Grace Under Pressure 1/?
anonymous
April 29 2009, 20:53:15 UTC
No trouble at all anon, hope you like it. _____________________________________________________________________
The night five months after Canada and Russia finally signed the Northern Pact with Norway, Denmark and Sweden, America had unofficially shut its borders to people it had deemed a ‘threat’.
Matthew might never get over the shock - him, his people, a threat? - but all his pleading with Alfred had been for nothing.
Alfred even chewed out Ivan at one of their last meeting because the Russian had complained those measures were premature, but Alfred told them he couldn’t change his boss or his people. Matt remembered Ivan was more interested in looking out the window at the time, and smiled. Despite everything, things had been going well for a change. He stared out his own windows, watching the first snow peacefully from the comfort of a warm room. Things were going well, and.
Well. It was nothing. Or it would be. It was Ivan, and that was weird enough all on its own. The pact he’d signed was to become first trading partners with the Russian and other northerners, now that people had turned their back on them - so now they worked together a lot more. And he was kind of a complete bastard but that was pretty funny. He wasn’t even attractive. So it was nothing, and even if it was something, it was something that didn’t matter.
“Why are you up so late, friend?” Matthew swivelled in his chair to face the large man standing in the doorway. He looked solemn and grey, eyes clouded with an unidentifiable emotion. It was stupid, to be happy to see him even if he was worried.
“Ivan?” He questioned, standing to move around the desk. The office was quiet in dark, he shouldn’t technically be working anymore. He approached the other man slowly, shying away like a startled animal because something seemed off.
“They have - our allies, that is - told me something.” The tall blond said, cool hands sliding up to Matthew’s neck. He tried to suppress the shiver, the urge to lean forward.
“A-and what is it that they said?”
“I am asking of you. You still talking, working with Alfred, aren’t you?” The hands in his hair knotted, and gave a sharp tug. He stumbled, wincing.
“I-Ivan! Stop it, that hurts - don’t be stupid, I wouldn’t be that dumb. N-not after what he’s done.” Matt’s knees started to shake, suddenly terrified that he had made the biggest mistake of his life signing that paper. Another yank brought him down, his hands scratching at Ivan doing nothing to stop him from being blindfolded.
“No, no they saw you, you are betray us.” Ivan hissed, breath moist and right there, near his ear. Matthew tried to take a swing but only hit shoulder, his wrist caught with a laugh. He felt the larger man’s weight settle along his hips, while he tried to wrestle his hands away from the other. He couldn’t see and his hands keep missing their mark, until they had finally been tied together.
Re: Grace Under Pressure 2/?
anonymous
April 29 2009, 21:01:05 UTC
“Y-you can’t listen to everything, I never once met Alfred! Stop - ow - fucking hell Ivan-!” He was cut off once he was swung up and disoriented, presumably over the other man’s shoulder. He was shaking more now, trying to wrestle out of the iron grip. Unable to see, the only clue Matthew had that they were outside was the sudden cold, and the soft sound of footsteps in snow. That used to be such a comforting sound ; they used to share secrets like that, together.
“Please, Ivan, please you know I wouldn’t do anything, you know how badly Alfred’s treated us both, why would I go back?” His world spun out of control when he was tossed on his back right into the snow, shivering in earnest now. He tried to drag himself onto his knees, unsure of where he’d been thrown.
“Da? We know what you are doing. You are telling Alfred of our plan, our pact, aren’t you?” The words were spat out at him, poisonous and sharp like knives. He bunched up snow in his tied hands, shaking his head. Has he gone entirely crazy? Did he finally snap?
“N-no! I-I haven’t, I’d never-” Matthew hated his voice for sounding so weak and desperate, but he felt cold and sick deep inside. How can I make you see? Why won’t you just believe me? Hot tears well up, and let them soak into the blindfold. He started to drag himself forward to where he had heard the Russian’s voice.
“I-Ivan, why don’t you trust me? You did b-before, so why..?” A foot came out of nowhere, connecting with his jaw and snapping his head to the side. He couldn’t even cry out - the hurt was somewhere deeper than his face, so he curled in on himself.
“Don’t come near me, traitor. Betray us, you were planning to sell us out? Tell me.” Matt was being dragged, forward and up. He couldn’t find his feet, and struggled, shaking his head.
“I can’t! Ivan, I can’t, there isn’t anything to tell - w-what do I say to make you happy?” He pleaded. He was thrown, a rag doll compared to the Russian’s strength, back onto a tree.
“The truth! We - I - thought you were a friend!” A punch; Matthew sobbed harder now. He was going to die out here, he realized, for something he hadn’t even done. For a terrible lie no one would even know. “Are you wanting to say something? Tell me and I can let you go, friend.”
