excessive. Lavish.

Which made sense. It had originally been built for the tsars of imperial Russia.

Alfred found irony in the fact that the Soviet government used this building so proudly. For a group who claimed to be against luxury and aristocracy, they certainly had buildings that rivaled his own in excess.

“Hey! Ivan.” Alfred shouted, catching his attention.

Ivan turned around, and so did his guard.

The soldier’s posture immediately stiffened, stepping closer to the nation as Alfred approached. Ivan simply looked confused as Alfred strolled toward him in the most carefree way possible, as if he wasn’t walking up to one of his greatest global rivals without any security around.

Confidence practically radiated off him.

Which reminded Alfred of the conversation he’d had earlier that day on the ride here.

“They guard him like he’s some innocent virgin maiden who needs his virtue protected.” Alfred said, leaning back against the leather seats. The tinted windows shielded them from the bright sun and the watchful eyes outside.

“And I see why,” Alfred’s favorite CIA agent replied with a smirk.

The two of them snickered, Alfred lightly hitting him on the chest. 

His boss raised an eyebrow, clearly missing whatever joke the two of them shared.

“What are you two laughing about?” 

Alfred matched the agent’s smirk, wrapping an arm around his shoulder playfully.

“Listen, I won’t tell Ivan’s business to everyone,” he said. “But let’s just say we don’t have anything to worry about.” 

There was an undeniable cockiness in Alfred’s body language.

“You are right. He is guarded heavily. What’s your plan to get him alone then?”

Alfred leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as his grin showed off his perfectly white teeth.

“I got somethin’ those reds don’t.”

He paused. 

“Confidence.”

“You heading home?” Alfred asked now, his tone suddenly friendly again. “Was wondering if I could join you. Me and you barely got to talk one-on-one.”

His smile looked genuine. His shoulders were relaxed. His bright blue eyes are almost innocent.

But it was all a façade.

Ivan blinked in shock. The black car was already waiting for him, and his guard looked back and forth between the two nations uncertainly. Ivan couldn’t remember the last time Alfred had wanted to simply talk. After the entire day they had just spent in negotiations, he didn’t know whether he should be concerned or flattered.

“…You want to talk to me?” Ivan repeated slowly.

He tilted his head slightly, one eyebrow raising.

“Alone?”

Alfred shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“What? I thought we were trying to be friendly now. We just signed a bunch of papers saying we won’t bomb each other.” He smirked teasingly. “We can’t be friends if you can’t even be alone with me.”

Ivan sighed and rolled his eyes. He waved a hand dismissively as he began walking toward the car.

“You are not wrong about the friend part… alright. Come.”

Alfred followed with his usual swagger. The guard moved quickly beside Ivan, clearly suspicious of Alfred’s intentions. Leaning closer, he whispered urgently in Russian.

“Are you sure, sir?! He can’t be trusted!”

Ivan waved him off.

“Don’t worry. He won’t lay a finger on me, let alone in my home.”

He tried to sound casual, hoping to calm the guard. He didn’t need another worried person hovering around him.

“Still… What is that Yankee plotting?” the guard muttered, glaring back at Alfred. To the young Soviet soldier, this was the enemy. It made him deeply uneasy to see his nation walking so casually beside him.

Ivan sighed again, leaning slightly toward the guard.

“He’s just showing off. You know how Americans are.” His eyes flicked briefly toward Alfred before returning to the guard.

“To be honest, he probably just wants to gossip with me about China.”

The guard nodded, looking a bit more reassured.

“We will stay posted at the gate,” he said firmly. “In case he tries something.” Alfred watched the exchange with mild amusement, pretending not to notice the guard looking at him like he was a loaded weapon. When they reached the car, the guard opened the door for Ivan. Before sitting down, Ivan leaned closer and spoke quietly.

“If anyone asks… we are simply taking him back to their house. I don’t need more people worrying.”

The guard straightened and saluted.

“Yes, sir.”

Alfred had entered through the other side of the black limousine. A type of car only reserved for Soviet elites, including Ivan himself. It had bench seats, with dark leather. The cushioned seats reminded Alfred of a sofa, making him sink deep into them. Plenty of space for him to spread his legs, but still have distance from Ivan, who he sat across from. The door shut with a heavy thud, the interior smelling faintly of leather and cigarettes. Chrome metal ashtrays build into the arm rest. Heavily tinted windows to prevent unwanted eyes. The engine started, driving the pair off.

“Nice ride. I like it.” Alfred threw a compliment Ivan’s way. The man began lighting a cigarette, taking a drag with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, really?” He responded, suspicious of the authenticity of the compliment.

“I mean, it’s no Cadillac. But I feel safe. Like riding a tank that could handle war.” The limo was chunky and large, as Alfred is used to more plush and flashy rides.

“Mm. Well, it is to protect ones who are of importance…” Ivan said, shrugging in fairness of what Alfred said. To him, luxury is all noise. He preferred the reliable. “Anyways… What is on your mind so much, you must ride with me?” The Russian had a way of being blunt, especially with types like Alfred.

