PINEAPPLE: Hey, guys! So, Ruby and I are writing another fic together, and I hope you'll all like it. (In other words: I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY HOPE YOU GUYS WILL LIKE IT. /PUPPY EYES/) We managed to write this in, like, TWO DAYS, thanks to Ruby's super-awesome fast writing skills. Seriously, she takes like five minutes writing 1,000+ words, and then I take HOURS writing like... five paragraphs. Yeah. Ruby, make a serious A/N now.
KAWAII: Oh man, thank you, brosef. Mia always manages to make me laugh. This awesomeness you are about to read took a couple of hours of planning and intense work. We are trying our best with this fic, SO I HOPE YOU REVIEW. YUP.
This was written when we were not high for once.
"FUCK!" Alfred swore loudly, dashing underneath a bush. A loud growl emitted on either side of him. He gritted his teeth, and swore again. "Stupid, motherfucking low-level werewolves!"
"Shut up, you git! They can hear you about 1,000 miles away!" A low hiss was heard on the left. Alfred turned around, and his face brightened.
"Artie! Thank god you're here! This mission sucks ass. I thought you ran away―" Arthur smacked his hand over Alfred's mouth, looking pissed off. His white cross ring smashed rather loudly against Alfred's teeth, which did not feel all that great. The werewolves, their snouts in the air, barked hungrily. Luckily, werewolves couldn't hear well. At all. Even if Alfred was yelling as loud as a truck right about now.
Suddenly, the werewolves let out sharp whimpers, and blood spurted out from the deep cuts. Alfred snuck a peek, and the ground, once yellow and covered with rocks, was now painted a crimson red, tinted with gold. He let his gaze wander up, and he smiled hugely.
"Mattie! I knew you could do it, lil bro!" Alfred yelled out cheerfully. Matthew was currently swinging his scythe rather absentmindedly, his uniform splattered with werewolf bits. He looked at them in disgust, picking them off gingerly.
"Yeah, yeah. Do you realize how many times I've had to get this thing clean from the various monster parts that get on it?" His tone was mild, contradicting his annoyed words. "We still have to find the―" He was knocked off his feet by the largest werewolf they had ever seen. It looked angry, and it was foaming at the mouth. The blow had knocked the scythe out of his hands; it spun some feet away from him. The werewolf lifted its head and let out a raucous howl of victory, the sound grating on the ears.
Alfred's eyes widened, even as Arthur dragged him back. "We have to help him!" He struggled against Arthur's grip on his arm, but the strength of it was surprising.
"We can't do anything if we're dead!" Arthur's voice was low and harsh. "Get around it. Aim for any vital regions you can get to." He released his comrade and pushed him to the side. They weren't far from their friend and the monster. "Go in that direction. I'll come from the other side. If Matthew's in danger and you're not in a good position, you better hope you can surprise it."
Alfred didn't need to be told twice; his chin jerked in a nod and he was off, running as though his life depended on it. Arthur sprinted off in the other direction, various spells coming to mind. His silver dagger was gone. His breath came in pants by the time he made his way to behind the creature. He could no longer hear the howl.
He gasped, attention drawn to the werewolf. Its head was closer to the ground than he remembered it being, and he realized that it was looking at Matthew. He quickly scanned the area for Alfred, his gaze never wandering from the werewolf far. He cursed. He couldn't see the dolt. He began reciting an incantation, the spell such that it would seem as though time seemed too slow for the beast.
Of course, that was when Alfred decided to jump from the roof of what was once a house, his chainsaw screaming, and cut the werewolf's head off.
The blood was even more gruesome than before. The sharp tang of iron was in the air, and the dark red blood went all over Matthew's body. It colored his pale blond hair and splattered rather nicely over his uniform. Matthew groaned.
"Not again." He got up and wiped off gravel and dust from his sullied uniform. "But thanks anyway, Al."
"No problem! The hero always saves the day!" Alfred beamed happily, and then he looked at his chainsaw. It was also colored in red, and seemed to have a tint of green in it. "Oh man, this guy is poisoned. Thank god he didn't bite any of us." Matthew's head turned sharply to his direction.
"What the- I'm covered in poisoned werewolf blood?" Matthew did a facepalm. "Oh shit. The teach ain't gonna be happy about that."
