Chapter Text
With more gentleness that he thought possible in his state America put down the phone with shaking fingers and sank down into his office chair shivering although it was way above average in heat. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that. It could have been hours or mere minutes that he sat there in absolute silence like the calm before a storm. Sitting there trying to ignore the thoughts of betrayal and conspiracies that refused to not be heard. England was now of labour government again. He swivelled round in his chair trying to stimulate the adrenaline he usually got from messing around, but he got nothing. It was not that he dislike the labour government or favoured their competition but the rumours that trailed behind the new government had him on edge. They spoke of labours sympathy towards the Soviet Russia and more than tolerance of communism. Surely the English people knew of these rumours? Or more comforting maybe they didn’t. Why else would they be voted in if not? Iggy wasn’t going to turn on him.
Was he?
More thoughts filled his mind of the past collaborations between Russia and England. He tried to drown them out he tried not to think of the Napoleonic Wars, the Anglo-Russian Entente, the French revolution…
“Stop!” he yelled at the top of his lungs suddenly smashing down on the table clearing his head just for a moment allowing rational thinking to grasp hold and take root reminding him of the times he and Russia had been allied such as in WW2. It didn’t make a difference they still hated each other now.
His lack of faith was ridiculous. It wasn’t like he’d kept these thoughts to himself either. Every time he’d mentioned it to Iggy he’d been quickly reassured and laughed at the Englishman’s quick-witted insults about Ivan before of course he became the target of more friendly insults. Then they’d continue like nothing happened. Iggy wasn’t going to turn on him.
Was he?
Alas the rational thought retreated as quickly as they came. He remembered back to when his government had had forced him to go congratulate the labour party as a way of showing Russia that the alliance between the nations was still strong despite the new government and the rumours connected to them.
He frozen though when before he could so much as knock on England’s door after visiting the PM Ivan opened the door and stepped out.
Alfred just stood there shocked his mind not processing words as Ivan noticed him and cracked a smile that was innocent at first glance but full of gloating and pleasure barely disguised at second.
“Comrade Alfred! I did not see you there, it’s nice to see you again.” In a joyful tone. He waited a second to see if Alfred’s opening and closing mouth would form words before continuing. “I have just finished congratulating comrade Arthur or more accurately wishing him well with his new socialist government. I am very happy he is being so progressive towards the correct political system, da.”
The second Alfred had got in the house he’d started questioning Arthur who insisted a socialist government was all he had, and communism wasn’t on the agender at all and Ivan was only there because his boss had hoped that they were. That he was merely there for formalities and the rather one-sided exchange he had shared with Alfred was merely to get under his skin. Alfred had eventually calmed down, but he couldn’t help notice the empty teacups and empty packets of biscuits on the coffee table in the lounge wondering how long said ‘formalities’ could go on for. He wanted to know what he’d been minutes away from walking in on. But then WW2 happened and the only time the questions of where Arthurs loyalties lay was in the dead of night at three am when he was trying to get some sleep. They’d been good friends and gotten along better once they had a common enemy. Iggy wasn’t going to turn on him.
Was he?
Recently they’d been surfacing again, the worries. The night before he’d been stupid and eaten blue cheese of all things before, he went to bed causing dreams of all sorts. Arthur being forced against a wall. Them signing union papers. Ivan praising Arthur for his good work as he draped an arm possessively around him. Them agreeing to start a war against America together. Arthur giving in to Ivan as he…
Alfred slapped both of his cheeks and shook his head trying to force out the thoughts.
“Imagen Arthur cooking for Ivan if you have to imagen a union between them.” He told himself out loud thinking England’s food was truly the worst form of punishment. He could picture it vividly Arthur cooking some black mess while Ivan waited. Ivan would be wearing some military uniform or suit because if Arthur did go over to his side Ivan wouldn’t bother with friendly social calls like America did. And Arthur would be wearing a union jack top with blue jeans and an apron. Arthur wearing only an apron… Arthur not wearing the apron…
SMASH
Alfred smashed his head so hard that it broke the entire desk in two. He stood up and decided that if he talked to someone it would bring him back to reality. After all no way Iggy was going to turn on him. Not really.
Was he?