Alfred looked around the limo, raising a brow himself. “Is it bugged?” He had to ask. The partition window separating them and the driver is down. Alfred leaned forward to shut it, locking it with a click.

Ivan shook his head. “Not that I know of. But if you want true privacy, we can wait.” He took another drag, the car filling with smoke. Ivan lowered the window just slightly to let it escape, a slight breeze coming in.

The pair sat in silence for a while. Alfred watched out his window, noticing them passing by large apartment blocks. Wide boulevards, with yellow street lights reflecting the pavement. He found Soviet architecture to be ugly and boring. From just leaving the Moscow Kremlin, the beauty of the halls made the rest of the city look disappointing. He didn’t understand why the Soviets subjugated themselves to this when they clearly had a talented eye for beauty.

After a bit, the city started to thin out. Less street lights, fewer cars, the occasional building. He would glance over to Ivan every once in a while. The man had his head leaning against the window, taking a drag here and there. His blank stare out the window reads as tired. Alfred had expected Ivan to attempt small talk, but the pair sat in silence, with only the sound of the engine and the road making noises.

Alfred knew they were close once they started to pass tall pine trees, and entering a forest. They had stopped briefly at a check point, where the driver had to flash an ID that let them go through. Alfred stretched his legs, deciding to finally say something.

“You really like hiding in the woods, don’t you?” He teased. Ivan nodded, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“I love my little cottage.”

“Dacha, that’s how you say it in Russian, right? I wonder if this was the one I went to before.”

Ivan looked confused, tilting his head. “You have… Been to it before?” His words trailed in curiosity of the statement.

“Yeah. It was a while ago, though.” Alfred nodded. “You don’t remember?” The American raised a brow. “I mean, it was like, what, thirty years ago?” To a human, this seemed like such a far out time where it’d be understandable if someone forgot. But to nations, time moved differently. A year could feel like a month or two. A decade could feel like a year. Time flew by being an immortal being who didn’t age.

“Huh…” Ivan responded, eyebrows furrowed. He felt as if it happened, he’d remember clearly. Perhaps he was drunk at the time. It wasn’t unheard of for him to black out from extreme alcohol use from time to time.

Finally, they arrived at a gravel driveway that led them to a small cottage. It crunched under the tires. Softly lit by lamps, surrounded by trees, with a guard posted at the gate. Once parked, Alfred smiled from excitement. An opportunity to be in such an intimate environment with Ivan. A guard opened Ivan’s door while Alfred had to do his own. He could feel the gravel underneath his shoes, the smell of pine trees rushing in. He’s in Ivan’s world now.

The taller man waved for Alfred to follow him, who did so with his hands in his pockets. They stood at the wooden porch, a dim light ahead of them. Ivan turned the keys and let him in. Wood creaked as Alfred walked inside. Another sound is heard from Ivan locking the door. Right away, he went to check the curtains. Keeping out noisy eyes from leering inside.

Ivan’s cottage is warm; Alfred could smell the wood and cigarettes. You could hear the wind outside, blowing through the trees. Such a quiet environment didn’t startle Alfred. He has countless homes across his country. Many in rural areas, as he could appreciate being away from the noise that is the city.

Ivan turned on a few lamps, with Alfred taking note of the interior. It’s cozy, with dark wood furniture. There’s two large Bessarabian rugs, one on the floor near the sofa. Another on the wall behind it. Stereotypically Russian, but Alfred found it endearing. Bookshelves, ash trays, and plenty of vodka. Which is the first thing Ivan went for.

Alfred took off his jacket, placing it over a wooden chair. He loosened his tie and sat on the sofa with spread legs. He tracked Ivan with his eyes as the man grabbed a glass of vodka, placing it on the table near Alfred’s side of the sofa. “Here, for you.” Ivan said in a polite tone. It would be rude of him not to offer his guest something, even if that said guest is Alfred.

“Heh, thanks!” He replied cheerfully, taking a sip before placing it down back on the table. He winced only a bit; as it’s served neat. Not his favorite way, but he’d manage.

Ivan didn’t take off his suit jacket however. He kept everything buttoned, still his favorite scarf around his neck. Still clearly guarded. He crossed his legs and leaned back into the sofa. He took a slow sip of vodka, his full pink lips glistening slightly. Alfred noticed, but then again, he noticed everything about him.

They were alone now. Relaxed, finally able to talk without guards, translators, or diplomats hovering nearby. One of the few places in Moscow where the truth could be spoken, without a microphone hidden somewhere. Ivan broke the silence, desiring to get to the point.

“So,” he said, glancing over with violet eyes. “What is it you wanted to talk about so badly?” His voice is calm and soft.

Alfred smiled, turning to his side as he leaned into the sofa.

“Mm. Us.”

Ivan blinked. “What about… us?”

