China stirs to the unmistakable muzzle of a Kord machine gun digging into the small of his back. Or what he could have sworn was a Kord until he actually reaches around with every righteous intention to remove the offending object from the vicinity of his person, only to come into contact with what was unmistakably not a firearm of any kind. (Not the conventional kind, anyway.)
An almost imperceptible intake of breath from behind accompanies China's rude awakening. The Asian nation retracts his hand hurriedly, cursing and willing his bedmate to just go back to sleep. No such luck.
The long arm flung across his chest curls tighter, almost uncomfortably so, as if in warning. The low, sleep-thickened "Доброе утро" that followed is colored with amusement, however. "Why did you stop?"
"There was nothing to stop to begin with." China sits up abruptly, pressing the heel of one hand to his eyes while bracing himself against the solid length of a anti-tank missile with the other. One of his own, he realizes with a momentary surge of pride and self-satisfaction.
"This is the third time this week," Russia remarks.
"I know." Grimacing absently, China rakes a hand through the dark mess of sleep-mussed hair. Shifting his weight brings his hip in contact with--he glances down to make sure--a wake-homing torpedo. One of many from Russia. And very much on his side of the bed. Good.
"Last time you mistook it for an S-13."
"I know."
"And the time before that--"
"--the Tsar cannon, I know," China snaps. "It's not my fault if all your equipment feels similar! And you were the one who brought that antiquity to bed in the first place!"
Russia hums noncommitantly. "I can't say I was offended much," he offers, waiting patiently for the other to lie back down.
China doesn't. Nor does he move to get out of bed though. Rather, he takes the moment to resurvey this shared room of theirs under an increasingly critical eye. Stockpiles of sleek gun-metal grey cover what little floor space is left not-allotted to the bed. And as far as he could see, complete with a twinge of festering frustration, most were of Russian make.
"You know," he begins, coolly, "you never did share the Pelena-1 hardware designs." China doesn't need to look at the large Slavic nation to know when the whimsical camaraderie melts away.
Russia's sighs he pushes himself up. "But you don't need them--what's the point of purchasing incomplete kits if you can just buy the completed product instead?"
China smiles, a humorless curving of his mouth, and says nothing. They both know well enough where this conversation leads. They've had it before.
Instead he traces the contour of a Hong Jian without ever taking his eyes off Russia's face. "You know I will catch up very soon," he says.
"Shall we continue to share this bed then?"
Perched atop the metal-munition mattress, both nations watch each other carefully--all the while unmoving, unblinking.
It takes a couple of more uncomfortable heartbeats before China finally relaxes enough to reach across the unseen line between them, careless of the spare parts that are dislodged in the process. "For now," he relents, and, with a handful of scarf, reels the blond closer. He'll still be needing raw materials after he's figured out everything else, after all.
Anon was a little hesitant with picking up this request since innuendo is her forte and the prompt deserved so much more than that. Thank you for approving though!
Damn this was cool -- and totally different to anything I could have come up with for this prompt. I love the image of them rolling around on a big bed of weapons!
Ivan's, heh, weapon being mistaken for the Tsar Cannon absolutely made my day ♥
"Ivan's, heh, weapon being mistaken for the Tsar Cannon absolutely made my day"
This. Totally. It would never have occurred to me to take this prompt so, uh, literally. XD So much mileage out of how surreal and funny that image is!
OMG out of ALL THE DAYS (TWO DAYS DAMMIT) I don't check this some anon writes this. OH GAWD ANON I EFFIN LOVE YOU. YOU HAVE MY FIRST BORN!
asdfjdfhsjfd The WEAPONS. YOU. ARE. LOVE. I mean that was so original and well written and YAO AND IVAN WERE PERFECT and g-guh. You researched so much! A-AND THE TSAR CANON - 5.3. OHO~ Watch out Gilbo!
So uh yeah INCOHERENT OP IS INCOHERENT. ._. I-ILU so much anon! IT WAS AWESOME.
EDIT: I-I uhm...accidentally pressed 'post a new comment' instead of reply. (-IT'S SOMETHINGSOMETHING IN THE MORNING. BLAME THAT. D:)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
BWAHA COMMUNIST SHIPPING
(Anonymous) 2009-01-23 01:42 am (UTC)(link)...This request is for rubashov, for making the comment, and trophycollector, for prompting
forcingme to post this request. (JK love you too)REQUEST: USE THIS QUOTE:
"The Chinese and Russians are like long-term lovers who are thinking, 'Shall we continue to share this bed?'"
