#LRTIHEW

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LRTIHEW: Part Twenty Nine

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”. Although Russia speaks rather negatively about Poland, I do not share these opinions. Everyone is wonderful. Also, Belarus! Run!

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/166627015553/lrtihew-part-twenty-eight

There is swearing, fluff, smut, insanity, and lord knows what else

Work tore them apart like it always had. Ivan had to return to the fatherland. Alfred was staying another night in this hellish shit hole of a country. The Russian couldn't imagine any reason as to why, given that Poland was a horrible nation to interact with.

Even so, The duo managed to spent another hour together before they were separated by fate. They didn't talk about their feelings, not wanting to ruin the mood. Ivan simply didn't acknowledge these things often. Alfred had a horrendous attention span, likely to babble on about anime robots in the middle of a love confession. No. Intimate silence was best as they lay together in the hotel, watching a terrible TV show.

It would be months before Ivan was likely to see his new lover again. He missed when Kozlov was the American president. During both four year terms, the clever human had laid a strong foundation for future relations with Russian officials. Even NASA and the Roscosmos space agency were collaborating together each other now, if cautiously. More importantly, the friendly president had let Ivan come visit America whenever he wanted without extensive security checks. Not once in those blessed eight years was Ivan ever truly depressed or alone.

The ash blonde was as rewarding as he could be vengeful. He lavished wonderful gifts upon the  former president on new years eve. He gave Kozlov's aged parents a lovely Dascha in the Volga region, along with restored full citizenship. The quaint cottage had a view of a private lake normally reserved for government upper crust and billionaires. For such fragile creatures, the ancient couple had accomplished everything Ivan imprinted upon them. He couldn't be more proud.

America's newest president was less than eager about engaging in a friendly manner with Vladimir Putin and his goons. Ivan could understand why. The old leader was nearly eighty seven with failing health. On several occasions, Ivan personally escorted the hot blooded elder from meeting after losing his cool. Occasionally the strong willed human would forget things or simply grew too tired to finish tasks.

Ivan grew much closer to to his leader in these moments, personally tending to his medications and time schedule. Putin's two daughters, along with their offspring, finally convinced the occasionally foolish human to begin training a replacement candidate. Ivan kept on healthy terms with the entire family, keeping tabs on them. He always had their interests at heart, even if both daughters were unnerved by his immortal existence. It would never be like the Romanov days, when the royals openly accepted Ivan's nature and welcomed him into their hearts. Still, something was better than nothing. They largely pretended Ivan was Vladimir's military advisor, addressing him as such. It was a suiting title after all.

The end came much sooner than the doctors predicted. Ivan's glorious yet modest leader passed away a year after the war had ended, dying of medical complications in his sleep. The entire country was plunged into uncertainty as the entire world held it's breath. Ivan didn't know how to cope with the loss, isolating himself after the ostentatious funeral.

Darkness. It was all Ivan could understand or see at this moment. He lay in bed, clutching an empty vodka bottle. He wasn't sure how many days had passed since the sombre funeral and didn't care. He should probably bathe, or eat. Somehow, he seemed too sapped of strength to try either task. There was men banging on his barricaded bedroom door again. Ivan ignored it, reaching for another vodka bottle.

After sleeping for a long time, he woke to the shattering of wood. Belarus was darkly silhouetted in the wrecked door frame, clearly wielding a heavy wood cutting axe. The former door was broken to pieces around her. “Big brother! You must eat and take care of yourself!” she scolded in her sweet yet maniacal fashion. How alike they were at times, he mused internally. Ivan said nothing, staring sadly with glassy wet eyes. When he didn't scream in fear and try to flee, Belarus frowned slightly in concern. She crept up to the edge of the bed, watching him unblinkingly. Ivan didn't react.

“Big brother?” she asked softly, prodding his face. “I made you peach pie with extra love. Do you wish to receive it?” she continued. Ivan grunted and turned the other way, a fresh wave of tears staining his cheeks. She crawled onto the mattress, squeezing his shoulder too hard. Her sharply manicured nails dug into his soiled clothes and skin. It was a poor attempt at consolation, but Ivan didn't expect any better. He'd never taught her such things, because he was equally terrible with these matters.

“If you insist, dearest. I will always love you.” She crooned softly, rubbing somewhat inappropriately against his blanketed form. She left, only to return with a pie and fork. Rolling Ivan over with immense difficulty, she laid him on his back. Propping his head on her lap, Ivan could feel the many knife sheathes and pistol holsters beneath her long purple skirt. Belarus was dangerously obsessive, but she was an excellent student. Ivan bristled with weapons under regular circumstances as well.

Forcefully fed room temperature dessert, Ivan couldn't stop heavy tears from falling. The invasive horror of this moment only seemed to compound his grief. Belarus meant well, and he was starving. This was still the wrong way to go about comforting others. Ivan didn't really know what the right way was though. “As soon as you give up your stupid love affair with the American, I will be here to care for you. I can bake you pies, and give you little kisses. Mine. Mine. All mine forever.” She ranted, rather self absorbed. Ivan was once identical in behavior, and still had his moments.

Resigning himself to peach pie hell, Ivan ate everything that was fed to him. She would probably force him to chew and swallow if he didn't do so accordingly. After the odd ritual, she curled up like a cat, resting her head on his chest. Belarus soon started napping while clutching a dagger, leaving Ivan to his grey fog of thoughts. Unable to resolve anything, he drained the rest of his piss warm vodka and fell asleep.

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Further News!

Hey folks! I have an AO3 account now! The username is Jupiterra. Now the ENTIRE STORY is available in one place! That’s right, all 47 chapters!

I’m suffering writer’s block at the moment. After you’re done reading, feel free to suggest an ending/continuation for the story. Any and all suggestions will be considered.

Story is here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12494416/chapters/28442648

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Part One

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”. I have been writing it for a very long time and have no idea what to name it anymore. I will post extra chapters when formatting isn’t being a cruel mistress. I will leave reference links for previous chapters. Enjoy some creepy Ivan!

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else.

American politics could be so volatile, yet entertaining. No one had expected such a sharp change in Alfred's disposition after the American elections. Granted, the happy blonde was mildly affected by his frequent leader changes. But never had the blue eyed blonde seemed so calm and collected before at a world meeting. Normally he was sleeping or bouncing off the walls with stupid ideas.

Ivan, the immortal symbol of Russia, watched with immense interest. He was curious as Alfred wore a trademark Hollywood smile, not listening to the current speaker like usual. Canada's speech about a political trend towards extreme bipartisanship was ignored by most anyway. Russia jotted down the highlights, only pretending disinterest. He loved to make the nearly invisible country squirm like that.

Royal purple eyes swept back to Alfred, surprised to lock with beautiful blue. The younger seemed to be sizing him up, analyzing the taller ash blonde nation. Finally his real smile showed through. The expression existed only a short time but it was so warm. Alfred then resumed dissecting the rest of the room with his eyes, being noticeably more subtle than usual.

Happy to see his plucky American scheming much like himself, Ivan returned to the same hobby. When the meeting finally ended, Ivan trailed behind. He could hear Alfred arguing hotly with his former motherland in the hall outside. “I'm fine. Leave my leaders to me, Arthur!” the loud mouthed American yelled, stomping off somewhere. “Boy, you don't know what mess you're in now!” Arthur rebutted, always wanting the last word.

Ivan used extreme stealth, trailing a hall away from Alfred at all times. He was very good at it despite his towering height and renowned strength. When the distress American slipped into an office alone, Ivan followed. He closed the frosted glass door noisily, his form of an introduction. Alfred whipped around in alarm, then slumped his shoulders. It was an discovery to see him relax now of all times.

“Oh thank god it's you big guy. Thought it was someone scary!” Alfred greeted teasingly. Taken aback by the younger nation's genial tone, Ivan's false smile changed to a flat hard line. Something was definitely going on. He wasn't sure what to say now, the usual hostile string of insults no longer suitable as an opener.

“Going the quiet route huh? I can respect that. Leaves me more room to talk,” Alfred started, dropping into the luxury office chair. The whole office was quite nice, probably belonging to a German politician of some sort. “You know, I've been thinking. These past 16 years... I know my leaders have been jokes. I know. But I'm really tired of being a living joke? You know?” he continued, frowning.

It was true. The past four American presidents had been international disasters. From drunk social media posts to 'losing' deadly missiles, each term had been a fumble. Ivan didn't envy the internal economic damage his former enemy was surely suffering.

This serious and unhappy aura, it didn't suit Alfred at all. “I understand, little America. It is over twenty five years since my soviet fall, but I am joke of the whole world.” Ivan replied honestly. There was no risk to truth, he decided. Ever since the elections, Alfred hadn't called him a communist once. It was a pleasant change from the tired rhetoric. Perhaps he was finally maturing?

“It's nice... just talking to you. No bullshit.” the honey blonde sighed, reclining a bit. Ivan hummed in agreement, not sure how to proceed. He dealt with international rage, ridicule, and doubt well. Having civil conversations not tainted by sarcasm was something Ivan was not well versed in. These past few decades had been hell for foreign relations.

The silence was killed by America's own anthem for a ring tone. He looked at the display screen, visibly cringed, then answered the cell phone. “All American awesome speaking.” he greeted cheerfully. His forcibly light attitude dropped instantly as he rubbed his temples. “Yes, boss. I understand.” he mumbled. A minute later, he continued “Of course. I'll take care of it. Just don't say anything yet.” he sighed, hanging up after. Ivan intimately understood the look of frustration after being chewed out by superiors. America wore it with resignation, covering his face with both hands.

“FUCK!” Alfred cursed suddenly, startling Ivan. “I have to go, but maybe we can hang out sometime.” the younger nation offered casually, winking at him mischievously. He ran off without waiting for a response. Ivan wouldn't have known what to say anyway. Sure, he had dozens of practiced and sardonic responses. Normally, that was all that was required with the rashly stupid American. This civility and distant kindness was boggling. What did he want now? What game were they playing?

Three weeks later, Ivan decided to test the limits of the informal offer. He wanted to get away from work for a few days anyway. The price of oil was a mess right now and his grossly incompetent officials were blaming him for the short fall, as usual. The nine hour flight to Washington, DC, was mind numbing. Russia instantly regretted not bringing some nice literature from his own culture.

By the time the plane landed in the United States of America, jet lag was starting to take it's toll. Ivan blinked heavily during the taxi ride, the driver glancing back in concern. The burly Russian glared back with a silent promise of violence. The cabby was suddenly less curious, looking fearfully pale. Good boy.