“Us,” Alfred repeated casually, with a shrug. “You know. Getting closer. I’m really happy about it.” The nation grinned.

Ivan nodded slowly, “Yes. Well… I agree it is good for us to coexist peacefully.” He said truthfully. It wasn’t that long ago that nuclear war had almost broken out. Easing of tensions benefited both countries.

Alfred waved a hand, with a light shake of the head. “Well, I wanna do more than coexist.”

Ivan frowned slightly in confusion. “Pardon?”

“You know.” Alfred said, leaning forward a little. A grin back on his tan face. “Like before.”

Ivan’s brow furrowed. “Before… what?” He pressed, not catching what Alfred had been implying. Alfred looked at him like it was obvious, shrugging his shoulders in frustration.

“Y’know. Before Yao.”

Ivan blinked, another head tilt. What was this man talking about? “…Before Yao?” He repeated.

“Yeah,” Alfred said, nodding again. Talking with his hands, he opened them up. “That’s over now, right? You two aren’t together anymore.”

Ivan’s expression tightened. He didn’t enjoy being reminded of his fall out with Yao. It had broken his heart. They were supposed to lead the word into communism. But instead, his ‘comrade’ had declared that he wasn’t a ‘true’ communist and broke off their relationship.

“Yes. That is correct.” He echoed.

More nodding for Alfred. He started to wonder why he had to talk through so many steps with Ivan. He questioned if the man was playing shy or just genuinely confused. “Okay. So he was the one you were sleeping with?”

Ivan paused, his lips pursed in irritation.

“…Yes.” He confirmed, taking a deep breath.

“Right,” Alfred said with a nod. “So I’d like to fill that role.” He said with confidence. His glasses lowered on his nose.

Ivan blinked again. “Excuse me?” He asked in disbelief.

“You know,” Alfred said casually, shrugging his shoulders. "He's gone, we like each other, we’ve got chemistry… I think we should return to that.” Another smile grew on his face. He said everything with such sureness.

Ivan stared at him, blinking more. “…We like each other?”

Alfred frowned, his eyebrows furrowed. “Uh. Yeah? I mean…you like me. Right?” He doubted.

Ivan tilted his head, raising a brow. “…Not really.” His voice trailed, his soft voice emphasizing his deep confusion on what Alfred had been saying. Alfred sat up straighter, scoffing.

“What do you mean not really?! What’s there not to like?!” He challenged. This man clearly isn’t told often that people don’t like him. Or at least, he didn’t truly believe it.

Ivan said nothing, but just stared.

Alfred pushed up his glasses, then gestured at himself. “I beat you to the moon.” He began to brag. “Everybody wants to be my friend. My economy’s stronger. I’m hot. People either wanna fuck me or be me.” The nation seemed to think bragging to his rival would win him over. It had not.

Ivan continued staring.

Blank, blinking in disbelief.

Alfred shrugged, continuing on with his boosting. “So yeah. I’m pretty damn awesome.”

Ivan slowly nodded. He could only offer dry, deadpan responses to Alfred’s delusions of grandeur.

“…Okay.”

“And I think you’re pretty awesome too.”

“…Okay.”

“And really hot. So yeah. What do you think?” Another smirk came from Alfred. Always with his perfectly white, straight teeth. Ivan looked down, nodding very slowly as he composed what he’s going to say. It had been ages since he had to deal with a conversation with such nonsense.

“…I think you are completely out of your mind.” He stated in a dry voice, looking back up. His expression is neutral.

“What the fuck do you mean?!” Alfred exclaimed, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Alfred. I do not like you. At all.” The Russian said in a matter-of-fact tone. He slightly shook his head, eyebrows raised again.

“…Well that feels exaggerated.” Alfred rejected, eyes narrowing. “You definitely think I’m hot. We wouldn’t have fucked before if not.” He leaned in again, upset by Ivan’s rejection.

“Yes. You are attractive,” Ivan admitted, with a light nod. “But that was right after the war. Tens of millions of my people had died. Europe was in ruins. I was simply… happy to be alive.” He shrugged slightly, his lips pulling to the side.

“I think I would have had sex with anyone who showed me attention.” He said, honest. As bad as it sounded, escaping death had lowered his pickiness for sex.

Alfred blinked, shaking his head again. “…Well. Don’t you like our back and forth? Isn’t it fun?” His tone raised, due to the questioning.

“…What?”

“You know,” Alfred said, using his hands to motion the area around them. “The competition. Us trying to beat each other.”

“Fun?” Ivan repeated slowly. “You find this fun?”

Alfred nodded, smiling lightly to himself. “Well yeah. Most of the time.” His eyebrow raised as he looked to the side. “Sometimes it goes too far…” He gave a dry chuckle, thinking about Cuba. “But other than that, I love it.”

“You… love this?” Ivan repeated, blinking in disbelief.

“Yeah. Duh.” Alfred rolled his eyes, tilting his chin up.

