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

Disclaimers, Notes & Warnings:

We do not own Hetalia or any characters within.

Warnings: prostitution, drug use, drugs, murder, illegal activity

Notes: Q is a drug that is extracted in a rather potent form from the mouths of the dead drug addicts. This process is inspired by Repo! The Genetic Opera and the Zydrate extraction method used by the graverobbers. Other than that, there is no reference to the musical. Q was also a randomly chosen letter in case someone wants to attack the name of the drug.

In the past week Ivan had not done anything to Matthew.

They shared a bed because neither one would sleep on the couch, but Ivan didn't even sleep facing Matthew. His back was firmly turned to the blonde, his pants and sleep shirt secure on his body throughout the night, and if Matthew approached him his head would snap around to half-consciously assess the blonde before returning back to sleep. He fed Matthew, bought him grooming supplies, gave him access to movies and books and directed him on where to go for anything else he might need to entertain himself. And at the end of the week the blonde was paid a rather handsome sum. The older male didn't become any warmer after that first week, and the nature of his work remained a mystery, as he usually made sure to lock the kitchen whenever he was maneuvering supplies and such into the basement.

Matthew could say two things about his experience living under Ivan's roof for a week: he hated it and he enjoyed it. His enjoyment came from the fact that he had time now to read (as slow as he was at it, which he only in this house realized just how terrible of a reader he was) and look at pictures in magazines of different places and cultures that seemed to be a whole lot better than his own. He enjoyed movies and listening to music on the radio while he soaked in baths for hours at a time. He had nowhere to be…no one to please.

And that is why he was starting to hate it. A prostitute's life revolved around the pleasure of others. If he wasn't pleasing anyone (which the only pleasing he was doing was staying out of Ivan's way) he was virtually useless and empty. His skin flushed at times and itched and he felt all sorts of moods hit him at once when his natural, everyday intake of Q had slowed down. Without sex, he didn't need it, and without money, he couldn't replenish his little stash. So the amount of Q he had left he attempted to save.

A few times when Ivan was gone for hours, or down in his secret little basement, Matthew would dip the tip of his pinky finger in the supply he had, just to taste it and to get his nerves and trembles to calm if only for a little while. He'd sleep the little relapses off as best he could but it was strange being so close to another person but virtually being ignored. He hated that sometimes he'd wake up and his nose would be awfully close to Ivan's back and his knees would just barely be brushing the back of the man's thighs, and he'd pine after the feel of his warmth desperately. More than once had the act of pulling away, turning over and scooting as far from the other male as possible, caused his throat to clench and his eyes to burn.

He couldn't explain it and found himself pathetic for it. Matthew wanted to ask him if he had done something to upset him, but then again he had acted like this since day one; generous and silently kind but not outwardly showing it. Perhaps that was the point and Matthew was too stupid, too uneducated to catch on. But he had an inkling feeling that that wasn't the case at all.

Placing the book he had given up reading about half an hour ago into his lap, Matthew tilted his head to where he could see Ivan in the kitchen concentrating on something. He didn't bother asking or inquiring, figuring he wouldn't get an answer even if whatever the man was doing was completely innocent.

Ivan tapped out the bulb syringe's end into the small vial, depositing the slightly moist powder of the Q. He needed to get these out and his basement wasn't sterile enough for it at the moment. His gloved hands moved with a quiet efficiency, depositing exactly four ounces per small glass vial and then spreading out the powder in small altoids tins, managing to coat the bottom evenly as he did so.

He prided himself on being one of the best Q suppliers in the state, if not the entire Eastern coast of the United States. His Q was potent, refined and had a distinct almost black hue to the more compact clumps of the drug. Once he had snapped the last tin shut he began to organize the tins and vials into the pockets of his coat, counting out a wad of bills and slipping it into the food jar, he didn't bother cleaning up, he was already behind schedule and had probably lost a few clients already. He could clean up when he got back. "Going out." He called. "Don't touch anything on the counter." The man ordered before he closed the door and the sound of his car pulling out could be heard.

