Written while I was bored during the evacuation. Please enjoy! I think the thing I like most about Ivan and Alfred is how vicious I can be with them xD
I do not own Hetalia.
The meetings between the nations went the same each time, just like any other before it in the long years they'd been doing them. One country presented, the others listened as much as they could, and Alfred and Ivan silently stared each other down. Both of their gazes was hard as steel, gleaming like the polished metal of their nuclear weaponry and promising just as much pain and devastation to whoever should cross the nations.
The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on. It was cloying and distracting, making some of the countries visibly tremble just to be near either of the feuding pair.
The emotions swirled so taut between the two that it felt wrong to place something as fragile as a table between them. After all, Ivan could easily kick it to the side with one large boot where Alfred could likely punch the entire thing in half if they ever really wanted to get at each other.
With each meeting it felt more and more likely that this was it; that it would finally be the breaking point. Each country wondered how they could stand to be within the same room for more than a few minutes without trying to throttle or fuck the other.
It was during one such meeting, while Francis did his best to ignore the incredible sexual frustration ruminating in the very air and deliver his presentation, that the thing that had been building up over the years finally spilled over.
"That is a stupid idea, France." Russia said, eyes on America as he spoke. The blond narrowed his blue eyes at him, fists clenching. He knew the damned ruski had only said that to be contradictory. Ivan didn't care about what Francis did. He didn't care what anyone did.
Only what Alfred did.
"Shut the fuck up, Russia." America responded with venom in his voice. He leaned forward in his chair, glasses glinting aggressively in the light. "No one cares what you have to say."
"Oh?" Russia leaned forward as well, placing one gloved hand on the table while the other rested on the top of his ever present pipe. His fingers slid across the smooth surface, caressing it while his violet eyes remained locked on sky-blue. "Says who? Someone of importance I hope? Because I don't think the opinion of a capitalist child of a nation matters to anyone."
"Child?" America seethed the word and stands up, the usual anger and annoyance raging up from when England would call him that. Coupling the age old wound with his current arch nemesis only added fuel to the fire, making him visibly tremble with his hatred towards the other nation. "I'll show you who's a child you commie bastard!"
"Throwing a temper tantrum doesn't help you prove your point, America." Ivan replied with a sneer, violet eyes lit with the promise and hunger for violence. He didn't stand, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, making a show of not being intimidated in the least by the angry blond.
"I don't fucking need to prove a damn thing to you, you fucking ruski!" Alfred snarled the words, his vocabulary taking a nose-dive under the influence of his rage. He didn't normally cuss like his sailors but when presented with the filthy excuse for a nation in front of him he couldn't help but dip down into that sort of language. Fuck the Russian and all that communism bullshit he stood for!
"How clever you sound, America. Swearing like a child not used to the words." Ivan smirked and visibly relaxed back in his seat. He wasn't actually; his hand was still on his pipe and he was ready to spring up at any moment should the younger nation do anything.
"Shut the hell up!" Alfred saw red; the red of his anger, the red of this communist bastard and he'd soon see the red of his commie blood, too. He reached within his coat and drew his gun, finger sliding to the trigger faster than the other nations could scramble away from him. On the opposite side of the table was a similar reaction, countries diving opposite directions to get away from the developing situation as fast as possible.
Especially when the big Russian stood up and withdrew his pipe, soft kols falling past his lips.
Quick as lightning the table was nearly ripped apart, surface broken by a tanned fist and legs demolished by a heavy swing of metal. It crumbled in the middle, parts falling off to make way for the two countries but not completely falling down. The end result was a canyon straight through the once sturdy looking conference table.
While Russia and America advanced on each other through the ruin of the table other countries moved to either of the ends still standing, some clinging to each other while others tried to defuse the situation. Neither Russia nor America heard a word, eyes and ears all for the other.
They collided nearly in the center; more towards Russia's original seat but only because the American was nearly jogging into the oncoming warzone in his excitement.
"You are being childish, pig." Russia grunted and swung his pipe at America's head. The younger nation dodged nimbly and threw a punch, aiming for the larger man's gut. His fist was caught, gloved fingers squeezing in a way that would break fingers on a human.
"I'm not a child, fucking commie!" Rather than pull back from the pain America lunged forward with his other hand, pistol-whipping Ivan across the face. He yanked his hand back when the grip relaxed, giving a smug shout of triumph before he made to punch again.
The forgotten pipe whistled through the air and collided with his side, cracking against the ball of his hip and shattering bone. Yelping from the pain America momentarily staggered back.
Ivan muttered something darkly in his mother tongue, the tone giving away the insult, and followed him up; never giving them space, not trusting Alfred to leave outside of his reach. He swung the pipe again, toward the others knee.
