Disclaimer: Call of Duty: World at War, all characters and settings, and anything else you would recognize as pertaining to this video game does not belong to me. The plot itself belongs to me. I do not intend to make any money off the writing of this fan fiction; it is merely for entertainment purposes.


Title: Another American Drunken Encounter.

Complete Story Summary: Richtofen has a way of getting on Tank's nerves but receiving what he wants in the process.

Story Pairing(s): Tank Dempsey/Edward Richtofen.

Story Rating: T.

Chapter Content: Coarse language and intimate male/male contact.

Notes: Sequel! It was requested, so here it is. I know how much you guys love American/Nazi stories, if my profile poll is anything to go by.


When Tank awoke that morning with a pounding head and a sour taste in his mouth, he hadn't been prepared to gain a certain creepy follower.

Tank forced his eyes open, staring up at a flickering light above him. From the fact that it was the only light he could see besides a lessening in darkness outside a nearby window, he could tell it was very early in the morning. Shaking his head and wishing for some way to get rid of the dull ache that was making him groan in distaste, he heaved himself up off the floor he had been slumbering on, swaying slightly as he gained his balance.

"Ugh…" he mumbled to himself, gripping his head and massaging a temple with one hand and taking a few steps towards the exit of the room, ready to regroup with his team and start slaughtering the undead once again. However, he knew that it was much too early to begin, and his teammates were most likely still asleep. This tempted him to go find Nikolai and do funny things to him while he slept.

He let out a chuckle at the thought of torturing the poor Soviet—for fun, of course. Nothing like, say, what Richtofen would do to one of them, involving blood, wounds, or disturbing experimentation. He had found a fountain pen lying around in a desk drawer, and he was eager to give Nikolai some new facial characteristics.

Feeling somewhat more awake and in a slightly better mood, he made his way towards the room with the desk where he had found the fountain pen. As soon as he turned a corner, though, he connected bodily with a hard something else. He grabbed onto it to regain his footing, blinking blearily at what was in front of him.

A small grin belonging to a certain fascist greeted him, and dark eyes locked with his own.

Tank immediately let go of Richtofen, sidestepping him to continue on his way.

Richtofen, however, jumped in his way again, leaning forward in interest, his grin never wavering.

"What the hell do you want?" Tank grumbled, struggling to dodge the Nazi again.

"Hallo, Dempsey," he greeted cheerfully, holding out an arm to block the American's way.

"Hello, freak," he responded, debating whether breaking the man's arm would help or harm the team. He sighed, deciding to stand still and listen to what the doctor had to say. He crossed his arms, peering at the man with half-lidded eyes.

Richtofen audibly grit his teeth, a twitch forming in one eye. He held up his hands. "Now, now, zhere is no need for zhat. Ve're all friends here."

Tank arched an eyebrow. "What is this about?"

Richtofen smiled. He leaned forward a bit more into Tank's personal space. "Vhat are you up to zhis early in zhe morning?"

"Nothin'. Just going to find somewhere to sit around," he lied. He wanted to speed this up and get to drawing on Nikolai before the man woke up. He impatiently tapped a foot, eyebrows knitting together.

The Nazi stretched out a hand, brushing it casually against Tank's exposed forearm, pretending to be grabbing for a severed pipe attached to the wall next to him. He leaned up against the opposite wall, crossing one leg over the other. "Sounds… vonderful. You might need company."

Tank almost groaned out loud. He didn't need this. "Y'know, Doc, that ain't necessary. Just go find some zombie to poke and prod at and leave me the hell out of it."

Richtofen's smile disappeared. He brushed against Tank's forearm with more insistence when retracting it, noting slyly how the other man's eyes glanced downwards at his own hand for a small moment, appearing slightly uncomfortable. "But you might need someone vhen zhe undead attack again," he insisted.

"Since when did you care whether we live or die?" Tank shot back.

