Hello! We are Cat and Bee from RusCanWonderland on Tumblr.

Disclaimers, Notes & Warnings:

We do not own Hetalia or any characters within.

Warnings: Gore, prostitution, murder,

Notes: This is heavily based off of Gangs of New York, so that's pretty much what this AU is known as between us.

The first rays of light always woke Ivan up slowly and relatively pleasantly. Swinging his legs off the edge of his bed, the man would sigh and close his eyes, back to the window, scars gleaming against his pale back and arms in the sunlight before he stood and walked to his wash basin, picking up his cream and lathering his face before he dragged his straight razor across his face slowly, carefully. Occasionally he would knick himself and not bother to clean the blood from his face as he cleaned the blade and slid it shut, placing it on the basin once more before wiping his face of the remaining cream, unwinding, then rebinding the bandages about his neck. Once he was done with that he would turn to his wardrobe and pull on his pants and boots before he pulled on his white shirt and blue jacket, fastening the brass buttons and rolling the long sleeves up to the thick roll of his biceps, white gloves on his hands and his hat perched on his head. Most Bowry Boys dressed in a strict manner, a professional manner, but Ivan didn't care for it. Not when he was walking the most difficult beat the entire city within the Five Points. Grabbing the thick hammer that he carried, the long handle resting easily over his shoulder, the man stepped down the stairs of his apartment to the dirt-filled street.

Ivan's violet eyes swept the desecration that littered the entire area, children screaming and sick, women flaunting their breasts at passing strangers, men sneering at Ivan as he walked by, their eyes averting in wary respect.

"Mr. Braginski." A woman smiled, rotting teeth falling out and Ivan smiled in his own closed-lipped way at her as she handed him a roll glazed with something sweet. "Thank you." She whispered and Ivan nodded, allowing the woman to bend his body until she could press a kiss to his silver hair.

Many people wondered as to why the man's hair was so pale, and quite a few would say because working in the Five Points had drained him of his youth. And as he walked it was easy to see that it might have aged his face, but he still walked with the upright confidence of when he had first started to walk the beat. He had to go uptown for a bit, but always made it a point to walk the streets to check on those that he protected and cared for, to hand out a few coins here and there and to speak with those that needed to hear his words, be they reassuring or threatening.

Eventually the aged male managed to catch a trolley uptown towards the police station, getting off in the richer section of town and walking towards his destination. He blinked at the sight that caught his eyes between the grates of a gate, a young girl opening her maid's uniform, the glint of diamonds and emeralds catching the man's eye with a frown as he walked forward.

"You." He called, pushing open the gate and swinging his hammer down to dangle at his side. "What are you doing?"

Head snapping around to regard the officer, blonde curls already tumbling out of the updo that was half encased in a tiny lace bonnet, the blonde 'maid' regarded the hammer at the man's side and instantly started to back up. Pale hands raised in defense and a gracious step backwards was taken, before realization dawned in wide blue eyes. In seconds the sparkling jewels were being hidden again by the collar of the maid uniform and a hand reached down to gather black skirts in order to hurriedly walk away.

Ivan frowned and reached out, grabbing the smaller figure and whirling them around, blinking in surprise when he realized that the young girl was in fact a young man, the front of the uniform opened enough to reveal the false bosom sewn into a corset. The man frowned and raised an eyebrow at the blonde, his grip unrelenting. "And what are you doing? Being a little turtledove?"

The rule with these officers was generally not to give them any information. If Matthew spoke too much it could clue them in to where he took his treasures to in order to receive money in return, and that was like revealing where the main nest of a singular rat was. But this week had been long, tiring,…and the last thing Matthew wanted was to argue with an officer when he had blatantly been caught.

"Please," he started, voice soft and scratchy as if he'd been up all night screaming which was not that far fetched to imagine. "…I work here. I'm just trying to go home."

At least half of that excuse wasn't a lie.

Ivan looked over the blonde, sighing before he reached out and unclasped the necklace, his fingers hooking into the front against the pale collarbone before lifting the jewels. "Don't steal." He murmured before he reached into his shirt pocket and counted out a few wrinkled bills, handing them to the blonde. The total added up to about twenty dollars, enough for a week's worth of food. "Get out of here." He ordered, leading the blonde out of the gate before he walked up to the front, necklace still in hand as he knocked on the door.

The door swung open and a small maid squeaked as she saw the gems, eyes wide as the man held them out to her. "Just slip these back into their place, that's a good girl." The man smiled. "Don't let the lady know that they were gone, don't worry her needlessly." The girl nodded and whimpered as she took the gems and scurried back inside, slamming the door shut behind her as Ivan turned and started down the street again, one hand in his pocket and the other balancing the large hammer on his shoulder."

