A/N - kljdshfg UGH! Sorry it's been so long! For a while there it looked like the fic was dead, eh? It's not! So don't worry. Our lives have just been a touch hectic lately, but the fic's still going. Slowly, but it's going at least! Anyway, disclaimer time! We don't own Hetalia or its characters!

Enjoy, and read and review please! Thanks ahead of time to all of our loyal readers, and once more, we're very sorry it took so long for this update! Hopefully the next update won't be as long a wait! Oh, yeah. Something I failed to mention (though you guys are smart, so you probably already figured this out): those numbers at the bottom of some of the chapters are translation notes for Ivan's Russian phrases. It's probably pretty obvious, but I just wanted to get that all cleared up before I forgot.

Chapter Six

"Yeeeeeees!" Alfred stretched his arms over his head, his broken hand still, well, broken, but it had healed up nicely considering he was only in the hospital for three days. During that time, he had succeeded in giving two nurses heart attacks when they came in and saw him doing one-handed push-ups, he had nearly strangled the doctor that tried shutting off the lights, and he had been – literally – put in time out by the apparently mother of four. And that wasn't counting the ear-full he had gotten from Arthur before the Brit broke down into tears.

He glanced over when a small European car – steering wheel on the wrong side and everything – pulled up and Arthur climbed out, dressed in a casual long-sleeved shirt, sweater vest, and a tan coat that was quite flattering on his slim figure. Arthur gave him a relieved look, leaning on the roof of his too-short car. "Glad to see you're alive." He said, trying to force the smile from his lips even though his brother couldn't see it. Alfred grinned, shoving his hands into his bomber jacket's pockets and rocking on his heels.

"Da~" He chirped happily. He paused, then groaned. "Damn it, I'm picking up his verbal tics now." Arthur gave him a suspicious look.

"Whose verbal tics?"

Alfred laughed nervously. Oh shit. He cleared his throat, looking up at the blue sky. Well, as much as he could anyway. It more or less looked like some weird blue and white blob with the occasional gray thing that was probably a bird. He blinked when he was yanked down to Arthur's height, the Brit having walked over while he was occupied, and grimaced when something was shoved onto his face.

Everything snapped into focus. The sky, the street, Arthur's face, and the car as well as it's wrongly-placed steering wheel. He gave Arthur a smile, though it was weak. "Heh…my glasses came in already?" Arthur released his shirt and backed up a step, looking away in an attempt to hide his embarrassed expression.

"…I'm sorry…I wish I had the money to repair your sight." Arthur whispered, rubbing his arm nervously. "It seems I can't—" He blinked when he was pulled into a tight hug by his brother, who smiled sadly.

"It's cool, bro…if I wanna fly, I'll find a way. It doesn't have to be a jet."

"But your dreams…!"

Alfred shrugged a bit, releasing Arthur. "Yeah…I'll just find a new one." He wasn't sure what kind of thing he could do now since all of his classes had been geared toward his future military career, but he was certain he'd figure something out. He was a hero after all. "Why're you here? To deliver my glasses?" Arthur looked at Alfred's face, trying to see if Alfred was really as okay as he said he was. Sadly, Alfred was good at hiding his feelings behind a smile, the same smile that was currently plastered on his face.

"I was wondering if you needed a lift back to school…and if you wanted to get a bit of food. Not that I'm w-wanting to spend time with my idiot little brother that nearly got killed by some crazy person! That's not it at all!" Arthur kicked at the ground with the toe of his shoe, scowling at the pavement.

Alfred rubbed at his neck. Well, it wasn't like he couldn't just call Ivan and tell him not to come. Besides, this was important! Arthur, who he had been on rocky terms with until recently, was offering him a ride. And food! Alfred smiled happily, laughing. "Sounds good. Lemme just make a quick phone call, 'kay? I'll be there in a sec."

He walked a few feet away from Arthur and pulled out his cell phone, pressing speed dial 4. Alfred rocked on his heels as he listened to the phone ring, humming to himself while he waited for Ivan to pick up.

Arthur edged closer, curious as to why his brother had moved away from him to make a phone call. Was he trying to keep a secret from him?

[---]

Ivan gave Toris a smile which the brunet meekly returned. Toris was, amazingly, not scared to death to see Ivan on his way to visit Feliks. The Lithuanian had noticed a subtle change in Ivan the past few days. First off, the Russian's scary aura seemed to ebb away for the most part, which was not only a relief to Toris, but to most people who were forced to come in contact with Ivan. Another change was that Ivan seemed to give more pleasant smiles than his usual "I will slowly torture you and enjoy it" smiles, another relief to the general population. And the most wonderful change, for Toris at least, was that Ivan had finally stopped stalking him.

When the brunet had mentioned it to Ivan, the Russian had said something about following his "dorogoy" around after he got out of the hospital. Toris had been a little concerned for this person at first, but Ivan had practically skipped away while humming some cheerful tune and Toris felt that the Russian (for once) had no hidden motives or feelings behind his words. And though Ivan still had his scary moments, Toris truly hoped that the Russian would continue to act like this. It was almost as if the sun shone brighter or something.

Toris cleared his throat. "Ah, hello Ivan. Nice day today, isn't it?" He said politely. The Russian nodded in agreement.

"Da. It is a very nice day."

Toris was almost amazed that Ivan could actually have a normal conversation. "Yeah...so, um, where are you planning to do today?" The brunet asked, only mildly concerned that he'd be late to see Feliks. Ivan gave a normal smile and put his finger to his chin in mock-thought.

"Well, I was planning on a trip to the hospital today. Then maybe to McDonald's, even if it does taste disgusting."

Toris frowned slightly. "Um, why would you go there if you don't like the food?"

The Russian shrugged his shoulders but still smiled. "Because my dorogoy likes the food," he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Toris gave a quiet sigh, but before he could ask Ivan something else, said Russian's phone started to ring. Ivan pulled it out and his smile grew when he saw who it was. He pressed the 'talk' button and held it up to his ear. "Zdravstvooytye, moy dorogoy. Kak dyela?1 How are you?" He asked cheerfully.

Toris gave the phone an amazed look when he realized that whoever made Ivan not nearly as horrifying was on the other. Then the brunet wondered if the mystery person even understood half of the stuff coming out of Ivan's mouth at times.

[---]

Alfred gave the phone a dirty look, then said, a smile on his face, "You know, I have no freaking clue what you just said. I know moy means, 'my' so…I'm learning." He grinned, blushing a bit. Truthfully, he always liked how Ivan's voice changed when he spoke his natural language, but that didn't make not understanding a word of it any better. He was losing his nerve now, though. Ivan sounded so happy to hear from him…"You sound happy. What, did you think Nurse Mom was gonna kill me for being a pain in the ass?" He asked, tone joking.

Arthur stared at the back of Alfred's head, shocked. Never before had he heard such a truly happy tone in his precious little brother's voice, and for a moment he wondered if maybe he had been the one struck by the pipe instead of Alfred. After all, who in God's name could Alfred be talking to that would make him that happy? He jumped when Alfred turned to him, one hand over the mouth piece of the phone. "Hey, Arty. Can I bring my roommate? You'll hardly know he's there."

"U-um…" Arthur tried to speak, but was cut off by Alfred.

"Sweet! Thanks, Arty. We'll have dinner tonight, just you and me, okay?" Alfred's smile was so happy, a drastic change from the last time Alfred had smiled at him…back then, it had looked so sad and broken…Arthur sighed. There was no way he could say no to that face, especially after everything that had happened.

The Brit smiled softly. "All right. As long as you keep your bloody promise this time!"

Alfred's already cheerful expression brightened even more and he turned away and proclaimed, "Hey, Ivan, wanna get some lunch with me and my older bro? I think we need to talk to him about, you know, that thing? And I don't think I can handle it alone. Is that okay? And we'll be there to pick you up shortly! Um…where're you at anyway?" Alfred was giving the phone his best puppy-dog face, even though Ivan certainly couldn't see it.

Arthur frowned a bit, irritated. He really wished Alfred wouldn't keep secrets, and he really wished Alfred would let people get a word in edge-wise. What if this "Ivan" person didn't want to eat with Alfred and his stuffy older brother? "Alfred, give the bloke a chance to answer before you go assuming things, you twit." Alfred waved a hand at him to dismiss his words, earning him a disgruntled growl in reply.

[---]

Ivan's smile turned into more of a smirk, thinking about Alfred actually learning Russian. He somehow doubted that the American would really be able to get the language down, but he had to admit, the idea of his Alfred speaking his language was absolutely adorable. "Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of her paddling you. That would be far more amusing," he said, his voice full of sadistic joy. Toris visibly shivered, but the Russian ignored him.