Rolling his eyes lightly, Matthew exchanged the book that rested against his bare knees for a bright, house and home type of magazine. He liked them best because he remembered being little and stealing magazines from the laundromat or doctors office and circling things he liked or imagined having in his dream house that he'd obviously have someday. Now, he knew, that without a doubt that sort of thing doesn't happen and it was terrible to have to grow up and face that fact.

Sighing, he flipped a page and blinked down at a recipe for the "easiest cookie recipe even a child could do it". A careful inspection of the instructions had Matthew feeling confident that perhaps he could follow them and make something that he could be childishly proud of and then devour the hell out of them later. Getting up, he padded into the kitchen, barefeet virtually silent as he concentrated on the glossy paper and began to check cabinets and the refrigerator for the required ingredients. To his delight, Ivan seemed to have everything needed to make the little desert, so Matthew set about collecting milk and eggs to place on the counter.

"Oh..that's right," he mumbled, realizing Ivan had asked him not to touch said counter. Frowning, Matthew placed down the jug of milk he was holding and crept closer to the remnants of what Ivan had been doing before he left. To Matthew's untrained eye, it looked more like a kid's chemistry set left haphazardly all over the place…but that smell.

Matthew's senses flared as his eyes scanned every single empty container and tool, not finding a single trace of what he knew must have been there. Suddenly, it clicked. He breathed out a little scoff as he shook his head. "That bastard…a damn dealer…he has to be," he mumbled, his head tilting in the direction of the basement door.

Perhaps…

Creeping forward across the tile, Matthew came to a stop just in front of the simple white door. He couldn't smell a thing….nothing out of the ordinary, but whatever Ivan was hiding had to do with Q. All dealers had a supply…and if this was where he kept his stash…

His mouth suddenly watered as he reached out shaky fingers to touch the cool brass of the door handle. Matthew hesitated before giving the knob a turn but nothing happened, in fact, it didn't move at all. It was locked.

Huffing, Matthew turned, leaving the locked door and angrily trying to concentrate on the innocent task he had originally set out to do. But the thought that Q had been in this house the entire time….that the smell of it was suddenly so potent in the air that he could taste it…it had Matthew shaken up.

When Ivan returned it was to the smell of cookies and the first thing that flew through his mind was that he prayed to god that the Q residue hadn't contaminated the damn things. He found Matthew in the living room and raised an eyebrow at the blonde. "You made cookies?"

"Surprised? Me too," Matthew hummed softly, his back against the couch as he sat on the floor, one of the little treats half eaten in his chocolate stained fingers. He let out a tiny groan as he touched his forehead to his bent knees and breathed, not exactly wanting to deal with Ivan's scrutiny. Not now.

Ivan's eyes narrowed slightly before he hummed and nodded. "I'll clean up, I suppose." The older male returned to the kitchen and began the task of cleaning up his own set before be started on the task of cleaning up the cookie remains. He wondered briefly if Matthew had realized what exactly had been in the set, but since the younger hadn't mentioned anything assumed that either he hadn't cared or he hadn't noticed.

After a few moments of listening to Ivan bustling about and the water running in the sink, Matthew stood. His posture was slightly off and his steps were graceful but full of an unnecessary sway that had his hips doing their best belly dancer impression as he moved closer to the kitchen and slumped lightly against the door frame; like a feline watching everything Ivan did.

"You know….the Red could use a good, tall…muscular man like you. We have desperate ladies coming in all the time looking for specific types…and there just aren't that many men around to fulfill their needs. I think you'd be good at it…considering you have the lying part already down pat."

"Hmmm, I haven't lied to you." Ivan raised an eyebrow, eyes sweeping generously over Matthew before he turned back to his task. "What gives you the impression that I have?"