Alfred knew that Matthew could've easily dodged the blood splatter. He just didn't do it. Matthew, for some reason, preferred to be on the ground, covered in blood, than be running away, completely blood-free. Alfred had a strange feeling that he liked it when he had blood all over.
"You could've ran away from there, birdy." Gilbert swung down from a tree, saying aloud what Alfred had been thinking. "Oh, and, there were a couple of ghosts hanging around here too, so while you guys were having fun, dealing with bloody mutant over here," Gilbert then proceeded to swing his arm over to the direction of the decapitated werewolf with a flourish, "I took care of the ones who wouldn't bother going to the underworld. Man, what the hell is Death doing?" He complained loudly. "Oh, and, some average people are found as well."
"Hey! We're not average!" A testily sharp, young voice was heard. They were scuttling and breaking sticks in the forest. Soon, two figures appeared. One was a girl, about the age of 7. She had locks of luscious dark chocolate brown hair, and her eyes glittered dangerously (or about as dangerous as it could be on a 7 year old), reflecting her green eyes. It was like a starburst, with tints of gold appearing out of nowhere. Her stiff muslim dress was ripped in some places, and her brown boots were unlaced. Her brother was 12. He also had wavy brown hair, although it was a paler shade, looking a bit like gold. His eyes were more yellow than green, and he had a peaceful expression on his face, despite the fact that he was gripping the silver knife on his belt rather tightly.
"Since you're both in... hmm... grade school," Gilbert teased, poking his finger onto the girl's forehead. "You pretty much ARE average, lil girl." The girl swatted his finger away, gazing at him stonily.
"Gilbert, stop teasing the girl." Matthew sighed. The gazes of the townspeople went to Matthew, and the girl gave a sharp yelp.
"You... you... blood!" She said, her eyes wide. "So... much..."
Matthew looked down, and registered that he actually DID have an insane amount of blood. Not to mention werewolf guts. He figured that he had to buy a new uniform after. "Oh, don't worry. Not my blood." The girl looked at him as though he was crazy- which he probably kind of seemed like.
"Okay, whatever. Gil, mission's over, let's report to the headmaster." He grabbed Gilbert by the wrist and pulled him over to where Alfred and Arthur were. "Oh, and, Arthur, can you clean my uniform with some of your spells?"
"No can do, Matthew." Arthur shook his head. "The Headmaster gave me a stronger limit." He pointed at his ring. "You should ask the other guys."
"What! It's just a spell to get the blood out!" Matthew exclaimed. Arthur looked at him dubiously.
"It's best if you throw that away, Mattie. You've had that uniform since... well, okay, the start of the year. But still. I can't remember how many times blood has been on it." Alfred mock-examined it, and started to mumble under his breath. "Demon blood... vampires... ooh, ghost bits..."
Matthew smacked Alfred's head away. Alfred cursed rather loudly, startling the townspeople. Gilbert gave them a look.
"Why are you guys still here? You should be away." The girl looked at him, unblinking.
"Rule 72, section III, passage 25, 'You must bring all townspeople who were present at the site of the mission to the Headmaster to examine'." She recited smoothly. They gaped at her.
"You memorized the bloody book?" Arthur said, raising one large eyebrow.
"Of course. We must read the whole thing every day." She said, rather proudly. "So, take us with you!"
"You. Gilbert. Take them to the Headmaster." Gilbert choked on his ButterRum Soda.
"Excuse me?" Gilbert said.
"Aw, c'mon! You found them, your responsibility." Alfred said cheerfully.
"That's not fair!" Gilbert was acutely aware that he sounded like a whiny five year old, but still.
"Yeah! We don't want weirdo here to take us!" The girl yelled. Gilbert's eyes shot daggers towards her.
"Look, you little..." Gilbert grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, and motioned for the boy to follow him. "Goddammit, why must I deal with this?" He crushed his soda can under his foot and left it there, the sound of his black boots clinking onto the floor. Matthew wrinkled his nose in distaste as he lifted the hem of his sleeve to smell it.