Then, it sounded like Alfred was talking with someone else and Ivan was curious as to what was being said. Then the younger blond started to talk all at once about lunch and brothers and Ivan gave the phone a slightly confused look. "That thing"? What thing? Ooh, wait a second. That thing. Oh yes. Ivan wasn't really sure he was properly prepared to meet Alfred's older brother. He had a feeling that Arthur wasn't very much like Matthew.

"Yes, yes, it's fine. It has to be done eventually, da?" Ivan glanced at the ground in thought. "I'm on campus right now, but I'll go to our room, since you probably won't get lost," he said with a joking tone. "I'll head over there right now. Da svidanya," the Russian said and hung up, not worried if it annoyed Alfred. He turned to Toris with a slightly concerned look on his face. "Toris, may I...ask for some advice?"

The brunet gave Ivan an incredulous look and slowly nodded his head. "O-of course."

Ivan smiled slightly. "Well you see, I am about to meet my boyfriend's older brother for the first time and I am worried as to how I should act," Ivan paused as Toris looked almost as if he'd have a heart attack from shock. Probably at the "my boyfriend" part. The Russian's smile grew slightly. "Normally, I would act as I always do. To leave a good first impression." Toris snorted, but the Russian continued, unperturbed, "But I don't want the older brother against me. That could be...problematic. And it might upset moy dorogoy. What should I do, friend Toris?"

The Lithuanian seemed to mentally debate for a minute, then he finally gave a meek smile. "I think...you should be y-yourself," he said finally, though it sounded more like a question than a suggestion. Toris instantly wished he had something else when the Russian's face suddenly started to glow with an evil aura (at least that's what the brunet described it as).

"That's a wonderful idea Toris! I knew I could count on you for a good answer," Ivan glanced at his phone to check the time, then back to the Toris, "I had best be going, or I might be late. Bye-bye, Toris~" Ivan said, his voice turning into it's usual creepy childish tone.

As the Russian walked away, the Lithuanian shook his head. "Oh, what have I just set on that man's boyfriend and older brother? God, I'm an idiot..."

[---]

Alfred grinned brightly, then scowled at the phone when the line suddenly went dead. God, he hated it when Ivan did that. It was always so annoying, and it always made him want to kick his ass…sadly, by the time they met again, he had already forgotten his anger between eating and napping. He grumbled and shut the phone, turning back to Arthur, who was staring at him suspiciously. "What?"

"What do you mean by 'that thing?'" Arthur inquired, tapping his foot and crossing his arms. For a scrawny British man in a sweater-vest, Alfred had to admit that he was very intimidating.

He laughed nervously, trying to figure out what to tell his brother. Drawing a blank, he sighed, grin falling to a pout. "Hey, hey. I'll tell you over lunch. Lets swing by the dorms, grab my roommate, and then we'll explain everything. Trust me."

Arthur sighed, giving his brother a dirty look. "The last time you told me that, I wound up getting my bloody hand stuck in a jar, you naff git."

Alfred walked calmly to the car, smiling charmingly at his fuming brother. "You got it unstuck, right?" Arthur huffed, but didn't protest. After several more minutes of bickering, pleading, and whining, they finally got moving, the small European car puttering along the street with two arguing siblings in the front seat.

Eventually, they pulled up in front of the dorms, and Alfred hopped out of the car, smiling at Arthur. Arthur glared back at him, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "Be right back. Don't run over anyone, okay?" Alfred slapped the roof of the car lightly, careful not to dent it, then closed the door and ran off to fetch Ivan before Arthur went on a killing spree.

Arthur scoffed, slouching in his seat. He gave Alfred's retreating figure a worried look, sighing sadly. "Alfred…what trouble have you gotten yourself into this time…?"

Alfred skidded to a stop in front of the door to his dorm, grinning like an idiot as he pounded on the door. "Hey, hey! Ivan! We're here! C'mon, other wise Arty's gonna run someone over." He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels, smiling cheerfully, as though Arthur running people over was a daily thing. Which, considering how irritable his brother was, he honestly wouldn't be too surprised.

Ivan had debated on clearing the room, on the off chance that Arthur would actually see it. After picking up a hamburger wrapper and throwing it back on the ground, Ivan had decided that Arthur probably wouldn't even see their room and that cleaning could wait another day. The Russian then heard Alfred, and he opened the door. He was strangely relieved that Arthur wasn't present. Though he wondered if 'run someone over' thing was a joke or not.

Ivan leaned down and gave Alfred a quick kiss on the lips. "Hey there you. Ready to face the music?" He asked with a chuckle. Actually, Alfred was probably more ready than he was, but he wasn't about to let anyone know that. The Russian was about to grab the American's hand, but then realized that that probably wouldn't be the best idea. The plan was to tell Arthur at a more opportune time, not while walking to the car. Ivan frowned slightly and dropped his hand to his side, dejected.

He began walking down the hallway, and swore he heard the death march playing from somewhere. Maybe it was that Austrian kid? How encouraging.

Alfred grinned at the kiss, then adjusted his glasses and ran after Ivan with the energy of a child on an energy drink. He grabbed Ivan's hand and said, "We can hold hands on the way down there! And whaddoya think of my glasses? Arthur picked them out for me after the docs ran some more eye tests and stuff. Apparently I'm near-sighted. Arthur told me it was fitting considering I never look too far ahead…I wonder if he was insulting me? Meh, whatever." He finally stopped chattering, then looked at the floor, smile gone and replaced by an expression nervousness.

He wasn't sure how Arthur would react, actually. With as over-protective as Arthur was, he could only guess the line of questioning Ivan would go through before Arthur deemed him unworthy to date his little brother. Not that Alfred would listen to him if he was told to break up with Ivan. He would just casually bring up Arthur's not-too-legal high school days. That would definitely shut him up.

Alfred bumped his shoulder against Ivan's arm and smiled. "It'll be cool. Arty might be a tight ass most of the time, and he treats me like I'm his kid more than his brother, so just be nice and polite…and you two'll get along great." He looked back ahead of him, not really believing his own words. Oh, Arthur would dislike Ivan just for the sheer fact that he was dating Alfred. In fact, he could already hear the Law & Order interrogation that would ensue the second they told Arthur about the whole, "dating" thing.

Ivan forced a smile, which was quite convincing if he did say so himself. "He probably was. And I think they make you look smarter. I didn't think it was possible," he said with a joking tone, but he didn't really find it all that funny. He had purposely ignored mentioning the glasses because seeing them made an unpleasant feeling grow in the pit of his stomach. Namely, pure anger. Ivan absolutely hated whoever did this to Alfred; attacked him and left a permanent reminder. Ivan would be sure to kill them if he ever met them.

The Russian listened to Alfred and a smirk grew on his face. He recalled Toris's advice and he wasn't about to disregard it. After all, the brunet had a point. He had to be true to himself and others and all of that other jazz. Besides, Arthur would eventually learn of Ivan's true nature, so why not show it off sooner than later? "Oh Alfred...I'm always polite and usually very kind. People just don't seem to believe me," he said with mock sadness.

Ivan noticed that they were about to the front doors. He gave Alfred's hand a kiss and let it go. "I'm sure we'll get along perfectly~" Ivan mumbled with a poorly concealed dark tint in his voice.

Alfred grinned playfully as Ivan's joke, giving the Russian a playful punch to the shoulder. "Oh, laugh it up. I'll get you back for that one later." He said teasingly. Of course he looked smart! Everyone with glasses looked smart. Except for the Austrian guy that was always making pianos appear out of thin air. The glasses just kept him from looking plain.

He blushed a bit and rubbed at his knuckles, trying to rub away the lingering feeling of Ivan's lips while trying to not smile like a love-struck idiot. However, all good feelings promptly died when an overly creepy tone graced Ivan's voice. Alfred laughed nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck. Oh this is going to go straight into the "Arthur's head's going to explode" folder. He could almost see the shadow fall over the upper half of Ivan's face, and had to suppress a shudder. He hated it when Ivan went all creepy serial killer on him, almost as much as he hated it when Ivan hung up in the middle of a conversation.

He also hated the look that Arthur was giving them as they neared the tiny European car, the scrawny British man leaned against the side of aforementioned car. If life were a cartoon, his eyes probably would have consumed his face when he saw just how tall Ivan was. Arthur looked between Ivan and his car, wondering how in God's name the Russian was going to fit into it without hitting his head every few seconds.

Alfred groaned when he saw Arthur reach in through the window, fumble with something, and shove the passenger seat back. He was making Ivan sit up front, probably out of older brother/motherly paranoia. Oh joy.

Arthur gave Alfred a stern look and said once they were close enough to hear him, "Your friend can sit up front."