"Vhy, I alvays have. I vant my allies to be protected."

"Bullshit. You're just waitin' for us to drop dead so you can mess with our bodies."

"Tempting, I must say," Richtofen teased. He smirked at Tank playfully.

The American was disturbed by this. He immediately pushed past the older man, making his way towards a staircase. He was annoyed to find that the Nazi had tagged along, hurrying along behind him, matching his footsteps.

Whatever. He didn't care if the doctor saw what he was going to do, as long as he didn't try to interfere.

"You are in quite a hurry, American," Richtofen spoke up from behind the bulky Marine. "Quite a hurry just to go 'sit around.'"

"Just keep quiet, and I won't kick you down these stairs." Why did Tank feel so disgusting? Like he had touched one of those zombies? He shuddered discreetly. The thought of getting anywhere near those pus-oozing, bulging-eye, musty, moldy zombies gave him the creeps. He snatched the fountain pen from an ajar desk drawer as he passed it, continuing swiftly towards the Russian.

"Mmm, don't vorry. I von't say anyzhing more," Richtofen promised, lagging behind to survey his teammate somewhat suspiciously.

Tank ignored this new found attention, nearly tip-toeing into the room that was serving as Nikolai's quarters. He was camped out in a little room that housed some kind of bright green jar that made strange noises whenever someone was in earshot. Nikolai must like the sound, or he wouldn't sleep to it.

Tank tried not to snicker as he neared the snoring Soviet, whose headgear had rolled off in his sleep, exposing a mop of hair. He welded the fountain pen as if it were a sword, preparing to strike. And when he did, his strikes were quick, clean, and precise.

Richtofen was a bit intrigued by this, so he stayed back a little to peer in at the two men.

The Marine stood back, admiring what he had done, barely able to contain his childish laughter. It had been so long since he had been able to enjoy himself like this. He tossed the fountain pen aside, needing it no longer.

Richtofen rolled his eyes at this behavior.

"Nikolai won't even know he's got a new mustache," Tank whispered triumphantly. That'll show the little bastard not to hide the toilet paper when he has to shit...

"Very funny," the Nazi doctor said dryly. "I am sure zhat Takeo vill laugh his head off vhen he sees zhis."

"Heh, heh, I couldn't agree more."

Done with his mischief, Tank walked out of the room and towards the bridge that would take him to the other side—to the Animal Test Labs. He hadn't expected to still be followed, so when he heard quick strides behind him, he whipped around and found himself face-to-face with the Nazi. "What the hell do ya want?"

"I have nozhing else to do. Surely you von't mind if I continue to tag along, ja?"

Tank grumbled to himself, spinning on his heel to continue his journey down to the labs. "Whatever... Stupid Kraut..." He and Richtofen entered into the room housing the Teleporter A. Its blue Swastika flashed bright blue at them.

The gun box was in this room, and Tank immediately began to rummage through it. When he had gone through every gun and was very bored waiting for Nikolai to wake up, he was suddenly pulled to his feet, spun around, and seated right on top of the box. Richtofen was forcing himself onto his lap, his chapped, thin lips nearly devouring his own unresponsive ones.

"What the hell—" Tank exclaimed through Kraut lips, trying to scoot backwards and away from the other man.

"You vere so very sexy last night," Richtofen rasped at him, tugging at the buttons on Tank's shirt impatiently, "und I vant you so badly." His tongue dragged against the sweaty, salty skin of Marine's neck, and he was nearly purring at the taste.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Tank yelped, trying his best to kick free of the Nazi's tight thighs around his own. His head was pounding. What the hell had he drank?

Richtofen shifted and shoved a rather blunt object against the American's hip, thrusting eagerly. "Dempsey..."

Tank was sure he was going to have a permanent eye twitch after this, as his wouldn't stop. He was disgusted and appalled. "I'm not attracted to men, damn it! Get off!"