“You find all of this a game?”

“Uh. Yeah? Isn’t it for you?”

Ivan stared at him.

“No, Alfred. I take it very seriously.”

Ivan’s voice was quiet, but there was a firmness to it. He leaned back into the sofa, one leg crossed over the other still, fingers loosely wrapped around his glass of vodka.

“Well, you don’t have to.”

“Yes I do,” Ivan replied coldly. His eyes lifted to Alfred’s. “Since your goal is to destroy me.”

“I’m not trying to destroy you!” Alfred said quickly, sitting up straighter. He gestured with his hands as if the answer should be obvious. “I just want to stop that communist shit from spreading everywhere. Other than that?” He flashed a grin. “I think you’re cool.”

He leaned back again, comfortable.

“And hot.”

Ivan blinked once.

“…Okay.”

“But yeah,” Alfred continued easily, spreading his arms along the back of the couch. “I’m hot. You’re hot. I think we should fuck. Like. Right now.”

Ivan stared at him for a moment, expression flat.

“Alfred. I genuinely do not like you.” He spoke slowly, as if explaining something obvious. “I know we’ve been physical in the past… but that was a long time ago. And not often.” He took another small sip of vodka. “I am not interested.”

Alfred frowned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Then who are you getting it from?”

Ivan’s brows drew together.

“Excuse me?”

“Who’s giving you dick?” Alfred asked bluntly. “Huh? Who do I gotta beat?” His eyes narrowed. “Other than another human… But, how many do you even have?”

Ivan’s lips pressed together in irritation. He hated the topic of dating humans, as it’s a sore spot.

“…No one.”

“Exactly!” Alfred said, pointing at him like he’d proven something. He then paused at the realization of what Ivan just said, his shoulders falling. “Wait… what?”

Ivan quickly shook his head, raising his hand. “I don’t want to talk about it. Drop it.” He said in a serious tone. Alfred sat up straight again, returning to speaking only of a dating life between nations.

“Okay. So, no one's having sex with you. I want to fuck you. Do you know how many people wanna fuck me?” His finger pointing to his chest.

Ivan tilted his head slightly, unimpressed.

“…Oh, I bet you have plenty.”

“Exactly.” Alfred nodded quickly. “But I want you. So I think you should be happy.”

Ivan’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Should I be happy?”

“Yeah.” Alfred shrugged. “You’re not getting much attention anywhere else.”

Silence stretched between them. Ivan exhaled slowly through his nose.

“But I can give it to you.”

Ivan lowered his glass onto the table with a soft click. It’s time for him to give this American a reality check. He questioned if anyone in Alfred’s life told him the truth.

“You know what I think?”

Alfred perked up immediately. “What?”

Ivan looked at him steadily now. His expression was cold. Alfred found it unfortunate on such a pretty, soft face.

“I think you are a brat who needs to be knocked down a peg.” He said harshly.

Alfred leaned forward eagerly, eyes lighting up. This banter, he loved. And it seemed like Ivan was taking the bait.

“Okay. Do it. Knock me down a peg. What’re you gonna do?” He grinned, looking at Ivan up and down. “Hit me? Wanna fight?” He said it as if it wasn't a big deal. Anything rarely is a big deal to Alfred. He enjoyed appearing as if he wasn't pressured or upset by others.

Ivan shook his head once. He didn’t want to lose his temper. He couldn’t let the American win.

“I wouldn’t waste a punch on you.” His voice remained calm. “Just like I wouldn’t waste a soldier’s life on you.” He paused slightly. “I only need my words.”

He lifted his gaze fully to Alfred now, violet eyes sharp.

“I think you are an egomaniac who believes he is far more impressive than he actually is. I think you spend your entire life trying to prove how great you are so that everyone keeps looking at you.” His fingers tapped once against the arm of the sofa. “I think you are loud, arrogant, and desperate for attention.”

A moment passed.

“And I find you completely unbearable.”

Alfred didn’t respond immediately. The grin faded slightly as he leaned back against the couch, studying Ivan.

For a moment, he was quiet. A rarity for a man like him. He looked to the side, then down. Then to the side again. He lifted his hand to bite his nail for a moment, before sitting up straight. He attempted to save face. Then a small laugh escaped him.

“…Hah.”

He rubbed the back of his neck meekly. “Wow. You really know how to hurt a man.” He balled one of his hands into a fist. Hitting his own chest in a ‘stabbing’ motion. As if Ivan had put a knife through his heart. Ivan said nothing.

Alfred smirked, knowing to confess that Ivan had hurt his ego. He had to play fair.

“But you know what? Maybe you did knock me down a peg.”

He leaned closer, eyes narrowing as their lips were uncomfortably close for Ivan. He could feel his hot breath against his lips.

“But I think no matter what… I’ll always be a bit higher.”