"Y-yeah, Arty, about that…I don't really think—" Alfred huffed when Arthur cut him off with a disapproving look.

Arthur shook a finger at him in a scolding motion, his other hand on his hip. "No 'buts,' Alfred. It's only polite, you know that. Now hop in the back so we can get going. Heaven knows you'll die if we don't get something in that bottomless pit you call a stomach…"

Alfred groaned, but did as told, shooting Ivan a, "please be nice" look before sliding into the backseat behind the driver's seat so he could easily smack Ivan if the Russian did something stupid or scary, the latter of which was more likely than the former. A terrified driver wasn't a good thing. Especially if said driver was already known for his road-rage and was one ticket away from having his license revoked. Alfred closed his eyes, mumbling a quick, "please don't let us die" to whatever God would listen.

His brother rolled his eyes when he caught a glimpse of Alfred's awkward and horrible prayer. "Oh for the love of…just belt up, you twit." Alfred buckled his seatbelt, but continued his prayer. Arthur shook his head, rubbing his forehead. "Not that type of belt up! Well, yes, you did need to do that, but…oh, bugger. Just belt…erm…shut up. We're not going to die."

"But, Arty! Your driving sucks!And you sometimes drive on the wrong side of the street…"

Arthur grit his teeth, suddenly wishing he had remembered to put that "tongue tied" curse on Alfred. Maybe then his brother would have been silent for once in his life. "I'm a better driver than you…" he grumbled, doing his best to calm down so as not to embarrass himself in front Alfred's friend. Alfred's very tall friend. He turned his attention to Ivan, doing his best to show that he wasn't intimidated by Ivan's height or the fact that he was build like a refrigerator compared to Arthur.

"Ah…erm…ahem. Yes. I-I'm Arthur Kirkland, Alfred's older brother. Well, um, adopted older brother actually, but…um…y-yes…" He looked away from Ivan nervously, blushing with embarrassment. He was always making a fool out of himself when it came to meeting people. If only he had Alfred's ability to socialize with everything with a pulse. "And you must be his roommate, correct?" He held his hand out stiffly, forcing himself to square his shoulders and make eye contact.

Ivan evaluated Alfred's older brother with a slight smile on his face. Well, at least I'll never mistake him for either of his siblings. Not with those eyebrows. The Russian gave Alfred an amused smile before getting into the car (which was strangely harder than he had originally thought it would be). Really, Ivan couldn't understand why Alfred acted like he was going bully his older brother. Ivan would never do something like that. Except only he would.

Ivan raised an eyebrow when Alfred began to pray. Is Arthur's driving that bad? It filled the Russian with some concern since he wasn't really in the mood to get into a wreck. He buckled up his seat-belt, just in case. I wonder if the police stop us if I can just scare them away. ...Nah, Arthur would definitely get a ticket then... Not that Ivan actually cared too much about that, but he didn't want to cause the Brit to get a ticket. Those things cost money and there's a difference between scaring the hell out of someone and making them have to pay money. Of course, if he actually had something against Arthur, he wouldn't mind helping him get a ticket, but he didn't so it didn't matter.

Ivan smiled innocently and shook Arthur's hand. "Ah, nice to meet you. I'm Ivan Braginski. And...you can say that," he replied cryptically with a too-innocent tone. He wasn't sure when exactly Alfred wanted to tell his brother the "big news", so the Russian would just stick to ambiguous answers. Ivan let go of the Brit's hand, and glanced at Alfred with a look that said "look how polite and non-creepy I can be aren't you proud well it's not going to last". Oh, Ivan was so going to enjoy messing with the brothers.

Arthur eyed Ivan like one would a serial killer ready to strike, then slid into the driver's seat, buckling up. "…All right, then…it's, erm, nice to meet you, Mr. Braginski." He started the car and looked at Alfred through the rearview mirror, the younger male giving Ivan a worried look. "Ahem." Arthur smiled as pleasantly as he could as they pulled out of the college dorm parking lot, The Sex Pistols playing quietly from the stereo. "So, where do you two want to eat?"

Alfred held up his hand, smiling brightly. "McDonald's!"

"For the love of the Queen, no!" Arthur shot his brother a glare. "I don't want to get food poisoning like the last time you dragged me to that horrid place!" Alfred pouted, looking dejectedly out the window. The Brit sighed, turning his attention back to the road with a depressed and tired look crossing his face. "…Since I'm short on funds, our choices are limited, but whatever our guest," He stressed that, glancing back at Alfred through the rearview mirror.

Alfred pouted, slouching in his seat and putting his feet on the back of Arthur's seat, looking out the window. "I haven't have a cheeseburger in days, man…so not fair." It was obvious that he was just pushing Arthur's buttons, knowing that eventually the Brit would cave just to get him to shut up. He grinned and leaned forward, putting his head between Arthur's and Ivan's. "Hey, how about Cheeseburger in Paradise? I've heard they're really good!"

"Alfred, sit down! Other wise I'll get another blasted ticket!" Arthur snapped, shoving Alfred back into his seat with one hand. He nearly swerved into the next lane, but thankfully managed to avoid the head-on collision with a convertible.

Alfred whistled a bit, waving at the car they had almost hit. "Or a one-way ticket to the hospital." The American commented, sitting back and smiling happily, as if Arthur almost hitting another car was an everyday thing. His brother just grumbled and growled to himself.

Ivan gave the windshield a blank look. Of course Alfred wanted to go to McDonald's. He always wanted to go there. Ivan had known from the start that's where Alfred wanted to go. Ivan was actually a little concerned about Alfred's health along with the health of everyone the American dragged along to that grease and cholesterol death trap. At the rate Alfred was going, he'd have a heart attack before he hit twenty-five.

The Russian raised an eyebrow at Arthur's driving and Alfred's apparent lack of concern about it. Whenever Ivan swerved in front of on-coming cars, it was on purpose. Arthur didn't do it on purpose, and that somehow made it more frightening...for the people in the same car as Arthur. Not those other cars, because they always think you didn't swerve in front of them on purpose. Ivan wondered if it was safer to sit in the front or back seat when dealing with collisions.

He glanced at the back seat to judge how safe it looked. Looks safer than sitting up here. Ivan snorted softly and glanced at Alfred. He didn't even look worried in the slightest. Ivan gave the American a small smile. "I don't really mind going to McDonald's, I guess. Whatever you two decide is fine with me," he said, turning away from Alfred so he wouldn't cause Arthur any suspicion.

"Ah-ha! See, Arty? Ivan says we can go to McDonald's, and he's the guest so he's obviously right!" Alfred shouted excitedly, leaning between Arthur and Ivan again despite his brother's protests.

The two siblings bickered for the remainder of the drive, and, as Alfred had predicted, Arthur caved in, though not happily. The moment the car was parked, Alfred was jumping out and running into the biohazard that was McDonald's. Arthur climbed out of the car at a more subdued pace, sighing in dismay. He gripped his stomach as if to tell it to behave, and groaned, "I can't believe I'm even going into this place again…" He waited until Ivan was out before locking the doors, slamming both his and Alfred's doors shut. "Naff idiot couldn't even be bothered to close his own bloody door…"

Alfred poked his head outside and exclaimed loudly, looking more excited than the children in the play-house/death trap did, "C'mon, Ivan! C'mon! Otherwise the old lady with the walker's gonna beat us to the line!" Arthur just rolled his eyes and stomped inside, fishing out his wallet while Alfred motioned for Ivan to hurry up. "What're you gonna get, Ivan? Hey, hey, Arthur! I want two of those Angus burger things! With large fries and a coke! Go one, Ivan, tell Arty whatcha want. He's buying, right?"

"Of course I'm buying…it's not like you ever have money…" Arthur grumbled. Louder, he said, "Alfred, get a table for us, please." Alfred grinned and nodded, running off and dropping into a corner booth, smiling like an idiot.

Ivan smiled at Alfred's overexcited behavior, which was a little weird, since it was just McDonald's. It's not like they were eating at a five-star restaurant or anything. The Russian followed the two inside and, after subtly staring at the imposing old woman until she moved away, he stared at the menu. ...Why is everything on here have 'Mc' in it's name? And it all sounds gross. Ivan stared at the menu with a growing frown, then he glanced at Alfred. "Just...get me a cheeseburger and small Coke, I guess," he said, picking something that sounded normal and non-'Mc'.

Ivan handed Arthur enough money to pay for his (and hopefully Alfred's) food. He wasn't about to let Arthur pay for his food, he could pay for himself. And it was common courtesy to pay for your date's meal, so Ivan wanted to pay for Alfred's food too. But be subtle about it, so the Brit hopefully wouldn't think anything was up yet. The Russian walked over to where Alfred was sitting and plopped down next to the blond.