"Are you sure?" The Nazi gazed at him seductively under half-lidded eyes. He neared the other man's face, brushing his lips against his. He rubbed his bulge into Tank's crotch, not backing down even when he felt that the other man wasn't aroused by his attentions.

Tank squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away angrily. He put his hands on the smaller man's shoulders and shoved as hard as he could, dislodging the Nazi from his perch upon his lap. He jumped up and staggered away, not bothering to look back at Richtofen, who was still laying on the floor, panting and red-faced.

Damn it, Richtofen cursed in his head. He had been sure that he had him.


Tank snickered uncontrollably when Nikolai had finally woken up and come down to have breakfast with the rest of them. He bit his lip as hard as he could to contain his obnoxious laughter that was threatening to burst out of him.

Takeo glanced at Nikolai for a couple seconds before going back to his solo card game. He did not understand what was so funny.

Richtofen, currently absent, wouldn't have cracked a smile either.

Nikolai groaned when he noticed that they were having rice for breakfast. "Let me guess... Takeo's turn to pick food?"

"You guessed it." Tank lifted his bowl of rice and wolfed it down like a starving dog would.

Takeo gracefully ate his with a pair of worn chopsticks. He most likely kept those on him at all times. He gestured to the other bowls still waiting to be eaten. "It is good and fresh."

Nikolai groaned again, not really in the mood for something so simple. Maybe vodka would help... He groped around on his person, searching for that familiar glass bottle that would serve as his breakfast. When he didn't find it the first time, he reasoned that he had simply not looked well enough. A couple more times of unsuccessful searches had him tensing up.

"Quit gropin' yourself and eat," Tank muttered from behind the bowl he was eating from.

"There must be mistake... Where did Nikolai leave his vodka?"

"Last time I saw it, you were drinkin' out of it. How the hell should I know?"

"He is correct. That is the last time I had seen it, also."

Feeling very uneasy, Nikolai stalked back from where he had come from, on a rampage to find his missing alcohol. His bowl was left untouched and growing cold, so Takeo decided that he would finish it.

Richtofen, whistling cheerfully, entered the room where his two teammates were eating.

Tank avoided looking at him.

"Vhat are ve having? Rice? Ah, vhat a simple yet delicious meal," he lied, grinning ear to ear despite how his morning had gone. He was sporting a new bottle at his waist, the two men noticed.

"What is that?" Takeo inquired quietly, motioning to the bottle. He continued without waiting for a reply, "It appears to me that you have stolen the Russian's alcohol. He is most displeased and will want that back immediately."

"I don't zhink zhat he needs it quite as much as I do today."

Tank was growing more and more uncomfortable being in the same room as the Nazi, so he excused himself by standing up from his seat on top of some dusty manuals and getting out of there as fast as he could.

Richtofen watched him leave, becoming slightly aroused by thinking of what he had planned for the American. He sat next to the Japanese man, watching him play with his deck of cards while slowly eating his rice. He couldn't wait.


"Ugh, what I'd do for a drink right about now," Tank mumbled, his head resting in his hands. He threaded his fingers through his blonde locks, rubbing at his scalp. "At least drunk I wouldn't have to suffer through this headache."

"Zhat can be arranged, if you really vant somezhing to drink," the Nazi announced, seemingly coming from the shadows, a bottle of vodka in his grasp, which was outstretched towards the American.

"Why won't you screw off?" Tank exclaimed, rising to his feet so that he'd be ready to run if the German tried anything. He wasn't in the mood for this.

"Calm down, Dempsey. I only bring you a gift," he said, waving the bottle at him. "It's yours."

"What did you put in it?" Tank bluntly asked, distrustfully eying the bottle.

"Nozhing. It is merely a bottle of vodka."

"Nikolai's, right? Why'd you steal it?"

"For you," Richtofen insisted. "Take it. Drink."

