AHAHAHAHA I DON'T KNOW
Title: Freezer Burn
Author: Me
Characters/Pairings: America, Russia
Rating: PG
Warnings: Cold War
Summary: Have you ever been so cold, it feels like you're hot?
They call it a Cold War, but that doesn't make any sense to Alfred. He doesn't feel any cold, he feels heat.
He feels it all the time, along with the tension, palpable in the static that overwhelms his thoughts and the tightness of his muscles. His entire being is like a tightly coiled spring, he has so much energy that even not doing something with it is exhausting. Just holding it in, feeling it buzz inside him, almost too much for his body to contain.
Superpower, they call him. 'They', his government, his people, the other Nations. The world.
It's appropriate, with this strength he has. He was always strong, he remembers, but not like this... this... it's a high. Who needs drugs when you have all this power? He's on top of the world. He's the greatest country on Earth. He's a superhero.
And every superhero needs an archenemy.
At first it's exciting, it makes him tremble to stand in the presence of the only other Nation that can match him now. But the trembling isn't anything like fear, no, it's anticipation. So they're standing on the brink of war, so they have weapons that could destroy the planet seven times over, so one wrong word could bring all forms of life screeching to a halt. So, what?
Bring it on. Alfred's mind screams, and he grins brazenly at Ivan, his sky blue eyes bright, drunk on his own strength. I can take him. But he doesn't, he doesn't, because superheroes have to think of others. Because it's always the bad guy who strikes first. The hero is the defender.
He isn't scared. He isn't scared. He isn't scared.
He's just being careful. He can't let that Commie get a step ahead of him. It's perfectly alright to be cautious, to be careful. You have to be sure. Anyone could betray you, when the enemy is a supervillain. Spies, everywhere, and it's spreading, oh God, it's spreading, like a disease, and Alfred has to stop it. He has the cure, he's the only one with the cure, the only one that can stop it. He's the superhero.
Cold War, ridiculous, the whole world is two steps from burning. Life is covered in a blanket of Soviet lies, a hotbed of conspiracy, an inferno of paranoia. Alfred has a fever, but he isn't sick, he doesn't feel sick, just tired and strong, so strong. The weight of the world lies on his shoulders, and it feels light, because Alfred is so strong. He's the hero. The superhero.
He's still grinning, broadly, staring up at Russia with a defiant air and a challenge gleaming in his eyes. You think you're stronger, because you're bigger, but you're wrong. You won't win. I'm stronger. I'm the strongest. I'm the superhero.
But he doesn't get a response, just a stare, a thick wall. The Russian isn't giving him anything, not a hint of fear, not a sign of submission, nor an excuse to attack... there's nothing but winter in his lavender eyes. America waits, waits, waits for the bad guy to make the first move, to reveal his evil plot so that the hero can strike him down. I had to, I had to, he was going to kill us all. And everything is so hot, Alfred thinks this must be what it feels like to stand at the gates of hell.
"Come on, you damn Commie! What are you up to?"
"Nothing."
"If you do anything, I will kill you."
"I'm not doing anything, comrade." Yet.
He's wound so tightly, it's painful, and he wants to do something, anything, he wants to end this standoff and just attack. He wants to do something with all this strength, all this power. But the bad guy moves first, the bad guy moves first.
The Russian moves, and Alfred's hand twitches towards a concealed gun, but all Ivan does is turn and walk away. Come back! Alfred almost screams. Come back and fight me! And he's so angry, it's like being on fire, it's like his blood is boiling in his veins.
Ivan looks over his shoulder, and smiles.
Alfred doesn't even hear the door shut. He pulls his jacket close, wraps his arms around himself. Shivers.
Why is it so cold?
End.
Author: Me
Characters/Pairings: America, Russia
Rating: PG
Warnings: Cold War
Summary: Have you ever been so cold, it feels like you're hot?
They call it a Cold War, but that doesn't make any sense to Alfred. He doesn't feel any cold, he feels heat.
He feels it all the time, along with the tension, palpable in the static that overwhelms his thoughts and the tightness of his muscles. His entire being is like a tightly coiled spring, he has so much energy that even not doing something with it is exhausting. Just holding it in, feeling it buzz inside him, almost too much for his body to contain.
Superpower, they call him. 'They', his government, his people, the other Nations. The world.
It's appropriate, with this strength he has. He was always strong, he remembers, but not like this... this... it's a high. Who needs drugs when you have all this power? He's on top of the world. He's the greatest country on Earth. He's a superhero.
And every superhero needs an archenemy.
At first it's exciting, it makes him tremble to stand in the presence of the only other Nation that can match him now. But the trembling isn't anything like fear, no, it's anticipation. So they're standing on the brink of war, so they have weapons that could destroy the planet seven times over, so one wrong word could bring all forms of life screeching to a halt. So, what?
Bring it on. Alfred's mind screams, and he grins brazenly at Ivan, his sky blue eyes bright, drunk on his own strength. I can take him. But he doesn't, he doesn't, because superheroes have to think of others. Because it's always the bad guy who strikes first. The hero is the defender.
He isn't scared. He isn't scared. He isn't scared.
He's just being careful. He can't let that Commie get a step ahead of him. It's perfectly alright to be cautious, to be careful. You have to be sure. Anyone could betray you, when the enemy is a supervillain. Spies, everywhere, and it's spreading, oh God, it's spreading, like a disease, and Alfred has to stop it. He has the cure, he's the only one with the cure, the only one that can stop it. He's the superhero.
Cold War, ridiculous, the whole world is two steps from burning. Life is covered in a blanket of Soviet lies, a hotbed of conspiracy, an inferno of paranoia. Alfred has a fever, but he isn't sick, he doesn't feel sick, just tired and strong, so strong. The weight of the world lies on his shoulders, and it feels light, because Alfred is so strong. He's the hero. The superhero.
He's still grinning, broadly, staring up at Russia with a defiant air and a challenge gleaming in his eyes. You think you're stronger, because you're bigger, but you're wrong. You won't win. I'm stronger. I'm the strongest. I'm the superhero.
But he doesn't get a response, just a stare, a thick wall. The Russian isn't giving him anything, not a hint of fear, not a sign of submission, nor an excuse to attack... there's nothing but winter in his lavender eyes. America waits, waits, waits for the bad guy to make the first move, to reveal his evil plot so that the hero can strike him down. I had to, I had to, he was going to kill us all. And everything is so hot, Alfred thinks this must be what it feels like to stand at the gates of hell.
"Come on, you damn Commie! What are you up to?"
"Nothing."
"If you do anything, I will kill you."
"I'm not doing anything, comrade." Yet.
He's wound so tightly, it's painful, and he wants to do something, anything, he wants to end this standoff and just attack. He wants to do something with all this strength, all this power. But the bad guy moves first, the bad guy moves first.
The Russian moves, and Alfred's hand twitches towards a concealed gun, but all Ivan does is turn and walk away. Come back! Alfred almost screams. Come back and fight me! And he's so angry, it's like being on fire, it's like his blood is boiling in his veins.
Ivan looks over his shoulder, and smiles.
Alfred doesn't even hear the door shut. He pulls his jacket close, wraps his arms around himself. Shivers.
Why is it so cold?
End.