Alfred smiled at Ivan, then glanced to see if Arthur was looking. Glad that his brother was apparently getting into an argument with the pimply casher and not looking at them, he quickly leaned up and gave Ivan a kiss on the cheek. "Heh. It'll all go smoothly. Trust me, Ivan, 'cause I know Arty, and I know that once he finds out, he'll be fine with it, don't you worry! So don't be so quiet! It's kind of creepy and unnerving. He probably thinks you're gonna stab him with a spork or something." He poked Ivan's cheek lightly, smiling brightly despite his own worry.

Arthur would be fine with it, that much he knew. However, it was the yelling, interrogating, and the swearing that would happen before that occurred that had him worried. Arthur, while small in stature, could be intimidating when he wanted to be, and he claimed to see fairies and stuff…Alfred patted Ivan's shoulder reassuringly, even though it was more to reassure himself than anything.

Ivan returned the smile. "But sporks aren't sharp enough, silly," he said innocently. "Sure, if you use enough force you could stab someone with them, but something more naturally sharp would take less effort and be much more effective. If I wanted to stab someone, it'd be with a boning knife. It's a knife used in cooking and it's much thinner than a chef's knife, so it would be easier to stab the fragile organs that are in the rib cage without the knife getting stopped by, well, ribs," he said conversationally. The Russian noticed a mother's horrified expression from a table not too far from their own and had to stop himself from laughing.

Ivan gave Alfred a sorta reassuring kiss on the cheek. "Not that I would stab Arthur, of course. I'm just speaking hypothetically," he said, accidentally letting amusement slip into his tone. Actually, he was a little sad that he had rambled about preferred knifes to use when stabbing someone while Arthur wasn't there. Making Alfred uncomfortable was not the same as making Arthur uncomfortable. I'll just consider this practice. The Russian noticed that the mother was still staring at him nervously and he gave her a childish smile. She quickly grabbed her son by the arm and all but ran away.

Ivan chuckled at the reaction and turned his attention back to Alfred. "But I'll be sure to speak up more if that's what you want, dorogoy," he said, giving the American a semi-normal smile.

Alfred was pretty sure that, had he not been anticipating a cheeseburger or two, his appetite was gone thanks to Ivan's rambling about knives and stabbing and such. Though at the same time, he felt a chill run up his spine, not one of fear, but one of, "oh crap, I can't believe him talking like that made me like him more." He shook his head, rubbing at his neck in an attempt to keep his masochistic side in check. Honestly, after all the crap he's gone through, being a masochist was a survival thing now, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy Ivan's knife talk. That was a whole new level of "creepy" and probably one of Arthur's top ten "things I don't want to know about my little brother."

"Yeah…just, uh, avoid the knife talk, okay? Arthur's a little twitchy about that kind of stuff…and can you believe that Arty doesn't like Texas Chainsaw Massacre?" The last question was random and tossed in as an after thought as Arthur was approaching them, balancing two trays of food and drinks like an expert waiter. Arthur gave his an annoyed look.

"Of course I don't like that movie, you lout. Who in their right mind enjoys senseless violence and cannibalism? No one, that's who." Arthur retorted irritably, setting the trays down and handing out the food and drinks before finally sitting down across from the pair of college students.

Alfred bit into his burger excitedly, and Arthur stared forlornly at his rather wilted salad with bits of what might be chicken tossed haphazardly on it. He steeled his nerves and took a bite, then grimaced and took a long drink of his water to drown out the taste of aging lettuce and salty vinaigrette – why was the vinaigrette salty? Yes, he was certain he was definitely going to wind up bedridden with food poisoning.

Once he was done emptying his mouth of the aftertaste of the "salad," he laced his fingers together and inquired, looking to Ivan, "Tell me, Mr. Braginski, what are you going to college for if I might ask? And are you and Alfred getting along?" He made a waving gesture with his hand, as if batting away a fly. "I apologize if my questions seem a bit rude or prying, but as I'm Alfred's legal guardian, I'd like to make sure that I don't need to dig out my old cricket bat."

Alfred blinked and asked around a mouthful of burger, "The one with the nails that you chased Francis with?"

Arthur grimaced, slowly trying to translate what Alfred said. Eventually, he figured it out, and answered, nodding. "…Oh, oh yes. That's the one." Apparently even Arthur had a violent streak in him…and not just the verbal kind, either.

Ivan smiled slightly, silently thinking that he liked senseless violence and found cannibalism interesting. Not that he would try it any time soon. Not unless he was starving to death at least. Though, looking at his questionable cheeseburger, Ivan had to wonder if eating a person was more healthy than eating it. He took a slip of his drink, the only thing he trusted enough to put into his body, and gave his cheeseburger a hard look.

It looked like it had been sitting out for a while, then was just thrown into a microwave as an afterthought. Ivan made a face at it. That's just a bit gross... He inconspicuously pushed the offensive cheeseburger over to Alfred, since he actually seemed to like this slop, for some reason. Ivan prayed that the American would be okay after eating here, and that he wouldn't keel over from a heart attack.

The Russian glanced up at Arthur with a slight smile on his face. Ah? The questioning has already begun and we haven't even told him anything....A cricket bat? Ivan was actually a bit surprised that Arthur could get physically violent, since he didn't really look like the type. He looked more like the type to write a list of complaints if he had a problem with someone. Ivan decided that he liked Arthur much more now.

He gave the Brit a smile and shook his head. "Nyet, they don't seem rude at all," he said reassuringly. He put his finger to his chin in a thinking pose and he smiled childishly. Just because he had more respect for Arthur now didn't mean he was about to answer the questions like a normal person. "Let's see...My major is English, and I am considering becoming a translator when I get out of college. But I don't really know," he paused to take a slip of soda, planning how he was going to answer the other question.

Ivan smiled too innocently. "And I suppose you can say that Alfred and I get along...well. I haven't tried to suffocate him with a pillow yet, so I suppose that means we get along good enough," he said childishly. Not that he would tell them that he had actually done that to one of his old roommates. Except Ivan had only just put the pillow on his face and not tried to actually kill him. Plus, it had scared the annoying Georgian away. Waking up with a pillow over your face and a Russian starring at you with a creepy smile on his face would probably scare most people away.

"Ah, English…that was my degree as well. If you ever require any assistance, then don't hesitate to ask." Arthur smiled his first happy smile of the evening, though Alfred was pretty sure that his brother should savor his moment of happiness as Ivan could be…scary. At the mention of pillows and smothering, Arthur's smile faltered, then found its way back onto his face once he realized that, since Alfred was alive, maybe he was just imagining things when he thought Ivan was a little too childish for such a large man. "Well, at least someone's not out for that git's life." Arthur tried to sound joking, but it came out bitter and depressed.

Alfred scowled and mumbled something around his food, dropping an empty burger wrapper onto his tray and grabbing up his second burger. Arthur gave him a dirty look. "Good lord! Are you even chewing?" Alfred just nodded. Shaking his head, Arthur looked back at Ivan, business-like, yet pleasant once more. "Ahem. Anyway…ugh! What is it, Alfred? And swallow first!" Arthur gave his brother an annoyed look when Alfred kicked him from under the table.

Alfred swallowed and said happily, unable to contain himself, "Oh yeah. Ivan and I are dating. Is that cool?"

Arthur just waved him off, dismissing his words out of habit. "Yes. Whatever. Now kindly…" He paused, green eyes widening in realization of what Alfred had just said. "…What?"

"Ivan and I are dating."

He stared at the two in mute horror for several minutes, then stood and slammed his hands down on the table, making everything on it rattle. "What? No! A million times, no! What? Why? For how long?" He yelled, looking as horrified as a parent would. He blushed brightly when he realized that everyone was staring at him and slowly sunk back into his seat and said in a lower, but just as panicked, voice, "F-f-for how long? And you two haven't…" He trailed off, blush darkening.

Alfred tilted his head to the side for a moment in thought. "Haven't what?"

The Brit shook his head and turned to Ivan, a dangerous look in his eyes. "You haven't done anything to him, have you? How long have you two been dating? Mr. Braginski, I want to know every nook and cranny of who you are, what you do, who you've dated, and how likely my brother is to get some strange form of AIDs from you if you two have – or intend to have – intercourse." He had the edge of the table in a white-knuckle grip with obvious intent to beat Ivan if he refused to answer his questions. And chances were good that he would use the table to do so.

Ivan gave Alfred an mildly amused look. Wow, a direct approach. Why didn't I think of that? The Russian had more or less been expecting Arthur's almost over-the-top reaction, and was highly amused by it until the Brit had insinuated that they had done...that. Then the calm and collected part of Ivan's mind shattered leaving the Russian to feel awkward, embarrassed, inadequate and worse, nervous. Pretty much all the things he shouldn't be during this little "interview".