Alfred's Washington home was easily one of his oldest, and his most sentimental. It was a small white colonial house with normal proportions and a second story. It was quaint in comparison to some of the mansions in other states. Due it being three in the morning, there was no point in ringing the door bell. Like Ivan would ever do that anyway. There was no challenge to it!

He scanned the building dimly lit orange by old street lamps. The sly ash blonde could scale the sides and get in through a window. Not only would it be test of acrobatics, but it would scare Alfred. That was a worth while deal. Rubbing his hands together, Ivan spotted a lone sunflower on the southern style veranda. Abandoning his plan, Ivan jogged over to the patio. Oh beautiful flower, who could leave you to suffer? Scooping up the single bloom lovingly, he noticed a large paper tag tied to the robust stem. He read the tiny looping writing immediately.

'I know you want to get through a window or a toilet or whatever, but I left a key. There's no way in hell you're wrecking my siding again.'

Oh, yes. Ivan had forgot about the last time he broke in. He was doing something lithe and graceful, but a window sill gave under his great weight. A large chunk of siding fell with him. Not one of his best feats of athleticism. Still, to be given a key... It completely sucked the fun out of breaking and entering.

Begrudgingly, the Russian looked around for this 'key'. Maybe there would be riddles or tricks to solve. The pale nation adored puzzles and mind games. Ivan huffed, unimpressed at once. He could see a fake rock for holding keys from the veranda. It wasn't even the right color to blend in with the soil. Popping open the plastic 'rock', there was a key with a gold star sticker on it. Wondering if the gold star was a reference to his soviet era, Ivan tried it on the front door.

It worked, the door swinging open silently on oiled hinges. Once inside, Ivan locked it shut and quietly padded around. Exploring the kitchen, he found muffins. They were raspberry, his favorite. Eating one, he explored the rest of the place. Alfred's gun cabinets, all six of them, were looking well stocked like usual. His overflowing movie collection was heaped around the big screen television in the main room. Upstairs was a poorly locked war planning room, a bathroom, and three bedrooms. Having broken in and memorized these places before, Ivan skipped them. He entered what he knew to be Alfred's bedroom, not caring about personal invasion in the slightest.

America looked so tired as he slept. Ivan was glad to he wasn't the only one being dragged down by crashing oil prices. The global market was quite stressed at the moment. Placing the sunflower on the huge oak dresser, Ivan rubbed his eyes. A soft yawn ripped out of him, confirming the obvious. Dumping his small bag of clothes in a corner, Ivan made himself comfortable beside Alfred. Not only was his bed the softest, it would weird out the American until he sputtered like a fish. Making his former foe overreact and make a idiot of himself was hugely entertaining.

Wondering if he should set small traps and pranks around the house, Ivan lay down in his travel clothes. It probably wasn't worth the effort to set traps. Alfred was very skilled at disarming them. Russia could get the same result from less effort by playing mind tricks and moving around furniture. Scheming happily, Ivan drifted off.

It was a terrible screech, like a surprised chicken. Ivan couldn't recall hearing that sound in a very long time. Cracking open one eye, he spotted the thing that wretched him from sleep. His pillow was actually America, in full freak out mode. Oh, what a treat. A sleeping companion and mobile entertainment.

“Fuckin' Christ! What are you doing here?” Alfred squawked. Apparently Ivan draped an arm around the other in his sleep, so might as well run with it. “Oh, so you don't remember? We had so much fun too.” he teased, looking smug. Letting the younger nation assume the worst, Ivan watched as Alfred rolled out of bed. Oh, nothing but NASA boxers. That was just adorable. Perhaps Ivan could tease him about it mercilessly during a meeting.

“Take a picture! It'll last longer asshole!” The tanned blonde snarled, picking himself up off the floor. “You are such a hospitable host! I will take a picture.” Ivan replied happily, digging his phone out of a pocket. Two blurry pictures later, the American had fled to the bathroom. Already not bored. Visiting another country had been a great idea.

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Part Ten

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”. The emotional fluff is sickening on this one.

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/166073007643/lrtihew-part-nine

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else

There was no pat downs. Ivan didn't have to explain why he had a gun and six knives on his person. He didn't have to dispose of his vodka flask. Private jet flights were wonderful! As the Russian boarded the small private jet, he was pleasantly surprised. There was only three others lounging in comfort, along with... “Katyusha?” Ivan called out, wondering if he was right of mind. He hadn't seen his busty Ukrainian sibling outside of world meetings for almost two years.

“Little Vanya! Come sit with your big sister!” Ukraine greeted, patting the plush seat beside her. She was ash blonde to platinum like Ivan, but her hair was trimmed to a short bob with a royal blue ribbon holding it down. Dusky blue eyes lit up as he obeyed hesitantly. Ever since claiming Crimea, Ivan often felt like a stranger around his own family.

“It is so wonderful to see you! You are eating well?” Ukraine asked, crushing Ivan with her chest as she gave a tight hug. Russia froze a second, then cautiously returned the gesture. “Yes, I am.” he replied. Conversation was mostly one sided, chats of a domestic nature. Ivan didn't know what to say, concerned he might incur another flurry of sanctions just from talking to her. Truthfully, he was the least social of his family despite being the most powerful. After a time he just listened politely while working on his knitting.

Sensing the mood, Ukraine quieted down and knitted as well. At a stretch of silence, Ukraine leaned in and looked at his handiwork. “What are you making?” she asked, trying to draw him out of his self imposed shell. “A sweater... for a comrade.” Ivan admitted. Alfred was too tall for Belarus's sweaters, but too slim for Ivan's. A new fitting piece was the only answer.

“You... you have made friends Vanya?” Ukraine asked in reverence. “No. I do not desire or need friends.” Ivan grumbled, hiding a faint blush in the white folds of his ever present scarf. “I am so happy for you! And with America! You are maturing!” she crooned, ignoring the attention she was gathering. “Sister, please. Not so loud.” Ivan muttered, glaring at the three human diplomats until they looked away fearfully. “We are not friends.” he repeated, mostly to himself.

His sister's words bothered him immensely. By the time the jet landed in the states to refuel, He was glad to rid of her presence for even a second. There was still two hours left of the flight. Ukraine was always chattering about emotions and passions. It was horrible, drudging up memories of when Ivan used to care. When he was united with his people in love and respect. It hurt just to think about it. Maybe he could just sit somewhere else.

Washington DC was his salvation. He fled his emotional clingy sibling the moment he was allowed to leave the plane. He was about to flag down a taxi, when there was shouting behind him. “Slow down!” a familiar voice called out. Ivan twisted around, prepared to duke it out. It was just America looking frustrated, how normal. “Seriously? I was there to pick you up and you just... Fuck. You are a complete bastard. I don't even know why I try with you.” Alfred complained.

“I was not expecting it.” Ivan answered flatly, eyeing the airport entrance warily. His nosy irritating sister appeared, leaving a trail of tears that would rival the Volga river. “Little Vanya, you disappeared. I though something horrible had happened!” she cried, wrapping herself around him like Velcro. “Katya, let go.” Ivan mumbled, not wanting to hurt her by accident. She eventually released him, her storm of tears switched to a beaming smile. Ukraine could be very manipulative like that, even if she meant well.

“Let me give ya'll a ride. Where's your hotel Ukraine?” Alfred offered, ignoring all the Russian dialogue flying around. Katyusha was not nearly as multilingual as Ivan, grasping enough to understand. “Hotel is here.” she managed to reply in English, showing a printed map labelled in Cyrillic. The American stared at it, looking confused. Ivan observed closely, unconvinced by the act.

It was entirely suspicious how fast America located Ukraine's hotel. After promising five times that he would be at the party, Ivan's doting sister stopped worrying. “But where are you staying?” Katyusha asked with dusky blue eyes. “A small place. Is very cheap.” Ivan replied tiredly, wishing to leave he door of her hotel room. She relented, giving his arm a squeeze before releasing him. Climbing into Alfred's black Lincoln sedan, Ivan huffed.

“I had no idea Ukraine was so... that. She seemed sweet and kinda normal before.” the American noted dryly. “My big sister is a wolf wearing sheep's clothing, as you say. I love her dearly, but she is planning something.” Ivan replied. “You think? Maybe I should let security know.” Alfred wondered out loud.

Ivan smirked, explaining, “That is foolish. If she wanted to kill your president, he would be dead by now. Katya is wonderful sniper. Trained her myself.” Raising a brow, Alfred started driving to his house. Alfred talked about nothing important, like usual. Ivan listened somewhat, nodding quietly, like usual. Not feeling particularly sarcastic or cruel today, the Russian was light on insults. His host seemed equally hospitable, staying about from topics that angered Ivan.

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Part Two

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”. I have been writing it for a very long time and have no idea what to name it anymore.

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else.

Once cleaned up and dressed in fresh clothes, the two gathered in the kitchen. “So... why are you here?” The tanned blonde asked seriously, perched at the edge of his seat with a hot coffee. “You invited me to 'hang out sometime', comrade. I decided the time and location.” Ivan explained casually, eating a piece of Alfred's heaping pancake breakfast. Of course, he didn't feel the need to ask.

“I was going to invite you over, you know.” Alfred complained. Ivan snorted and rolled his eyes. Yeah, right. No one invited him to anything unless he threatened to cave in their skull. “I'm serious dude! I was trying to be nice.” the honey blonde whined, back to his regular childish self. Ivan smirked, lighting a cigarette as he spoke, “What could you possibly gain? Power? Oil?”

“This is what I get for being nice.” Alfred muttered, sipping his black coffee. Satisfied with the dismissive answer, Ivan stopped his own prickly defense. The stubborn American was mostly transparent these days anyway. “What are we doing today, America?” Ivan asked, stealing two more pancakes. “Aquarium, I think. I just need to chill.” the other answered.

Despite understanding the somewhat archaic saying, Ivan could never approve of it. It sounded like Alfred wanted to sleep inside a fridge, or lay in snow. Either activity sounded stupid and unpleasant. Still it has been years since anyone invited him out for fun, decades actually. He could at least pretend to care, he mused internally.

Conversation was very one sided, with Ivan listening. “... and I wanted to sweep it under the rug. Boss man was all 'nope, it's your fault', then the press got a hold of it. I love them sometimes but the reporters were so fucking mean. So now every time I want to visit Mexico I have to jump hoops, or whatever. Sometimes a nation just wants to relax and get piss drunk on tequila in another country, you know?” the younger nation rambled, blue eyes so bright. Ivan briefly considered stealing those glittering jewels for eyes, but dismissed it. He'd never hear the end of it from his leader if Alfred's summer blue gaze was damaged.

