The cummunist dick-tatorship

Chapter 15: Behind closed doors

Stalin's POV:
I won't lie, loving Lenin in secret is hard, but at least I'm loving him at all.
Ok, yes, I want to shout our love from the rooftops, and let the whole world know.
But i think I just have to get used to the fact that that will never happen.
Lenin will never be comfortable with people knowing he's into guys.
Of course it hurts, but he can't control it.
I don't want to pressure him.
We live together now.
We barely interact at work, and when we do we keep it completely professional.
We don't go out on dates, apart from adventures in remote areas that no one is likely to go and see us.
We even talk about girls with the other members, make up names of girls that are our "current sneaky links".
We act close but refrain from appearing too close.
And if anyone asks...we're just "best friends".

Lenin's POV:
Of course I feel guilty, making Stalin hide like this.
But he'll see it's for the best eventually.
No one would accept us, and we can't run away, not with the revolution so close.
So this is the way it has to be.
I've come to accept it, so he must too.
We're decorating our new flat together currently.
We can't stop arguing whether the communist flag should be hung on the ceiling above the bed (my idea) or on the wall in the sitting room (his idea).
Mine's clearly the obvious choice. Who wouldn't want to fall asleep to the beautiful view of that?
"Look, how about I pour you some vodka and we call it a truce?" Stalin offers.
I roll my eyes but say "go on then."
He pours some cheeky vodka, and ok I know it's only 1 o'clock in the afternoon, but hey, it's 5 o'clock somewhere 😝
We cheers and I down my glass in three gulps.
Stalin laughs at me as he sips his.
"That's unlike you," he says.
"I need the buzz," I say as I go to pick up another box of our things that needs unpacking. He nods and chuckles.
A few glasses and boxes of belongings later and we're lying on our sitting room floor, hammered.
"Hey Len, what do you say we run away to another country together? Get married? Own a farm?" Stalin slurs.
"Wow you've thought this through," I giggle.
"Yeah I have," he says, giggling, but when he turns to look at me his gaze is sober.
Perhaps he means what he is suggesting, deep down.
"Oh babe, I wish, I wish we could do that more than anything."
"Maybe we will one day."
"Maybe..." We hold eye contact.
"I can't believe we're boyfriends now," Stalin says suddenly, changing the topic and breaking the eye contact by looking away.
"I know right, if you had told me when we first met, we would be dating, I would've laughed in your face." I admit.
"Ha, thanks. Yeah you kinda hated me didn't you?"
"Not kinda, I did."
"Did you really though? Like...proper hate me." He asks, and he appears unusually vulnerable.
"Well...no, probably not. I think I just hated your ego. Found you...overly confident." I say truthfully.
He least out a small laugh.
"Come on, you have to admit you have a massive ego Stalin," I nudge him, giggling.
"Ugh ok maybe you're right," he's blushing a deep red now, it's so cute.
"But I've grown to love that quality now, I don't hate it."
"That's good to know."
He smiles warmly at me and I touch his cheek tenderly.
What happens next...is between me, Stalin, and the communist flag that hangs above us on the ceiling of the sitting room.