From this link: http://www.iht.com/articles/2008/03/02/asia/arms.php
IF ANYONE DOES THIS REQUEST, YOU GET MY FIRSTBORN <33333333
Bed of Guns, Not Roses [1/1]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-30 11:46 pm (UTC)(link)____________________
China stirs to the unmistakable muzzle of a Kord machine gun digging into the small of his back. Or what he could have sworn was a Kord until he actually reaches around with every righteous intention to remove the offending object from the vicinity of his person, only to come into contact with what was unmistakably not a firearm of any kind. (Not the conventional kind, anyway.)
An almost imperceptible intake of breath from behind accompanies China's rude awakening. The Asian nation retracts his hand hurriedly, cursing and willing his bedmate to just go back to sleep. No such luck.
The long arm flung across his chest curls tighter, almost uncomfortably so, as if in warning. The low, sleep-thickened "Доброе утро" that followed is colored with amusement, however. "Why did you stop?"
"There was nothing to stop to begin with." China sits up abruptly, pressing the heel of one hand to his eyes while bracing himself against the solid length of a anti-tank missile with the other. One of his own, he realizes with a momentary surge of pride and self-satisfaction.
"This is the third time this week," Russia remarks.
"I know." Grimacing absently, China rakes a hand through the dark mess of sleep-mussed hair. Shifting his weight brings his hip in contact with--he glances down to make sure--a wake-homing torpedo. One of many from Russia. And very much on his side of the bed. Good.
"Last time you mistook it for an S-13."
"I know."
"And the time before that--"
"--the Tsar cannon, I know," China snaps. "It's not my fault if all your equipment feels similar! And you were the one who brought that antiquity to bed in the first place!"
Russia hums noncommitantly. "I can't say I was offended much," he offers, waiting patiently for the other to lie back down.
China doesn't. Nor does he move to get out of bed though. Rather, he takes the moment to resurvey this shared room of theirs under an increasingly critical eye. Stockpiles of sleek gun-metal grey cover what little floor space is left not-allotted to the bed. And as far as he could see, complete with a twinge of festering frustration, most were of Russian make.
"You know," he begins, coolly, "you never did share the Pelena-1 hardware designs." China doesn't need to look at the large Slavic nation to know when the whimsical camaraderie melts away.
Russia's sighs he pushes himself up. "But you don't need them--what's the point of purchasing incomplete kits if you can just buy the completed product instead?"
China smiles, a humorless curving of his mouth, and says nothing. They both know well enough where this conversation leads. They've had it before.
Instead he traces the contour of a Hong Jian without ever taking his eyes off Russia's face. "You know I will catch up very soon," he says.
"Shall we continue to share this bed then?"
Perched atop the metal-munition mattress, both nations watch each other carefully--all the while unmoving, unblinking.
It takes a couple of more uncomfortable heartbeats before China finally relaxes enough to reach across the unseen line between them, careless of the spare parts that are dislodged in the process. "For now," he relents, and, with a handful of scarf, reels the blond closer. He'll still be needing raw materials after he's figured out everything else, after all.
____________________
Re: Bed of Guns, Not Roses [1/1]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-31 01:57 pm (UTC)(link)And very clever too. Well researched. *gives stamp of approval*
Nice to see allegorical stuff on the kink meme. With a bit of innuendo too. :D
Re: Bed of Guns, Not Roses [1/1]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-31 05:34 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Bed of Guns, Not Roses [1/1]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-31 05:44 pm (UTC)(link)Ivan's, heh, weapon being mistaken for the Tsar Cannon absolutely made my day ♥
Re: Bed of Guns, Not Roses [1/1]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-31 06:34 pm (UTC)(link)This. Totally. It would never have occurred to me to take this prompt so, uh, literally. XD So much mileage out of how surreal and funny that image is!
Thank you, writer!anon!
Re: Bed of Guns, Not Roses [1/1]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-31 11:51 pm (UTC)(link)Welcome!
Re: Bed of Guns, Not Roses [1/1]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-31 11:49 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Bed of Guns, Not Roses [1/1]
(Anonymous) 2009-02-01 06:22 am (UTC)(link)asdfjdfhsjfd The WEAPONS. YOU. ARE. LOVE. I mean that was so original and well written and YAO AND IVAN WERE PERFECT and g-guh. You researched so much! A-AND THE TSAR CANON - 5.3. OHO~ Watch out Gilbo!
So uh yeah INCOHERENT OP IS INCOHERENT. ._. I-ILU so much anon! IT WAS AWESOME.
EDIT: I-I uhm...accidentally pressed 'post a new comment' instead of reply. (-IT'S SOMETHINGSOMETHING IN THE MORNING. BLAME THAT. D:)
Re: Bed of Guns, Not Roses [1/1]
(Anonymous) 2009-02-03 03:43 am (UTC)(link)