He heard the sound of loading a gun, terribly final in his own mind, and clutched the snow like it could protect him.
“I-I can’t.” He whispered, spitting out some blood on his mouth. “T-there isn’t anything to tell - do you want me to make something up? Ivan, please,please, please believe me, there is nothing; we are friends. The b-best of friends. You said that, don’t you remember?” He begged, trying to pull himself forward through the snow.
He can remember the exact moment Ivan had said that, where he was standing and how he felt. They were at Matthew’s house, just after he had finished chopping a load of firewood for the week. He didn’t expect any help out in the summer, but it was a welcome surprise to see the Russian had already caught fish and had dried them over sticks. He looked so different then, the picture of good health and easy pleasure. When he smiled it had pretty much sealed the deal, for Matthew at least. He said he did it for his friend - that they were friends.
Another hit to his face brought him back to reality, that there was a gun in his face and nothing was going to stop this. It was like falling, knowing that stopping it so far out of your control.
“We were - but you betray me. You plan to, I know, so just tell me. Tell me your last words.” It might have been his hysteria but he thought he heard sadness, the wavering of conviction.
“Y-you think I-i-i have secrets, but I d-don’t.” Matthew latched onto that doubt, trying to get his words past his sobs. The chill was setting into his bones, and his fingers were already numb. “I on-only have one, b-but it isn’t about Alfred - it’s about y-you.” The silence could be the last thing he ever hears, or his hope. Distantly he heard a quiet bird call, as if it was a normal afternoon on any other day.
“About me?” The Russian’s voice was low, even in these circumstances Matt's body remembers the desire it induces. The barrel of the gun pressed against his cheek while Helicked his lips, tasting the salty tears there.
Re: Grace Under Pressure 3/3
anonymous
April 29 2009, 23:01:08 UTC
“I-I-I have...feelings. For you. I could never betray you, t-there isn’t enough money or anything to tempt me. B-because I’d always want you more, I’d always need you.” He hung his head. “I couldn’t tell you that, with Alfred on my case all the time. Is that good enough? Ivan, please, I don’t know anything.”
The gun pressed a little harder before pulling away entirely - Matthew’s stomach fell to his feet, so sick and scared he couldn’t think. He could only remember the sound of rivers and deep forests, the sight of Ivan still asleep mid morning in his bed. How can it end like this?
“Da. It is not good enough.”
Matthew let out a terribly quiet sound, the second before the sound of a shot rang out, scattering the birds.
He held his breath, waiting for the pain.
He held his breath, and kept holding. Then he dared to take one, two, three breathes, choking over them. The scent of fresh wood and spice overwhelmed him while the blindfold was being yanked off, a pair of painfully cold hands touching all over his face. He was still crying, he realized, and Ivan was as well, skin pale grey and water marks down his cheeks.
“Forgive me, milenky, I am so sorry, forgive me, forgive me.” Matthew was crushed in his embrace almost painfully, and then his limbs started to work again. He reached up and cuffed Ivan in the ear hard, knocking him away.
“H-how could you?! You bastard! You tried to - you did this to me for nothing? I told you to trust me, why can’t you just trust me!” He yelled, wrestling with the taller blond and viciously trying to hit him. It was hard to see past his tears, with Ivan’s distraught face swimming in and out of focus. Ivan grappled with him, finally catching his hands and pulling him down again. When Ivan did speak, he sounded haunted.
“I should have. I am so used to...partners, running away, betraying, lying. I wanted believe you were different but I could not be sure. I was so angry to hear you might be with Alfred. Jealous.” His hands stroked Matthew’s hair while he spoke, warming him.
The Canadian tried to find the right words to get through to Ivan; it was like having his heart simultaneously broken and filled again with desire, exhausting and wonderful. He felt weaker, open and vulnerable and all the lighter for it. His hands explored the rough texture of Ivan’s coat, the slightly coarse jaw, smooth angles of his nose and forehead. Ivan caught the wandering hands and kissed them.
“You have no idea how hard I have tried to ignore you,” Matthew started, low and uncertain. “Or that I spent so much of my time watching you closely, trying to help you when I could. You’re this lighthouse in my world, because when I see or feel something wonderful that only you could understand, I wish you were there. It isn’t as beautiful, or worth seeing, if you’re not there.”
He tried to move away, tried to hate Ivan but kept falling short. “I need you to be there, to illuminate it,” He finished, breathless. All he could see was plum coloured eyes, begging forgiveness, and pale hair.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Ivan whispered, touching his cheek and flooding Matt’s senses with warmth. The wind had picked up, and he knew his hands were getting frostbite. “I was sure, they said you were seen with him. I should have known. I should have known better. I’m sorry.” He added, finally gathering up the cold, smaller man and wrapping him around his coat. Matt let his head rest on Ivan’s shoulder and closed his eyes to try and stop shaking.