The Russian blushed slightly and wished desperately that his usual asshole self would return to get him through this. When it seemed unlikely that such a miracle would happen, Ivan gave Arthur a weak smile and shook his head. "No, no, of course not. We've been dating for...a little less than a week," he was proud of himself for not panicking so far. "Um, I'm a lot of things and I do a lot of things, so you'll have to be less vague. ...If you would please. And, um, I haven't really dated anyone else before, and it's highly unlikely that Alfred would... get anything like that... from me," he said nervously and he felt the blush on his face darken from thinking of....that.

Ivan took a sip of his soda, hoping that he looked as relaxed on the outside as he felt nervous on the inside. He had a feeling his blush sort of gave that away though. The Russian glanced at Alfred in a silent plea that asked if the American would kindly stop his older brother from asking questions pertaining to, holy hell, sex.

Alfred grabbed Arthur's shoulders to keep the man from going into a panic attack. "Arty, Arty. Caaaaalm. Deep breath." Arthur glared at him, but followed Alfred's instructions nonetheless. Once he was certain that the Brit's head wasn't going to explode, Alfred slowly removed his hands from his brother's shoulders and said gently, smiling happily. "All right. Arthur, here's how it goes." He took Ivan's hand in his and gave it a squeeze, blushing a bit. "I really like Ivan. Like, really, really like him. Maybe even the other 'L' word that's very hard for me to say after everything that's happened." Arthur nodded numbly in response, looking at his salad and stabbing at it uselessly.

He knew it was useless to try to stop Alfred, as the American would do what he wanted no matter what he said, and Alfred did seem happy…but what if Ivan was the reason Alfred was in the hospital? What then? Could Arthur really let his little brother, one of the only people left in his family, date someone that could be dangerous to his health? "Alfred…be honest with me." He lifted his gaze, looking defeated. "Was he the reason you were in the hospital? I'm not assuming…I just…" He trailed off, unsure of himself now.

Alfred smiled again. "I can't really remember the attack, but…I know Ivan didn't do it. Arty? I'm not that little kid you needed to protect. I wanted to tell you because I owe you that, right?" Arthur laughed a bit, rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. He hated seeing Alfred growing up, moving on, leaving Arthur to try and remember how to take care of himself first and foremost. Alfred bit his lip, looking to Ivan for help. He had never actually had to deal with Arthur when his brother cried, as the Brit had always been careful to hide his sadness behind a cup of tea-laced rum, a smile, or a frown.

Arthur closed his eyes tightly, swallowed hard, and took a quick drink of his water to calm himself. He lowered the cup and sighed. He sat in silence for a long while before finally opening his eyes and looking at the pair, defeated. He shifted his gaze to their hands, then Alfred's worry-filled eyes, and lastly to Ivan.

"I won't approve." Alfred opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when Arthur held up a hand to silence him. "But…I will if he promises me…that he'll keep you safe and happy. Mr. Braginski, I need to know that he's safe with you. He's stupid, so he's always doing things that can get him hurt or killed. He needs someone that can keep him from running off into traffic to save kittens. I just…need to know that you're willing to be that someone." He tried to keep his voice level, succeeding thankfully, but the worry was still present in both his expression and tone.

Ivan gave Alfred a surprised look. The other L word? Well, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what that word was, and it made Ivan feel both strangely giddy and terribly, painfully uncomfortable. The Russian wondered why the "L word" was so hard for Alfred to say, but he didn't really mind. Ivan didn't know what he'd do if the American ever said that to him. Probably have a heart attack and die or something.

The Russian narrowed his eyes slightly at Arthur when the Brit asked if it was his fault. Ivan was one hundred percent positive that he would never do any serious damage to Alfred. Though...He still felt a little guilty about leaving Alfred alone. While he didn't know for sure, Ivan figured that if he had stayed with Alfred, the American would have not gotten attacked. Still, Ivan was a little peeved Arthur would think that he would do such a thing. Even if it wasn't really too crazy an idea, what with Ivan's personality and all...Oh shit. Is he crying?

Ivan looked at Alfred and judging by the younger male's face, yes, Arthur was crying. He shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back to the Brit with a slightly concerned look on his face. Sometimes, Ivan really wished he was good at comforting people. Strange, I never wanted that until I met Alfred.

Ivan gave Arthur a soft smile and nodded. "Of course, Mr. Kirkland. I vow that I'll watch out for your brother." The Russian wasn't sure if the stupid and kitten things were a joke or not, so he decided not to mention either. Ivan, still feeling as though his little vow was missing something, put his right hand over his heart and smiled. "And I promise if I cannot live up to your expectations, you can gut me or whatever punishment you see fit." Ivan hoped Arthur felt more assured by his vow, because he couldn't really think of anything else he could add that would make it more convincing. Other than maybe a ritual sacrifice right there in McDonald's.

Arthur seemed to relax visibly at Ivan's promise, slumping against the seat and relaxing his grip on his fork. "T-then…erm…well, since that's been cleared up…" Arthur forced a smile. "I wish the both of you the best of luck. And trust me, Mr. Braginski." His smile turned strained. "I will do far worse things than gut you if you hurt or allow harm to come to him. Death will be a blessing."

Alfred shuddered a bit and said loudly, hoping to stop the "War of Creepy" that was bound to happen if he didn't stop Arthur's on-coming rant on curses, "So! Since we're all done with the creepy talk, lets just eat, right?" He promptly dug into the cheeseburger that he had, during Arthur's threatening and angsting, forgotten. Arthur refrained from touching his salad any more.

Finally, Alfred finished devouring the hazardous material that was three cheeseburgers and a super-sized fry. He grinned and slouched in his seat, patting his stomach contently. "Awesome! Thanks, but…hey, you guys didn't eat." He tilted his head to the side at the disgusted look Arthur shot him. Alfred poked at Ivan's stomach, confused. "You didn't want your burger? Why not? It was really awesome…we'll just have to get you something later, 'kay?" Alfred grin cheerfully. "Hey, thanks a lot, Arty."

"Don't thank me. Mr. Braginski paid for yours and his." Arthur said stubbornly, though, when Alfred turned to gush over how great Ivan was, he slid the money back to Ivan and smiled a bit as he mouthed, "I said I would pay, didn't I?" He cleared his throat to catch Alfred's attention and stood. "Ahem. We need to going now, Alfred…" Alfred pouted, but didn't complain, standing.

"'Kay. And I thought you were paying? Cheapskate." Alfred teased, prodding Arthur's side.

His brother scowled at him. "Oh, belt up, you half-wit! Like I'm really going to argue with a man the size of the Berlin Wall!" He motioned wildly at Ivan.

Ivan gave Alfred a slight pout. "But I don't want to be all done with the creepy talk. It's fun," he mumbled. He really would have liked to hear what exactly Arthur had in mind that would make dying the preferable choice. It would probably be something, as Alfred might say, "awesome" and Ivan was sad that he would never get to hear the end of the Brit's threat.

The Russian made a face and had to keep from insulting Alfred's favorite "food". Oh, but how he wanted to. "If that's what you want, dorogoy," he said simply. He raised an eyebrow at Arthur and gave a defeated sigh, but smiled and took the money anyway. Then he was apparently the Berlin Wall's human equivalent. It was official, Arthur was definitely one impressive person completely worthy of Ivan's respect.

Ivan chuckled and gave Alfred a quick kiss on the cheek. "Eta pravda, dorogoy2. Don't be so mean to him, I was being quite intimidating while you weren't looking," he said cheerfully.

Alfred pouted at Ivan, adjusting his glasses. "I don't speak Russian, Ivan! Seriously, I'm gonna learn it, then you can't insult me in it anymore." He said as he climbed into the car, cheeks red from both the cold and Ivan's kiss. "And, uh, yeah, you can be kind of scary in that, 'Here's Johnny' kind of way." He laughed when he realized that Arthur's face was just as red as his when the Brit saw the cheek kiss, Arthur attempting to ignore just how lovey-dovey the two were, though the inner romantic was quite pleased with it. "Arty, is that inner romantic of yours gushing with joy at the cuteness that is me and Ivan?"

"You nitwit!" Arthur yelled as he climbed into the car and scowled, his ears now matching the red in his face. "I'm not a romantic! And n-n-n…why would…you and Mr. Braginski…cute?" He sputtered indignantly for several moments before spouting out in a sulking tone, "Buckle up already…I'm going to be late getting to pub if we don't hurry."

Alfred gave his brother a dirty look. "Oh, Arty…don't get drunk! You know how you get when you get wasted…besides, who'll drive you home?" Alfred had, unfortunately, seen how horrible a drunk Arthur could be. It didn't help that the Brit could only hold down one drink before getting tipsy.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm walking to the bloody pub. As soon as I drop you two off, I'm getting pickled…"

"…Bread and butter flavored?"

