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Even when Ivan’s mind raced with worry, he could still trust his hands to do the work.
He moved through his partner’s Virginia home with a practiced ease. He knew where every pot and pan laid in the cabinets, knew that Alfred liked to indulge in lavender fabric softener when he had too much on his mind. He knew where the emergency food was, both for the days Alfred thought he just escaped Dr. Gottlieb’s experiments and the apocalypse they hoped would never come to pass. He knew which shirts to hang up and which to fold, when the mirrors should be covered (New Year’s, summer time, and November), and where the secret burger spice blend was.
He did it all without thinking, because if he started to think then they would both be out of commission. It was nice to turn his brain off sometimes, to empty it of the war and chaos and secrets back home.
1900 rolled around and Ivan set out the last plate at the table. Alfred should be coming home soon, at least in an ideal world. They could eat, relax and sleep the night away without a care in the world. Almost like humans.
Unfortunately, this was not an ideal world.
Ivan waited for an hour, settling on reading a new book he found on Alfred’s coffee table after some light doomscrolling. 15 minutes? Annoying. An hour?
He didn’t even pick up on the first ring.
“Hi! I’m — “
“I texted about dinner an hour ago. And then every 15 minutes since then,”
“I know, it’s just that the polls closed here but not across the rest of my lands. I need to check that everything is going smoothly,” His voice sounded higher pitched than normal, his words rushed. He could feel the thinly veiled panic from across the phone line.
“Is there a time you will stop by?”
“Maaaaaybe like around 10:00 your time? I need different clothes for Alaska and Hawai’i. Can’t guarantee I’ll sit and eat anything,” Alfred said.
“You will,”
“That sounds like a good ol’ threat,”
“It is. I will see you then,”
“Hot. Love ya!”
“Love you too…” He wouldn’t technically describe Alfred as an idiot, but he was being one here.
Fine. He’ll wait it out.
Five minutes after 2200 he heard movement in the entry way. He sprang into motion and rounded the corner to see Alfred changing out his coat. Before he could finish and teleport away again, he grabbed him by the collar.
“Whoa, hey! Good to see you too, Vanya,” Alfred said, “I’m just gonna — “
“Sit down and eat? That’s the only thing you should be doing. When did you last have something, anyway?” Ivan asked. Alfred didn’t answer right away, so he took that as a ‘far too long ago’ and started dragging him to the kitchen.
“Wait, wait, wait! I need to head out. I don’t have time to eat,” Alfred protested.
“You have some time. Eat. Now,” They got to the dining table and Ivan all but threw Alfred into one of the chairs. His partner went still while looking at the food save for how his breath picked up.
“I’m super nauseous right now — you know the elections are tonight. If I stop for too long I’m going to lose my shit,” Alfred admitted, “I won’t be able to keep it down anyway,”
“The results will already be decided by now; you can already guess which way the last two states will swing,”
“That doesn’t mean I can just leave them out! Because what if they’re the deciding factor! I need every assurance I can. I can’t…he can’t win again. I need to go,” Alfred took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. The stress of the day was wearing so much on him already, he knew he could get him to crack.
“You have some time before the next polls close, yes? Eat now, and just go out after. Please,” Ivan put a bit of a warble in his voice for emphasis and saw Alfred’s shoulders sag in defeat.
“Okay, but could we…not eat at the table? It feels too — fuck, this is stupid,”
“Not stupid if it gets you to eat,”
“It feels too big, y’know? Too official, like I’m resting instead of just on pause,” Ivan picked up Alfred’s plate without another word and moved them to the couch. He laid down across on and Alfred crawled on top of him, nestled on his chest. He cradled the hot food while Ivan drew a blanket over them. He felt Alfred’s body relax into him and turned on the TV for background noise:
“Exit polls now predict that — “ Nevermind, they could do without the TV. Even that snippet made Alfred tense. He brought a hand to Alfred’s scalp and slowly scratched it, watching as the combination of everything slowed the Nation down to a halt.
“You’re gonna make me fall asleep like this,” Alfred whispered.
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” He was so clearly exhausted from running around all day to all the polling booths, he deserved a break. And Ivan deserved to not be stood up for a dinner date. Sure, he didn’t technically tell Alfred it was one, but it gave an extra reason to keep him captured.
By the time he was scrapping the bottom of the bowl, Alfred’s eyes were almost completely closed and he fully laying against Ivan. Perfect. It was the most calm he had been the past few weeks leading up to the election.