“... and we're here!” Alfred announced, pulling into a busy parking lot.” Ivan squinted at the flashy entrance of the place, noting pleasant memories from the past. “This aquarium, it is different yes?” Ivan asked, unable to place why. “What? Oh... that's right! I took you to the national aquarium before the cold war. And maybe one time after. It closed ages ago. It was one of the longest running aquariums in the world. I had good times there...” Alfred recalled, lost to nostalgia. He almost seemed sad to talk about the loss of his ancient monument, not snapping back to his happy self.

“Tell me of this place.” Ivan prompted, tugging his host to the present. To scare, humiliate, or anger Alfred was one thing. To made him sad... Ivan didn't deal with sad people well. He hardly acknowledged the damaging emotion himself. Lit up once again, the American proceeded to drag him to every display in the place. Due to the day of the week, the crowds of noisy children were to a minimum.

The excessive entry cost made Ivan do a double take, but Alfred paid it without complaint. It would have cost nearly a mortgage payment in his own currency for just one ticket. How far Ivan had fallen since his peak of red glory in the 1970's. At least they were still compatible in military strength and global trading power.

Ivan felt himself drawn to the shark pools near the end. It was such a calm blue water. Sharks weren't pretentious, or screeching for attention. They were instinctive and silent, simply keeping to their ancient ways of life. If sharks weren't so stupid, they might even be smug about their existence. Ivan liked to think his much younger self would make an excellent shark.

Alfred was quiet for the first time since arriving, also staring into the shark tank. It was nice to not have continuous noise bleeding from his host's face, but it was also irregular and unnatural. The Russian basked in the relative peace. The silence was broken several minutes later.

“Ivan, you're old right? Have you ever looked around and been... unhappy with everything?” Alfred asked, looking at him earnestly. Ivan thought about what to say, perfectly understanding the question. “Yes, I have.” He eventually replied, not wanting to drag up historical reference. “What did you do to fix it?” The younger nation pressed on.

In this moment, Alfred was not the powerful superpower, but a naive young colony. Back then he had been so curious and open minded. Asking Ivan to teach him skating, going to community dances... the pale northern nation sighed. “I restructured many times. I would be happy for a few years, but the problems always return.” he explained, deciding not to fuck with the honey blonde's head for once. “Oh.” Alfred hummed. Ivan looked at him curiously, wondering. What was he planning now, or had he ever planned anything?

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Part Six

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”. Watch out world. I learned more editing magic!

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165836144283/lrtihew-part-five

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else.

Ivan wanted to book a flight to the USA and meet the offspring of his aging espionage web. Still, it would draw too much attention. Germany, should he ever find out, could possibly dig up evidence of Russian tampering with the American legal system. Ivan's people had already been caught rigging major USA elections twice.

The pale northern nation simply couldn't help himself. Was it so wrong for him to desire positive relation with the wealthy powerful Americans? They were blessed with lovely weather, and wonderful works of art. Even at the height Vladimir Putin's anti-American regime, Russians were still emigrating to the pleasant fields and cities of their former cold war enemies.

Predictably, Ivan government contacts pestered him several days later. He had been fishing while on vacation at his dascha. Admittedly, he was not on vacation time. He was given so little freedom to himself. The pale Russian would simply blow off work once every month or so. It seemed his lagging bureaucracy had finally agreed to the plans the boss had schemed over a week before.

Packing up his sunscreen and fishing gear, Ivan resigned himself to another day of servitude. After packing his clothes he took one last look of longing at the small vacation home. Someday he'd be able to stay longer than one evening. His cell phone range yet again. The ash blonde snarled, then answered it with indifference.

“Speaking.” he said simply, not using formal introductions anymore. A few regular humans had called the number before. “Mr. Bragininsky, you are scheduled for a flight to the United State of America this evening.” some older male ordered. Ivan recognized him as one of Putin's devoted followers and helpers. “I understand. Putin has changed his mind?” Ivan asked curiously. “No. There is accusations of legal tampering again, sir.” the minion clarified.

So, they had found out his aging spies already? It had barely been a week. Ivan supposed he could give the American government some credit after all. “I will go to the airport now.” he responded. The conversation ended after that. Fishing gear still packed alongside country-side clothes, Ivan would have to wash his formal slacks and shirt somewhere. It was a physical impossibility to go through Moscow gridlock, change, then leave for the airport on time.

It was almost midnight when the flight left. Exhausted, Ivan fell asleep immediately on the plane. Despite the seat being first class, it was an awkward rest. Ivan woke with a sore neck, somewhere over North America. It was was still miraculous to Ivan that one could travel this far in only eight hours. When the America's were still being explored in the 1600's, it took months to bypass a mountain.

Ivan felt bittersweet about this politic trip. One one hand, he got to see the fruits of his decades long labour. On the other hand, he was about to be verbally assaulted. Perhaps the replacement president would yell at Ivan personally. At least the Russian would get to see one of his distant children. He really did care for each and every one of them.

Ivan left the gate at the airport, feeling stale and gross after so much time in a flying metal tube. It was hectic like always, people pushing past him impatiently. Ivan was about to leave the crowded JFK airport, when someone grabbed his shoulder. Ivan twirled around, instantly prepped for combat. Grabbing the arm, he nearly broke it cleanly in half before recognizing it's owner.

It was that tenacious honey blonde, wearing his wire frame glasses. There was a faint splash of freckles on caramel skin. Ivan blinked owlishly, releasing the trapped limb. “Oh. Hello America.” he greeted flatly. “Man, I was holding a sign for you by the gates. You went right past me.” the loud nation greeted, sounding far too happy for his sombre dress and mannerisms. Alfred must still be acting sad, currently dressed in a very black suit. Oh, yes... 'Mourning' the loss of his grossly incompetent leader.

“I did not see you.” Ivan replied, wondering why anyone was waiting for him at all. “Whatever. Let's go big guy. My new boss isn't a patient man.” Alfred dismissed, clearly not offended. Something bothered Ivan as they drove through mildly congested Washington DC traffic. “Does your new president not care? Sending you to do peasant work is so strange.” Ivan wondered out loud, analyzing any possible reaction.

“Kozloff has no clue who I am. The CIA director thought it was best. I'm having a fun time too. Haven't been allowed to run around in public since the Watergate scandal.” Alfred explained cheerfully, dropping the false pretenses completely. “So he does not know about living nations?” Russia asked. Alfred shook his head, then mused “You should watch your words at the white house. My people are freaking out and bugging everything. It's so hard to pretend being sad!”

No stranger to paranoia, Ivan glanced around the vehicle cautiously. “Are you certain they have not bugged this vehicle as well?” he asked in a steely manner. Alfred laughed, throwing his head back for a second. “That's a ruskie for ya. Relax dude. I rented a fresh car and stripped off the trackers.” he assured with a grin. Ivan didn't believe him in the least, but didn't press the issue.

The American white house always looked so large on television, but the front lawn was actually quite small. Ivan's own personal properties in Moscow were small, road expansions creeping closer every century. After a short walk to the huge front doors, Alfred welcomed Ivan inside. Resuming his mask of seriousness, the freckled blonde weaved between people while leading the way.

“It's just crazy here. Ever since Selkirk died, other countries have been calling like every day. And the sympathy baskets. So many.” Alfred continued, forever leaking noise. Ivan merely nodded, noting one of his spies carrying papers out on an office. Alfred wasn't completely dense, a few of his own men planted in the Kremlin. It was all a silly game they played at this point, not gaining much either way.

They ended up in a cream colored room with modest decorations. A man reclined slightly in a comfortable chair, brow creased in thought while browsing a thin booklet of papers. He was flanked on either side by body guards in black grieving attire. The seated man was more casually dressed, wearing grey sacks and a button up shirt.

“Mister President, the diplomat you requested has arrived.” Alfred announced, not sounding terribly subservient. The black haired man looked up, pale blue eyes flashing over rimmed glasses. His facade of calm was instantly broken. He stood, cheerful and energetic as he walked over. “Ah yes! Come! Sit! We have things to discuss.” he insisted while vigorously shaking Ivan's hand.

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Part Twenty Eight

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”.

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/166626709503/lrtihew-twenty-seven

There is swearing, fluff, smut, insanity, and lord knows what else

With no crimes left to accuse Russia of, the other nations cleared out of the room quickly at the end of the meeting. Only a few stragglers and Germany were left behind. Northern Italy looked nervous as America chatted to the ever serious German. “Mister America, you will not be bombing anyone will you?” the bubbly Italian asked suddenly.

“God no. You're too cute.” Alfred assured quickly, patting the shorter Italian on the shoulder. “Good. Ludwig was saying the same thing the other day when we were –” “That is not a professional topic for this place, Feliciano.” Germany cut off his happy cohort awkwardly. Not that Ivan cared. The odd pair had been figuratively married since WW2, and anyone with a brain knew it.

Out of cigarettes, Ivan started packing up his own things. The initial purpose of the meeting, arranging reparations of one kind or another, had failed completely. Neither Russia or China were willing to pay a single coin for anything outside of their own borders. No one was surprised by this result.

“Hey. It's not illegal to smile.” Alfred teased sitting across the table. Ivan ignored him, methodically putting papers and pens away. “Hey. Hey! Let's do something. I haven't seen you for like... a month.” the younger nation pestered stubbornly. Russia looked up, smirked and resumed his task. Alfred huffed, using his arms as cushions on the table. Laying his head down, brilliant blue eyes studied Ivan.

Suitcase finally locked shut, Ivan stood. The case was yanked away quickly. “Give that back. I'm not in the mood for nonsense.” Russia snapped. “Come and get it! Or are you too slow?” Alfred teased, waving the case about like it was sports equipment instead of national security papers. Ivan wasn't too slow. He was fast, and agile, and incredibly clever. No had the right to accuse him of less than royalty and perfection.

“Return the suit case.” Ivan threatened, narrowing his eyes dangerously. Alfred laughed, not taking the situation seriously. “Gotta catch me first!” he taunted, running out of the room. Ivan chased him through the building, not caring who he knocked over or tripped. This was Poland after all, hardly even a country to the powerful Russian.

Out of the building, the pair bolted across a busy cross walk. Crashing through a cafe, tables and people were shoved aside mercilessly. Weaving alleyways, Ivan wanted to choke his prey. The honey blonde was cornered, with only a fire escape ladder several feet above him. Confident in his victory, Russia approached with a maniacal grin. “There is nowhere to run, little rabbit.” he teased, drawing closer. Alfred eyed the ladder above him, smirking. There was no way America could ever make the jump. The younger nation lunged, briefcase handle held in his teeth.