Ivan stared at him. He wanted to smack that grin off of Alfred’s face. To him, it’s truly unbearable. So he did, right across the cheek. It crack echoed through the room, with Alfred’s head turning with the impact. His glasses falling off to the floor. For a second he didn’t move.

Then he slowly looked back at Ivan, touching his cheek.

“…Oh?”

A grin spread across his face.

“Are we fighting now?”

He leaned forward slightly, his heart pounding with excitement. He had gotten Ivan riled up, which he couldn’t lie; he found it attractive. Most of the time.

“That’s hot. I love it.” He said, shaking his head playfully. Ivan glared, disgusted by him.

“Leave.” he commanded, having enough of his nonsense. He isn’t going to be disrespected in his own home. It’s out of character for him to allow this to go on as far as it did.

Instead, Alfred leaned back into the sofa and began casually unbuttoning his shirt. Underneath was a white tank top, his muscles easily showing through the material.

Ivan frowned, attempting to not glance down to his chest. “What are you doing?"

“Relaxing,” Alfred said. “You just slapped me.”

“Get out of my house.”

Alfred gestured toward his cheek. The slap had been his get out of jail free card.

“Yeah, I can’t really do that right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because you left a mark, Ivan.”

He motioned to his shirt, half unbuttoned.

“You really want me walking out of here looking like this? Red cheek, shirt open? People are gonna start asking questions.” He teased, the corner of his lips pulling into a smile. Ivan stared at him, shaking his head in a mixture of disgust, disbelief, and frustration.

“You are unbelievable.”

Alfred exhaled quietly, looking to the side. Being threatened to be kicked out wasn’t his plan.

Alright. New strategy.

He looked at Ivan again, softer this time. He sighed, letting his arrogant smile slip away. It’s time for him to use his second flirting method; sweet talking.

“Sorry for being an asshole earlier.”

Ivan blinked, not expecting the apology.

“Guess I’m just… kinda hurt when someone I admire thinks so badly of me.” His face turned crestfallen, which Ivan hadn’t seen in ages.

“…You admire me?”

Alfred shrugged, nodding. “Yeah.”

He looked at him for a moment. “You’ve been through a lot of shit. Wars, famine, rebuilding half a continent… and you’re still standing.” He gestured toward Ivan.

“People doubted you. Look at you now.”

Alfred gave a small smile. “Same thing happened to me. People thought democracy was a joke. Said it would never work.” He leaned back slightly, “And here we are. World powers.” He glanced at Ivan again.

“So yeah. I admire that about you.”

Ivan was quiet for a moment. “…That was actually very sweet of you.” He looked slightly awkward. “Thank you.”

Alfred leaned back, looking thoughtful. “I can be nice, and admit the truth. Like chess? I’d know you’d wipe the floor with me.” He confessed, knowing that topic would soften Ivan up. It worked, as the corner of Ivan’s lips pulled into a small smile. “I am glad you know that. My skills are unmatched.”

Alfred went to his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He held out one for Ivan, but the man rejected it. Only to pull out one from his own pocket. He’d rather smoke Soviet cigarettes. They both lit up their own, with Alfred resuming with his sweet talking.

“I’ve been practicing though! But I only want to challenge you when I know I have a chance to win. My ego can’t handle you beating me after five turns.” Alfred joked, winning a tiny chuckle from Ivan. The Russian went back to his glass of vodka, taking another sip. His shoulders were relaxing, which pleased Alfred.

“Oh. And drinking. I would not want to go up against you in a drinking contest.” Alfred pointed to the glass Ivan had been drinking. “I mean, this isn’t even vodka on the rocks. You’re drinkin’ lukewarm vodka in a glass like it’s soda. And you don’t even wince when you take a sip!” He snorted, shaking his head. “I was watching you today thinking, how the hell is on his fifth glass of vodka and still standing?” Alfred started to snicker more, as he continued. “I was hoping you’d throw up to get us out of that boring ass meeting at the end.” He took a drag from the cigarette, blowing out smoke with a smile.

As much as Ivan wanted to hold it back, he burst into laughter. Unfiltered laughs, with his hand covering his mouth to at least try to hide the smiles. Alfred is funny, as much as he hated to admit it. When he isn’t being a cocky asshole, he can be fun to talk to. His pale face got red, with him raising a brow.

“Oh? What, Mr. Jones can’t hold his liquor?” He teased playfully, his pale face flushed slightly as he grinned. Smiles looked better on him. He had a softer face, a scowl always made his features look too sharp.

Alfred snorted, shrugging. “I mean. Can I? Yes. But, am I the final big boss of alcoholism like you? Absolutely fucking not.”

The pair laughed together, a rarity that hasn’t been seen in decades. Alfred took advantage to start flirting again.

“Oh, he thinks I’m funny.” Alfred teased, rubbing the back of his neck. Ivan rolled his eyes, still grinning. “Who said you were funny?”

“Uh, you keep laughing, so you gotta find me a little funny.”

“Maybe I am laughing at you, not with you.”