"Oh man. I'm going to chuck this thing away. And go take a shower." The uniform, once stained with red, now turned into a nasty brown, and the smell of iron was so strong Alfred and Arthur had to take about two steps back. He took off his blazer, and groaned. The white dress shirt underneath was a fresher red color. The blood from the coat had obviously seeped in. He ran his fingers through his hair, only to find it knotty and cluttered. He tried to get his fingers out, but he failed. His face paled slightly.
"Umm, Al?" He said meekly. "Can you get my fingers out of my hair?" Alfred stared at him, before bursting into laughter.
"Hahaha! You... your fingers are stuck in your hair!" He grinned widely.
Matthew gave a half-hearted glare. "Just help me."
Alfred snickered as he reached over to do so. He grabbed Matthew's wrists and pulled them back; if his fingers had been any more tangled, well, Matthew's fingers would still be in his hair, dripping blood, as they would be disconnected from his hands. As it was, Matthew just barely managed not to emit a girly shriek of pain, and cradled his hands when Alfred released his wrists. There were several indents on his fingers from his tangled hair. He looked up, violet-tinted eyes wide. "Are you trying to dislocate my fingers?"
Alfred wrinkled his nose and took a step back. "Unless that would help with your BO, no."
"Just go take a shower," Arthur said with a sigh, making a 'shoo' gesture at their bloody teammate.
Sending Alfred one last horrified look, Matthew walked away, his shoes making soft taps. His pace was a bit faster than usual, and he sped up when more than a few people turned around to stare at him, aghast at the stench. His embarrassment was nearly tangible.
"So." Alfred turned to look at his companion, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Guess it's just us, now, Twinkles."
The blond glowered at him. He had always detested nicknames. "Do you want me here or not, Jones?" he demanded quite snappishly. "I've half a mind to leave you here."
"Artie!" Alfred had never looked so horrified (except that time when he nearly swallowed some flesh that had found its way to inside his mouth). "I thought we had something special!" He laid a hand on his chest, on the approximate place of his heart. "Don't you remember our song? 'Never gonna run away and desert you'? I can't believe you'd abandon me because of a nickname. We've gone through so much together, and now you want to leave me because I called you TWINKLES?" He was dramatically disbelieving.
"Shut the fuck up!" a male yelled from across the room.
Alfred let his hand drop, looking a bit irritated. "You should totally use your magic mojo and hit the guy."
Arthur snorted. "As tempting as that suggestion is, I have to agree with Lovino. You really should shut up." He raised an eyebrow at the other man's gape. "You didn't expect me to defend you, did you?"
"No..." Secretly, Alfred shed a single tear (in his mind, at least), and his heart was smashed into dust and pebbles. Really, would it kill Arthur to NOT be heartless? He shook off his slight depression and smiled devilishly. If Arthur was a woman or attracted to men, he would be weak in the knees from that mega-watt grin. But Arthur wasn't either of them.
Yet.
"Since you didn't defend me, you have to watch a movie with me."
The shorter man's face drained of color. "I meant," he said hastily, "that of course I would defend you, but it was already too late to do so. To attempt to defend you now would make me seem a fool."
"Liar." Alfred pouted. "You never wanted to defend me in the first place. We've been teammates for more than a year, and you STILL don't think of me as worthy enough to be defended or be your friend or be on such good terms that we become super best friends and become inseparable from that day on." His pout became a mere frown, though it was no less effective. Arthur could feel his resolve weakening.
He looked away, crossing his arms as a light flush rose to his face. "If I watch the movie with you, you have to eat whatever I cook for a week."
Alfred stared at him for a few moments before throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. "Fine! You don't need to watch a movie with me!" He pivoted on his heel and stormed off, not catching his partner's incredulous expression. If he had, he probably would have rethought ditching him.
Arthur shrugged it off and went off to get a cup of tea.
The room was large; despite its number of occupants, there was still a lot of space. There were a great many groups, separated by their grades―O, E, A, P, D, and T, from highest to lowest―and then by whoever they wished to talk to in that section. Matthew, Alfred, and Gilbert were all in E; they talked amongst themselves, occasionally making a comment to someone else.
Arthur was in O, of course. He was talking quietly to a boy with a cross clip in his hair.
"... and then the wanker just left! Just like that!" Arthur frowned. "Is my cooking that bad?"