Wow. He made the jump after all. Ivan stood there dumbly, genuinely impressed. As Alfred scrambled up the old fire escape ladder, Ivan searched frantically to something to climb on. The Russian president would be completely infuriated if those papers were lost. There was an half full dumpster, but the lid was missing. No thanks. A small car was parked by the alley exit. It looked more than sturdy. Racing over to the vehicle, Ivan looked both ways down the sleepy residential street. No one was around. Rubbing gloved hands together, Ivan took a deep breath and started dragging the powder blue car.

Were he stronger, he would lift the entire thing over his head. He did such amazing feats of strength with impunity in his youth. These days, he took better care of his body. Another back injury would be terrible. Dragging the car would have to suffice.

Finally climbing the ladder from the top of the car, Ivan slipped onto the flat gravel roof. “Give me back my suitcase.” Ivan ordered, panting ruining his intimidating image. Alfred was just laying a few feet away, looking quite winded himself. Pouncing on the American, Ivan pinned him down by the wrists. “You gonna torture me?” Alfred sneered, not resisting much. “Yes, in the worst way.” the ash blond threatened gravely, peeling off dirty leather gloves.

“You wouldn't! You bastard! Don't you – Ohmigod! Noooo!” Alfred squealed as he was tickled without remorse. Ivan grinned and attacked vulnerable ribs, making the tanned nation convulse with laughter. “Please! I'm going to piss myself!” Alfred giggled, trying to roll away. The larger Russian parked himself on one of Alfred's legs, sitting on it with full weight. The assault ended, with the pair just staring at each other flushed and smiling. The crushing depression from earlier had vanished, replaced by impulsive joy.

Ivan lay on top and licked Alfred's cheek, snuggled close. The need for touch was so addictive lately. “Eww! I'm not candy!” Alfred whined, wiping his face with his formal blazer sleeve. Ivan hummed and made himself comfortable against his companion's shoulder. A strong heart beat could be heard, a calm rhythm between them. They lay in comfortable silence, watching the sun low in the sky. Streaks of pastel color were beginning to appear, announcing the end of the day.

“Thank you for defending my honor, Alik.” Ivan murmured, content. Alfred grunted, adjusting the arm he was resting his head on. “You saved my life, I wish to repay you.” Ivan continued, heart fluttering strangely. “It's... It's okay. You don't have to.” Alfred insisted with a slight stammer. Ignoring this, Russia propped himself up on his elbows. Crawling forward slightly, he craned over that adorable freckled face. After a second of hesitation, Ivan kissed him.

Lips clashed as Ivan tried to consume the man beneath him. Alfred gave into the notions quickly, pulling Ivan closer by the shoulders. For a moment of blissful eternity, they were united in writhing lust. Breaking the kiss, Ivan gasped for air. His body was hot and aching, now parked between America's legs. Over a century of moral discipline melted away as Ivan pressed his lower half against Alfred eagerly. The friction felt great on his straining cock, even through binding fabric. The handsome blond beneath gave a breathy sigh, wrapping strong legs around Ivan. Seeing Alfred's own eager erection pressing against tight slacks made the Russian shiver from excitement.

Intent on ravishing Alfred right here, Ivan's hands wandered to the ornate belt keeping those damn pants on. America's warm hands stopped him in a steel grip. “Vanya, stop.” Alfred grunted, looking pained. Reluctantly, Russia obeyed while rutting his hips slightly. “Let me show you my appreciation.” Ivan purred, flirting shamelessly with amorous violet eyes.

“I get that. I really do. But we don't have condoms, or lube, and we're kinda on the roof of a building.” America pointed out. Ivan leaned back on his knees, scowling. The fool did make sense. Ivan's carnal need to fuck Alfred into the ground had taken over it seemed. Still, something had to be done about the burgeoning issue between his legs. “Very well. Do you have a hotel room?” Ivan asked while massaging Alfred's endowment.

The younger nation pushed into the touch, biting his lip. “It's just... It's been a long time. I don't...  I'm not totally comfortable, man. I mean... oh god... You'll probably rip me in half.” Alfred panted as he was teased with soft touches. “I would not do such a thing. I care about you.” Ivan assured, already  loosening the belt. Recapturing those soft pink lips, he resumed distracting America.

Desperate for some kind of relief, Ivan freed his own erection first. The air was cold on the flushed member but he didn't care, he needed this. Alfred's own saluting cock sprung free of  loosened slacks, gripped immediately by Ivan's saliva slicked hand. Still propped above Alfred awkwardly, Ivan had to rest on the side to give his remaining arm a break. “Touch me.” Ivan ground out, slowly stroking with his hand. Alfred hissed vehement prayers as he was serviced, obeying instantly. After a moment of confusion, he too slicked his dry palm with a quick spit.

They were soon pressed together on their sides, shielding each other from the strong wind on the roof. Whimpers and sighs were lost to the alternating breeze as they rutted in primal fashion against heated grip. Masturbation was exponentially better when performed by another, it seemed. Shining pearls of precum occasionally dribbled free, lacing their fingers. Ivan shuddered and slid closer still, completely trapping Alfred with a leg. This also led to a new angle that he could thrust into that glorious semi-fisted grip.

As heat built and prickled, Ivan felt himself melting inside. He was caught by surprise as Alfred's frenetic motions stopped suddenly. The younger nation arched, crying out loudly as he came. The look of pure bliss on that beautiful caramel face was perfect. Some cum splashed on Ivan's nice coat, but he didn't care anymore. The smell of sex, combined with renewed lubrication via Alfred's own spilled seed, pushed the lustful Russian into overdrive.

Thrusting into rapid strokes, Ivan was locked in frenzied synchronicity with his companion. It all became pleasurably unbearable. “Alfred!” Ivan growled as he came, falling into sweet oblivion. Unlike Alfred, Ivan's orgasm was aimed dead on. Two large splashes of white now graced the America's expensive outer wear. Completely spent, Ivan lazily peeled off his mostly clean coat and draped it around their entwined forms. They lay there cuddled closely for a while, watching the sun set behind jagged buildings.

“I smell like gravel and porn.” Alfred grumbled, eventually forcing himself to move. Ivan eagerly licked the younger nation's member clean, tucking it back in warm slacks. The American seed tasted earthy and bitter, yet not offensive in the least. Admittedly Ivan had been rough with the fly of the pants earlier, some zipper teeth warped from tugging. Alfred groaned at the gentle treatment, eyes fluttering shut. After a moment, the American understood Ivan's expectant gaze and returned the favor.

The sensation of Ivan's flaccid cock being completely swallowed by wet American lips was a rare treasure. Were Ivan not already finished, he would definitely be fucking that tantalizing face. Tucking Ivan in, the fly and belt were refastened with deliberate care. “Mmm. I think I will play with you more often.” Ivan purred, a boneless mass of contentment. Alfred huffed a silent laugh, laying down again. “You think so huh?” he replied, all smiles.

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Twenty Six

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”.

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/166626186668/lrtihew-part-twenty-five

There is swearing, fluff, smut, insanity, and lord knows what else.

A next generation nuclear bomb had been dropped north of Beijing. Convincing Russian military to avoid the famous city had been a tough task. Still the on going fatalities were sickening. A farming region and residential area was hit instead. 20,000 people had died instantly, vaporized where they stood. 180,000 died several hours after the impact due to complications

Bubbling skin hung red and inflamed off the bones of wandering Chinese women. Children were in so much agony they were killing themselves. Their fragile burnt bodies littered the flattened streets. The shock wave was powerful enough to topple several apartment buildings, crushing thousands. Gas and electrical lines burst, erupting fifty foot fires across the once beautiful farmlands. Every animal, insect, and plant was dead or dying. The video footage being taken from the devastated region was enough to make Ivan vomit.

The Russian government had asked only once for Chinese troops to withdraw from the fatherland, or there would be dire consequences. China's communist leader laughed, alongside the nation himself. “You are politically neutral. You are a toothless old tiger, afraid to bare dull claws.” China had taunted from across the polished meeting table, sneering maliciously. Ivan looked at his foolish opponent, heart laden with crushing sorrow.

“I am sorry for what my people are about to do to you.” Ivan had apologized genuinely. He meant every syllable. Even now, five days after the drop, he was too upset to return to the battle front. Even Russia's heart of supposed stone was broken by the sight of mutilated Chinese citizens crawling on bloody limbs, crying for help.

The ash blonde had been screening his calls for days. Every nation, even several African ones Ivan generally ignored, called to verbally assault him. These messages ranged from “How could you do this?” to “You are a monster!” The remaining death threats were actually normal occurrences, mostly from angry Baltic states.

In the dark of his empty home, Ivan drank vodka straight from the bottle. He cradled the cool glass in his arms, staring at his dead fireplace. Thankfully, his boss didn't expect the distraught nation to do anything. Chinese troops were beginning to retreat, as expected. Ivan's phone went off for the tenth time today, snapping him out of his daze. Glancing at the number, Ivan decided to answer.

“Alfred.” he answered simply. “Ivan, talk to me.” the clear voice of America responded. “My intelligence has been compromised for some time. I will not be discussing anything here.” Ivan dismissed quickly, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Dude, I get that... I really do. Just... Let me come visit or something.” his companion offered. As tempting as the idea was, Ivan didn't deserve it.

The ancient Russian wanted to scream, or at least hang up. He resisted, attempting to be mature about things. “Leave me alone.” Ivan hissed, feeling sorry for himself. “Too late.” was all he heard before the line went dead. Fuck. Another nuisance to deal with.

After another week, Ivan's bloodthirsty government grew restless. China surrendered an hour after another bomb was dropped on a massive farming community. Ivan refused to see the images or the videos this time, his chain smoking back full force. He didn't need to see melting flesh every day of the week after all. Bitter former soviets to the east and south disbanded, wise enough, or possibly terrified enough, to know when a cause was a lost one. The war was over, at a steep cost.

Alfred's people wouldn't let him travel to Russia. For once, Ivan was relieved to be alone. He didn't want his only comrade in the whole world to see him like this. Two days after the paper work for China's surrender was processed, Ivan was ordered to go to the world meeting. Cleaning up after drinking so many days in a row was difficult, but not impossible. After all, there was no liquid on earth poisonous or alcoholic enough to kill himself. He'd checked many times over the centuries.

This world meeting was going to be terrible. Ivan put no real effort into his state of dress. Sure everything was clean and relatively wrinkle free, but that was it. People didn't generally notice, but he normally matched the subtle shades of color in his clothes. A huge fan of psychology, Ivan did this to manipulate the impressions he gave. Everyone could fear, respect, or adore him before he even spoke a word.