"You're right," Matthew hummed in return, sauntering closer to him, a finger tainted in chocolate coming up to swipe at his red lips, "you haven't….but you must know you're awfully good at hiding things…that's also a good quality for all prostitute's to have, but I'm sure you know that, don't you, darling?" he asked, a little smile quirking up the corner of his lips as he leaned against the counter beside the taller male. "I have to ask…how long did you think it'd take me…for me to figure it out?"

Ivan hummed and raised an eyebrow. "Honestly? Faster than your predecessors. They weren't as much of junkies as you, so it took them between two weeks and a month each to figure it out. About the time they found out about the Q it was already time for them to leave." Ivan shrugged. "I had hoped that you simply weren't as nosy as you seemed. My mistake."

Matthew glared, eyes darkening as he tilted his head to face the man more. "I'm not nosy, you asshole. You left it all over the damn counter. And if you knew I was such a "junkie" then don't you think I would've noticed?" he bit, eyes hard as he looked away.

"Considering you avoid the kitchen, I hadn't thought that tonight of all nights was the one you stepped in." Ivan finished washing the supplies that Matthew had used before he put them away, shaking off droplets of water lazily as he did so. The older male turned and looked over Matthew before he spoke. "What do you want?"

Glaring hard at the man for a moment, Matthew tilted his head away suddenly with a soft, pretty little smile. "I don't want anything," he purred as he pushed off of the counter and sauntered out of the kitchen.

Ivan snorted at that. "Bullshit." He murmured before he turned and tucked his set into the basement quickly, locking up the door and making his way to the bedroom. "Statement still stands, you go into that room and I'll break your arm.

Sighing, Matthew followed the man slowly up the stairs to the bedroom. He peered in for a moment at Ivan, his eyes sweeping the man over from head to toe, before he bit his lip. Coming onto a man that clearly didn't want you was ballsy and stupid and could end in violence which Matthew would be ruined forever if it got too bad. He had to have control of a situation to feel most comfortable, but with Ivan…that wasn't an option. Matthew moved to the corner of the room where he kept his little bag, his fingers fumbling into the depths to pull out his little tin with the faded sea on top.

He should save it…what if one day he needed it…? Sighing angrily he snapped it closed and stood, reaching for the pajamas Ivan had bought him. He didn't care for decency usually, and that was no different around Ivan. Slowly he undressed and redressed, eyes tilting slightly over his shoulder to peer at the other male.

Ivan was rubbing his neck, sitting on the edge of the bed and massaging out knots from his neck and shoulders, his finger brushing over tattoos of text or drawings of abstract things. His pants were unbuttoned and he was in the process of untying his boots before he just kicked them off with some effort, laying back on the bed with a groan as he rubbed at his biceps and shoulders and neck. Everything ached from an encounter with one particularly desperate little druggie that had pulled out a mace on him. There were a few bruises on his shoulders, but other than that ache he was fine. Eyes closed the older male breathed deeply, too injured to make an effort to roll onto his side for the night.

Raising an eyebrow, Matthew swept his eyes over Ivan's form. The man was attractive, Matthew couldn't lie about that one, but he was just a client and it wasn't his place to tell Ivan so. Still…he could quietly appreciate him as his eyes lingered just where he could see the dull shine of Ivan's unbuttoned pants before he noticed that he seemed to be in pain. He frowned and turned to adjust the little sleeping shorts over his thin hips, before getting an idea.

Quietly, he padded across the plush carpet, expression softening into a gentle, sweet, almost nurturing look that clearly screamed he cared and was concerned. With little noise he crawled onto the bed and sat on his knees, the bare skin of his kneecaps brushing the strands of hair on the back of Ivan's head. Gently, he placed cool, pale fingers on the man's temples and began to rub carefully and sweetly. All prostitutes, especially those that lived and worked at Satine Rouge Club all knew how to do many things to a client's body, including massages. He could play Ivan's little game and keep his hands above his shoulders, but if Matthew had it his way, the man would be begging him for more and not the other way around.

