Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine.


Alfred groaned softly as he made his way back to the land of the awake. He lifted his face from the pillow, groggy, realizing he was still on the couch. He frequently just crashed right in the living room of their small apartment the moment he came home from the bar. He only ever had a few hours of sleep a night anymore, and it was catching up with him.

Not wanting to get up (not that he ever did, even back in the days when he got eight or ten hours of sleep), he burrowed deeper under the blanket he knew he had not draped over himself. But soon the smell of coffee reached his nose, and he decided he had better get up and wake himself the liquid way before work.

Alfred rolled off the couch, blanket and pillow following him to the floor, tangling around his legs as he managed to stand. He chuckled to himself as he realized he was still wearing his clothes from the night before.

The night before... He smiled as the memory came back to his muddled mind. And the smile only grew as he repeated the conversation in his head. By the time he reached the kitchen, he was feeling human again.

"You can't keep doing this," his brother said softly, plunking a plate of toast down beside the coffee mugs. "You're going to run out of steam and keel over. Probably while behind the wheel doing a delivery."

"Good morning to you, too, Mattie." Alfred ruffled his hair as he passed—wavy hair grown long, the only real physical difference between them—then dropped onto his chair with a grin.

"I'm serious." Matthew frowned across the table at his twin.

"I know. We've gone over this a thousand times."

"Well you..." Matthew trailed off, eyes narrowing. "All right. Who is it?"

Alfred blinked. "Who's what?"

"You know you can't hide anything from me." A smile crept onto Matthew's face, much to Alfred's relief. He wasn't in the mood for another lecture on his sleeping and working habits. "It's been a while since I've seen that look on your face. So who is it? Someone at work?"

Alfred felt his face grow hot. "It's not like that. We've only met a couple times."

"Yes?"

There was no use in refusing to talk. Matthew would find a way. And it wasn't like Alfred could refuse him anything, anyway. "I delivered a pizza to his place couple weeks ago. Just happened to mention my night job. And last night, he showed up. We chatted a while."

Matthew spread jam on a piece of toast. "Mm hm."

Alfred helped himself to the butter. "I don't know! He's just a really great guy, okay? He's so handsome, and he has the most amazing eyes ever, and he's tall—taller than me!—and he's foreign and sexy, and smart and sophisticated, and very nice, and-"

"Are you gonna ask him out?" Matthew interrupted.

Alfred sputtered, grateful he hadn't started eating or drinking yet. "Of course not! We've only just met. Not to mention I have no idea what team he bats for. You don't just ask random guys out, that's a good way to get your ass kicked!" He cut off further conversation by eating, devouring his toast like a starving wolf. But by the time he finished, he felt the need to defend himself further. "An amazing guy like that probably has lots of women. And besides, that might have been a one time visit, I might not ever see him again. And yeah, I only just met the guy, it's not like-"

"Okay, okay." Matthew was smiling. "Foreign, you said?"

Alfred nodded. "Russian!"

"Oh, hot."

"I know, right?" Alfred took a long drink of coffee, relaxing as the bitter liquid warmed him. "So I'm not holding my breath. But it would be nice to talk to him again."

Matthew nodded, rising from the table. He wandered around, retrieving Alfred's day clothes from where they had been tossed the previous evening. "We're not done talking about this, you know."

Alfred groaned. No, they were never done with that. At least, Mattie never was. "I really don't-"

"Do you honestly think you can do this for a few years, Al?"

"I'm still getting used to it! I'll be fine."

"You like the bar job better, don't you? I still say you could just do that."

Alfred heaved a sigh, setting his coffee mug down. "We have been over this fifty billion times. I won't have you getting all into debt long before you even have to start paying back your loans, which we also need to save for. And you're taking an assload of hard classes, and you spend all your time doing schoolwork and studying. You can't have a job, too!"

"Al..." Matthew came up behind him, resting his cheek in Alfred's hair. "You don't belong here, trapped. You're supposed to be free."

