Fic: Hetalia
Title: Perestroika
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: Alfred/Ivan (USA/Russia)
Rating: PG
Warning: Chess terminology?
Wordcount: 702.
... It looks like the fandom finally got enough of a hold on me to make me write for it. I knew it was going to happen one of these days :'DDD
Thanks to allira_dream for betareading!
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"King to G7" Ivan announced, face perfectly calm to mask the beginnings of desperation bubbling inside. When had he lost the other knight, and that rook? He couldn't remember. Not again, damn. Not now. He tried to distract his rival: "Do not lose your cool now, dear Alfred. You could still win."
"Oh, no big deal." Waved Alfred, nonchalant, but Ivan saw him frowning in concentration, tapping fingers in the hard stone of their playing table. A spike of long held paranoia told him that had to be intentional. Something in Morse Code, perhaps.
...rmany. Latin America. Afghanistan. The Space., Ivan deciphered.
Germany. Corea. Vietnam. Cuba., he tapped in return.
"Knight to G5.", he heard, and the move would've been terrifying if he didn't have something prepared in return. He still could defend this game, wait for an opening...
"King to H6", Ivan answered. It was dangerous, but he could push it a bit, he had backup, his queen was right there, untouched at F6.
He itched for something to ease the tension, some vodka, perhaps, but he needed to be as sober as possible for this. They had started the game long ago, almost as a private joke. It was all the Bosses fault, honestly. We'll bet our houses!, they had said, as if that were such a wonderful idea. A game and its corresponding bet. He didn't remember when it had stopped being fun, and now the stakes were just too high to leave.
The Soviet dream had been one of equality, an utopia meant to give hope for the humanity. Why were the others unable to see that? Why? He had worked so hard for it, too. Hadn't it been sixty years of trying? Seventy?
(He refused to think of them, too. His former Bosses, and all those who had died by his hands. They haunted him sometimes, breaking his focus in the worst possible moments, but he knew how to ignore them. Besides, it had been for the Cause, even before he had started to fully believe in it. Everything had been for the greater good. Yes.)
"Rook to H7. And... why, I think you have no moves left." Alfred studied the board. His grin was positively luminous.
Ivan swore under his breath, noticing late how he had walked right into the enemy's strategy. He was surrounded. Even if he continued... No, this was lost. Suddenly he didn't know where to put his hands. Defeat. Everything, everything was lost and he didn't know how to react.
So unfair. So horribly unfair.
"A-ah. Oh my", he managed to say, as polite as he was able to, and resigned his king. At least it's not a full-fledged checkmate, he thought, and he clung to that stray idea as if it was his lifeline.
"Game Over, Braginsky." Alfred took that away too, stating his victory as a matter of fact, taking his king and placing it on the palm of his hand. "Now keep your part of the deal."
Ivan nodded, smiling softly.
Underneath he felt a pressing need to scream, kick the goddamn table, kill Alfred for being such a fucking cheater, there was no way he could beat him like that at a game he mastered, no way after all this time. He wanted to run away. He wanted... a little display of violence, perhaps, something to scare the other as always. They had lived like that since that big war on the 40's.
"I see." He whispered instead, and reached for the bottle at his side. Alcohol burned in his nerves more than in his throat, clouding rage and melancholy, calming him. He was dully aware of how artificial was that peace. "A Mc Donalds in the Red Square, it is then."
"Come on, It's not so bad!" Laughed Alfred, reaching across the table to ruffle Ivan's hair. "You'll make me look like the villian here. I'm a good guy! You just have to let me in."
"Well, who knows. Maybe I could." Ivan mused, a dark expression hardening his face for a second or two, before his smile returned to full capacity. A half-giggle tinted his words. "We could even, you know. Renew our ties. We were such good friends before!"
Alfred smirked, pointing to his bedroom with a subtle gesture.
"Certainly. Let's."
----------------
Notes:
The moves are taken from Deep Blue (an IBM computer) vs. Kasparov (Chess Grand Master) first game. Kasparov's blacks lost.
After the economic opening by the USSR, there was a Mc Donalds placed in the Red Square, indeed. With a pretty view to Lenin's tomb. That happened in 1990.
