The Extent of Love

9

There's a smut warning on this chapter. (Just foreplay is written)

I'm still learning Russian, so if anythings incorrect just let me know.

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"You have booze?" Ivan asked, looking through the drawers of the kitchen, and pulling out a large bottle of Kroger brand vodka.

"Um... that's what you need to make martinis and cocktails..." Alfred muttered, giving him a look. Did he look like the non-drinking type?

"You, yourself, have booze?" Ivan said, motioning to the alcohol content label, "Doesn't that break your laws?"

"Ivan, I'm older than America itself..." Alfred replied, "And besides, according to the government, I am 25."

"... isn't that still illegal? You're mentally nineteen, and on all your meeting reports you say your age is too," Ivan asked, placing the bottle on the sink.

"Bro I could just hop the border to Canada if I cared that much," Alfred replied, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it 1⁄4 of the way with vodka as Ivan gave him a look. He grabbed the pineapple juice from the fridge and filled the rest of the glass.

While keeping eye contact with Ivan, he drank the entire thing.

"I wondered why you had pineapple juice..." Ivan said as Alfred put the glass down. He didn't even wince when he drank. Weren't Americans pussies when it came to alcohol?

"Pineapple juice has multiple uses, I'ma go file my taxes," Alfred said, waving as he went to go hide out in his room. He ate, so Ivan really had no reason to keep him in the living room.

Also, what else could pineapple juice do? It was just pineapple.

Looking to the bottle of booze, Ivan grabbed the glass and filled it up, and got prepared to feel his mind stop.

'Ew... boring,' Alfred thought, looking at the five pieces of paper that sat at his desk. He knew that he would get bored, because reading the small print and then going through all the small print and then researching the small print.

Taxes suck.

But alas, he continued doing them, since he could be arrested if he didn't.

After some time, Alfred looked at the clock and noticed it was 5:30 at night. Ivan never called him out for lunch, and he kinda got distracted. Fuck... now he'd have to spend another day doing taxes...

Walking out of the room with a defeated look, he found his bottle of vodka, his wine, bourbon, and whiskey scattered around on the floor. Empty.

Dude booze is expensive here.

Well, he could just get more bottles from the cellar- he wasn't in his house.

Meh, he could just buy more. Alcohol was on the houses list of essential items, so technically he could get as much as he wanted.

"Ivan?" he asked the living room. He didn't know where the Russian had gone, just that he drank all his alcohol.

Arms slipped around his neck, and a face nuzzled into his hair.

"Gde ya? (Where am I?)" Ivan muttered against his head, "Nebo? Ya dolzhen byt', est angel. (Heaven? I have to be, there's an angel.)"

Alfred blushed at being called an angel, starting to try and squirm away.

"Nyet, ya ne angel, (No, I'm not an angel,)" he said as Ivan gripped him tighter, "ya rodina, strana... personifikasi. (I am a motherland, a country a... personification.)"