Arthur looked puzzled for a moment at Alfred's quip, then frowned. "No. Pickled! As in 'drunk!'" Alfred just snickered in response, enjoying his game of, "torment Arthur."

Ivan vaguely wondered what pub Arthur was going to and if Alfred was picking on his older brother on purpose. The Russian could say with great confidence that the answer to the latter was yes. Though he had to admit, it seemed like a fun thing to do. Ivan got into the car and buckled up, still wary of Arthur's driving. "Getting drunk Mr. Kirkland? Is there some special occasion?" He asked innocently. Though, he usually never had any special reason for why he wanted to get drunk himself, so he wouldn't think any less of the Brit if the answer was "because I want to" or something.

Arthur grumbled something to affect of, "because I bloody well can" under his breath. And then began to long and awkward – not to mention hazardous – drive back to the dorms. Once there, Arthur bluntly told Alfred to get out, then smiled and said to Ivan, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Braginski, and I do hope Alfred doesn't drive you insane…"

Alfred snorted, but didn't protest. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shivered, closing his eyes when a gust of wind almost knocked him over. It was official: bomber jackets sucked in the fall. "C'mon, Ivan. Lets get inside…I know you're all nice and toasty, but I'm freezing." To prove his point, he shivered violently, teeth chattering. He hated the cold.

He blinked when Arthur said from within the warmth of the car, "Alfred!" Arthur blushed a bit, embarrassed. He hated being nice to his idiot brother when people were around. To lessen the embarrassment, he looked at the steering wheel. "…Be careful from now on, all right? If not for your own sake, then for mine and Matthew's?"

Alfred stared at Arthur, then smiled softly. "All right, Art. I'll be careful." Arthur seemed pleased – albeit a little skeptical – with the answer and nodded, crossing his arms and waiting for the pair to get inside before he drove off to get plastered.

Ivan gave the Brit a slight smile and nodded. He decided not to mention to Arthur that he was considered insane by most people and probably by some law. It would probably just upset him, then he might change his mind about giving the two his blessing and Ivan honestly just didn't feel like dealing with that kind of mess any time soon.

The Russian got out and gave Alfred a curious look. Was he that cold? It wasn't very cold out. It wasn't even snowing! Ivan was about to make a crude comment, but then Arthur spoke up again and he realized that the Brit wasn't about to leave just yet. Ivan gave a quiet sigh, slightly disappointed that the chance for his comment had come and gone. And it was such a good one too...He grabbed the American's hand and started back towards the dorm.

Ivan idly wondered if Arthur was planning on driving around after getting pissed. Then he wondered if his driving actually improved while under the influence. He'd have to ask Alfred that later, when the Brit couldn't hear him.

Once they were inside, Alfred heaved a heavy sigh of relief now that they were inside the warmth of the dorm, kicking the door shut behind him. "W-well, that went a whole lot better than I had expected." He grinned at Ivan, glasses fogging over due to the quick change in temperature. "And you! You did awesome!" He honestly hadn't expected Arthur to take to Ivan so quickly. Yes, the Brit had threatened him, and yes, he had nearly died of a heart attack, but Arthur had liked Ivan enough to not only avoid swearing at him, but enough to remain semi-pleasant towards him.

Alfred continued to smile like an idiot as he exclaimed excitedly, "And Arty liked you. So that's a big plus." He ignored the fact that Arthur was currently driving to a pub to get plastered because of their little lunch conversation. His smile faltered when the top half of his vision got blurry, his glasses sliding down his nose a bit due to his flailing and rapid-fire talking. I almost forgot about these…He adjusted his glasses with his arm, nursing his injured hand to avoid breaking the cast.

He doubted he'd ever actually get used to the fact that he couldn't be a pilot, his dreams crushed by cruel reality – and some psycho-woman with a pipe. But I've gotta be strong. Ivan can't know this. He reasoned quietly, tapping the floor with the toe of his sneaker. After all, a hero never dragged their friends – or boyfriends – into their messes. His smile returned full force as he exclaimed, "Hey, hey! Let's get out the vodka, watch some TV, play some video games, and get totally wasted! After dealing with funny tasting juice and Nurse Mom, I need some TLC…and vodka since that's about the only thing we have in the fridge other than soda."

He gave Ivan a pleading look, hoping to god that his puppy-eyes still worked. Though now that he had glasses, it should intensify the cute. Or that's what he hoped, anyway.

Ivan frowned slightly. He hadn't really done that awesome. He ended up getting all nervous and flustered and not even slightly intimidating to the Brit, which had not been a part of his plan. Besides, he somehow doubted that Arthur really liked him. Actually, thinking back on the events of the lunch, Ivan was pretty sure Arthur disliked him a lot. Not like he really cared too much, seeing as how the Brit wasn't going to make as big a fuss over him and Alfred dating as he had originally thought.

The Russian chuckled slightly at Alfred's plan. "Are we going to do it all in that order?" He mumbled to himself. Really, television and video games were all good and fine but Ivan, when being totally honest, wasn't overly fond of Alfred's taste in games and movies. Unless there was an interesting story behind all the random explosions and shooting, of course. But lately, all movies and video games seemed to bleed together and be pretty much the same. If you've done one, it's like doing another. Though, Ivan did enjoy the vodka part of Alfred's plan. Not so much the wasted part.

The Russian stared blankly at Alfred's attempts to look all pleading and whatnot. Ivan had to admit, the glasses did add a little something to the look. Not that he really cared, he wasn't going to agree just because of a pretty face. He just wanted to drink. Really. "Alright, fine. Just remember it's your fault if I get drunk and drive you out of the room," he said, sounding amused by the prospect, which he totally was. The Russian opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles of vodka. He handled one of them to Alfred and gave a creepy smile. "You had best be prepared for the worst, dorogoy."

Alfred grinned wickedly, accepting the offered bottle and plopping down onto his bed. He held the bottle against his chest with his arm, twisting the cap off with his good hand. He then held the bottle up in a toast, blue eyes glittering with excitement and determination. "Heheh…you're not chasin' me away this time. But I am gonna be drinking you under the table." He said teasingly, taking a gulp of his drink while retaining eye contact with Ivan.

It was a mistake for Ivan to phrase it like a challenge, as Alfred F. Jones wouldn't – no, couldn't – back down from a challenge. Alfred lowered the bottle, and smiled at Ivan from over the lip of the bottle, issuing his own silent challenge to Ivan. "Bet you that you get smashed before I do." He teased.

Ivan's creepy smile turned even more scary and he gracelessly sat down on his own bed. "Ha, you are so funny dorogoy. There is simply no way you can drink me under the table," he said smugly. He opened his vodka and took a swig. "You're on. But if this is a bet, then what do I get when I win?" Ivan asked, sounding amused. He was pretty sure he had an advantage or two over Alfred. One being that he was Russian and vodka was known as "Russian water", though that wasn't technically an advantage. The other was that he drank vodka as a hobby, which was an advantage.

Ivan took another swig and smirked at the American. "I do hope that I get a good prize for winning. If it's something stupid, I may have to throw a vodka bottle at Alfred," he said, sounding more like he was talking to himself though he made sure Alfred could hear him perfectly.

"Heh…you haven't seen me drink, have you? Trust me, Ivan, you're gonna be sorry when I beat you." Alfred's grin faded as he scrunched up his face in thought.

What did Ivan get if he won? He could always go with something vague like, "I'll do one thing for you" or "I'll be your bitch for a week" but those could turn into unpleasant and scary things. After all, what if Ivan decided he wanted to shove him in a dress or something? He highly doubted he'd look very good in one, but that didn't make the chances of Ivan putting him in a dress any less likely. He half shrugged, taking a long drink in hopes of getting rid of the mental image of himself in a dress.

"If you win, I'll…um…" He pondered some more. "Hm." He smiled brightly and said, as if it were the smartest thing in the world despite the fact that he had just listed a reason why this prize was a bad idea, "If you win, I'll do whatever you want for a week. No complaints, and no questions asked. Unless, of course, you stick me in a dress. Then I'll complain, whine, question your sanity, and refuse to put it on because I draw the line at girly clothing and make-up." He fired his words off at the rate of a machine gun, and once he was done, he inhaled a deep breath of much needed oxygen.

He smiled sweetly. "How's that? But if I win…I already know what I want." He motioned to Ivan with his vodka bottle. "I wanna know more about you. Where you come from, your family, your likes, dislikes…I mean, it's normal, right? To wanna get to know the guy you're dating?" He blushed a bit, taking a sip of his drink. It was embarrassing to say something like that, but it was already out there, and seeing as he had yet to figure out how to work the cosmic "reset" button, he was left feeling awkward and very girl-ish.