He couldn't help but smile at that. "I know. But I'm okay. The sky isn't going anywhere, the Air Force isn't gonna fill up." Alfred finally stood, accepting his outfit from Matthew. "C'mon, I have tonight off from The Hideout. We can hang out and watch movies and stuff after I'm done with Lombardi's."

Matthew gave a wavering smile. "On your night off you should be catching up on your rest."

"I'll do that, too!"

"Promise?"

"I promise!" Alfred gave his brother a friendly clap on the shoulder, ignoring his wince, and headed for the bathroom to get ready. "I swear, Mattie, you're gonna worry yourself to death long before anything ever happens to me."


"What do you mean you don't know?" Ivan growled, then instantly regretted it when Raivis flinched away.

"I didn't see," the boy mumbled. "It was dark out. I walked out of the club, saw a flicker of movement in the dark, heard a shot, and then I hurt and that's all I remember."

It wasn't enough to go on, even to figure out if Raivis had been specifically targeted or not. He could very well have just walked out into a...

Ivan blinked. "What club?"

Raivis looked away, apparently discovering something interesting on the bare hospital wall. "The Dollhouse?"

"What." He didn't even make it a question.

"Well... now that Gil's kinda on our side, he said-"

"You went to The Dollhouse."

Raivis had a look on his face that seemed to say he wished he had never awakened. "I was just curious."

Great. It was bad enough the kid—not even 16 yet—drank like a fish. Now he was getting into adult clubs. His father was going to be thrilled. Ivan decided to choose something else to berate Raivis about. "You know that place is in their territory."

"I know."

"It probably was them."

"I guess it could have been."

Ivan's eyes narrowed, and Raivis cringed again. The Russian turned to leave.

"W-wait!"

"What?" Ivan muttered.

"Don't go after them. Okay? We don't know it was them."

Ivan eyed the injured boy, not answering.

"Please?"

"I will go where I wish." If Raivis had been in that part of town, what were the odds that it wasn't one of the Italians?

"If you-"

"And don't think we are done. Once you're out of the hospital..."

Raivis quivered. Good. He should be scared.

As should those bastards. Ivan was convinced it was them. As he stalked out of the hospital, he felt for the guns he had hidden away. Just an old habit, he knew they were there. Smiling darkly, Ivan returned to his limo.

And once again, he found himself giving the wrong directions to the driver. Dammit, he was in a dangerous mood. Raivis was right to worry; Ivan was going to do something stupid. He needed to let off some steam, and he needed to do it soon.

And so, he again found himself in front of an inviting brick building, finding himself looking forward to just chatting with a normal friend. To having a good drink, and a laugh. To learning the life story of someone who had had a relatively normal life, and who talked to Ivan like he too was normal.

The interior of the bar was still crowded. Ivan smiled to himself when he caught a flash of blond hair behind the busy bar. He stepped closer, narrowly avoided a man somehow carrying what must have been six mugs of beer.

A few guys at the bar made obscene catcalls at the bartender, and Ivan scowled. He stormed closer, and one person turned and walked away, giving him a better view.

Oh.

Ivan felt a stab of disappointment. The blond hair he had noticed was actually quite long, and its owner had endowments that almost rivaled Ivan's older sister. Well, sure, everybody had days off. Not him, of course, but people who had normal jobs. Ivan shoved the disappointment away, deciding that he was relieved instead.

Relieved, of course. Coming in two nights in a row, that would seem creepy. Talking to the friendly young man was nice, Ivan did not want to alienate him. So yes, he was definitely relieved. He could come back in a couple days, instead. If he decided to. He didn't have to. But just in case he wanted to for some reason, he could come back later, and not seem quite so creepy.

Ivan left the bar, returning to the chilly night. A light drizzle had started during the brief time he was inside, and he shivered. He hated the cold. He hurried toward his limo, feeling again for the reassuring weight of his various weapons. The driver asked where he wanted to go now.

Ivan smiled grimly at him. "Little Italy."