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.]

Comments

[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.]

[musthatefrogs]

[Oh, Volgin could hear it.

He might have been looking in the direction of the bathroom with a raised brow. It did not contrast well with him doing that cooking thing either.]

[volginswaifu]

[Ivan tucked himself back as he walked back to the bed. Galina greeted him with a tail wagging in the air, and he laid down next to her like before.]

[musthatefrogs]

[Not even a greeting?

Volgin puffed as he resumed his work, destined to be undisturbed it seemed. Raikov always had been something of a zombie when he slept.]

[volginswaifu]

[And for the next hour, unless disturbed again, Ivan would stay comfortably in bed.]

[musthatefrogs]

[And in the next hour, Volgin was waiting on things in the oven and was limping over to the formerly revolving bed, feeling well enough to eschew the crutches and inconvenience for a little pain. As stupid an idea as the whole bed concept was, he was glad it was not currently rotating now, and he crawled up on it. Like any other piece of furniture subjected to his mass, it creaked and groaned and sank.

Once that was done, he reached over to nudge Raikov, if his slumber survived the disturbance.]

Vanya.

[volginswaifu]

Hnn... [He waved an arm at Volgin, face buried in a pillow. His voice was muffled.]

What is it?

[musthatefrogs]

[Volgin partially smiled, regardless, as he pulled in closer.]

Ivan, do you remember what day today is?

[volginswaifu]

[Who are you, Rose?]

The 22nd...4th? Something like that. [He shifted a bit, further into the sheets.]

[musthatefrogs]

[This suit itches.

Volgin grunted, pressing back into the attack, nudging Raikov even harder.]

You've forgotten your own birthday?

[volginswaifu]

[Suit? What suit?]

[He turns his head, cracking an eye open at the other man.]

No? Why would I?

[musthatefrogs]

[Then he unzipped the suit, a zipper on his chest, and flipped off his head, Rosemary tossing her hair once that was freed, and leered in:

"You can't escape me now, Jack. You can't escape, ever."

Oh. Oops. I meant-]

Isn't today your birthday?

[Volgin's expression was now turning into something confused himself.]

[volginswaifu]

[And then Ivan woke up from a horrible, horrible nightmare.]

Uh...no? [Ivan sits up a bit, suspicious and irritated.]

Why would you think it is?