Ivan smiled, slightly confused about the dress thing. He wouldn't put Alfred in a dress unless he wanted to embarrass him and tear his pride into tiny pieces while scattering them in the wind- oh wait, Ivan would probably do that for fun. The 'no dress' rule was no longer strange at all. But other than losing the chance to embarrass Alfred via dresses, the rest sounding quite amazing. Ivan wasn't quite sure what he'd do if (when) he won. Probably make Alfred dress in something that's not a dress. Like footsie pajamas or something. Hell, he might even figure out something else to do with the power to completely boss Alfred around.

The Russian took a swig of vodka and nearly choked when he heard what Alfred wanted if he won. He stared at the American with wide eyes. Of course it was a touching request that not only didn't have any strings attached, but it also made a ton of sense. But Ivan could honestly say that he would rather go around wearing only his scarf, ice states, and a thong in the middle of a Siberian winter than let Alfred know about certain things about his past. There were some things that should never be brought up. Ever.

But if Ivan went against the idea Alfred came up with, then that would probably seem odd. And it might hurt Alfred's feelings or something. And besides, what were the chances that Alfred would beat Ivan in a drinking contest? The Russian smiled slightly and nodded. "Of course it's normal, dorogoy. I'll take you up on your bet," he said happily. He took another swig of vodka and stared at the ground, suddenly realizing something. "Hey Alfred? Why didn't you just make the conditions to our bet the same? Like, if you did happen to win, why not win the same thing I would win? You'd still be able to ask me about me and you could boss me around and all. Too late for that though, a deal is a deal," he said quickly, not too keen to give Alfred any plans to change the bet.

Alfred shrugged, taking a drink. "'Cause I don't have any interest in bossing you around." He said plainly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "What kind of hero would I be if I made someone do stuff for me that I can't do for myself? Other than take on ghosts. That's totally your thing." He gave Ivan his award-winning smile and leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees. The tension from his stay at the hospital and the awkward – and loud – lunch with Arthur seemed to have left him, his posture more relaxed and less stiff than it had been earlier despite his attempts to remain calm.

He had been a little surprised on how surprised Ivan had looked at his request for a prize, but let it slide, deciding that maybe the Russian was just unnerved at having to spill everything (Alfred was honestly hoping that Ivan had at least some dating experience seeing as he had none). Hoping to quell whatever worries Ivan was having despite his words and the attempt to brush it off, he said cheerfully, "But…if there's stuff you'd like to keep secret then…that's okay. Everyone's got secrets. Not me, of course. Nope, I'm a totally open and heroic book." He let his smile become gentle. He understood the urge to keep parts of his life a secret, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't say them if Ivan asked. He was honest, and straightforward, even about the bad things if people asked the right questions. And he trusted Ivan to trust him with his secrets. Heck, he trusted Ivan enough to cry in front of the guy. Sadly though, part of him knew that no matter what he did, how close they got, or which dark part of himself he shared with his boyfriend, he'd always be left partially in the dark.

Stupid Ivan and his wall of insane creepiness and all those other good things about him that I like… He thought bitterly, mildly irritated with himself that he even enjoyed Ivan's creepiness. Maybe I am an adrenaline junkie. I guess everyone's got their vice. Mine could just get me killed.

To take his mind off of this annoying revelation, he turned hi attention to the one thing he never saw Ivan without. He eyed the scarf Ivan was still wearing and shifted so that he was sitting with his legs crossed under him. "…Why're you still wearing that thing, anyway? It's like eighty degrees in here. Aren't you melting?" He took a swig of his vodka, pleased that he wasn't even feeling the affects yet. He, of course, forgot that he was still in his bomber jacket.

Ivan smiled in relief and hid it by taking a swig of vodka. Now he wouldn't have to worry about upsetting Alfred by not telling him about anything. The American had said it was okay, after all. But...Ivan felt that Alfred would still be unhappy if he never told him about anything. The Russian decided that it would be okay if he told his boyfriend a little about him. Just not everything.

Ivan took another drink and noticed that his bottle was almost empty. When did that happen? It took him a moment to understand what Alfred was talking about, but when he realized that the American was talking about his scarf, he suddenly felt a little defensive. "What's wrong with my scarf? You're wearing that bomber jacket, aren't you melting?" He asked with slight annoyance. He frowned at his vodka, realizing that snapped at Alfred.

"Sorry," he mumbled and quickly finished off his vodka. He stared at the empty bottle before dropping it on the ground. He'd pick that up later...sometime...Ivan went to the fridge and got out another bottle of vodka. He was a little worried that he was drinking faster than Alfred, thus he had more of a chance of getting wasted first, but that was okay. He was confident in his drinking abilities. He sat back down on his bed and took a swig of vodka, careful to drink it a bit slower.

The Russian glanced at his scarf, then to Alfred, then back to his scarf. "...You know, I wear this scarf all the time," he said, touching it. His gaze turned dreamy, remembering the good memories that his scarf brought him. "My older sister made it for me when I was very young. It was a Christmas-birthday present, since my birthday is so close to Christmas and all," he said softly. Ivan blushed slightly, realizing that he had gotten all sentimental.

In an effort to not look like a total sap, he turned his attention to the American and gave him a scary smile. "Plus, I used this to kill my first man. What a glorious day that was," he said, his tone childish and slightly amused. Of course, Ivan hadn't ever really killed anyone, but he could be pretty convincing at times.

Alfred winced when Ivan snapped at him, doing his best not to hug his jacket closer defensively, as if hoping that the thick and old material would protect him from an onslaught of Russian rage. He relaxed a bit at the apology, and smiled weakly to show that Ivan was forgiven. He finished off his own bottle in two gulps, then hurried to grab a second. There was no way Ivan was going to out-drink him! "'Sokay. No need to apologize." He said cheerfully, grabbing a second bottle from the fridge. He paused, gapping at the sheer number of vodka bottles in the mini-fridge.

He was snapped from his thoughts when Ivan began talking about his scarf. He listened carefully, nudging the fridge door shut with his foot and returning to his bed. He smiled softly. I guess even Ivan has some soft spots. Wait…his birthday's near Christmas? He didn't get a chance to inquire on Ivan's birthday though, as the Russian went on another one of his "scare the hell out of Alfred and laugh."

Alfred laughed nervously, ignoring his desire to throw his empty bottle – also lying on the floor along with Ivan's – at his psychotic boyfriend. Instead, he did his best to change the subject onto something a little less scary. "Oookay, Ivan! I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that for the sake of being able to sleep tonight!" He laughed again, though it was obvious that he was still wary of Ivan, especially after the "killing" comment.

He held up his arm, showing off his jacket, the star over his heart faded from age and wear. "This jacket…" His eyes lowered to the floor as a strained smile crossed his face. "Was my old man's." He rubbed at a dark stain on the cuff of the left sleeve. "He gave it to me when I was six…he told me all sorts of war stories about it, about how his dad wore it when he went off to battle in World War II, and how he wore it when he was part of the air force. Of course, this was about the only thing he ever gave me other than a severe beating for…" He cut himself off, banging his broken hand against the desk beside him to give him an excuse to not finish his sentence.

He, with some difficulty due to his broken hand, unscrewed the lid to his newest bottle and took a long gulp, stopping only when he needed air. He wiped at his lip, then continued, his strained smile fading as he quickly added, "I guess this old jacket's seen it's last military days, huh? But, whatever."

He forced his smile back into place, trying to look on the bright side despite the fact that all he wanted to do was curl up and cry. "I'll just become a cop! Yeah, that sounds awesome! Or maybe FBI! Then I can be like that guy from the X-Files and chase down aliens!" Alfred inwardly swore at him. Maybe the vodka was stronger than he thought, especially if he had blurted out the one time his father had raised a hand to him.

Ivan frowned while Alfred talked about his jacket. He wanted very much to know why Alfred's father would give him a "severe beating", but it seemed as though the American didn't want to talk about that, if the random desk-hitting was any hint. Ivan looked at his bottle of vodka in thought. He personally was all for corporal punishment. If he ever had a child (which he seriously doubted that would ever happen but speaking figuratively), he would physically punish them if they did something wrong. That's how he was taught, and it worked if done correctly, but he still was a bit bothered that Alfred had gotten a "severe beating". That just didn't seem right.

The Russian raised a confused eyebrow at his boyfriend. What does he mean that it's seen the last of its military days? Isn't he planning to go into the military? Ivan was quite sure that's what Alfred had told him, that he'd go into the military and all. Why would he suddenly what to become a cop or an FBI agent? It just didn't make sense to him. "What do you mean Alfred? Weren't you planning on going into the military?" Ivan asked curiously and took a swig of vodka.

