Yay, early chapter! Since I probably won't have internet access (le gasp!) starting tomorrow, here is the update!
To make up for all the serious angst in the last chapter, this is a fluffy-er but still romantically angsty chapter.
Warnings: lots cursing, small fight, and a number of awkward sexual situations. They're not truly inappropriate events, just Ivan and Alfred getting all hot through some accidental and innocent things and then freaking out a bit.
Disclaimers: I own the plot and the random OC's, but not the Hetalia characters.
For the next week, nobody at Blessed Cross saw Ivan nor heard anything from him. It was as if he had fallen off the face of the Earth. On Monday, Alfred was glad Ivan wasn't at school; he wasn't ready to face Ivan after the kissing incident the Friday before.
But when Ivan didn't show up or call Matthew or he by Wednesday, Alfred started to worry. Rumors began to fly about Ivan getting killed in a gang fight, or a drug deal gone badly, or an overdose, or in a theft gone wrong. Every time the American heard one of the rumors, he twitched with fear because he knew some of those could have happened.
Finally on Friday, Ivan walked into English for the first time in a week. Alfred creased his nervous tapping and let out a relieved breath. Thank god, I was starting to think he was dead, the American thought. But as Ivan approached the table, he could see an exhausted, pained look dragging his features down, and Alfred thought, maybe Ivan would be happier dead.
With a loud thump, Ivan collapsed in his seat, his head falling into his hands. Alfred gently laid a hand on Ivan's back, making him tense up. Slowly, Alfred rubbed his hand in circles against the hard muscles, each stroke slowing easing the stress out of the Russian little by little. Ivan rocked back and forth to accompany the circling motion, for the first time in a week, there was a semblance of calm.
Joining his brother in silently comforting the Russian, Matthew took a scarred, calloused hand in his own and expertly kneaded it, eliciting a content noise from their big friend.
"I'm super sorry about freaking out on you last week," Alfred murmured into Ivan's ear. With each circle, his hand dipped lower and lower until it stopped, resting on the small of his back. Alfred's hand slid down farther until he could feel the band of Ivan's boxers through his polo shirt; he seemed to all of a sudden realize how his gesture went from friendly to intimate and jerked his hand away. Ivan didn't notice, but Matthew did and narrowed his eyes slightly at Alfred.
"It is okay; there is no need to vorry."
"So where have you been, big guy?"
"Hospital. My competitors broke into my apartment on Friday, and they hurt Katyusha and Natalia very badly. Natalia didn't vake up for day and half, and Katyusha hasn't been truly lucid in days."
"Oh Ivan, I'm so sorry," Matthew said, eyes widening.
"Thank you Matt, but I should have expected it. Now, I have people watching over them vhenever they go somevhere dangerous, such as our apartment, vithout me."
The bell loudly rang, signaling the start of class, and Father O'Connell called for everyone's attention.
"I want to explain something," Alfred said quietly, "Meet me behind the bleachers at the start of lunch."
"Hello children," the Father started, "I want to talk to you about another 'hot topic' today: abortion. Abortion breaks one simple rule in the Bible: "thou shall not kill.' As we know, every life is sacred, and these unborn children must be protected from shameful women who wish to end a life because they were careless…"
Ivan rested his back against the bleachers, leaned his head back against its supports and closed his eyes. Listening to his surroundings, he could discern yelling voices as guys played football on the field below him and ditzy girls giggling about this or that cute basketball player; it is irrelevant, but Ivan agreed with them. Though quieter, he could hear the laughter of small children. The innocent sounds exploding from their mouths produced on his face a smile tinged with sorrow. Innocence is something he barely remembers; his cruelly snatched away at a young age.
A few minutes later, Ivan could hear footsteps approaching and then stopping in front of him. He could hear someone sit down next to him. Amethyst orbs opened and settled on skittish looking Alfred; that was something he was not used to seeing.
Ivan and Alfred continued to sit in silence, and he couldn't help but watch the American out of the corner of his eye. The light breezes thay shook and rustled through the trees fluffed up his hair, each undulation catching the light. His hair was spun gold.