Ivan's eyes scrunched for a moment before he pried them open, raising an eyebrow at the blonde. "What are you doing?" He sounded exhausted and really he didn't know what Matthew was planning, but he wasn't about to be manipulated by the blonde. Though the rubbing felt good and he sighed, letting his eyes slip closed as he felt fingers rub at his temples, shifting through the strands of his hair nicely. Maybe if he refused to react the blonde would give up.

"What does it look like I'm doing? You're a smart man, aren't you?" he hummed, Matthew's eyes softening as he watched the man stubbornly attempt to not give in to what his fingers were doing. "Now don't get your little panties in a twist, I'm only trying to be nice. I could be massaging a little lower," he hummed with a playful little smile as he shifted his fingers through Ivan's hair. "Were you hurt today?" he asked with a worried little voice, the tips of his fingers barely brushing Ivan's jugular as he worked at the tense muscles in the back of his neck.

Ivan groaned at the gentle but firm ministrations to the back of his neck, eyes trying to open only to flutter closed again without his volition. "Mhm… Some cocky little shit… Pulled a mace on me when I didn't give him more than he paid for." The man yawned but didn't try to move away from Matthew's hands, breathing more deeply as his limbs tingled with leaden exhaustion. It felt nice to be treated gently. Even though he had learned his lesson with the previous prostitutes that had entered his home.

"Are you hurt more than you let on?" Matthew asked, a real hint of genuine concern lacing his voice as his fingers paused in their movements. He didn't know…why exactly he was really worried about the client before him, but he was and it bothered him. "Maybe you should…get some rest..or take a hot bath to relax your muscles," he mumbled, his hands pulling away.

A frown pulled at his mouth as Matthew peered anywhere but at the man in front of his knees. What the hell was the matter with him?

Ivan shook his head. "No… I'll be staying in tomorrow, I have a friend on distribution duty for tomorrow… I just need some rest." He didn't know why he was trying to placate the worries of the blonde. In all honesty he probably should have told him that it wasn't any of his business. But that was the thing, wasn't it? Ivan liked the company, liked having someone concerned over him, even if it was all a farce. It hurt, of course, to know that Matthew probably didn't care and was only feigning concern for the sake of getting a chance at more money… Still, it was nice to have someone that felt concern over him.

"Then..," he started, still angry and confused at just why he was feeling this way before he clambered off the bed and breezed into the open door to the adjoining bathroom. In a few moments, he was coming back with a small glass of water, and a bottle of aspirin he had found in the cabinet. He wasn't exactly…sure what the medicine would do, if it would work right or not, but hell, he wasn't going to listen to Ivan groan in pain all night. That's what he told himself as he gently situated himself beside the man and nudged his side lightly.

"Here, take this. Maybe it'll make you feel better when you sleep."

Ivan took the pill, looking it over and checking it before he took the pill and downed the glass of water, eyes closing after a moment before he hauled himself onto his side, deciding that was a bad idea before laying down on his stomach. "Thank you." He murmured, already drifting somewhere between sleep and reality.

"You're welcome," Matthew murmured quietly before he turned the light off and situated himself on his side of the bed. It seemed to not matter how long he laid there, his body refused to fall asleep. The stubborn part of his brain tried to convince himself that it was because his body was starting to feel the side effects from not taking Q as regularly as he had been, but a strange…need to make sure Ivan was okay gnawed annoyingly at his subconscious.

Shifting onto his side, Matthew hesitated for a moment before moving a little bit closer to the sleeping form. He watched the rise and fall of Ivan's shoulders, the slightly uncomfortable curl in his lip still there as he slept. Tentatively, he extended his hand and gently brushed his fingers through Ivan's hair, careful and soft, not wanting to disturb him. He wasn't exactly sure how long he continued this gentle touching, but he didn't realize when he fell asleep, his fingers still laced lightly with Ivan's hair.