Tension was high in the house, to say the least. Every day Alfred had to wake up and see that fucking twisted smile on that fucking commie bastard's face. Said commie bastard had been here a few weeks now and Alfred still couldn't get over it. Every day was a struggle for the two to coexist peacefully in the home they now shared. And Alfred couldn't have been more against the situation.

They ate together, they slept together, they even showered together (neither one was willing to relinquish the shower in the morning to wait for the other so they usually just wound up dead-locked and showering away from the other). After awhile though, thankfully, it became tolerable at least.

Alfred had to try to keep most of his snide comments to himself, and, most of the time, he succeeded. But then, sometimes when his hormones acted up, he was the farthest thing from 'nice' on the planet. It didn't happen too often though, and as time went on, he started to get more used to the changes in his body and read a lot of pregnancies books so that he would know what to expect. He didn't read the books with Ivan but he did leave them out so the commie bastard could read them on his own time. After all, it wouldn't do anyone any good if only one of them new exactly what they were doing.

Such an occurrence happened three months into the pregnancy. Alfred and Ivan tolerated each other by now, and they could actually have civil conversations, but being together too long drove each other crazy. That's why they each adopted their own hobbies and habits as a way to minimalize contact with one another. Alfred used to do things like woodshop and mechanics, after all, there was nothing better than driving around in an 1934 all American-made beaut of an automobile that you worked on yourself and fixed her up just right. But, sadly, such hobbies were too dangerous for him now, even at such an early state in his pregnancy, he had been advised to avoid things that could be potentially dangerous to him and the child. And working underneath a two ton car or at a soldering bench didn't exactly warrant all over safety. So these days, Alfred found himself reading most of the time or doing relaxing exercises like Yoga.

But one day, after Ivan had mentioned something about Alfred overexerting himself or something like that, the blonde hadn't really been paying attention to the other, he got a bit miffed and decided to try some harder poses. After all, the really hard one mostly involved lifting yourself off the ground or bending your legs a certain way, so that meant that nothing bad would happen to his stomach so it should be perfectly fine. Sound logic, yes? Not exactly so.

Alfred was doing…something. He wasn't too sure what to call it. It probably wasn't even Yoga anymore; moreso just extreme stretches now. It actually felt good though, Alfred was always up for a challenge and discovering his own flexibility was like a mini triumph of his own. That is, until he pulled his legs behind his head and they got stuck and it hurt like a bitch. "Ow…"

He had actually whimpered, dammit it hurt! He tried to bend his neck forward more to relieve the pressure and make his leg fall naturally but it didn't work. His back was stiff from the pain the position and his legs were starting to cramp up. After a few more unsuccessful attempts, Alfred began to panic just a little, afraid that he would have to call a doctor, when he remembered that he had a hulking Russian just upstairs that could probably help him. "Ivan…." He called weakly at first and he wanted to kick himself for it. "Ivan!" he called louder. Momentarily, the padding of heavy feet were heard coming downstairs. "Fredka, what is-?" Ivan stopped short at the doorway and just looked puzzled as he took in the sight of his American not exactly lover. "…Fredka, what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to be a pretzel- I'm fucking stuck you idiot fucking help me!"

Ivan frowned and walked over to the freezer but tutted the other on the way back. "So cruel Fredka, yet you expect me to help? It is your pig-headed ways which make you stuck. Why you do such a thing, I do not know." Though he chastised him, he was surprisingly helpful and made Alfred press the ice pack that he'd grabbed from the freezer to his leg while Ivan worked on massaging the clenching muscles of his calves. After a few minutes and applying the same treatment to both legs, Alfred could finally begin to feel his legs loosen before, again, with Ivan's help, his legs slipped from behind his head and he was finally able to relax as he just plopped himself on the floor, stretching out his sore legs but sighing with relief.

"Thanks dude. I thought I was a totally goner." He rubbed a sore spot on his leg while Ivan just smirked at him. "Da, you are lucky I am here. You would not survive without me with your careless, reckless ways."

Alfred narrowed his eyes and sat up a bit. "Hey asshole, I just thanked you, I didn't ask for an insult with injury."

"Ah, but if you were more disciplined and less careless then perhaps we would not be having this conversation, da?"

"OMG, could you stop? I hate it when you do this. I made one little mistake, big fucking deal! I only asked for your help because it was convenient anyways, like I'll ever really need someone like you."

"Da, da. The American talks much but he listens little. Bark away little puppy, I will not be giving you the attention."

"Grr…that's it!" Alfred got up and hobbled slightly out of the room. "I'm taking a nap and you're sleeping on the couch tonight, I'm so fucking pissed at you!" He hissed and left with a huff.