FISSIONMAILED: It's not my birthday, asshole

[volginswaifu]

[Ivan had taken today to sleep in. Curled up in his and Volgin's massive bed, barely noticeable under the lumps of sheets if not for that silvery-blonde head peeking out as a dead give away.]

[Nestled against his chest lay Galina, peacefully snoozing much like her master.]

[All-in-all...it was a completely average, uneventful day.]

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[musthatefrogs]

[And Volgin wasn't there. He could have easily stirred Raikov awake, but today was a special day, or would have been. He had been deliberating in the kitchen, balancing on his good foot, wondering if he should do it. He knew Raikov was not the one for small sentimental gestures, but Volgin chanced it anyway.

He was a gambling man. With a terrible record.

For now, he decided on his plan of attack: He eschewed the rest of the frills that came with the formalities of celebration, and went to work on making his gift: food.]

[volginswaifu]

[Ivan rolled over in bed, pulling the blankets under Galina and forcing the husky to wake up, move, and lie back down next to him.]

[The sound of things going on in the kitchen had him throw a pillow over his head.]

[musthatefrogs]

[That was fine; it meant Volgin could continue his work undisturbed. Their elaborate new "base of operations" had also come with a more elaborate kitchen. Of course, likely, anyone else would have hired help with the place, but he had some ability on his own.

And they had everything thought of. It made Volgin's job easier. There was everything he formerly needed but everything he had previously found had been so greatly improved upon. And worked with his larger hands!

Really, it was almost coming off as too perfect.

Volgin had kept his words low since they had moved in, and this had been all the more incentive to speak in code; he would be doing a more thorough check for bugs when his leg was better, but his initial searches had turned up nothing. Then again, he was working off a knowledge of the latest in espionage gadgets... from the 1960s.

Likely, he was going to have to hire someone else to look.

He gave his current project a scowl as it sat in its bowl.]

[volginswaifu]

[Eventually Ivan became restless, a familiar pressure in his pelvis. He had to pee.]

[The younger Soviet was eventually forced out of bed, and trudged his way to the bathroom. Not even bothering to close the door, Volgin could surely hear a steady stream hit the toilet water below.]