Nikolai sipped his tea, and then looked at him coolly. "No. It's perfectly fine. He likes greasy stuff." Nikolai said monotonously. He had gotten used to Arthur's rants about Alfred. Which was rather unavoidable, considering they were roommates.
"Yes. Yes, he does." Arthur said, frowning. "I'm glad you appreciate British Cuisine, Nikolai." He gave a rare smile towards the blond. Nikolai nodded mutely, but the corners of his mouth was pulled up.
The two of them were the prodigies at the school. Everyone usually only had the potential to get one job- from being a ghostbuster to a psychic- but Nikolai had two job potentials, to be a magician and a beast tamer. It was rare for that to happen. He also had the 'Sight', which allowed him to see mythical creatures that were long since extinct, like faeries and unicorns. He had easily become an 'O' student- Outstanding. Because of that, he had more power than regular students, so he had more limits than usual. Limits were jewelry that prevented you to release all of your power, since in this planet, people could only have 60% of their power active. It was one of the rules of the Ministry. The only time they could get rid of the limits is when they were close to dying- a stupid rule, Nikolai mused. Limits weakened their power by 40%. In this case, Nikolai's maximum power was 140% instead of the usual 100%. Nikolai had two limits- two silver earrings, on either side.
Arthur was a magician, which basically meant that he specialized in spell casting and potion making. He only had one career, but he studied hard and was naturally gifted with the 'Sight' as well. Other people couldn't see what they could see right now. They used to think that people with the Sight were hallucinating mental cases, but after a couple of studies and threats from the Ministry, they had gradually accepted that there were people who had more supernatural powers than usual. He had one limit, a white cross ring, on his left hand middle finger. Although his power was also higher than 100%, the ring was specially made to have more pressure. Basically, the two of them were usually enough for a mission for four.
Matthew liked the feeling of the new uniform. It was thick and soft, but the outside felt hard as steel. The gloves he had tried on flexed comfortably, and his leather boots were shiny and new. He also liked the feeling of being able to brush through his hair without his comb breaking.
"You're lucky, Matt. Maybe I should get my uniform covered in blood." Alfred said, staring down at his own uniform. The leather boots were scuffed and covered in dirt, and his clothes still reeked slightly of werewolf blood. He was sitting on Matthew's bed. "Then again, you stank real bad of blood, so no."
Matthew threw a pillow at his head to shut him up.
"Oh, man! I forgot about my scythe!" Matthew looked at said weapon, which was leaning on his bedpost. The thick, black handle was dirty with soot and grime, and the abnormally large silver blade had blood dripping down onto the wood floor. Alfred jumped up and walked away from it.
"Your fault, not mine. I think that Kumajirou would be mad if you didn't clean him up." Alfred said. He gazed down at his own chainsaw. "Oh, Sally! I hope you're alright!~" Alfred gave a great big hug to the chainsaw, which looked rather creepy.
"Why did you name my scythe Kumajirou? My polar bear back home is called Kumakatou!" Matthew said crossly. "...you named your chainsaw Sally?" he added dubiously.
"So what? It's cool. I mean, Gilbert named his pistols Awesome and Gilbird." Alfred wrinkled his brow. "Or was it... Gilpistol? Gilgun?" He absentmindedly stroked his chainsaw up and down. Matthew backed away. Alfred didn't notice. "Gilshooter? Gildot? Giltrigger? Gilshot? Gilbullet?" He frowned. "No, I'm pretty sure it's Gilbird."
Matthew raised an eyebrow. "You forgot?"
Alfred coughed. "Nooo..." He pointed a finger in his brother's direction, changing from the accused to the accuser. "How do YOU remember, huh? That was only our fourth mission! He can't have said the names of them that much!"
"You're just jealous of my amazing memory," Matthew replied with a smirk.
"Or..." Alfred pet Sally. "Someone has a crush~!"
Matthew choked on his spit, and spent a minute trying not to die. Alfred, unconcerned, watched as the boy wheezed and at last caught his breath. He blinked rapidly, his chest heaving, and glared at his snickering sibling. "You try choking," he declared sulkily. "Anyway, I think I'm going deaf because I could have sworn you said, 'Someone has a crush.'"