They stayed like that for maybe minutes, or hours, until Ivan pressed a kiss onto his forehead. “I will make it up to you. I-I will do anything, anything so you would trust me again,” He said into Matthew’s hair.
The Canadian held on, braced from the cold against Ivan. “I know,” he soothed, sensing the lasting distress from Ivan, “I know.”
_____________________________________________________________________
The night five months after Canada and Russia finally signed the Northern Pact with Norway, Denmark and Sweden, America had unofficially shut its borders to people it had deemed a ‘threat’.
Matthew might never get over the shock - him, his people, a threat? - but all his pleading with Alfred had been for nothing.
Alfred even chewed out Ivan at one of their last meeting because the Russian had complained those measures were premature, but Alfred told them he couldn’t change his boss or his people. Matt remembered Ivan was more interested in looking out the window at the time, and smiled. Despite everything, things had been going well for a change. He stared out his own windows, watching the first snow peacefully from the comfort of a warm room. Things were going well, and.
Well. It was nothing. Or it would be. It was Ivan, and that was weird enough all on its own. The pact he’d signed was to become first trading partners with the Russian and other northerners, now that people had turned their back on them - so now they worked together a lot more. And he was kind of a complete bastard but that was pretty funny. He wasn’t even attractive. So it was nothing, and even if it was something, it was something that didn’t matter.
“Why are you up so late, friend?” Matthew swivelled in his chair to face the large man standing in the doorway. He looked solemn and grey, eyes clouded with an unidentifiable emotion. It was stupid, to be happy to see him even if he was worried.
“Ivan?” He questioned, standing to move around the desk. The office was quiet in dark, he shouldn’t technically be working anymore. He approached the other man slowly, shying away like a startled animal because something seemed off.
“They have - our allies, that is - told me something.” The tall blond said, cool hands sliding up to Matthew’s neck. He tried to suppress the shiver, the urge to lean forward.
“A-and what is it that they said?”
“I am asking of you. You still talking, working with Alfred, aren’t you?” The hands in his hair knotted, and gave a sharp tug. He stumbled, wincing.
“I-Ivan! Stop it, that hurts - don’t be stupid, I wouldn’t be that dumb. N-not after what he’s done.” Matt’s knees started to shake, suddenly terrified that he had made the biggest mistake of his life signing that paper. Another yank brought him down, his hands scratching at Ivan doing nothing to stop him from being blindfolded.
“No, no they saw you, you are betray us.” Ivan hissed, breath moist and right there, near his ear. Matthew tried to take a swing but only hit shoulder, his wrist caught with a laugh. He felt the larger man’s weight settle along his hips, while he tried to wrestle his hands away from the other. He couldn’t see and his hands keep missing their mark, until they had finally been tied together.
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“Please, Ivan, please you know I wouldn’t do anything, you know how badly Alfred’s treated us both, why would I go back?” His world spun out of control when he was tossed on his back right into the snow, shivering in earnest now. He tried to drag himself onto his knees, unsure of where he’d been thrown.
“Da? We know what you are doing. You are telling Alfred of our plan, our pact, aren’t you?” The words were spat out at him, poisonous and sharp like knives. He bunched up snow in his tied hands, shaking his head. Has he gone entirely crazy? Did he finally snap?
“N-no! I-I haven’t, I’d never-” Matthew hated his voice for sounding so weak and desperate, but he felt cold and sick deep inside. How can I make you see? Why won’t you just believe me? Hot tears well up, and let them soak into the blindfold. He started to drag himself forward to where he had heard the Russian’s voice.
“I-Ivan, why don’t you trust me? You did b-before, so why..?” A foot came out of nowhere, connecting with his jaw and snapping his head to the side. He couldn’t even cry out - the hurt was somewhere deeper than his face, so he curled in on himself.
“Don’t come near me, traitor. Betray us, you were planning to sell us out? Tell me.” Matt was being dragged, forward and up. He couldn’t find his feet, and struggled, shaking his head.
“I can’t! Ivan, I can’t, there isn’t anything to tell - w-what do I say to make you happy?” He pleaded. He was thrown, a rag doll compared to the Russian’s strength, back onto a tree.
“The truth! We - I - thought you were a friend!” A punch; Matthew sobbed harder now. He was going to die out here, he realized, for something he hadn’t even done. For a terrible lie no one would even know. “Are you wanting to say something? Tell me and I can let you go, friend.”
He heard the sound of loading a gun, terribly final in his own mind, and clutched the snow like it could protect him.
“I-I can’t.” He whispered, spitting out some blood on his mouth. “T-there isn’t anything to tell - do you want me to make something up? Ivan, please,please, please believe me, there is nothing; we are friends. The b-best of friends. You said that, don’t you remember?” He begged, trying to pull himself forward through the snow.