“You know what?” Alfred shrugged, leaning back on the sofa. He spread his arms on the back, one of them close to Ivan. “I’ll take that.”

Ivan kept shaking his head, still chuckling as he put the glass of vodka to his lips. It had been a while since someone made him laugh.

Alfred turned his head to look at Ivan.

His pale cheeks were faintly flushed from the vodka. Earlier, his hair had been parted neatly to the side, styled with careful precision. Now the soft blond locks had fallen loose, framing his face the way they did naturally.

Alfred had always thought Ivan was pretty. An unusual word to use for a man, but it fit him far too well to ignore.

Ivan clearly tried very hard to look serious. He styled his hair, wore dull suits, and carried himself with that heavy, stoic expression. But beneath all of it, his face was softer than the intimidating image he tried to project.

He had a round face with perfectly clear skin, full pink lips, and large eyes that made him look almost unfairly youthful. Without the stern posture and carefully arranged hair, it was difficult to imagine how half the world found him frightening. Even as they were surrounded by cigarette smoke, Ivan’s beauty shined through.

“You should smile more. It’s beautiful.”

The comment caught Ivan off guard. “You are so stupid…” He brushed him off, not wanting to admit that the compliment made his ears burn red. Alfred kept grinning. “You are so easy to flirt with. It’s really cute.”

“I’m going to kill you.” Ivan said, but it didn’t sound threatening to Alfred. Ivan rarely did, as his voice matched his face, pretty. The Soviet man usually had to force himself to use a deeper tone while in public. “You probably need your glasses.” He stated. They were still somewhere on the floor. Alfred looked around, then picked them up and placed them on the table.

“Wanna know a secret? I actually don’t really need these.” He confessed. Ivan blinked, then tilted his head. “Really?”

“Yeah. I just need them for all the paper work we do. All those little letters strain my eyes a bit. But other than that… I kind of just wear them all the time because I feel like they make me look more mature.” Alfred snorted, shrugging.

Ivan had to admit, he did look a bit younger without them. More boyish. Or perhaps he’s just not used to him bare faced.

“... I am surprised you let people think you have a weakness…” Ivan said lightly. He always had wondered if breaking his rivals' glasses would make a fight easier. Guess not.

Alfred snorted, shrugging. “Weakness? What? Someone’s gonna steal my glasses and beat my ass? If that were the case, I’d wear contacts.” That did win a tiny chuckle from Ivan. Having him back smiling, Alfred took the chance to address an earlier topic.

“... Did you really mean that when you said no one’s giving you any attention? Even a human?”

Alfred had been referring to the duality in a nation's dating life. Most would have human partners. Maybe one long term until they died, or a few casual ones over the decades. Alfred tended to surround himself with several girlfriends, spoiling them until he let them go to live normal lives. What a nation did with humans romantically is seen as completely separated from their relations with other nations. Most could be satisfied emotionally by their human partners. But there’s a small desire that could only be filled by fellow nations. They were the same species technically, after all. Both were needed to be truly fulfilled, as life would be miserable if they only dated nations. They were busy, and only with recent technology could they see them ever so often.

Alfred would go crazy if couldn’t surround himself with American beauties.

Ivan looked down at his glass of vodka. It was almost empty now. He leaned forward and refilled it slowly, watching the clear liquid settle before speaking.

“I used to.”

Alfred paused, raising a brow, putting his cigarette in the ashtray.

“Used to what?”

Ivan kept his eyes on the glass. “…Date someone.”

Alfred leaned forward slightly, curiosity replacing the playful expression he’d worn earlier. “Well? What happened?”

Ivan hesitated for a moment. Then quietly, he confessed.

“He died.”

Alfred frowned, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m sorry. That’s terrible when it happens.”

He assumed Ivan meant natural death. It was one of the inevitable downsides of relationships with humans. Their lives were fragile, fleeting. Some nations stayed with one for decades, and when they died it left a wound that never quite healed. Even if a human life was only a fraction of their own, the bonds they formed were real. Alfred sighed softly, shaking his head.

“That’s why I can’t stay with just one for too long,” he admitted. “Being with someone for decades and then watching them die… I’d be a wreck every time.”

Alfred was a romantic at heart. He loved love. He’d never be the type to scoff and say it was pointless.

Instead, he indulged in it.

He surrounded himself with the people he dated, spoiling them with affection, gifts, and attention whenever he could. It filled something in him. At least for a while.

Ivan let out a slow breath and took another sip of vodka. “He did not die naturally.” His voice was calm, almost detached. “My old boss had him killed.”

He stared down into the glass, unable to look anywhere else. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was telling Alfred this. Perhaps it was simply because someone had asked. No one ever asked him anything personal. No one tried to dig any deeper into who he actually was.

“…Jesus.” Alfred blinked, clearly caught off guard. “I’m sorry.” That wasn’t the answer he had expected. Then again, the more he thought about it, the less surprising it felt. Something like that wouldn’t have been unthinkable coming from Ivan’s old leadership. Alfred’s brows furrowed.