The meeting was in Warsaw, Poland, only a two hour flight. Ivan stared out the window listlessly, drowning in his own depression. The sensation was a familiar one, a cold shadow he never shed over the years. Since the meeting sites were generally the same twenty places in the world, the route to the conference hall was memorized. Ivan couldn't be bothered to speak a single word of the disgusting polish language, choosing to show an address on paper to the taxi driver.

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Part Three

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”.

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165809176713/lrtihew-part-two

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else.

Eventually Ivan had to go back to his own country. After a surprisingly fun visit of two days, the burly Russian's phone was going off like bomb every couple hours. His strict pseudo-dictator boss was likely furious with him about something trifling. The human knew he simply didn't answer his phone when on official government sanctioned vacations. Maybe he didn't answer it other times as well...

Time was a funny thing for nations. Six months could pass by without noticing, yet singular events in society could shape them forever. An entire season had slipped by, winter now gripping all of Russia fiercely. Despite global warming, his land had yet to relent it's icy heritage. Ivan knitted while staring at the blizzard outside absently.

The power had cut out hours ago, interrupting his prerecorded hockey game. Some fool must have crashed into a pole during whiteout conditions. At least his boss couldn't call him right now. The living room fireplace crackled warmly, casting a flickering orange glow over the room. Something odd formed in the swirl of flakes outside. It was a dark shape... moving? A person perhaps? They seemed to be carrying something. Strange. Ivan didn't remember ordering take out.

Still, he should probably investigate. He set the knitting aside, lighting a candle. Before reaching the door, there was loud knocking. Ivan paused, wondering if it was Belarus. She was less obsessive about marrying him these days, due to a century of rejection. Still, she was not to be underestimated. How many times had he woken up to her being in his bed, fondling his shaggy platinum locks of hair? Ivan shuddered at the memory.

“Let me in man! It's frozen hell out here!” a familiar voice yelled, competing with howling wind. Ivan opened the door, pulling Alfred inside before the house lost anymore heat. The door was promptly closed and locked. The American was bundled up, snow stuck to every part of him. His eye lashes were frosted over into white rims. “Hey big guy! Do you know what day it is?” Alfred asked excitedly, snow falling everywhere as he bounced on his feet.

Ivan pondered the question, wondering if he had missed yet another civic holiday. He was interrupted mid-process. “It's Christmas! Woo! Merry Christmas Ivan!” Alfred whooped loudly, shoving a wet brown bag of things into Ivan's arms. Ivan stood there, confused. The honey blonde had used his real name. No one ever did that. Was this a prank? “Open it! Open it!” Alfred urged, peeling off his increasingly soggy winter wear. He wore a brazen American flag shirt underneath with blue jeans.

The present practically unwrapped itself upon returning to the living room. The soggy paper bag fell apart, some items escaping to the floor. There was a bottle of good vodka, a container of dessert squares, a book, and a hand gun. It was honestly a well thought out gift. Ivan did enjoy all of these things naturally.

“Thank you... Alfred. I assume you are here to improve political relations.” Ivan replied, still puzzling over why the American was here at all. It felt so strange to speak in a casual manner, with real names. The other nation frowned. It really didn't suit him. “No. I came because it's Christmas, you ass.” he grumbled. The American was a lousy liar, hesitating before his response. Fine, Russia could play this game too. “I apologize, the storms have causes a blackout. I can only offer you tea, or perhaps coffee.”

“I'll take a coffee... but how?” the honey blonde asked in response. Ivan was no stranger to blackouts, since most of the wiring in Moscow was from the 1950's to 1960's. He had a kettle of water and a long iron hook by the fire place. Over the fire was a removable metal grid. Putting the kettle on, Ivan returned to knitting. He looked over to his guest, seeing Alfred visibly shiver. Ivan had waited before in cruel amusement, to see when the stubborn fool would ask for a sweater. He hadn't for over one hundred and twenty years, and likely wouldn't now.

At this rate, his knitting was never going to be finished. Ivan stood in the name of good relations to fetch a sweater anyway. As he began the notion, America spoke up. “Hey... while you're up, could you get me a sweater?” Well, Alfred's shift in government had really made a difference. Maybe they could finally hold trade meetings without spitting hatred and curses. Ivan desperately needed it after all of Europe sanctioned him into the ground for the third time.

Ivan was going to give him a thin ugly sweater, but changed his mind. Coming back with a vaguely Russian flag themed sweater, Ivan hoped his guest would notice the increase in craftsmanship. “Thanks big guy. It's freezing in here.” Alfred said, catching the sweater as Ivan tossed it. “The power has been out for two days. I too wish this storm would pass.” Ivan sighed, picking up his knitting needles.

“Two days? That's totally crazy, and... Wow this sweater is so fluffy! It's so fluffy and It's almost America colours! Hey didn't you used to have a cat?” The jaunt in topics was annoying, but Ivan bore with it. This was the first time in a while anyone had been to his house. It was decidedly nice. “Koshka died some time ago. I have not replaced him, though I am considering it.” Ivan replied. “Oh... that sucks. I used to have dogs, but after having like twelve die on you, it gets too sad. My horse lived way longer, but old age... yeah. Mattie's so lucky, he has his bear. Apparently he had it before England, before France.” Alfred rambled like normal, “I suppose that makes him older than me by a bit, but there's no way in hell I'm telling him that.”

“Can't have Canada having large ego.” Ivan mused, not looking up much. “Exactly. You get it. Love my bro but he could crush nations if he wasn't so... wimpy.” Alfred agreed. For some time, they chatted about any number of things. Who would die first during apocalypse. England obviously, because he was an idiot. What space satellite design was the coolest looking, which Russia felt he dominated. The inevitable topic of holiday plans came up, which Ivan despised. He didn't have plans, and never did since the USSR failed. Everyone was still too scared of him, even as his economy crumbled at the edges.

“Well I had plans, but ever since I roughed up North Korea... yeah. Fuck all to do.” Alfred admitted openly. Wasn't Alfred incredibly popular? Ivan didn't know these days, getting rather slack in his international espionage. “I did actually come with politics in mind. It's... uh, I can't believe I'm asking.” the tanned American started, scratching his neck nervously. Well, wasn't that interesting. The police of the world was nervous about something.

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Twenty Seven

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”.

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/166626454698/lrtihew-twenty-six

There is swearing, fluff, smut, insanity, and lord knows what else

Early for the meeting, Ivan briefly met eyes with  the ever punctual England, China, and Germany. While china looked away quickly in fear, the other two clearly judged him silently. There really wasn't an alcohol strong enough for this type of business. Both Italy twin alternated between napping and playing with their phones as the dry meeting began. Over fifty nations were in attendance, even the incredibly poor fragments of former Yugoslavia. Not a single chair was empty for once.

Alfred was formal instead of wearing his usual superhero or American flag shirt with jeans. Ivan almost lamented the change, wishing for some sense of normalcy. America waved from across the table, brightly smiling. Ivan returned the measure weakly, then gave up and resumed frowning. Alfred looked puzzled, then turned his attention to Germany at the head of the table.

“Velcome all. I am pleased by today's attendance. The first speaker is –” Ivan interrupted the uninspiring introduction, standing as he spoke. “I will be speaking first. I have matters to discuss before  I am burnt at the stake.” The Russian could feel dozens of eyes measuring his every movement, but chose to not acknowledge them.

“Sixteen of the nations in this room decided to destroy me. Your efforts failed. I acknowledge that I destroyed many cultures as the USSR, but as I have reminded everyone many times... I am no longer a communist, a soviet, or wish to unify the world any longer. I have been a neutral agent for many years. I have done nothing to China to instigate this pathetic war, and will defend myself again if provoked.” Ivan was somewhat passionate in his speech, trying harder than usual. After repeating the practiced lines in Russian and French, he sat and waited for the parade of accusations to begin.

Nation after nation stood and ridiculed Russia's actions. Ivan barely listened, smoking one cigarette after another as he stared at the wall. Despite Germany requesting he stop, Ivan would simply light another and dwell on his internal ocean of self hatred. Two hours crawled by in this tedious manner, with only one speaker left.

Alfred stood and cleared his throat. Ivan felt a paper ball bounce off his head, jerking to see who delivered the blow. The American grinned, whispering “Welcome back to the show, bud.” Ivan smirked sheepishly, surprised he had drifted off while in a room so full of enemies. He was losing his touch after all.

America had always been a dynamic speaker, unable to stand still or stick to one volume. It made him as engaging as he was pig headed. He was already moving around as he began. “I approve of what Russia did. It's horrible and a ton of people got melted by radiation, but it did the job didn't it? None of you are ever going to fuck with him again, right? China pushed him to this by being a greedy bastard, by going after Siberian oil. What? Is all your coal not good enough, China? Didn't want to pay your gas bill bub? Well guess what, everyone has to pay their fucking bills! I'm still paying for mine!” Alfred ranted, amazingly still on topic. He usually switched to random nonsense after thirty seconds.

Now beside China, Alfred mashed the scared Asian's face into the table. “I don't care if it's Germany, or Israel, or Russia, or whoever. They are my friends. Fuck with my friends or family, and I will destroy you until you are nothing but irradiated dust! You fuckin' got that?” The red faced American growled. China nodded timidly as best he could while restrained. Releasing his hostage, Alfred rubbed his temples and sat in his chair. “Ugh. My bad. Lost my temper people.” he joked lightly, switching gears instantly. No one laughed.

Ivan had not seen Alfred flex his military rage so openly since the cold war. It was damn near erotic. The proud Russian was shamelessly drawn to power since he could remember, his true weakness. The meeting room was blanketed by stunned silence. Ivan hid a faint blush beneath his scarf, joy smouldering inside like a small candle. Alfred did care about him! This was surely another display of his affections, if accidental.

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Part Twenty Three

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”.

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/166625719423/lrtihew-part-twenty-two

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else

The southern gate of the small mining town was secured quickly. Chinese weapons, which happened to be Russian brands, were picked up by Ivan's troops. Better to waste the enemies ammunition before your own. A shot of the rifle, the slash of a sword. Ivan's core group had make it to the medical clinic in the heart of the town. His fury faded, replaced by exhaustion. Still, he wasn't done. Intelligence reports noted several hundred civilians trapped in or around this vicinity.

The clinic was abandoned on the ground floor. Arcs of blood peppered the walls, bullet holes abundant. Several dead soldiers from both sides had yet to be recovered. The second floor had citizens huddled up in windowless closets, pensive and fearful. Upon seeing their own troops, the women and children teared up from hope. Most of the men appeared to be dead in the halls, strewn like rag dolls. Improvised weapons and personally owned fire arms were often at there sides.

