Where I sleep (there's your home)

The new arrangement

Constructing elaborate military plans was equally enjoyable and exhausting. Such was the ambivalent nature of many things in life, but with enough motivation to fuel his enthusiasm, Reich could spend hours at his table with a map spread out across the surface with various lines crossing the paper. He found delight and satisfaction in strategizing, although, this activity had its fair share of repercussions.

It was no secret that Reich was most invested in forming and aligning strategies, while Soviet was more skilled at combat and physical tournament. Their skills complemented each other and proved to be great foundations for an alliance despite how strange their cooperation might have seemed.

Fighting side by side, though, came with the need to outline and harmonize their movements with meticulous precision (even if Soviet viewed their long meetings as 'a waste of time'). Discussing military matters sometimes stretched well into the night, and as these occasions grew in frequency, visible effects started to appear on both of them. Most prominently, Reich's sleeping patterns began to shift. Soviet was eager to point this out at the first unintentional yawn that escaped the German.

"You look like shit."

Well, it could have been phrased better but it conveyed the same message nonetheless. Tact was evidently not Soviet's strong suit.

"At least I only look like this when I'm tired. You, on the other hand, always look like trash." Reich retorted, but his words lacked their usual malice.

Soviet watched as the other's eyes fluttered in a weak attempt to keep the German awake. Reich's head was perched on his palm, elbow resting atop the table as he tried to support his weight on the wooden furniture. Soviet couldn't help but smile as the German's elbow slipped off the table, startling the other awake and evoking a series of muffled curses from the man. Reich was sometimes too stubborn for his own good.

"Let's call it a day," Soviet proposed as he stood up with the determination to return to his bedroom. He needed to be well-rested so he could perform well in battle - a detail Reich often refused to acknowledge.

"Gow then, Idwont care-" Reich said but his speech began to slur as another yawn escaped his body, "I can work better when you're not here, anyway."

This statement was accented by the slow closing of his eyelids as sleep began to lure him into sweet mindlessness, accompanied by Soviet's unimpressed eye roll. The Russian was too tired to start an argument they had already discussed a million times in the past, but this time around, Soviet did not plan to abandon the other to his own devices. The Russian supposed it was due to the fear that if Reich pulled another all-nighter, it could backfire on the battlefield and Soviet could not afford such risk. He stepped behind the other's chair while Reich began to doze off despite him insisting mere minutes ago that he was not tired. With a swift movement, Soviet hauled the German up by his waist and threw him across his shoulder effortlessly. Reich's eyes snapped open at once, only to be faced with the familiar fur coat of his ally.

"What the hell?!" Reich shrieked while delivering a weak blow to Soviet's back, "Arschloch, where are you taking me?"

"To bed."

"Nein!" Reich voiced his disapproval before his head suddenly collided with the doorframe.

"Oops, izvini," Soviet chuckled, all too amused by the other's vain attempts to escape.

"I need to work! I finally figured out how to attack France without facing strong resistance!" The German said, his struggling unceasing. Soviet had to give it to him, Reich was persistent. His previous fatigue seemed to have completely disappeared, much to the Russian's annoyance.