“…Was it because he was a guy?” he asked. It was the first question that came to his mind, and Alfred had never been particularly good at filtering those.

Ivan simply shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the clear vodka in his glass. He held the cigarette in the same hand, the bright ashes lighting the glass behind it.

“Probably,” he said quietly. “Or maybe he wanted to control me."

A small pause followed.

“Perhaps a mix of both.” Ivan rotated the glass slowly in his hand.

Silence settled between them. For most of Ivan’s life, everything had come down to control and power. He tried to justify it sometimes. Telling himself it was necessary, that appearances mattered, that he had responsibilities no one else understood. But it would be a lie to say it didn’t exhaust him.

There was a strange irony to it all.

To the outside world, he was expected to be strong. Unbreakable. Stoic. But that image had always been carefully constructed. A role he had learned to play. Or everything would fall apart.

Alfred tried to lighten the mood, best to his abilities. “Ah. So that’s why you can’t handle people flirting with you. You aren’t used to it…” He did wear a smirk, pleased by Ivan’s continued flush.

“Be quiet.” Ivan whined, looking away. He took another sip of vodka, while Alfred snickered. “You know, telling me to shut up doesn’t work. I’m only going to compliment you more.” He said truthfully. Nothing would ever stop Alfred from a continuous flow of flirting and sweet talk. He received more ammo every time Ivan got flustered. He decided to lay down more compliments.

“I’ve always wanted to tell you this…but I was actually pretty annoyed when my boss banned Yuri from coming to the States.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow.

“…You were?”

“Yeah,” Alfred said. “I really wanted to meet him.” He shrugged.

“So when I heard he was in Paris, that’s why I called you and came right away. He went to space. That’s cool as hell.” He put his hands up nodding his head. “I was like, I don’t even care right now that the Soviets did it first. I gotta talk to this guy right away. Didn’t have time to be jealous."

Ivan took a slow sip of vodka. “…That is how I felt about the Moon landing.”

Alfred looked over. “Oh yeah?”

Ivan nodded. “I was jealous, of course.”

He paused, bringing the cigarette to his lips. Blowing out smoke as he shrugged.

“But I begged my bosses to let me come to America to meet them. I had to speak to the men who walked on the moon.” He explained, another soft smile forming on his lips. Talking about space is a great way for Ivan’s guard to let down. He had such a passion for the stars; something he had in common with Alfred.

Alfred grinned, feeling pleased by the mutual understanding. “See? That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

Ivan frowned slightly. “…About what?”

“That feeling,” Alfred said. “When something is just so damn impressive you can’t even be mad about it.”

Ivan considered this. He put out his cigarette, having enough of it as well.

“…Yes.”

There’s a silence between them, with Ivan using his glass of vodka as an excuse not to make eye contact.

“You know what, if we weren’t rivals, we’d probably be the best damn team on the goddamn planet.” Alfred inched closer to Ivan, watching his body language to see if he’d pull away. He didn’t.

Ivan snorted, shaking his head. “Your ego would never allow it.” Him and Alfred… A Team? Sounded almost impossible with their past. Alfred represented the leader of the Western world. Everything he stood against. Their indulgence, individualism, and their bourgeois decadence. Coexist with him? Perhaps. Get along? Sounds impossible, or comical to Ivan. At least for now.

Alfred leaned in more, shrugging. “Eh. Maybe.” His voice dropped slightly as his eyes looked him up and down. As if he’s a meal he’s about to eat. Heat radiated off his face. He licked his canine before he spoke.

“But I’d still pick you.”

Ivan paused, before Alfred caressed his face and leaned in for a kiss. Ivan froze for a moment, his hand almost dropping his glass of vodka. His lips didn’t move. But as Alfred’s soft lips pushed against, he found himself joining. Only for a moment, before pulling his lips away quickly. Laying back against the sofa, he took a shaky breath before downing the rest of his vodka. He enjoyed the way it burned his throat. Almost as if it’s punishment for kissing his biggest rival.

Of his life.

He leaned forward to grab the bottle of liquor on the table. His glass cup was filled quickly, he returned to leaning back into his sofa. Face and ears flushed, he couldn’t make eye contact with Alfred. He already knew that idiot had that stupid grin on his face.

‘I’m probably drunk. It’s been a long day…’ He thought to himself, coming up with as many excuses as he could. His body felt hot, the long sleeve shirt with a scarf started to feel suffocating. He wished he could undress and hide underneath his covers.

Alfred watched his reaction, and never felt better. He’s getting to Ivan. The man went from threatening to kick him out in the middle of the night, to accepting a kiss. His methods were working. The more they talked, the more he started to understand Ivan; the person.

It’s clear to Alfred as day: no one gave him attention. In a meaningful way, at least. No one gave him genuine compliments. After all, communist ideology discouraged individual praise. Even if their leaders gave into having their own cult of personalities. He’d put money on his only praise he got is him being a strong, hard worker.