Tank exhaled sharply from his nose, slowly losing inhibition. He could use a good drink right now, and damn it, if this wasn't a gift from above... He held out a hand to receive the bottle. He didn't bother to thank the Nazi when he had the vodka in his fist. He merely uncorked it and took a cautious swig. It tasted like regular vodka...

He sat back down, downing the bottle instantly. After a short time, his head began to swim, his thoughts became jumbled, and his eyesight blurred. He barely saw the smirk upon the doctor's lips before he was no longer consciously aware of what he was doing.

"Finally... Dempsey is all mine," Richtofen cooed, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He shuffled closer to the swaying man, observing him to make sure that he wouldn't attack him for getting close. He placed a finger under the American's chin, lifting it so that he could look into the man's blue eyes.

Tank blinked lazily but said nothing.

Richtofen grabbed him by the jacket and forced him down on top of him, lowering them carefully to the ground. He wrapped his legs around Tank's hips, surrendering himself. His hat tumbled off of his head, and he licked his lips a little nervously. The only thing he was worried about was the way Tank snapped that zombie's wrists last night. He was hoping to keep both of his hands when he got out of this.

Drunken Tank peered down at the man under him, struggling to understand what was going on.

"Have your vay vith me," Richtofen begged, rubbing against him and whispering in his ear. "I vant you..."

Tank furrowed his brow, going over the words until they made sense in his head. He suddenly grinned, as seductively as he had at the zombie he had fucked last night. Drunken Tank was just getting lucky, wasn't he? He grabbed Richtofen's bone-thin wrists in one hand, squashing them against the floor above the man's head, knocking the Nazi hat farther away.

Richtofen began to lightly pant in his excitement. He loved having his wrists bound above his head, and he loved even more feeling so vulnerable. It was a secret fantasy of his that he had never been able to fulfill.

Tank descended upon Richtofen's lips quickly, missing and colliding with his cheek. He kissed that anyway, making his way down to quivering lips. His lips were accepted right away, and he slid his tongue into the warm mouth immediately. His groin began to spring up against the Nazi's already-hard one.

Richtofen sucked slightly on the tongue that was in his mouth, trembling because Tank had already began to stuff a hand down his pants. Even though the man was drunk and clearly not aware of what he was doing, the doctor felt that this would be sufficient enough to please him.

The German moaned wantonly into Tank's mouth when his erection was fondled roughly. He threw his head back, breaking their kiss and licking up the string of saliva that connected them. He blinked up at the ceiling, and his eyes slid closed at the sensations erupting from his groin. Tank knew how to handle a man...

He thrust upwards into Tank's tight grip, crying out in his high-pitched voice, "Ahh! Yesss, Dempsey!"

Tank undid his pants quickly, as well as Richtofen's, and slid them down their hips for more room. He breathed heavily against the Nazi's neck, chuckling when the other man squealed at his finger probing his backside.

Richtofen struggled to relax his tense muscles to make it easier on himself. What he didn't expect was Tank ramming his engorged flesh into him suddenly without any preparation. He shrieked out in pain and pleasure, breaking the man's hold of his wrists and throwing his arms around Tank's neck, tightly gripping onto the man's hips with his thighs. He babbled in German loudly while Tank penetrated him deeply.

They rocked together, with Richtofen making so much noise that it was a wonder that the other two men didn't come to investigate.

It didn't take Tank long to finish, and he poured his warmth inside of Richtofen, who couldn't help but gasp, reaching his own orgasm instantly.

Tank pulled out, falling on the ground nearby, dead asleep.

Richtofen panted exhaustively, his bony chest rising and falling quickly and his body trembling with the aftershocks. He was utterly satisfied. But... he poured the last few drops of vodka out of the bottle that had been discarded near him. He already wanted more from Tank. He was addicted.

He just wished that it didn't take alcohol to make the man want him.

He'd have to fight Nikolai to the death if he wanted another bottle. Thankfully, he wasn't afraid of dying if he could just get some more American tail.