He can remember the exact moment Ivan had said that, where he was standing and how he felt. They were at Matthew’s house, just after he had finished chopping a load of firewood for the week. He didn’t expect any help out in the summer, but it was a welcome surprise to see the Russian had already caught fish and had dried them over sticks. He looked so different then, the picture of good health and easy pleasure. When he smiled it had pretty much sealed the deal, for Matthew at least. He said he did it for his friend - that they were friends.
Another hit to his face brought him back to reality, that there was a gun in his face and nothing was going to stop this. It was like falling, knowing that stopping it so far out of your control.
“We were - but you betray me. You plan to, I know, so just tell me. Tell me your last words.” It might have been his hysteria but he thought he heard sadness, the wavering of conviction.
“Y-you think I-i-i have secrets, but I d-don’t.” Matthew latched onto that doubt, trying to get his words past his sobs. The chill was setting into his bones, and his fingers were already numb. “I on-only have one, b-but it isn’t about Alfred - it’s about y-you.”
The silence could be the last thing he ever hears, or his hope. Distantly he heard a quiet bird call, as if it was a normal afternoon on any other day.
“About me?” The Russian’s voice was low, even in these circumstances Matt's body remembers the desire it induces. The barrel of the gun pressed against his cheek while Helicked his lips, tasting the salty tears there.
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GAH CLIFFHANGER. WHY, ANON, WHY.
Please don't leave this here, anon! I can't wait for more!
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The gun pressed a little harder before pulling away entirely - Matthew’s stomach fell to his feet, so sick and scared he couldn’t think. He could only remember the sound of rivers and deep forests, the sight of Ivan still asleep mid morning in his bed. How can it end like this?
“Da. It is not good enough.”
Matthew let out a terribly quiet sound, the second before the sound of a shot rang out, scattering the birds.
He held his breath, waiting for the pain.
He held his breath, and kept holding. Then he dared to take one, two, three breathes, choking over them. The scent of fresh wood and spice overwhelmed him while the blindfold was being yanked off, a pair of painfully cold hands touching all over his face. He was still crying, he realized, and Ivan was as well, skin pale grey and water marks down his cheeks.
“Forgive me, milenky, I am so sorry, forgive me, forgive me.” Matthew was crushed in his embrace almost painfully, and then his limbs started to work again. He reached up and cuffed Ivan in the ear hard, knocking him away.
“H-how could you?! You bastard! You tried to - you did this to me for nothing? I told you to trust me, why can’t you just trust me!” He yelled, wrestling with the taller blond and viciously trying to hit him. It was hard to see past his tears, with Ivan’s distraught face swimming in and out of focus. Ivan grappled with him, finally catching his hands and pulling him down again. When Ivan did speak, he sounded haunted.
“I should have. I am so used to...partners, running away, betraying, lying. I wanted believe you were different but I could not be sure. I was so angry to hear you might be with Alfred. Jealous.” His hands stroked Matthew’s hair while he spoke, warming him.
The Canadian tried to find the right words to get through to Ivan; it was like having his heart simultaneously broken and filled again with desire, exhausting and wonderful. He felt weaker, open and vulnerable and all the lighter for it. His hands explored the rough texture of Ivan’s coat, the slightly coarse jaw, smooth angles of his nose and forehead. Ivan caught the wandering hands and kissed them.
“You have no idea how hard I have tried to ignore you,” Matthew started, low and uncertain. “Or that I spent so much of my time watching you closely, trying to help you when I could. You’re this lighthouse in my world, because when I see or feel something wonderful that only you could understand, I wish you were there. It isn’t as beautiful, or worth seeing, if you’re not there.”
He tried to move away, tried to hate Ivan but kept falling short. “I need you to be there, to illuminate it,” He finished, breathless. All he could see was plum coloured eyes, begging forgiveness, and pale hair.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Ivan whispered, touching his cheek and flooding Matt’s senses with warmth. The wind had picked up, and he knew his hands were getting frostbite. “I was sure, they said you were seen with him. I should have known. I should have known better. I’m sorry.” He added, finally gathering up the cold, smaller man and wrapping him around his coat. Matt let his head rest on Ivan’s shoulder and closed his eyes to try and stop shaking.
They stayed like that for maybe minutes, or hours, until Ivan pressed a kiss onto his forehead. “I will make it up to you. I-I will do anything, anything so you would trust me again,” He said into Matthew’s hair.
The Canadian held on, braced from the cold against Ivan. “I know,” he soothed, sensing the lasting distress from Ivan, “I know.”
____
er. Hope OP likes. *scuttles away to fill moar*
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I especially liked how sweetly it turned out in the ending. Goodjob! Thanks alot!
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