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“MY ANACONDA DON’T. MY ANACONDA DON’T. MY ANACONDA DON’T WANT NONE UNLESS YOU GOT BUNS HUN!~”
Being all alone in the house on a weekend when his fiancee wasn’t home was Alfred’s favourite idea of fun, he could sing as loud as he wanted, eat whatever he wanted, dance to whatever he wanted, and not feel guilty at all!
Hence how he ended up flawlessly (to himself anyway) dancing to his favourite Nicki Manaj song (so far), dressed in the short jean booty shorts he had hidden in the closet and a pink, ripped tank covering his tanned body, exposing as much of himself as he could.
Because well, he had a smoking hot body, as he liked to say to himself.
“He toss my salad like his name Romaaaine~”
Unfortunately, so planned out as this nice weekend was, it seemed he hadn’t anticipated on one thing.
“MY ANACONDA DON’T WANT NONE UNLESS YOU Goo…”
He didn’t expect Ivan to be standing in the doorway to the living room, cleared of couch and coffee table (they were against the wall haphazardly stacked), staring at thetwerking American as if he were the only creature left in existence.
In the bad way, kinda.
“Uh, Vanya! Ahahaha, d-didn’t expect you to be back so soon… thoug-uh… yea uh…” Blood was rapidly rising to his cheeks as the hulking Russian surveyed the scene before him, Alfred scrambling to look semi-normal and shutting off the CD player.
“… I wonder what Artur would think if he knew you did this?” Ah the brother card, in the worse situation too! “Would Fredka be cutely embarrassed?”
Shit that stupid smile. “D-don’t tell anyone!! Please Vanya don’t!” He begged, clutching the man’s scarf and looking up at him with pleading eyes.
Ivan only returned a giggle. “Perhaps… but you have to do something for me…~” That look in his eyes made Alfred want to punch himself.
Next time he was locking the doors.