Alfred's eyebrows drew together. "You aren't denying it."
"What do you want me to say? 'Oh, no, Al, of course not'? No matter what I say, you'll think I do like him. I know you." Matthew crossed his arms, his jaw set. "Look, just don't say anything, or I'll kick you out of the room."
"But you're still not denying it," Alfred pointed out.
If looks could kill, he would be thrown to the dogs. "You're the worst brother ever."
Alfred winced. The words had struck a nerve. "Sorry."
"No, you're not." The words were said so vehemently that Alfred sat up straighter, instantly alert. Matthew was giving him a dark look. "You never care, so you're never sorry. Don't apologize if you don't mean it." He looked down at his hands, as if suddenly unable to meet Alfred's eyes.
Alfred didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything, lest he say something so wrong that Matthew would explode or possibly dive into a volcano. They sat in silence for a while before he cleared his throat. "Well, this was a delightful conversation, and the following silence was absolutely riveting. I should go take a shower now, though, before I start smelling as bad as you did." He walked over to his closet and opened the doors, pulling out a random pair of pants and a shirt.
He walked out of the room, closed the door, paused, opened it, and walked back to the closet to get a pair of boxers. He then walked back out with the utmost dignity, his head held high.
Matthew cracked up with the kind of laughter that brings tears to your eyes and your stomach hurt.
Gilbert kicked at a crushed can of ButterRum Soda (which looked surprisingly a lot like the one he stepped on before). The meeting to the Headmaster was, needless to say, crappy.
"WHAT! Weirdo here is almost a Level B GUNNER?" The bratty girl said incredulously. "MASTERY? HIM?" She stared at him. Gilbert glared back at her.
"Yes. Gilbert is also an E level. He excels quite well. So, anyway." Germania coughed, "If that is all, you may take them back, Gilbert." Gilbert gaped at him.
"B-But Headmaster! Can't someone ELSE escort them?" Germania gave him a weary glare. Gilbert bit his tongue until he tasted blood, and then spat it out into the trash can. The girl backed away in disgust.
"Can I have a mission? Puh-leassseee?" She shot her puppy dog eyes, sparkling and teary. Her brother pulled her off from the table.
"You dolt! You can only get a mission at 16!" He smacked her head. Gilbert silently gave a sign of respect to the brother.
And yadayadayada. He didn't want to get too into it because he just wanted to ignore the bratty little girl.
He wished he had amber syrup. That crap was delicious, and it would take his mind off this crappy escorting thing. Seriously, he wasn't getting paid to escort bratty little kids. While he wasn't paid for anything anyway, he still didn't think he'd be paid for this.
It was stupid. And he'd hit the chick if she said another word. She was like the brattier version of Elizaveta. Did he seriously just compare them? Elizaveta was manlier than this girl would ever be.
"Why do you kick at cans so much?" the girl asked curiously. It was the question of the day (or perhaps the century).
His eye twitched. He refrained from hurting her, but his self-control only went so far. "Because I do." He cursed himself. He should just stop talking and become a semi-mute like Nikolai. That would make her pissed, but hey, beggars can't be choosers... No matter how crappy a deal it was. He just never could win, could he?
"Well, I think it's stupid." She announced, rather unhelpfully. "And plus, you should pick it up and recycle it."
Gilbert turned around, exasperated. "What the hell? Are you the recycle police or something? Here to take me away?" He tried his best not to sneer at her. The girl glared at him, and then slammed her foot down on his foot.
"OW! You bitch!" Gilbert started to jump around, wincing in pain. Although leather boots usually would've been enough protection, she was wearing boots as well. With pointy heels. Goddammit. Stupid Veturborg fashion.
"You should apologize, Mare." The older one tried not to smile. He glared daggers at the boy. The boy shrugged and raised his hands, as if surrendering.
"I swear, if you brats say one more word-"
"LALALALA! WEIRDO HERE'S MEAN! HE'S A LITTLE DICK SUCKING BASTARDDDDDD!~" She yelled as loud as she could. Everyone in the halls swiveled their heads to face her. She looked rather out of place, with her frilly (slightly ripped) dress and brown, high heeled boots.
"Mare. Shut the fuck up." The older one said coldly, smoothing down his brown vest. She shrank slightly, but puffed up again.
