Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
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Vietnam turned; eyes softened with pity and understanding. She walked closer to Alfred, his hand still enclosed around her hand.
Alfred scooted to the edge of the bed, gently pulling Vietnam closer. He let go of her hand, snaking his arms around her waist and pressed his face to her stomach. “Soft…” He mumbled, the sounds of his breaths amplified and muffled by her clothes.
“Not something to say to a woman.” Vietnam frowned.
“…It’s so weird. You’re so much older than I am, yet you look younger.” Alfred took in the smell of her clothes.
Vietnam sighed. “You surely act younger than I do.”
“Mm…” Alfred held tighter, knowing that he must be suffocating her by now. “In bed with the enemy nation? What would my boss say?”
“Who said we’re going to be in bed.” Vietnam tried to pry away from Alfred’s death grip. “Can’t breath…” She groaned.
“Sorry,” Alfred pulled back, just a bit, and looked up at Vietnam. “Being around men all the time…it’s tiring.”
Vietnam narrowed her eyes, unamused. “Men…”
“Exactly. Men.” Alfred smiled. “Ah…you’re hair isn’t tied back.” He reached back, running a hand through black silk.
“I didn’t feel like it.” Vietnam slowly lowered herself, bending her knees slowly. Her cheeks were pink.
And Alfred’s cheeks were a bright flaming red (not from alcohol, he will admit). “It looks better on you…” he whispered, drawing her face closer to his.
“It’s more convenient to tie it back.” Vietnam pressed her forehead to Alfred’s.
“Like I wouldn’t know.” Alfred laughed. “What would the boss say?” He sighed, though not sadly.
“Does it matter now?” Vietnam closed her eyes and felt rough lips on hers.
Rough, like sandpaper, but soft and sweet like honey.
“Just one night.”
“Just one night.”
Vietnam pushed Alfred and together they fell onto the bed.
And the next day, it was all forgotten.
-----
1995, Alfred came to visit Ho Chi Minh City in lieu of the lifted embargo and Clinton’s announcement of normalization.
“Ugh, I’ll never get used to long plane flights like these.” Alfred groaned, rubbing his neck painfully. He carried his luggage, looking around for a sign or any sort of indication that someone was waiting for him. “And it’s hot…isn’t it supposed to be winter here? It’s winter back home.” He looked around, hoping to find a familiar face.
And he saw her, standing with her hands clasped behind her back. She was smiling, hair loose, wearing her usual green dress, legs covered up like before (he silently cursed to himself). She walked up to him, slowly, as they haven’t seen each other in decades.
Alfred looked down, looking at her with a smile as well. “Well, then.” He puts down his luggage, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Still wearing that old dress of yours?”
“Hello to you, too.” Vietnam grabbed his arms with her long fingers, healing of their scars, and kissed him gently on the lips, smiling.
He felt her cheek, a dark milky texture caressing his white hands.
This wasn’t a bar in Saigon, no neon lights, and no hard liquor.
This was real.
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Body-count war was what the Vietnam War soon became, meaning that victory was depending on who had the least amount of deaths. On news programs, they even had a counter for the number dead on the American side, and number dead on the North Vietnam side.
The Declaration of Independence and George Washington inspired Ho Chi Minh. Even the constitution that was made (argh, Vietnam War history rusty, I suggest reading up on this instead of being lazy bastards and reading my lazy notes) was almost identical to the Declaration of Independence. George Washington’s strategy during the Revolutionary War was basically, endurance. Just keep fighting until the other side gave up. That is exactly what then North Vietnam and then South Vietnam rebels had in mind as their plan.
Elephant grass is basically a REALLY TALL plant. What soldiers had to do was patrol through the elephant grass and check for traps or any possible Viet Cong or any opposing soldiers. A funny thing about this, when the men came out (alive) they were given a free crate of beer.
So there was some confusion on skin color in this fic. The only pale Vietnamese ladies are in the bar in this setting. If you ever watched Dear America, or ever watched some footage of Saigon bars with American soldiers, etc (during that time period) you’d know where I’m getting at (unless memory FAILED and they weren’t paler. GOD MEMORY).
I made a book reference. The Things They Carry is a great Vietnam War fiction book (but it seems nonfiction) in the perspective of American soldiers. The star-shaped hole, lemon tree, and fecal swamp are in the book.
1994, the US lifted the embargo on Vietnam. In 1995, Bill Clinton announced formal normalization of diplomatic ties with Vietnam, thus why Alfred comes back to Vietnam (semi-excuse to bring him back for cliche meeting-again ending). Their relationship has grown since.
My first fill done! I hope you reader anons enjoyed this.
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Thank you for this lovely fill! I'm going to check out that documentary, it sounds really interesting.
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(and yeah, I kinda can only picture Vietnam with him, it's odd)
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First of all, slightly off-topci: thank you so much for mentioning the Things They Carried. I'd read an excerpt of it a long time ago, loved it, intended to read the book but forgot about it. Thanks to this, I intend to actually go read it now. :| And I'm actually a bit more inspired to read it thanks to this.
Your fill was well written and I love your take on Vietnam's personality. I'd say more (because I really love this fill), but it'd take far too long. So just believe this anon when she says that this was lovely through and through.
And thanks for the notes. It's kind of like an epilogue of sorts. 8D;; Awesome job on your first fill, author anon. ./praise
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