This was no time to mourn. Ivan steeled himself to the sight, letting it fuel his hatred for the enemy. The radio silence was broken, echoes of  “location secured” heard from Ivan's filthy gear. There had to be at least 200 children hiding in this building alone. Now all they had to do was keep the clinic defended long enough for reinforcements to rescue them.

Feeling confident, Ivan looked out the window. He paled instantly. There was too many enemy soldiers. He could see them, waves of Chinese soldiers washing in from the north. No doubt they were reacting to the seizure of the southern half of town. Well, taking what was left of it. Many citizens outside of the stone walled clinic were dead or hiding. Several houses were flame licked craters and crumbling plaster.

Ivan had only brought forty eight special forces types, including five medics to tend to everyone. Several men were already laid out upstairs or dead. Their evacuation team was a forced of lesser trained men, roughly 200 in number. The Chinese easily had at least 400 out there, all wearing Ivan's own top of the line gear. They were going to die. Ivan, and all his hopeful patriotic troops, they were throwing away their lives for nothing. Swallowing the grim news, Ivan was determined to beat the odds. He had to, to save the the children trapped in this wasteland.

The plan was simple and impulsive. Snipers would pick off enemies from the roof, while the old soviet hospital would serve as a natural choke point. Minutes seemed like hours. Dozens of Chinese lay dead, choking up the entrance until you could barely see through the shattered glass doors. Ivan's plan was working, although barely. The enemy's own reinforcements had arrived faster it seemed. They were now currently outnumbered immensely. The crack team of Russian combatants was thinned down to thirty, morale dragging low.

They had plenty of ammunition left, and a full medical team. The children were safe. It was all Ivan cared about in his condition. He had been perched by the main choke point, firing for what felt like a century. His arms were tired, eyed heavy. His urban camouflage suit was stained dark red from his own blood. “Please, Commander Braginski. Go to the doctors upstairs!” a lesser soldier begged, replacing his position as Ivan rolled over in agony.

“The... hostages are secure... yes?” Ivan rasped, registering nothing as his ears rang painfully. Unable to stand in his state, Ivan crawled a few feet away. Coughing up blood caught in his lungs, he closed his eyes. He was a mess. It was true. The bulky Russian had taken his nation born immortality for granted. He took larger risks on the front line, often committing insane acts to rescue another soldier.

All for nothing. He may be immortal, but damage this extensive took days to deal. Every bullet hole stung and burned, leaking warm scarlet. He could smell nothing but gun residue and rusty copper. Laying on the floor, Ivan let out a long sigh. Resting his sleep deprived body, soothing darkness enveloped his field of vision. He faded away.

Wetness, and soft textures entered his frazzled mind. Ivan felt heavy, his body attempting to revive itself. Systems painfully began moving and pumping. He screamed, control shredded as eyes popped open. Above him was a tan face framed by gold. Alfred. Brain foggy, Ivan started coughing and shaking violently. Dark blood was expelled, contrasting from the retro linoleum floors. The dim electric lighting of the room flickered constantly.

“Su-unf-f-flower.” Ivan managed to stammer, pawing weakly for his gun. It was gone. “Stay still you stubborn idiot.” America whispered in Russian, wiping his face gently. The wet cloth always wiped away red. “Child-d-dren?” Ivan asked. “Safe.” Alfred replied simply, smiling sadly. Ivan remained silent after that, drifting on the foggy boundaries of life and death. He distantly recalled being carried bridal style, lolled against a smaller shoulder. Ivan didn't have the strength to protest otherwise.

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Part Twenty

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”.

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/166625203373/ltrtihew-part-nineteen

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else

Shaking with rage, Ivan pulled a sword from his luggage. “You... You touched him. You took advantage of him! My only friend left in this world!” Ivan hissed in Russian, feeling madness creep in from the depths. The desire to obliterate, kill, and destroy washed over him. France paled and ducked as Ivan attacked. Red with rage. Red with vengeance. Violet eyes glowed with nuclear madness as Ivan trapped the shorter Frenchman in a corner.

Deeply cut in several places, France had not avoided the flurry of attacks unscathed. Bleeding heavily, he was hiding poorly behind a potted plant. “Please Russia, spare me! I did nothing! I did nothing at all!” he begged in his native language, stinking of fear and blood. Killing the inhuman creature could be so easy, a single strike from Ivan's beloved sword. Ivan arced high for the death blow as France crumpled and started sobbing.

A voice seeming so far away snapped Ivan out of his blood lust. “Ivan, what are you doing?” A very groggy Alfred asked, not entirely awake. Ivan paused, then blinked. He looked around the now wrecked living room. Ivan's new summer clothes were splattered in France's blood, halos of crimson on the floor. “I do not know.” he answered truthfully in English, dropping the sword on the floor.

Curiously, Spain and Mexico were sound asleep after all the ruckus. France continued to cry, clutching at his wounds. Ivan sat beside Alfred, removing the humiliating hair bows with utmost care. “Why am I covered in glitter? Why are you covered in in blood?” the honey blonde grumbled, disorientated. The livid fury drained away as quickly as it had come, leaving Ivan tired. “Alik. Do you feel uncomfortable or painful anywhere?” Ivan asked slowly, searching for bruises or signs of abuse.

Alfred shook his head, replying “Just hungover.” Ivan sagged forward, relieved. His associate was okay. He had made it there in time before anything horrible occurred. “You look like shit, buddy.” the freckled nation commented, shaking glitter off his shirt. “Jet lag is taxing.” Ivan admitted, not having slept since yesterday. He had a hard time sleeping in general as of late. It was all quite mysterious to him.

Now that America was awake and sober, he couldn't possibly be harmed by anyone. Apparently the three other nations had come over anyway to trash Alfred's house as an elaborate prank. Ivan helped sweep up glitter off the hardwood floor, a large yawn slipping out of him. France was carried out by Spain and Mexico an hour earlier after fainting from terror and blood loss. It made the room feel better already.

“Ivan, go to bed.” Alfred ordered sternly, a tone that didn't suit his breezy nature. “No one tells me what to do. I choose to go to bed.” Ivan replied proudly, not caring if he was acting like a child. “Yeah, yeah. Mighty Russian Federation this and that.” Alfred dismissed, rolling his eyes. “Thank you for acknowledging that I'm more powerful than you.” Ivan sneered, more playful than cruel. “You are just... the worst! I'm clearly stronger.” Alfred argued poorly, ridiculous like always.

“I don't believe that.” Ivan challenged, grinning cruelly. Alfred took the bait, he always did. It was how they always wound up doing stupid stunts during world meetings. Minutes later, they were both outside. The stubborn American was going to lift more cars than him, or something equally fruitless. Ivan couldn't help but notice how soft the lawn looked. Fresh green grass bathing in the warm rays of a late morning sun.

Sitting in the yard, he admired the modest rose bushes that lined the edge of the property. The sun was pleasant on Ivan's chilly skin, beckoning him to rest. While Alfred was dragging things out of his stuffed garage, it couldn't hurt to close his eyes. Nothing bad could possibly happen, right?

The first thing to register was the darkness. Ivan was in a dark place, weakly lit by a small American flag nightlight. He was under thin flannel covers, still in his day clothes. He was hugging a thick pillow, completely askew on the queen sized mattress. The sheets had not been washed in a long time, distinctively scented. Yes, it was crystal clear what room this was.

He had woken up in Alfred's room. That could only mean he was carried in by the room's owner after falling asleep on the lawn. Ivan snuggled the pillow closer, lost in thought. Did this mean Ivan had made a friend? The possessive Russian considered America a friend, but only privately. The word 'friend' had never directly applied to either nation seriously. The fact remained that Alfred was treating Ivan as nicely as he had before 1917.

The idea of being friends with anything was invigorating. Ivan would be sure to tell Koshka all about this upon returning home. Kicking off the covers, Ivan ran downstairs in a hurry. Alfred was in the kitchen, frying chicken strips. His forgettable sibling, Canada, was talking with him while sipping a beverage. “Matvey!” Ivan cheered, pinning the wheaten blonde in a punishing hug. Before the quiet nation could squeak out protests, Ivan dropped him thoughtlessly, tackling Alfred.

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Part Five

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”.

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165836008533/lrtihew-part-four

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else.

It was an early spring day, plants struggling to defy the snow. Several fresh chutes had began poking through the thawing white landscape. Ivan could almost feel the land returning to life, putting a spring in his step.

Perhaps it was the trade deals with America that made him buzz with energy. Alfred's peoples were absolutely addicted to oil. They would trade anything for it, go to any length. Ivan's money starved government was a reasonable seller. It was a capitalist match made in heaven. He even felt happier, for the sudden flush of American dollars overjoyed his poorest citizens.

His phone rang half way through shoveling a path to the front door. He paused to answer the device, cheerfully greeting “Hello!” in his native language. “Greetings Russia.” the stern voice of Germany replied in English. There was never a good reason for him to call Ivan. Sanctions, accusations, reminders of world meetings... nothing worth caring about.

“There vill be a meeting, your attendance is required.” Germany continued to speak when Ivan remained silent. “How does this concern me?” Ivan retorted, not impressed by the European power. “The American president has suddenly died. It concerns the entire vorld, Russia.” the German explained, humorless as always. “I suppose I am coming.” Ivan feigned disinterest, though he was extremely pleased.

Ivan had yet to ask for repayment from Alfred. Initially, he was going to use it to more favorable trade. That seemed to happen on it's own. Later, he planned blackmail his way into the next inaugural party. He received an invitation from Alfred literally an hour after his president's death. That had been almost two days ago. Ivan was honestly at a bit perplexed about what to do with his power over Alfred. Perhaps he could extort a visit out of the young American. His spring weather was so much more pleasant.

Meeting in Berlin three days later, Ivan had a hassle free flight. His pushy boss had discussed at great length plans for whoever the replacement would be. Ivan largely dismissed the manipulative plans, nodding but not really listening. His current leader had no idea Ivan was behind the assassination, with his series of ancient connections. Ignorance was indeed bliss.

The meeting appeared to be small. Canada, Syria, China, India, Israel, and the Philippines were seated around a small table. America was not present in the somewhat intimate setting. Russia took his seat next to India, across from China. Being on good terms with both nations, he attempted small talk.

“What is this meeting about, comrades?” Ivan asked in feigned obliviousness. “I do not know, Mr. Russia.” India replied politely, less afraid to look him in the than the others. The eclectic nation's tropical exports were valuable to the sugar loving Russian, and he knew it. China looked incredibly tense, hands tented in thought. Canada cleared his throat, barely attracting attention. He took a breath to speak, but was interrupted by American stepping into the room, followed by Germany.

