I can't decide whether you should live or die

[das_vedanya]

WHO: Ivan and Alfred
WHEN: September 1st, Evening
WHERE: Ivan's house
WHAT: Still traumatized by Alfred's drunken state, Ivan opts out of doing any activity that might end in Alfred stripping through a nice game of chess.

Comments

I am a bad matespirt :'|

[waitforsuperman]

Alfred peeked inside, slowly pulling off his jacket, humming. "Don't worry about it, I've been busy with school, totally understandable." Which was kind of a lie. Well, totally a lie. He hadn't talked to the Russian in weeks and it was almost to the point of him showing up at Ivan's house and demanding an answer until Ivan had somehow read his mind and invited him anyway.

His theory that Ivan was some cyborb-Soviet spy still floated around the back of his head as he walked around the chess board curiously. He'd never really played, but he knew how. Kinda.

"Are we... playing?" He asked, reaching out, taking a white knight, holding it up, frowning at the intricate carving. "When you invited me over I thought you meant, y'know. Black Ops. This is kinda old-manish."

You are not :c

[das_vedanya]

"Da, I find the chess is in itself a game of war - quite like Black Ops. You might even find that you like it, Alfred. Assuming that you actually give it a chance, of course," the Russian closed the door behind Alfred and ventured deep into his house, until only the tail of his scarf was the last thing seen behind the wall hiding the kitchen.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said, almost as if reassuring himself as he filled the kettle with water. Chess was harmless, and he would be serving tea, not alcohol - there was a high chance of there not being a repeat performance, lest Ivan avoid Alfred for another month on account of 'work'. "Would you like anything?"

[waitforsuperman]

"Coffee, two sugars..." Alfred said, draping his bomber over the back of the chair behind the white side, slowly seating himself. Russki was being cryptic again, and unusually civil. Well, he was usually civil but usually with the bitterness behind it, that passive aggressive shit he got all the time from Matthew or something.

or maybe he was actually just being nice.

Nah.

Reaching across the table and picking up the black king, Alfred rolled it between his fingers. "You know it's kinda rude to invite someone over to play a game they'll probably lose at... I mean- I'll still probably kick your ass, but if you win, it's just because I suck at this game."

[das_vedanya]

"Excuses," Ivan interrupted, back still to the American. He lowered two mugs from his cabinet and deposited them beside the coffee maker. Even though he could feel the mutual discomfort between them, Ivan still took some sort of sinister pride in knowing that Alfred was the first to voice is discomfort. "Besides, I think this might be a good... tie-breaker. If we keep playing the same game over and over, we will never have a winner."

While the coffee dripped into the pot, Ivan took a seat at the black side, grinning at the American. "I can teach you how to play, Jones. Of course, I won't count this round because you don't know how to play~ that wouldn't be fair of me."

[waitforsuperman]

"Oh don't worry," Alfred leaned forward, towards the shocked Russian's face, tilting his head. "I'll still be giving 110% towards kicking your ass." He punctuated this last promise with a fingers prodding against his chest, dragging it down slightly before pulling back.

[das_vedanya]

"I expect 111%, Alfred," Ivan muttered with a lot less vigor than he would've liked, because he was no longer standing with a proper distance between himself and Alfred F. Jones, and once more, Ivan actually found himself working on closing that gap between them also. "Do not disappoint me."

[waitforsuperman]

"I wouldn't dream-" Alfred started, not really registering how close the doctor was getting until their lips were touching and a shiver passed through him, nothing to do with accents, Ivan's weird blood circulation but had everything to do with one simple fact.

Ivan Braginsky, his Russki, was kissing him. Voluntarily no less.

Carefully, worried any sudden movements might spook him, Alfred returned the slight pressure, the hand that had been drifting away tightening in the front of his shirt.

[das_vedanya]

With this, Ivan's eyes opened wide as an owl's, panicked and using his only reliable sensation to prove that they were kissing because his body had gone completely numb. He caught a small noise in his throat - not a moan, he hoped, but never reached past his lips to confirm that it might've been. Then, out of some innate fear, he stayed still, because... it wasn't unpleasant, just unexpected. And his throat seized at the memory that, yes, it was him, not Alfred, who started this one. Carefully, he tipped his head and applied more pressure.