"Look! Dickey, just teleport us out of here. You know some magic, don't you?" The older one choked on his spit, hacking and coughing. He glared at her.
"I told you NOT to call me that! Dammit, just cause mother named me DICK doesn't mean you can call me DICKEY!"
"So what should I call you? Harry Dickey? Oh god, that would be HILARIOUS-"
"NO IT WOULDN'T! You want me to call you horse-face?"
"I DO NOT HAVE A HORSE FACE!"
"AND I'M NOT HAIRY, SO SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
"I NEVER CALLED YOU THAT! AND ANYWAY, JUST GET US OUT OF THIS PLACE!"
"SHUT UP, YOU DAMN MOTHER FUCKER-"
"LOOK!" Gilbert bellowed. The two stopped bickering and turned to look at him. Gilbert's red eyes glowed murderously, and an angry aura practically rolled off from his body. His hands were itching towards his silver pistols, which were buckled on his belt. The blue orbs in the hilt of the pistol seemed to glint dangerously. "We can either do it the easy way, or the hard-"
"Gilbert!" Gilbert's head turned sharply toward the direction of the voice. Matthew was running towards them, his pale wavy gold hair completely knot free. Not to mention he took a shower, so he smelled about 20 times better than before. He pushed his hair back and adjusted his glasses. "I could hear them all the way from the other side of the building." He motioned with his shoulder to where he had ran from.
"Oh. Sorry. They were having an argument." Gilbert's voice sounded softer, losing the sharp, angry tone. His eyes also seemed to smile, and his face held the cocky smile yet again. His hands relaxed, hanging from his pockets. The siblings looked at each other in a knowing way.
"Hmm." Matthew looked at them. The girl leaned towards him, examining him closely. Matthew leaned back slightly.
"You look a lot cuter right now then covered in blood!" She announced. Matthew blinked, and a faint blush colored his pale skin. It quickly disappeared, however.
"Thank you." He said, smiling. She looked from him to Gilbert.
"What?" Gilbert said testily. She just smiled.
"Anyway, you're sending them back, right?" Matthew said. "I don't have anything to do. Al's in the shower, and we can get credits later." Credits were crucial to their ranks. Every time they got 1500 credits, they leveled up a rank. And each mission had different amounts of credits. The mission they had just completed was a level C mission, which was a Novice mission. That was 300 credits. They were also ranked on what supernatural creature they had killed so that it could also improve their own grade. Basically, it was hard to level up, but totally worth it. They had better dorms and upgraded weapons and everything. It also helped them in the future as well- If they had an A Rank, they could work in the government! But if they had a D Rank, forget it. They were better off working as horse pooper-scooper.
"So you're going to escort them with the awesome me?" Gilbert's grin widened. "Great! I didn't want to stay with these brats by myself anyway."
"Hey!" Mare protested. Dick just shook his head.
"Oh well. Oh, and, by the way, Gil." Matthew said casually. Gilbert turned to look. "Yes, Birdy?" He said.
"What are the names of your pistols?" Gilbert blinked a couple of times, and then a look of understanding settled on his face.
"Man, Birdy, I know I'm hot and all, but do you really want to get into my pants so bad?" Matthew stared at him for a while, before finally knowing. His face flushed red and he smacked Gilbert's arm.
"NO! Dammit, Gil! I'm being serious! Your dual pistols! The silver guns you have, hanging on your belt!" He pointed at the guns. Gilbert looked at them, and then laughed.
"I know. I was just kidding, birdy. This one is called Awesome," Gilbert said brightly, pointing the left gun. Mare mouthed 'creeper' towards Matthew. Matthew stifled a giggle. "And this one is called Birdy!" Matthew felt his jaw drop. "No, I'm just kidding. I didn't name it after you." Gilbert laughed. "It's called Gilbird. Of course."
Matthew shook his head, although a smile graced his face. "Of course." They both laughed. Mare tapped her foot against the floor impatiently.
"Look, touching scene of bromance and all, but we need to go home and eat some food." Gilbert sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair.
"Alright, you whiny bitch. Back to your Victorian Manor it is." He said gruffly. Mare started to correct him.
"Actually, I live in a-"
"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN!"