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: Alfred/Ivan (USA/Russia)
Rating: PG
Warning: Chess terminology?
Wordcount: 702.
... It looks like the fandom finally got enough of a hold on me to make me write for it. I knew it was going to happen one of these days :'DDD
Thanks to allira_dream for betareading!
----------------
"King to G7" Ivan announced, face perfectly calm to mask the beginnings of desperation bubbling inside. When had he lost the other knight, and that rook? He couldn't remember. Not again, damn. Not now. He tried to distract his rival: "Do not lose your cool now, dear Alfred. You could still win."
"Oh, no big deal." Waved Alfred, nonchalant, but Ivan saw him frowning in concentration, tapping fingers in the hard stone of their playing table. A spike of long held paranoia told him that had to be intentional. Something in Morse Code, perhaps.
...rmany. Latin America. Afghanistan. The Space., Ivan deciphered.
Germany. Corea. Vietnam. Cuba., he tapped in return.
"Knight to G5.", he heard, and the move would've been terrifying if he didn't have something prepared in return. He still could defend this game, wait for an opening...
"King to H6", Ivan answered. It was dangerous, but he could push it a bit, he had backup, his queen was right there, untouched at F6.
He itched for something to ease the tension, some vodka, perhaps, but he needed to be as sober as possible for this. They had started the game long ago, almost as a private joke. It was all the Bosses fault, honestly. We'll bet our houses!, they had said, as if that were such a wonderful idea. A game and its corresponding bet. He didn't remember when it had stopped being fun, and now the stakes were just too high to leave.
The Soviet dream had been one of equality, an utopia meant to give hope for the humanity. Why were the others unable to see that? Why? He had worked so hard for it, too. Hadn't it been sixty years of trying? Seventy?
(He refused to think of them, too. His former Bosses, and all those who had died by his hands. They haunted him sometimes, breaking his focus in the worst possible moments, but he knew how to ignore them. Besides, it had been for the Cause, even before he had started to fully believe in it. Everything had been for the greater good. Yes.)
"Rook to H7. And... why, I think you have no moves left." Alfred studied the board. His grin was positively luminous.
Ivan swore under his breath, noticing late how he had walked right into the enemy's strategy. He was surrounded. Even if he continued... No, this was lost. Suddenly he didn't know where to put his hands. Defeat. Everything, everything was lost and he didn't know how to react.
So unfair. So horribly unfair.
"A-ah. Oh my", he managed to say, as polite as he was able to, and resigned his king. At least it's not a full-fledged checkmate, he thought, and he clung to that stray idea as if it was his lifeline.
"Game Over, Braginsky." Alfred took that away too, stating his victory as a matter of fact, taking his king and placing it on the palm of his hand. "Now keep your part of the deal."
Ivan nodded, smiling softly.
Underneath he felt a pressing need to scream, kick the goddamn table, kill Alfred for being such a fucking cheater, there was no way he could beat him like that at a game he mastered, no way after all this time. He wanted to run away. He wanted... a little display of violence, perhaps, something to scare the other as always. They had lived like that since that big war on the 40's.
"I see." He whispered instead, and reached for the bottle at his side. Alcohol burned in his nerves more than in his throat, clouding rage and melancholy, calming him. He was dully aware of how artificial was that peace. "A Mc Donalds in the Red Square, it is then."
"Come on, It's not so bad!" Laughed Alfred, reaching across the table to ruffle Ivan's hair. "You'll make me look like the villian here. I'm a good guy! You just have to let me in."
"Well, who knows. Maybe I could." Ivan mused, a dark expression hardening his face for a second or two, before his smile returned to full capacity. A half-giggle tinted his words. "We could even, you know. Renew our ties. We were such good friends before!"
Alfred smirked, pointing to his bedroom with a subtle gesture.
"Certainly. Let's."
----------------
Notes:
The moves are taken from Deep Blue (an IBM computer) vs. Kasparov (Chess Grand Master) first game. Kasparov's blacks lost.
After the economic opening by the USSR, there was a Mc Donalds placed in the Red Square, indeed. With a pretty view to Lenin's tomb. That happened in 1990.