“See?” Alfred leaned back against the couch with a smug grin, one arm still draped lazily behind Ivan’s shoulders. “I knew it. You still think I’m hot. And worth having sex with.”

Ivan didn’t even look at him. He lifted his vodka glass and took a slow sip.

“I disagree.”

Alfred turned his head immediately, eyebrows shooting up.

“Oh really?” He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked up at Ivan. “Then why was it more than once? If I sucked so bad, there wouldn’t have been multiple times.”

Ivan paused, staring into his glass like he was carefully considering the question. After a moment he gave a small shrug.

“I mean… alright.” He glanced over at Alfred briefly. “It was… satisfactory.” Alfred froze. Then he straightened upright.

“Satisfactory?!” He leaned closer, staring at Ivan like he’d just been personally insulted. “Satisfactory?? What am I, a restaurant?”

Ivan calmly took another sip of vodka, completely unfazed.

“You got the job done. That’s all that mattered at the time.”

Alfred dragged a hand down his face dramatically. “Oh geez. Okay, fine.” He sat up straighter and pointed at Ivan like he was issuing a challenge. “Give me some critique.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow, not expecting that question.

“How do I please the Soviet Union?” Alfred asked, spreading his arms in mock seriousness. “How do I get a ‘good’ rating?”

Ivan slowly turned his head toward him, studying him for a moment. Then the faintest hint of a smile appeared on his lips.

“…You are asking for a performance review?” He knew Alfred had a competitive spirit, but not to the level where sex is a game.

“Yeah. Come on,” Alfred said, leaning forward with an eager grin. He had excitement in his eyes as if he’s a student waiting for a grade. “Give me a review. What do I need to improve?” In all honesty, he thought Ivan would have nothing and admit he is good.

Ivan blinked slowly, clearly caught off guard by the seriousness of the question.

“I…” He hesitated, glancing down at the vodka glass in his hand. “Alfred, honestly, I barely remember it.”

Alfred’s grin faltered. That’s not a review he usually received.

“That’s why I do not understand why you want to have sex so badly…” Ivan continued, lifting one shoulder in a small shrug. “I think I just… laid there?” The best Ivan could recall. He remembered enjoying it and having a good time, but the blur of his mental and physical state dampened it. It isn’t a bad memory, but not something he’s been mulling over, wishing and hoping it’d happen again. Which is how Alfred felt, apparently.

Alfred stared at him for a moment. Then he sat up straighter, immediately protesting.

“Yeah, but I told you to do that!” he said, pointing at him like this was an important clarification. “You were so cute!”

Ivan turned his head slowly, his expression flattening. “I was not ‘cute.’”

“You were!” Alfred insisted, laughing as he leaned back again. “You kept asking me what I wanted.” He mimicked Ivan’s voice in a dramatic whisper. “What should I do, Alfred?” He nailed the accent and the softness. Then he pointed at himself proudly.

“And I told you to just lay there and look pretty.”

Ivan’s eyes widened slightly, ashamed of what Alfred had recollected. He could feel the burning in his ears.

“And moan.”

Ivan immediately covered part of his face with his hand, turning away.

“Oh, Jesus Christ…”

Alfred only laughed harder, completely delighted with how flustered he’d made him.

“Ha! And oh boy, you did. It was fucking great.”

The Russian wanted to say a lot of things. For Alfred to kill himself, shut up, to die, and many more. But in that moment he found himself speechless due to a mix of shame and shock. Had he really said that? And done that? Perhaps he was under the influence. It was after the Second World War after all. Maybe he had drunk too much in celebration! Yes, that could be the only reason he’d let Alfred not only dominate him in that way. But treat him as if he’s weak and small. Or at least, that’s what Ivan felt like Alfred had done.

Ivan stayed turned away from Alfred, unable to make any eye contact at this moment. His entire face is red, and his ears burned.

Alfred’s laughter started to fade when he realized that Ivan wasn't looking at him anymore. He had a feeling he’d push too far again with the teasing. If he were to get Ivan to give him another chance, he’d have to humble himself again.

“You know I mean it when I say I liked it. I’m not trying to make fun of you or anything-"He started to say, before Ivan cut him off.

“You clearly enjoy humiliating me.” Ivan accused, refusing to look at Alfred. His drink had been put down, and now he used his scarf to hide half of his face. His arms were crossed as he sunk into his seat. He didn’t want to believe a word Alfred said. But the American had said it so confidently, he didn’t figure he’s lying.

“No, I…” Alfred paused, looking for the right words. “I just wanted you. Not a performance.” He paused again, bringing up a fact he knew was true.

“I wanted to be gentle with you. No one’s really gentle with you, are they?”

That hit a nerve in Ivan, who waved him off. He didn’t want to think of the truth in that statement.

It hurt his heart to confess the truth out loud.