Of course an alarm from Alfred’s phone had to ruin the peace. It rang up a tone before Ivan could get to it and Alfred snapped upright. Damn it, why didn’t he think of that?
“Well, party’s over. I gotta head out. This was nice at least,” Alfred said, rising to stretch. Ivan’s eyes lingered in the bit of stomach and skin that peeked out, but refocused.
“You sure you don’t want to stay?”
“I want to, I just can’t,”
“You can,”
“I can’t. What if they’re the deciding factor?” Alfred ran upstairs to switch out his layers before Ivan could respond. He knew it was just because Alfred wanted to stay moving, but it would ultimately just stress him out more.
Ivan threw Alfred’s bowl in the dishwasher and went to the bedroom upstairs. Alfred was putting his belt back on when he walked in, settling on the bed with a knitting project in the nightstand while Alfred watched.
“You stayin’ here?” Alfred asked.
“Staying up. Don’t keep me waiting too long,” Ivan motioned for Alfred to come over and Alfred obeyed, “What ever happens, happens,”
“No if I have a say in it,” He didn’t though, was the thing. Alfred could go door-to-door knocking to see if everyone voted, he could tell people to stay in line once 1900 hit, he could answer civics questions. But who would be president wasn't up to him.
Ivan held his tongue and just pulled him down for a kiss instead. He desperately wanted to drag him down into the bed and keep him there on the last potentially calm night of the next four years. Just one more night where at least one of them could say things were okay, or even getting better.
Alfred teleported away from his grasp and Ivan sighed.
He woke up (when did he even fall asleep?) to Alfred trying to maneuver into the bed.
“You are horrible at stealth,” Ivan commented, chuckling when Alfred jolted.
“Thought you were asleep,”
“I was until you failed your secret mission,”
“Whatever. Slide over, asshole,” Ivan did so and immediately latched on to the new source of warmth. Alfred leaned into it, his shoulders still tense.
“Relax,” Ivan whispered, “You did all that you could and more,”
“What if it’s not enough?” Ivan just squeezed him tighter at that. He thought he did enough during his few democratic elections, but then the 1996 one happened and it was clear it never would be.
Ivan stayed awake until Alfred did, until his breath evened out and the tension finally left his body. Only then did he let himself fall asleep.
The violent sound of retching broke Ivan out of his sleep this time.
With the second retch, he launched himself out of bed and ran for the bathroom, almost tripping himself up in the blankets. Alfred was hugging the toilet bowl, tears already spilling over, his breath coming out in gasps. His phone was open to a red and blue map —
Oh. That’s why.
“I — I can't,” Alfred struggled to get words out between his sobs, “Four more years?”
“You have to,”
“No — no, it’s — this is fake,”
“This is what your people voted for,”
“They wouldn’t, right? Not again?” Ivan flushed the toilet so the smell would disappear and pulled Alfred closer. As the sun slowly rose Alfred’s panic grew as his people woke up and saw the news. He was thankful they were in the bathroom so he could refill the on water while Alfred cried his eyes out. Ivan kept silent as his partner shook, gently putting his hair as all rational thought left him.
His own Boss was probably overjoyed by now.
Alfred’s tears eventually stopped falling once all his people were awake. The new silence was cut into by the growl of his stomach.
“Some food will help,” Ivan said. His body groaned while pulling the two of them up, but he held back the grunt. Alfred’s feet were dragging so Ivan carried him down to the kitchen and get to work. The clang of the pan on the stovetop seemed to snap Alfred out of the daze.
“I can help,” he said, racing to the cutting board, “What are we making?”
“Just blini, but I was making it sweet for you. Could you cut up some fruit?” Alfred liked moving in times of trouble, so it was curious to see him getting annoyed once he started cutting.
When cooking was done and they got to the table, he gave himself a generous amount of the fruit salad Alfred made. It looked…off. None of the pieces were even and —
Ceramic shattered, jolting Ivan out of his thoughts. Across from him, Alfred had cut through the plate.
“My hands,” Alfred pulled at his hair and closed his eyes, “Won't. Stop. Fucking. Shaking,” Ah, that’s what happened to the fruit.
“We are alone here, I don’t care if you rip it up,” Ivan said.
“Can't believe I’m tearing apart a perfectly good meal when millions of my people — “
“Eat. Spiral later,”
“…Okay,”