Alfred looked genuinely upset, eyes glassy. His posture was less bold than usual, as if stricken by deep sadness. The American was a good actor when he wanted to be. “Trading partners... friends. All of you were in the process of arranging contracts or exports with my government. President James S Selkirk died five days ago. His illness was long hidden, and so painful... It might have pushed him into making bad decisions. Any deals or the like from the past two months is currently being analyzed. A few things are already been reversed. My government apologizes for the inconvenience...” Alfred sniffled once during his speech, sitting after a moment of silence. Very fine acting.

The pragmatic China was first to speak, sounding less than sympathetic. “How did he die?” he asked with narrowed eyes. “His immune system started killing him, it probably started as an infection... We aren't really sure yet. The boss was always so secretive.” Alfred explained solemnly. “Who is the next in command?” Canada asked, barely heard by most.

“Oh... well... Normally my vice president would be taking over, but he's... compromised. So the speaker of the senate is taking over. Seems like a nice enough guy... his name is...” Alfred paused speaking to dab at a crocodile tear and dig a letter out of his pocket. “... Yuri Kozloff? God, am I even saying that right?” he muttered. Ivan was pleased Alfred chose one of his long buried assets. The man was actually a child of Russian spies sent over in the late 1970's. Yuri Kozlov was completely unaware he had been groomed to gain political power, if his parents were still doing as they were trained.

Israel and Syria glanced at Ivan with suspicion, then returned their attention to Alfred. India didn't seem bothered at all. “I didn't know your house of commons was so multicultural.” Canada noted softly in the background. “It's a senate... and I'm trying.” Alfred grumbled darkly. His false mood of grief and irritation seemed to silence possible complaints.

After asking several questions, China seemed satiated and left rather suddenly. Israel and Canada wanted to stay behind and comfort America in his faked time of need. Syria left even earlier than China, cursing in his own language. Ivan remained reserved, speaking rarely, if at all. He was a master of mind games but a somewhat pitiful actor. India stood to leave, then looked to his long time coal and gas provider.

“I though you would be happy a Russian was in charge of USA.” he noted cautiously. “If my own children were happy, they would not leave me for another nation.” Ivan stated flatly, voicing an honest opinion. It was insulting when citizens gave up fixing their own lands and moved away. For living nations, it was rude and occasionally fatal. Prussia, annoying cockroach that he was, provided living proof that belief in a fallen country kept one alive. There was enough pretentious German pricks claiming to be of Prussian heritage that the ex-nation wouldn't simply die.

Put off by Russia's standard behavior, India left the room quickly. Alfred and his fooled companions soon left to help him get over his imagined sorrows. Ivan stood, confronted by Germany. “I do not know how, but you are responsible for America's boss dying.” the formal nation accused, looking Russia in the eyes. How brave, or rather, how foolish of the German.

“Germany, I am flattered. I have little wealth or time. Why would I waste such things on lesser people?” The ash blonde lied smoothly, petting Germany's jaw line in disturbingly close fashion. The strict German shuddered in fearful disgust and stepped several feet away. This physical distraction seemed to pull the suspicious nation from his chain of thought. Smirking in smug fashion, Ivan stood and left.

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Part Eight

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”.

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165963359973/lrtihew-part-seven

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else.

Visiting was fun. Ivan and Alfred fought constantly, occasionally trying to beat the shit out of each other. It was the only normal interaction they really knew. After getting kicked out of a Mexican restaurant, they decided to visit a planetarium. The evening was polished off with a movie at Alfred's house. The Russian could tell America was extremely stressed with work. The chaos caused by his boss's death was evident, phone calls constantly interrupting their day out.

As Alfred's cell phone went off yet again, he groaned. “You should not ask for my help if you can not handle the side effects, Alfred.” Ivan said knowingly, gradually getting used to human names. Alfred rolled his eyes and answered the device after pausing the action movie. It was apparently a short a conversation, with much yelling. Ivan raised his brow in questioning manner while eating popcorn.

Hanging up, Alfred glared at Ivan. Used to this, the Russian looked back with a deadpan expression. “What did you say to Kozloff? He's asking questions.” the honey blonde demanded. “If a leader does not ask questions, he is a poor choice.” Ivan countered, knowing full well what the short tempered American was talking about. If the man didn't suspect something after seeing Ivan's name listed eighty years ago in records, he was completely retarded.

“Now he's going to bug me and think I'm some magical creature or whatever.” Alfred whined. “Are we not, to humankind? We do not age, and heal in minutes.” Ivan replied, always one for playing devil's advocate. “I guess, but that's not the point –” the tanned nation's spiel was interrupted by loud knocking on the door. The two nations waited to see who would get up first. The knocking picked up again.

“You are so lazy!” Ivan hissed, standing. Answering the door, he opened it up a crack. “What?” he asked rudely, seeing an upset American president with crossed arms. He was flanked by two guards as per usual. “Who is it? Alfred yelled from the couch, too comfortable to move. “It is Mr. Kozloff and his men.” Ivan crooned.  The American scrambled to rise to his feet, throwing blankets and pillows off the couch.

“Sir, this is surprise!” Alfred squeaked, aware of how compromising he may appear. His new boss already wanted to yell at him. Ivan felt a twinge of empathy, but was mostly relieved something wasn't his fault for once. Ivan gathered with a blanket, watching the brewing storm. The human leader said nothing for a moment looking around. He took in photos as far back as the American civil war, proudly displayed above the couch. The rest of the home was decorated with old bits of junk that historians would drool over. Ivan's own house was the same way, stuffed with books over a century old.

“What are you?” the president finally asked suspiciously. His two body guards were as nonchalant as ever, used to everything. “I'm your helpful assistant sir.” Alfred replied, not exactly lying. “Tell me the truth.” the man ordered. “Well... I'm the United States of America. Technically I'm a living manifestation of the country. I influence the population as much as they form me, basically.” the honey blonde attempted to explain. It was a bizarre subject to breach.

“So many long words, Alfred. I sincerely hope your tiny brain did not hurt itself.” Ivan noted sarcastically. “Shut up! I know words. Your big dinosaur brain doesn't understand my brilliance.” the American shot back. “I was told you like dinosaurs.” the Russian teased flirtatiously. He mostly didn't mean it, the gesture engineered to get under Alfred's skin.

Looking rather red, Alfred shoved him. “Fuck off. I need to talk to my boss man seriously... 'kay?” he cursed, the statement softening to a question at the end. That was about as civil as it got between them these days. Taking the hint, Ivan shrugged and stood. “I am using your kitchen, filthy American.” he replied, walking off. He ignored any further protests.

For a country with a rich agricultural past, Alfred's kitchen was sparsely stocked. The glossy white kitchen was poorly organized as well. While Ivan started moving things around, he disparaged at the sheer whiteness of the space. It reminded the ancient Russian of icy fields back home. A kitchen was the heart of the home. You needed bright colors, patterns, and fabrics. Even a big red wall mural would do over this blankness. Ivan contemplated painting a Russian eagle on the wall.

“What are you doing in there?” Alfred yelled down the hall. “I am making your kitchen more efficient, comrade.” Ivan hollered back, in a good mood. There was muffled cursing, but no true response. While sorting the half empty cupboards, the ash blonde found basic baking supplies. Humming Korobeiniki, Ivan set to work. Making something himself was the only way he was going to get a good meal.

Mixing butter, baking powder, and oil with water, the slurry was fed flour slowly. Soon it was a pale dough thick enough to knead by hand. Ivan rolled up the sleeves of his sweater and set to work. The end result wouldn't be as delicious as yeast based breads. Ivan didn't have the time or supplies for such an endeavor. Beef strips and mushrooms were fried in a pan at the same.

After roughly forty minutes of work, Ivan slid the pirozhki into the oven. Setting a timer, Ivan dug out some of Alfred's expensive rum. Grabbing several shot glasses, he returned to America's plush couch. “Are you finished explaining the obvious yet?” Ivan asked, setting up shots. He raised a tiny glass to the American president and his goons in silent offering. They all refused. The bodyguards looked at him with thinly veiled distrust.

“I'm trying man. He doesn't believe me.” Alfred complained. “This story is ridiculous, Mr. Jones.” Mr. Kozlov denied, looking frustrated. “You appear to be friends with him. Do you have a better explanation for this... joke?” the man appealed to Ivan. Russia nodded sagely, pulling a knife from under his sweater. The body guard's hands jumped to their guns but didn't draw.

Ivan rolled his eyes, cutting a thin line across his own palm. It stung fiercely despite being a shallow cut. Droplets of blood welled forth from the tiny wound. Wiping the blade clean off on his sweater, Ivan tucked it away. He then showed the palm to the American president. “Please watch Mr. Kozloff. I do not wish to repeat this act.” Ivan said sternly, expression masking pain. The human looked on with a blend of horror and curiosity. The insignificant cut healed in under a minute. Smooth pale flesh was as it always had been.

“Man, that was gross. You didn't have to cut yourself.” Alfred whined. “Would you prefer I stab you for demonstration?” Ivan threatened, taking a swig of rum. He cringed at it's sweetness. “Dude, you don't chug rum, you sip it. I thought you were civilized. Give me that.” Alfred insulted him, taking the bottle away. “If you had vodka or everclear, I wouldn't have to resort to drinking this... brown sugar water.” The older nation argued. “I'm sorry thirty nine percent isn't strong enough. I'm not a professional alcoholic like you.” Alfred retorted.

They paused their bickering to look at the president. He looked rather pale, running a hand through black hair. “You okay boss?” Alfred asked, leaning forward slightly. “You healed.” was all the man had to say. “Yes. I did.” Ivan replied casually. “Who are you?” the leader finally asked. The question Ivan had been waiting for. “I am Ivan Braginsky, formally referred to as the federal republic of Russia. I am pleased to properly introduce myself.”

“Russia is in your house? Why is he in your house? Why are you friends?” Mr. Kozlov rapid fired questions, starting to really freak out. “We aren't friends. He breaks in and uses my stuff.” Alfred protested, pouring himself a shot. “I was invited.” Ivan pointed out, munching on the long forgotten movie popcorn. “You're hiding from your dictator boss, dude.” the honey blonde countered. “Vladimir Putin is a wonderful leader that was elected fairly.” Ivan bristled possessively. “Oh my god, no one is re-elected six times, like ever.” Alfred dismissed, rolling his eyes.

The Russian huffed, but said nothing. The man-child nation before him simply didn't understand, changing leaders so fast no one knew their names. A real leader lasted for the ages, remembered for their wise choices. The American president exited abruptly, just as Ivan's pirozhki finished baking. Ivan looked at the spring world outside, watching the human retreat. “I like him.” he said with finality. “It's the accent right? It's fun. I haven't had a president with an accent in ages.” Alfred agreed, starting the movie again. Ivan chuckled, then joined his oblivious companion.

