In order to celebrate HETALIA'S anime adaptation. AXIS POWERS HETALIA KINK MEME
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hetalia kink meme
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Okay, let's make history and be more epic than these people, shall we?
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America tipped his chair back, chewing his lower lip in anxiety as the translator conversed over the phone with Dmitri Kissoff, Russia’s boss. His stomach was churning, and the impending threat of a nuclear holocaust had him on edge.
It was that damned commander’s fault in the first place, something about ‘saving our bodily fluids’. It was all bullshit, as far as he was concerned, and could have been easily taken care of had the jets in question not been thoroughly vandalized. Without the communications system, there was no way to contact the pilots and have them return to base.
At this rate, Russian retaliation was imminent should the country not take kindly to his call. It wasn’t as though he’d sent the bastards out there, in the first place - Faulty command, and all - But they were his boys, and he would be forced to have them shot out of the sky should the situation grow that dire.
Taking pause from his thoughts, America had the niggling notion at the back of his mind that someone was watching him. He scanned the circular table and got a good look at the depraved, bespectacled doctor across from him, grinning madly and clutching at his neo-Nazi arm like a lifeline. Dragging his attention away from Strangelove, America concentrated on the issue at hand.
Adjusting his glasses as the translator cleared his throat and handed the receiver to President Muffley, the country leaned in to take his assigned phone and listen in. His own Russian was bad, but Kissoff was getting better at English. Music that sounded like a polka without proper rhythm assaulted his ears, and every other official in the War Room held their breath as the President addressed Russia’s boss.
Dmitri was a little drunk, and put out that American planes were flying into Russian territory without his consent and armed to the teeth - Understandable. America rolled his eyes and gave the President a pointed look. The man nodded, mumbling an apology and explanation that perhaps their distinctive territories should work things out themselves.
“Mr. Jones,” The President stated. “Dmitri has kindly put Mr. Braginsky on the line - ” He paused, speaking into the receiver again. “Yes, Dmitri, we’re all fine. I’m fine. America’s fine. Are you fine? Oh, Russia’s fine, then. Well, I’m glad we’re all -fine-.” He gave a nervous little laugh and waved his hand at America.
A husky, gravelly voice, tinged with static from the connection, echoed through the receiver into his ear. “Alfred! It is good to be hearing from you, da? We have not had best of times these days.” America swallowed, grinning disarmingly as if the other country could see. “Yeah, Ivan, how about that? Look, um…I know it’s nice to talk to you every so often, and - ”
“We should make up soon, da? The Iron Curtain has to fall sometime - We are having bombs made! You should see.”
“Actually, Ivan, it’s about the bomb.”
“Which bomb?”
“The H-bomb. The Hydrogen-bomb.”
“We have many weapons too, you know,” Russia gave a drunken giggle, trailing off into a hoarse cough. America shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The other officers at the table were raising eyebrows as they listened.
“Yes, I know that, Ivan, but you know how we’ve always talked about the possibility of…of war?”
Russia’s tone became a little more guarded. “…da?”
“One of our men in charge…er…he went a little…funny…in the head.”
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“He, uh,” Blue eyes darted up to the map above the war table, taking up nearly a quarter of the room. Five of the jet trails, marked by small white dots on distinct lines, advanced by another mark.
“…Well, the base commander went and did a silly thing, we’ve heard not too long ago, and…”
“And?”
“…Heorderedhisplanestodropbombsoveryourcountry,” America babbled quickly, feeling his chest constrict as he took a deep breath, waiting for the larger country’s reply.
The silence was deafening.
It was only broken when Russia’s heavy breathing became audible over the other line.
“He did what?” America could have sworn that he heard a growl as the other country continued, “You…you and your men who are funny in the head, Alfred, is this some way of declaring war on Mother Russia - ?”
“Let me finish, Ivan!”
“I am - ” Russia made a small noise that sounded suspiciously like a hiccup. “…not pleased by this, Alfred.”
“Well…well how do you think I feel?” America protested desperately, wrapping the telephone cord around his pointer finger. “Can you even imagine how I feel about it, Ivan? Why do you think we’re even calling you in the first place? Just to say ‘hello’?”
A plaintive sigh whooshed across the receiver on the other end, and Russia responded. “What is wrong with ‘hello’, Alfred? We are never having nice talk, da? Do you not like talking to me?”
Once again, America was stunned by the way in which a country of such great power could make him feel guilty for neglecting to say ‘hi’ every so often. It was true that they’d been at each other’s throats for a while, stressing Canada to the point where the younger nation had been forced to get therapy. They’d never had to be civil.
“Of course I like taking to you, Ivan! Of course I like to say ‘hello’!”
“What about now?” Russia asked innocently.
“Not now, but anytime, Ivan. We had to call you up to tell you that something horrible’s happened and we’re concerned.”
“We could not have friendly chat, da?”
“Of course this is a friendly call! If…if it wasn’t friendly, you probably wouldn’t have gotten it in the first place!” America ran his hand through his hair, tapping on one leg anxiously.
