Forever and Always

11

Alfred mumbled something to himself in a long-forgotten language, starting to crave a joint. He wasn't sure if it was boredom or not.

It took hours to drive- although that was better than almost two days by horseback, but still. At least when you're on a horse, you have to focus on the horse.

So, instead, he just focused on his runalong. His has always been wendigo. It ran beside the car, just fast enough to stay at the side of it, even though real wendigos were much slower. Alfred tuned out the conversation Ivan was having with his boss.

He noticed, very suddenly, that they were speeding. The trees were flying much too fast.

"Ivan!" He exclaimed, "You're going, like, a hundred and forty!"

"It's fine," Ivan muttered, pulling the phone away from his ear. He looked pissed off, and Alfred got nervous, looking around the car.

He pressed his hand into Ivan's shoulder, urging him to glance at him. Ivan pulled the phone away from his ear.

"What?" Ivan muttered.

"Slow down, now! You're going to flip the damn car!"

"Fine," Ivan replied, slowing the car down to a hundred. Alfred sighed, holding his beating chest in one hand. Through all his layers of clothing he could feel his heart pulsing, and it wasn't a good feeling.

Ivan hung up, putting the phone in the drivers cup holder. He wrapped his arm around him.

"I'm sorry, I was getting mad," Ivan apologized. Alfred glared at him.

"I can tell," he said, poking his skin. Ivan sighed, noticing it was silver. He hadn't noticed his tail being cramped behind him and he felt a twinge of pain and numbness, going straight up his spine.

He transformed back, the car slowing down a noticeable amount.

"What was that call about?" Alfred asked, looking over to him.

"Protests," Ivan muttered, "apparently, not liking a dictator can get you arrested."

"Amen," Alfred replied, giggling. Ivan glanced at him and he shrugged, "Everytime I say protests are good exercise someone decides to call me a commie."

"Ha," Ivan said, "in your country, are you considered a communist?"

"Only on the weekends," Alfred muttered, "or when I get the urge to piss on McCarthy's grave."

Ivan snorted and started giggling, "Dear Lincoln would be mad at you~"

"Well you know nothing about him," Alfred flat-out laughed, "that man was a gay marxist with a muscle fetish."

"What?"

"Exactly," Alfred replied, pointing at him.

Ivan just stared at him before shaking his head, "I was there!"

"You were in New York," Alfred replied, "all the fun was in the bars, not the shipyards. The Tribune was blazing with Karl Marx's speeches, and I think he wrote a lot of it," he paused for a second, "German's were really proud of him, so they created a red party- called the republican party."

"I thought your republican party was anti-communist?" Ivan said, glancing at him with a confused face.

"Well, new lines are constantly being drawn," Alfred shrugged, "the only pro-communist party I can think of... are communist. Antifa I don't really count as communist, but apparently not being facist makes you a communist so I don't know anymore."

Ivan rolled his eyes, "oh, you hear? My soviet party is putting itself back together."

"Ukraine and Poland better watch their asses," Alfred replied, picking his nails. He transformed human. They were getting close to the city, "Are they nazbols?"