Alfred smiled a bit. "Yeah…I was, but all I really wanted to do was fly. Be free. You know, all, 'the sky's my home.'" He took a small sip of the vodka, grimacing a bit when he realized that he was starting to feel the effects of the alcoholic beverage already. He, officially, blamed the vodka for his off-the-wall chattering. He idly wondered how it was that Ivan could handle drinking so much, but shrugged it off, continuing to speak. "And since I can't do that…besides. I realized something when Arty came to give me my glasses." He grinned. "I can't protect the ones I care about if I'm overseas getting shot at. But I can here. And…I can keep you safe too." He blushed brightly, looking at the floor.

A quiet laugh escaped him as he exclaimed, "Damn, looks like you might win this one. And you're even running on an empty stomach, too!" Alfred kicked at the floor idly. "…Hey…Ivan?" He blushed brighter, this time from embarrassment and shame. "…I'm actually a little scared. About joining the military, I mean. Well, not joining exactly but the whole, 'possibly coming home in a body bag' thing."

He hated admitting this, as he was supposed to be a hero, someone who wasn't afraid of anything (except ghosts of course). But to admit to Ivan that he was afraid to die now that he's had a taste of a near death experience…it was just pathetic to him. Especially since before the attack he hadn't feared death in the slightest.

Ivan gave the American a sad frown and sighed. He stood up, got in front of the blond, then got down on his knees. He looked up at Alfred and gave a weak smile. "...A lot of people are scared of that Alfred," he said softly. To be truthful, even Ivan was a bit scared of death and those he cared for dying, but he had a cheap way of never concerning himself with it. Namely, already deciding that it would eventually happen and there was no way to stop it. It was completely out of his control. It probably wasn't the best way to go about dealing with such depressing things, but it worked for Ivan.

The Russian took Alfred's free hand and gave it a kiss. "So...it's okay to be afraid, but...it's not okay to let that fear rule your life," he said, slightly annoyed at how sappy he sounded. He looked up at the American and smiled slightly. "So, stop being so serious and be your normal stupid and optimistic self. I only like seeing you afraid if I'm the one causing it." Ivan leaned up and gave Alfred a kiss on the lips. It made an uncomfortable feeling form in Ivan's chest, so he subtly put more distance between himself and Alfred after he pulled away.

He took another swig of vodka, not liking how serious the mood had gotten. Alfred shouldn't be serious. Ivan, deciding to try and lift the mood (that the influence of alcohol had caused, no doubt), smirked at the American. "And what do you mean by keep me safe, meelaya3? If anything, I have to keep you safe. Safety lesson for today: if a stranger asks you to get into their car to look for their lost puppy, don't do it. Go straight to an adult you know and tell them what happened," he said, sounding slightly amused.

Alfred quirked a lop-sided smile at Ivan's attempt to cheer him up, blushing at the strangely light and tender kiss. He leaned into it and made a whine of protest when the kiss was broken, pouting at Ivan. After a second more of sulking, he grinned like his usual idiotic self. "Heh…somehow I'm offended by that." He said softly, reaching out to grab at Ivan when he realized that the Russian was distancing himself. He set his own vodka bottle down on the desk beside him, deciding to take a short break from the alcohol before he wound up dropping it or something.

He chuckled. "But, I'll remember to avoid strangers with cars. But what do I do if I run into a stranger with candy?" He teased, dropping down to sit on the floor in front of Ivan, legs still crossed, and smiled cheerfully despite the fact that he had, blatantly, invaded the Russian's personal space. "Hey." He blinked up at Ivan curiously.

I wanna know why he moved away. Am I that bad a kisser or something? Do I smell? Okay, Al! Just go for it! Ask him!

"Think you could teach me some Russian tomorrow?" He reached up and retrieved his vodka, scooting closer to Ivan to give his roommate little room for escape. Okay, that's not what I wanted to say. Without thinking any more about what should and shouldn't come out of his mouth as his brain seemed to have very little to do with that anymore, he moved so he was beside Ivan, leaning his back against his boyfriend's shoulder. "And, uh, thanks. For cheering me up. But I'm still pissed that you called me stupid and a child." He grinned at Ivan, obviously not too upset about it, then resumed drinking his worries – and intelligence – away.

Ivan chuckled and took a sip of vodka. "If a stranger has candy, just tell them to throw it to you instead of getting too close to them," he replied, slightly amused, but the uncomfortable feeling was still there. Did he just get closer to me? No, I must be imagining it. Just me overreacting...The Russian took another sip of vodka and gave Alfred a surprised look. No one had ever asked him to teach Russian before, so it made Ivan a little happy. "Of course I can. But we should probably start at the basics, I think," he said, nervously licking his lips. Ivan couldn't deny it this time, Alfred was getting closer to him.

The Russian gave Alfred a wary look, but resisted the urge to move away. It did feel kind of nice to have the American leaning against him. Besides, it was Alfred being all affectionate and stuff, not that other person. Ivan shuttered slightly at the thought. "Any time. But I can't help it if what I say is the truth. Although, I suppose you're only a child mentally," he murmured, taking a swig of vodka. Ivan noted that the edges of his vision were getting slightly fuzzy, but that was okay. He could still think pretty coherently...enough.

Ivan ran a hand through his hair and glanced at Alfred. "Wow, you sure have lasted longer than I thought you would," he said mostly to himself. He went to take a sip of vodka and noticed that it had all mysteriously vanished. He frowned slightly before he smiled. Yes, a perfect excuse to get away. He stood up and got another bottle before sitting back on the floor, careful to put some distance between the two of them.

It wasn't that he didn't like being close to his boyfriend. Actually, he quite enjoyed it. But sometimes...certain things reminded him of other certain things. And, in his slightly intoxicated state, Ivan vividly remembered those other certain things much easier than if he was sober. He seriously didn't want to have a flashback, and especially not with Alfred around.

Alfred smiled happily at the idea of learning a bit of Russian. Maybe that would keep Ivan from insulting him or something, though he doubted the Russian would teach him insults. God only knew what Alfred would spout out if he got angry. "You're never too old for immaturity." He said in a sage-like tone, nodding to himself.

A yelp passed his lips when Ivan abruptly got up, Alfred almost falling over at the loss of his back support. He caught himself on his elbow, careful not to spill any vodka, though it was a difficult task considering he was pretty sure he would only last a couple more sips before he became a giggling mess. "Of course I've lasted this long…" He muttered, sitting up. "I can out-drink Gilbert and Ludwig." The last part was said proudly.

A hurt look crossed his face when he realized that, once more, Ivan was distancing himself. This time, though, he didn't move closer, just hugged his knees to his chest and cradled the vodka bottle as if it were the last thing he owned in the whole world. He bit his lip, wanting to ask what was wrong, but thankfully some common sense had lingered in his alcohol-buzzed brain. Better not push him. I don't feel like sleeping in the hallway again.

Slowly, he set the bottle down and said with a light laugh, "Guess you win. If I drink any more, I'll have the hangover from Hell tomorrow." He cast one more worried and depressed look at Ivan from the corner of his eye before standing and wobbling unsteadily.

"Whoops." Was all he said when he toppled over, landing on Ivan's bed with a huff. For a moment, he didn't move, just laid there, eyes heavy. Finally, he decided that a bed was a bed, and curled up on his side, not even bothering to remove his jacket or glasses as his lack of restful sleep for the past three days finally caught up to him. Within seconds, he was soundlessly asleep.

Ivan sighed and stared at the ground as if it had offended him. While he wasn't entirely sure, he thought that maybe he hurt Alfred's feelings. God, I'm such an idiot. The Russian smacked his head and muttered curses at his vodka, mostly because it had partially helped in making the problem. After feeling as though his poor vodka could take it no more, Ivan stood up and put the remainder of his and Alfred's vodka in the fridge. There was no point in wasting it, after all.

Ivan glanced at the American in his bed and snorted softly. He didn't mind sleeping on his boyfriend's bed, but he sorta hoped Alfred wouldn't make it a habit of sleeping in his bed. He shuffled over to the chest of drawers in their room and looked for some clothes to sleep in. After choosing some clothes that might as well have been made for walking around in the Siberian winter and putting them on, Ivan moved over to Alfred and sighed.

He hesitated before giving the American a kiss goodnight. He took the blonde's glasses off and put them on the desk while shaking his head. How are these glasses going to survive, I wonder...He chuckled slightly before he went over to Alfred's bed and gracelessly flopped down on it. After staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, Ivan felt himself start to doze off.

1 "Hello, my dear. How are you?"

2 It's true, dear

3 Sweetheart