Out Cold: Chapter 11

It was now 1946.

Russia, ever true to his word, still hadn't given up on you and was on the verge of being a stalker. It was perfectly normal to find him, sometimes with the Baltic Trio, trailing after you. He would also regularly send you sunflowers, various Russian delicacies, and other things that he thought you might like.

America and you were still going strong and were as happy with each other as ever. His only complaint was about your Russian stalker, but otherwise he was content with life with you. Everything was going well and it could almost be called perfect.

That was, at least, until the fifth of March.

---

Alfred had told you that the British Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, would be visiting a college in Missouri to give a speech. As his boss was going to introduce Prime Minister Churchill to the audience that meant that Alfred and you would go along with him.

So on the day of the speech, Alfred and you had found Arthur and sat together, as it was courteous and polite for the hosting nation to sit with the visiting one. The three of you exchanged light banter before the speech, but immediately hushed up once the President began to speak. After the President's introduction, the Prime Minister began to speak.

His speech was quite well-worded in your opinion, and you listened intently as he spoke. But somewhere amongst all the well-weaved sentences and phrases, a term unfamiliar to you came up.

The term was "iron curtain."

---

After the Prime Minister's speech, you had grasped the concept of the term "iron curtain." It had meant something along the lines of separating Eastern and Western Europe, Eastern Europe being controlled mainly by Soviet power.

As you thought over the curious phrase, Alfred was speaking with Arthur, his tone urgent and concerned.

"What do you think he's up to?" Alfred asked as he wound his fingers through his dirty blonde hair.

Arthur sighed and shrugged. "I'm not sure, but it's bloody suspicious."

"Well, I think that we should leave him be for now. I don't want to start anything unless it's necessary."

Arthur nodded gravely. "Agreed."

A smile tugged on Alfred's lips. "So, England, do you want to go to dinner with Name and me?"

Arthur's eye twitched. "If it has anything to do with burgers—"

A hearty laugh came from Alfred. "No, it's a fancy restaurant with salad, steak, and wine. You know, the works."

A moment passed as Arthur contemplated the offer. "May I ask what the occasion is?"

"No real occasion, England," Alfred answered. "I just want to go out for dinner with my girl and my best friend is all."

"Best friend, you say?" Arthur chuckled and nodded. "I would love to go to dinner with you and Name."

---

You curled up against Alfred, content with the warmth of his body and the lazy kiss he pressed to your temple. A yawn slipped past your lips and he began to stroke your hair in a comforting manner. His touch was making you sleepier and sleepier, but you wanted to talk.

"Dinner was great, right Al?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it was."

"You and Arthur seem to be getting along better," you noted with a small smile.

He chuckled and looked down at you through half-lidded eyes, a smirk quirking his lips. "It took him a few decades, but I guess he finally warmed up to me."

You returned his chuckle and kissed his jaw. "Arthur just has a problem with emotions. If he really didn't like you then he wouldn't have worked with you at all."

Alfred hummed in agreement. "Yeah, you have a point." He pulled the covers up and over you both and nestled his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder.

You wove your fingers into his hair and pulled him closer with the other. "Sleepy?"

"Just a little bit."

"I'll go turn the lights—"

"Wait, I need to do something first," he interrupted.

With a sigh, Alfred disentangled himself from you and got out of bed. He walked over to the window and pulled the curtains back, and then he wearily peered out into the night. Suddenly, he stiffened and abruptly opened the window.

There was a faint "Where is Аляска?" from outside.

Alfred groaned and leaned out the window. "She's asleep! Now will you kindly go back to your house?!"

"Not until I see my Аляска!"

Extremely irked, Alfred slammed the window shut, turned out the lights, and climbed back into bed with you.

Due to the distinct accent and word usage of the speaker, you had a good idea as to who was standing outside the window.

"How did you know Russia was out there?"

Alfred smiled bitterly. "Just a hunch."

That smile indicated otherwise.

"Alfred, I want the truth."

His eyes narrowed. "Every single night for the past . . . I don't know, year? Russia's been sneaking around our house and shouting 'Аляска!' like a madman. So after you fall asleep I open up the window to tell him to scram, and now it's a habit to check for him."

"How come you never told me?"

He grunted and shrugged. "I didn't want you to worry."

You caressed his face and gingerly kissed his forehead. "Al . . ."

"Can't you just tell him to leave you alone?"

Your eyes drifted over to his drowsily. "I'll do that next time I see him, all right?"

Nodding, he pulled his glasses off and set them on the nightstand. "All right. But if he isn't gone after that, I'm going to take a pistol and—"

"Alfred," you said sternly.

"Sorry, babe," he replied with a chuckle, "I'm protective over my territory."

"Stop calling me that. It makes me feel like . . . you own me."

He snorted. "I sort of do, hon."

A moment of quiet then passed between you both.

That quiet was broken with a sudden proclamation of: "Al, I want to be a state."

Alfred sputtered and stared at you in shock. "You're joking."