The death of president James Selkirk was swiftly forgotten in the political storm of confusion that followed. The lethargic American senate struggled to respond as the world swamped replacement president Yuri Kozlov with immense pressure to perform. He was handling the stress admirably, from what little screen time Ivan saw on the television. The ruse was going well, with the man's ex-KGB parents visiting the white house unhindered. Ivan wanted to laugh from how amazing things were going.

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Part Twenty One

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”. Can you feel it? The feelings! They grow!

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/166625322238/lrtihew-part-twenty

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else

“Good morning Alik!” Ivan greeted, sitting on his host. His joyous mood couldn't be squished by anything. Like his rage, joy could become so consuming. Trapped while still clutching a spatula, Alfred twisted around so he could see. “Hey. You're excited.” he greeted. “Happy birthday!” Ivan replied, squeezing Alfred tight when he tried to wriggle free. Ivan didn't mention the nation's age directly. He noticed that America stopped mentioning his age completely at the beginning of the twenty first century. Ivan had done the same after the twelfth century. His bosses usually assumed he was lying about his age after three generations.

Canada watched the exchange between sips of coffee, somewhat perplexed. “I didn't know you could be so friendly, Russia.” he commented, having a strange drawl differing from his American sibling. “Yes. I made a friend. I decided this today.” Ivan informed, stating what was now a solid fact in his mind. “I don't think you understand how friendship works. You can't order people to –” Alfred was silenced as he was snuggled painfully tight. It felt so good to touch another living person. Alfred tapped on the floor, and Ivan relented.

Ivan mostly resumed normal interactions, seating himself. Lighting a cigarette, he looked over with a bored expression at Canada. “Hey! Use an ash tray ruskie! That table is expensive!” Alfred scolded sharply, sliding one over. Taking the ash tray, Ivan rolled his eyes but obeyed. Resuming staring at Canada, Ivan analyzed every tic and action. He enjoyed dissecting others, making them squirm. It was an unhealthy habit, but so was smoking.

“Alfie? Why is he staring at me?” Canada asked nervously, edging away in his chair. “Stop being weird to Matthew, Ivan.” Alfred said, not really paying attention. “Ruining all my fun.” Ivan muttered in his native language, taking a drag of his smoke. A minute later, a heaping plate of fried chicken was placed on the table. Ivan took one without asking, enjoying the strip of meat. He ignored Alfred glaring at him. “So... no party... what do you want to do, eh?” Canada asked, now several chairs away from Russia.

“Does it really matter? I'm ruined!” Alfred complained, tearing into a fried chicken chunk. “Why is that? Your drunk rambling was not clear.” Ivan inquired, curious. Alfred's phone was slid to him, a video set to play. He watched it with distant interest, looking at the tiny screen. It was a prisoner being tortured in American prison clothes, a rather bloody and inefficient procedure. The video was tame in Ivan's opinion, even if it violated a dozen human rights.

“That was a poor form of torture. They should have started with water boarding. No bruises. No mess. All results. Threatening to kill their family is even easier.” Ivan criticized, sliding the phone back. “Of course you would say that, you psychotic bastard.” Alfred retorted, his heart not really in it. “Cheer up Alik. I have done much worse, and I am still invited to world meetings.” Ivan purred, offering a smile.

Frustrated, Alfred slammed a fist on his supposedly expensive table. A small cracking noise was heard. “Yeah, because they're scared of you for some stupid reason! Maybe you eat babies... I don't know! Not my business to know... but I have a reputation to maintain. I have charities and senators to meet. This video China leaked is shitting on all of that. I've already had two public appearance cancellations because of this! I'll never be able to show my face at a party again!”

Ivan darkened with jealousy as Alfred spoke. It had been centuries since the Russian been so gloriously popular. Some days he just felt like a washed out war dog with no battle to wage. Canada paled slightly and avoided eye contact with him. A spineless coward like the rest. Maybe Ivan should just murder him. No... no... It wouldn't change anything. He would just be alone... again.

“... but... I am glad you came. I'm surprised France didn't try to rape me in my sleep.” Alfred continued, mood lightening up. “Only because I tried to kill him. He is not to be trusted.” Ivan muttered, still brooding. Old memories of France making moves on a much younger Russia floated up, making him shudder. “Huh... Guess I owe you one there.” Alfred replied, oblivious as ever.

Still extremely upset, Alfred refused to do anything interactive. They ended up watching movies. Canada picked the first one, but they barely made it twenty minutes in. It was a horribly inspirational sports movie where nobody died at all. The second movie was a suspenseful feature of Ivan's choosing. It was more artistic than straightforward, about a man escaping a virtual reality society. Alfred was clutching a pillow by the end. Canada would be shocked at times, muttering things like “Was that really necessary?” Ivan personally thought it was well crafted.

The last movie was easily the worst. It was procedural crime drama that could kill from how boring it was. Canada fell asleep watching it due to the late hour. Still stuck in Russian time, Ivan was wide awake. After Alfred started nodding off, Ivan simply left the couch to occupy himself. By the time the shitty movie ended, Ivan had already read all of America's emails, organized the kitchen, and alphabetized the book shelves. Turning the TV off, Ivan took stock of the situation.

Alfred looked so mature in his sleep, glasses askew. There was the faintest laugh lines on his otherwise smooth face. A splash of freckles spanned across his features. With his deep tan and sun bleached hair, the young nation distantly resembled a beautiful sunflower. Deciding what to do, Ivan abandoned Canada on the couch.

America was carefully scooped into Ivan's arms, his rest unbroken. Laying the freckled nation on his bed upstairs, Ivan hesitated. What did friends do without pushing boundaries? That internet article completely escaped Ivan at the moment. Being nice... sharing interests... strictly clothes on type things? He couldn't remember. Oh well. Ivan would just improvise, for he was very resourceful.

Tucking Alfred under thin covers, Ivan lay beside him in thought. He might as well try to nap and regular to USA time zones. Heaving a sigh, he pushed off the bed and went to recover his luggage. He discovered his sword clean and propped up by the door. That was nice. Next to that was a grey luggage case with Cyrillic labels. Dragging all of this upstairs, Ivan paused in front of Alfred's door.

His clothes would still be on, and it wasn't like Alfred's privacy was important. Yeah, it would be okay. Sneaking in quietly, Ivan put his luggage beside the antique wooden dresser. Easing onto the mattress, Ivan took up the remainder of space. Fearing he may fall off, Ivan slid closer to the centre. Crushed against Alfred, the ash blonde didn't much mind. Until four years ago, Ivan always napped with his precious Koshka wrapped around him, closer still than his precious white scarf.

Gently brushing a thumb against Alfred's cheek, Ivan pondered things. He had made a friend, a real friend. Koshka would be so proud, if cats could be proud about others. They could be selfish. It was funny how Ivan was always pulled to selfish people. Once Ivan had been happy to associate with France, until the romance nation tried to put moves on him. Now it was America, the most egotistical nation to grace media for the past century. Was Ivan making a mistake? Alfred wasn't trying to kill him or do anything inappropriate... yet. Trying not to dwell on that thought, Ivan finally rested.

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Part Nine

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”. Don’t mind the price quotes in rubles. This story is older and the dollar exchange rate is always in flux.

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165963456438/lrtihew-part-eight

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else

Eight months. That's how painfully long it took for the USA to get it's act together. A new emergency election was hosted after a several brief debates. The other candidates didn't stand a chance, despite Kozlov not being on any ballets. People started writing his name on voting slips, then checking it off. The sheer number of invalid 'Kozlov' voter slips overwhelmed the highly televised voting process.

He unofficially won by a landslide for the democrat party. When the white house tried to place the official winner in power, the public took to occupying the white house lawn and burning down houses. The governing bodies were terrorized by their own citizens across every state, demanding their votes to be recognized. The senate inevitably caved in and put Kozlov back in power.

Ivan was pleased. His people were pleased. Once the Russian citizens discovered one of their own was 'running the USA', they celebrated. Fan letters from Slavic countries around the world inundated the white house. It was now a week before the inaugural party. Russia was browsing his extensive suit collection. He wanted to look stunning, but not overdone. This was the first time Ivan had been invited to such a party outside his own borders since... quite a long time.

He knew he was financially allied with America to some extent. Stroking the soft fabric of a hanging suit, Ivan wondered about things. Was he now friends with another nation? Alfred was inviting him over at least three times a year. They often did things that were admittedly fun and usually foolish.

The purple eyed Slav had only teased Alfred about being friends. It seemed to crawl under the tanned nation's skin easily. However, the actual idea of them being friends was appealing. Sure, the young nation was annoying, and loud, and flippant with his commitments. He was also terrifyingly strong. Ivan used to be that strong once, centuries ago. The stubborn Russian could keep up athletically these days, but resorted to mind games and sharp reflexes to keep his edge.

Sighing, he looked over his suits again. Perhaps this issue of friendship was one he was inventing. Russia was a... mostly... powerful and wonderful country. No. It was the best. He was superior above all others. And most of all, Ivan Braginsky did not doubt himself. Uplifted from his internal pep talk, the Russian finally picked a simple black suit and a blood red tie. He couldn't recall if it started off that burnt shade of red, which made the accessories an even better choice.

After picking out simple silver cuff links, Ivan was ready for the airport. The horrifying long plane ride was not going going to be fun. His cell phone rang as he locked up the house. He had been given express permission to attend this influential party. If work dared to call him... “Yes?” Ivan growled upon answering the phone.

“Oh man, no wonder nobody calls you! Sound like you shit out a pine cone.” A obnoxiously loud voice replied. Ivan froze, realizing it was America. When other nations called, it was always something bad. The worst came to mind immediately. Was Ivan not invited to the party anymore? “So, change of plans. Your planes suck and are never like, on time.” Alfred went on mindlessly. Disheartened, Ivan listened while waiting for the final words of rejection.

“... so yeah. I sent a jet over. It'll be six hours instead of a billion to get here. It's going to be at your place in an hour. The usual airport.” the annoying nation concluded. “Yes, I will be there.” Ivan breathed, unable to stop a smile creeping over his features. “Aww you sound happy. It's almost like you're not an ass –” The Russian ended the call prematurely. Not only was he still invited, but the host wanted to cart him over on their money.

Russia was relieved. International plane tickets cost a hefty $36,000 rubles, or two months salary for a low end government worker. Ivan wasn't paid much more than that. In war, he had endless access to his boss's accounts, but it was only for battle expenses... Yes. Alfred sending a private jet was greatly appreciated.