“When will they reach my land, Alfred?”
Finally, some sense. At least the larger country had the decency to realize that quibbling about visiting meant nothing compared to impending doom.
“They won’t reach their targets for at least another hour.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Ivan, I’m sure. We’ve triangulated their positions and there’s still time left.”
“How am I to be knowing that you are not thinking up something clever again, Alfred?”
“Listen, we’ve been through this with your ambassador, Ivan, and it’s not a trick,” He glanced up at the board again, grimacing as the little light trails advanced.
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“What do we do?”
“Well, I’ll tell you,” America replied matter-of-factly. “We’re gonna give your air staff all the niceties of the planes: rundowns on the targets, the flight plans, and the defensive systems.”
“You are wanting me to shoot them down like little birds?”
“Y-Yes, if we can’t recall the planes, then we’re…” He swallowed again, feeling sick to his stomach. “…We’re just gonna have to help you destroy them.”
“They are your people, nyet?”
“I know they’re my boys. I know, Ivan, but now listen - Who should we call?”
Russia cleared his throat and muttered something before trailing off into a faint whisper. America heard the sloshing sound of liquor in a glass bottle, again, and gritted his teeth before asking again.
“I’m sorry, Ivan, who should we call? The People’s what? You kinda faded away for a second.”
“The People’s Central Air Defense Headquarters,” Russia mumbled.
“The People’s Central Air Defense Headquarters?” America pointed at one of the officials across the table to write things down. “Okay, where is that, Ivan?”
“Omsk,” The other grunted.
“Omsk, right. Yes, we need to speak with them.”
“I will call.”
“You’ll call them first?”
“Da.”
“Alright, um, do you happen to have the phone number on you, Ivan?”
“You call the Operator, ask for Omsk Information.”
“Okay, so just ask for Omsk Information?”
“Da,” There was a throaty whine from the other line, and America felt his chest twinge in guilt. A low thump - Clearly Russia had set the bottle aside - and an apologetic tone of voice he was unused to hearing from the large nation, “I am sorry it is having been coming to this.”
Sighing, America rubbed his temple with his free hand. “I’m sorry too, Ivan. I’m very sorry.”
“But I…if it had not been my challenge in the first place, we would not have to come to this, da? I am…most sorry…sorrier? Sorriest? What is in English?”
“Sorrier, Ivan. Alright, you’re sorrier than I am. But I’m sorry as well.”
“You cannot be as sorry as I,” The thick accent was fraught with emotion, “The race to outer space…that dog in the pod…it was all my fault,” Russia slurred, and something on the other line was knocked over and shattered. Probably the empty vodka bottle.
“I am as sorry as you are, Ivan. Don’t say that you’re more sorrier than I am, because I’m capable of being just as sorry as you are!” America insisted, suddenly feeling the innate urge to put up his dukes even in the time of crisis. The President gave him a look, and his spirit of competition withered. “So we’re both sorry, alright?” He finished lamely, and Russia grunted noncommittally on the other end. Sighing in relief, America clarified, “Alright.”
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“Yes, he’s right here. Yes, he’ll talk to you - Just a second.”
America tapped the translator on the shoulder, raising an eyebrow expectantly. The man readjusted his phone and spoke Russia’s native language to the country itself. The confident smile that the translator was sporting slid off his face like melted butter. America strained to understand what the other country was saying over the phone. President Muffley sat up, hand over the receiver, and looked at his country in question. America shrugged.
The silence was permeated by ‘Da’, ‘Nyet’, and some other things he couldn’t catch. America heard Russia chortle madly through the static, and felt his stomach drop.
“What?” The President demanded. “What - What did he say?”
“The fools…the mad fools…” The translator shook his head.
“What’s happened?” America held the phone to his ear, “Ivan, what’s happened? What did you say?”
“The Doomsday Machine,” Russia laughed maniacally, “I was hoping it would not come to this, da? It will go off…if they drop their bombs…”
“The Doomsday Machine? Wh-What is that?” For once, America cursed his naïveté.
“A device which will destroy all human and animal life on earth,” The translator supplied helpfully, and a collective gasp arose from the rest of the council.
“That is right!” Russia declared rather triumphantly. “Insurance, da, for my country. I will talk to Omsk control. You will work with your planes. If they reach their targets, the world will be one with me.” Another twisted giggle. “It is not sounding so bad, Alfred? I will prepare - Dasvidanya.”
There was a loud click on the other end, and America tossed his phone onto the table petulantly, gazing across to see his reflection in the dark glasses of Doctor Strangelove. The man was smiling ear to ear in an altogether unpleasant way. Scowling, the nation challenged the wheel chair ridden deviant. “Let me guess,” America spat, “This is how you’ve come to love the atomic bomb?”
“Yes,” The man replied dreamily, straining to hold his right arm in check. “Yes, I believe it is.”
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*has never seen Dr. Strangelove so the ending came as a complete shock*
You did a great job on this! I applaud you! 8D
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