Violet eyes widened when the American grunted with effort and leaped high in the air despite his injury. The Russian licked his lips as the blond hit the ground running, immediately jumping towards him and tackling him against one of the still standing sides of the table. They rolled along its jagged edge, the both of them biting and clawing and punching while the snapped wood grated across both their backs and tore at their clothing.
Suddenly Alfred's hands were in Ivan's hair, the young man snarling up at the older nation with such a look of rage it made the rest of the worlds nations cringe back in shock and slight fear. Before anyone could move Ivan had leaned down, his expression equal to Alfred's ferocity. Neither gave an inch, not even when their lips collided in a deep, brutal kiss.
The sudden kissing drove the two even more wild; biting lips and viciously sucking tongues, nails scratching through clothing and against skin where the material of their shirts had been ripped from the table. Ivan's pipe clattered to the floor within the heat of the moment but Alfred managed to keep a hold of his gun, gripping onto the older nation through the trigger guard and around the handle.
"I'll show you who's'a kid!" Alfred whispered against kiss heated lips and threw his weight against Ivan suddenly, tossing him off and against the opposite table-half with enough force that it skittered over a full foot and he'd likely bruised the other man's spine. He moved onto the Russian within moments, fingers tangling in light hair again and dragging the groaning nation up into another hard kiss.
Large hands landed on lean hips, cupping and pulling the smaller male closer; squeezing the crushed bone harshly and devouring the pained sound that spilled into the kiss. He groaned when a knee was forced between the older nations legs and up against an obvious bulge, grinding against the trapped heat with a forceful pressure that was not-quite-pain-not-quite-pleasure.
Before Alfred could retaliate further Ivan flipped them, slamming the American down onto the table and pinning him there with his weight. America struggled immediately, hissing as Russia leaned his weight on his injured hip.
Lips met again and again, the constant crash of teeth and tongues only pushing the spiral of hate and lust higher and higher in a fight for dominance that didn't appear to have an end. Hips rolled despite the pain, grinding together and igniting a heavy inferno between the two that threatened to consume the whole building.
The Russian reached into his coat when Alfred bit his upper lip and sucked the blood off. Ivan could feel the small body coiling to flip them again and he would have none of it. Instead he pulled out his knife, plunging the blade deep into the American's shoulder; all the way through the meat and imbedding it into the wood of the table, pinning him there.
"Fuck!" Alfred cursed loudly, arching up against the unforgiving metal and grimacing. The wound was an instant throbbing ache that began to spread out from the area of penetration. Blood welled thick and fast, pouring out all over the tabletop.
"Hold still." Ivan murmured softly, smirking. He leaned down for another crushing kiss, hand still gripping the handle so Alfred couldn't reach up and pull it out or slit his throat with it.
America met the demanding mouth above him with no resistance and an abundance of ferocity, bucking his bruised and broken hips with a low moan. He dug his fingers into Ivan's hair again, nails biting at his scalp while his other hand tightened around the gun he still held.
Bringing the weapon up between them Alfred wedged it up close against Ivan's chest. He lowered the hand from Ivan's hair to his neck, arm flexing with his super-strength to hold him there while the muzzle of his gun slid over to rest right against Russia's heart.
"Don't tell me what to do." The blond pulled the trigger easily, a smirk twisting his kiss swollen and blood smeared lips. Blood and meat exploded out from the close range shot, showering the both of them and mixing in with the large puddle already forming under the pinned nation.
"Stupid American." Russia chuckled, voice deep with lust and hate and need. He ground his erection in against the throbbing length of his adversary. He felt both sensitive organs twitch, as eager as their owners were to keep going despite the pain. He leaned down and rest his forehead against Alfred's, eyes feverish and smile wicked. "My heart fell out long ago."
"I should have guessed. Fucking commie." Alfred's eyes gleamed with the same kind of intensity behind his glasses. His smile was just as twisted as the Russian's and even more unsettling because of how unnatural it was to see such an expression on the blond's features.
Abruptly Ivan pulled away, the usual tension between them gone.
Alfred dropped his arms away without a fuss. He gripped the handle of the knife and yanked it out with hardly a grimace, holding it out to the other without properly standing up or even sitting up from where he was laid out in a still growing puddle of his own blood.
"Lazy." Ivan purred, taking the blade and licking some of the blood off. It tasted sweet and only made him grin wider. He didn't bother to offer a helping hand to Alfred as he strode away with a huge grin on his face and an aura of smug satisfaction; limping not from his wounds but from the painful tightness of his pants. A patter of red trailed after him all the way to the door as the hole in his chest bled out.
Alfred just lay his head back against the table, grinning to himself as well and hurting all over. He was covered with bruises and bitemarks, bleeding from some while his hip and shoulder throbbed. But damn if he wasn't the hardest he'd ever been in all his years as a nation.
The other nation's could only look on; completely transfixed by the utter brutality they'd just witnessed.