Matthew glared hard at the officer as he watched the man go up the front door and return the pieces he had stolen. What was he supposed to do with money? Gilbert was expecting him to bring back objects, not paper bills, and he was now officially empty handed. He could just lay low for a few days and hope the butcher didn't notice, but that was highly unlikely. Gilbert had eyes and ears all over the city and he would find out eventually.

Sighing, Matthew buttoned the top of his faux uniform back up before withdrawing a coin that would get him back to the outskirts of the five points. Perhaps he could find a poor, naive fellow that he could lean close to and let him attempt a peek at his fake bosom while he worked off his pocket watch.

It wasn't a diamond necklace, but it would do.

Arriving back in the dirtier parts of town, Matthew made his way through the streets, ignoring lewd gestures and calls as he made his way to a building that served as a meeting place of sorts. Downstairs was a popular tavern that bustled day and night, and upstairs, where Matthew's heeled boots were leading him, was a club where gang members met, hidden under the disguise of a hotel. There were rooms, but they weren't used for sleeping.

Halfway up the stairs he was intercepted by a pair of slender hands, the touch shocking him slightly. A pair of kind, tired blue eyes that nearly matched his own smiled at him and Matthew breathed a breath of relief. "Papa…"

Francis smiled and kissed his forehead, his expression questioning without the use of words how Matthew's day went.

White fingers, thin and strong hooked into a chain around Matthew's neck, pulling up a pocketwatch and a cold smirk on the lips of the man. "Looks like the day went poorly." The man traced his fingers over the curve of Matthew's cheek. "What's wrong, bludget? Bad day?"

Matthew's eyes hardened but the expression was masked as he tilted his head from the fingers on his face, his gaze landing on the wall beside where they stood. "It was too difficult to take without getting caught," was his excuse as he tilted his head back to regard the owner of those white fingers, flirtatious and hopefully pretty.

"It might not be much…but it's a nice watch," he nearly cooed, hands reaching behind his neck to unclasp the chain and hand it over, his fingers hesitating over the front of the uniform where he had the money hidden.

Gilbert's eyes narrowed and he reached forward, slipping his fingers into Matthew's front, his thumb and other fingers rubbing over the soft skin before he found the wad of dollar bills. "What's this?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "Where did you filtch this?"

"Does it matter where I got it?" he hissed slightly, fingers itching to reach for it. "Gilbert..please..now I've brought you things all week. I don't have enough for Alfred's medicine this week and he needs another dose soon,…" he argued, not one to beg but the man in front of him was being more than slightly unreasonable. Francis cleared his throat and shook his head slightly, warning his son to not fuss and keep his patience.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow over at the blonde man, his fingers dropping the bills on the floor before he turned and stroked his fingers through the older male's hair. "You're going to make up for that little loss I'm letting slide?" The older blonde nodded and Gilbert smirked and pulled his fingers back from the bearded jaw. "Good. Find a room." He ordered with a nod before turning back to Matthew. "Pick them up."

"Papa…," Matthew started, ignoring Gilbert in favor of reaching to touch his father's hand. It wasn't wise to not obey what the butcher asked, when the butcher asked it. "You don't have to…it'll be alright..I'll get Alfred's medicine another way," he told him, making sure to shoot an icy glare in Gilbert's direction.

"Well maybe money doesn't appeal to me as much as favors from your Papa?" The albino raised an eyebrow. "Unless you want to join in tonight? Didn't you have fun last time?"

Bristling lightly, Matthew pulled away and bent to gather the money on the floor, fingers balling the paper into his fists. He wasn't about to stand there and listen to Gilbert or face the idea that his father was still stupid enough to let the butcher do whatever he pleased to him. He understood it was a sense of security, but he was sure by now the older blonde would have realized its fault by now. Without a word, Matthew moved back down the steps and left the tavern, his feet rushing him through the dirty streets as he made his way to the pharmacy as fast as he could.

It was getting late, and Matthew didn't particularly want to be out on the streets at night. The man behind the counter recognized him instantly, and exchanged the wadded money for a small bottle of liquid. With a small nod of thanks, Matthew was on his way home, a little cut out in the wall that their father had managed to build a wooden door in front of before his passing.

Alfred was asleep on the straw bed in the corner of the small space, and it only made Matthew feel a little better to feel that the other blonde wasn't running a fever. He settled beside him, content to rest sitting up until his brother stirred and he'd be able to give him another dose. He had a few bills left that in the morning he could use to buy them dinner, but it was too dangerous to go out after sundown.

There were things Matthew was brave enough to do, but then there those that he wasn't.