The Battle for Alaska 2/?
anonymous
July 21 2011, 06:24:58 UTC
character limits suck. That is all.
When Russia appeared, America wasn’t surprised. Nothing surprised him anymore.
Those violet eyes seemed surprised though, tearing open wounds Alfred didn’t even know existed.
Communists weren’t supposed to care about ‘capitalist pigs’.
Those eyes blinked and America could feel the world rebelling behind his eyelids as they closed.
He wondered, just for a moment, what it felt like.
What it was to be united under one ideal, to be unified.
His people, no matter how the government presented it, was far from being of one mind. Never really had been.
When he opened his eyes, Russia was carrying him, cradling him against that expansive torso and America fell into it, uncaring.
It was warm. -
“What are you doing here?” the violet eyes asked even as Alfred buried himself into the warmth.
“Earthquake.” he muttered, “Was nice here, so I stayed.”
“You have to go back, Amerika.” Russia said simply. “Your boss is under the impression that I kidnapped you.”
America shrugged, turning his head away. “I told him I’d be awhile. I couldn’t-I couldn’t-” he stopped, not knowing what he couldn’t take anymore.
Everything, maybe.
“I’m alone.” he finished, lamely.
And Russia didn’t make fun of him for it, he merely smoothed Alfred’s hair back, tucking the smaller body against his own.
“Da.”
-
After much coaxing, America and Russia walked down to the nearest town and he did finally call his boss and smoothed things over. After several minutes of conversation however, Eisenhower became concerned again.
“Alfred, are you okay?”
He couldn’t really answer that, could he?
“It’s beautiful up here.”
There was silence for a few moments before the president relented. Eisenhower knew just how much his passive nature had hurt his country under McCarthy.
“Do you think you could make it to the conference later this month?” he finally asked, relenting.
“I’ll try sir.” he answered, before promising to make another call in three days’ time and then passing the phone over to Russia, who called his own boss and managed to work something else out.
“Let us be returning to the cabin, da?” Those eyes asked and America nodded, letting the man lead the way.
As Russia cooked, the smell invading his nostrils in a way that food had not been able to in a long while, America felt himself relaxing.
Here there was no recession, so endless whisperings, or vows of hatred that even the Civil War had not managed to put to rest. Out here there was no Cold War, just him and the world.
When Russia appeared, America wasn’t surprised. Nothing surprised him anymore.
Those violet eyes seemed surprised though, tearing open wounds Alfred didn’t even know existed.
Communists weren’t supposed to care about ‘capitalist pigs’.
Those eyes blinked and America could feel the world rebelling behind his eyelids as they closed.
He wondered, just for a moment, what it felt like.
What it was to be united under one ideal, to be unified.
His people, no matter how the government presented it, was far from being of one mind. Never really had been.
When he opened his eyes, Russia was carrying him, cradling him against that expansive torso and America fell into it, uncaring.
It was warm.
-
“What are you doing here?” the violet eyes asked even as Alfred buried himself into the warmth.
“Earthquake.” he muttered, “Was nice here, so I stayed.”
“You have to go back, Amerika.” Russia said simply. “Your boss is under the impression that I kidnapped you.”
America shrugged, turning his head away. “I told him I’d be awhile. I couldn’t-I couldn’t-” he stopped, not knowing what he couldn’t take anymore.
Everything, maybe.
“I’m alone.” he finished, lamely.
And Russia didn’t make fun of him for it, he merely smoothed Alfred’s hair back, tucking the smaller body against his own.
“Da.”
-
After much coaxing, America and Russia walked down to the nearest town and he did finally call his boss and smoothed things over. After several minutes of conversation however, Eisenhower became concerned again.
“Alfred, are you okay?”
He couldn’t really answer that, could he?
“It’s beautiful up here.”
There was silence for a few moments before the president relented. Eisenhower knew just how much his passive nature had hurt his country under McCarthy.
“Do you think you could make it to the conference later this month?” he finally asked, relenting.
“I’ll try sir.” he answered, before promising to make another call in three days’ time and then passing the phone over to Russia, who called his own boss and managed to work something else out.
“Let us be returning to the cabin, da?” Those eyes asked and America nodded, letting the man lead the way.
As Russia cooked, the smell invading his nostrils in a way that food had not been able to in a long while, America felt himself relaxing.
Here there was no recession, so endless whisperings, or vows of hatred that even the Civil War had not managed to put to rest. Out here there was no Cold War, just him and the world.
And those violet eyes.
-
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