"I was pissed that you didn't even remotely tell anything about this other life to Mattie and I. I still don't think you're telling us everything, but I can understand," Alfred explained finally, "I'm not angry anymore, I'm just scared for you."
Ivan's head jerked around to face the America with a loud crack. He sucked in a quick, pained breath. Too quickly, he thought.
"Don't give me that surprised look," Alfred said with an eye roll, "I can be scared, especially for someone else. I'm scared because I've lost someone to… the game before.
"Vho?"
"… My…. My pa. He was a great dealer, turned the straightest people to glazed-eyed, brain-dead crack whores. He eventually turned straight, but there were so many people who still wanted him dead. He lived the rest of his life looking over his shoulder and trusting no one.
"I can't connect my sweet dad who knit and couldn't cook to save his life with the violent, druggie sinner everyone else saw. It's the same way I can't connect the you I know; the one who looks at sunflowers like they're the greatest things in the world and jumps around like he's doing ballet when he thinks nobody is watching with the boss dealer. I just can't. And I don't want what happened to my dad to happen to you."
Throughout this whole explanation, Alfred kept a steady eye contact with Ivan, worry shining through honest blue eyes. Now he looked down embarrassed by what he was going to say next.
"I… well… I care too much about you for you to… disappear." Ivan gave a deceptively cheerful hum and scooted close to the golden blonde. The last statement delighted him; however, everything else before it only served to remind his light self about the consequences of the actions his night self committed. Ivan didn't want to think about what he feared happening this early in the day; those sort of morbid thoughts were supposed to only plague him at night.
Ivan gently ran his thick fingers though the other's silky locks, and Alfred didn't push away this time but leaned into his touch. Supported by the Russian, the American couldn't imagine how someone so strong could ever die. But where his hands touched the back of Alfred's neck, Ivan felt as cold as death.
Over the next several weeks, Ivan and Alfred, along with Matthew, had become inseparable. Matthew figured something happened behind the bleachers, but when he asked Alfred, he just said, "I told him the truth." Matthew knew he hadn't yet come to terms with their mutual attraction, even though they had already made out, but he figured all of them being as thick as thieves to be a good step in the right direction.
To outsiders, they seemed to be nothing strange about their 'bro' relationship. Sharing everything, teasing each other non-stop, discussing porn and sex, and in Alfred and Ivan's case, getting into fights for fun.
There was one aspect of their relationship that was not as normal. Every now and then, there was a strange intensity and awkwardness between Alfred and Ivan that stood out to Matthew.
On many days after school, Alfred would drag Matthew and Ivan to the ice cream store nearby the school. Ivan would sometimes complain, but one sad puppy look from Alfred, and he would always go willingly.
"Hey Ivan," Alfred said, yanking on his taller friend's scarf. He was the only one allowed to touch the practically holy scarf without getting punched in the face; Matthew never even tried. "What'cha going to get?
"I once had this very good vodka ice cream, but somehov I suspect they von't be selling it," Ivan said with a smile.
"Whatever big guy. I'm getting chocolate chunk. How 'bout you, Mattie?"
"Small maple coffee in a cup please," Matthew quietly told the ice cream seller.
"Psshh, smalls are for weaklings. Large chocolate chunk in a waffle cone!"
Bumbling out of the door, sticking change into empty pocket while not dropping their ice cream, Ivan, Alfred, and Matthew sat together on the nice wooden bench outside the front of the store. They were enjoying the last hot tendrils of summer before winter's cold grip took the city by storm. Ivan was used to the cold, but he still hated it, hugely preferring hot weather. He leaned his head back, the golden sun melting his snowy cheeks.
"Mmm…" Alfred hummed, as the thick taste of chocolate coated his tongue and insides of his cheeks. Cracking open one eye, Ivan watched his friend happily enjoy his ice cream like a little kid.
Slowly poking his tongue out, Alfred swirled his tongue around the tip of the ice cream, tantalizingly drawing his tongue down its length. He let a happy, buzzing sigh causing Ivan's cheeks to flush hotly. The red spread across his white skin, from his cheeks, to his nose, all over his face. The blush probably extended farther, except his long, pale scarf covered all of his neck and collar.
"Alfred? Can you please stop?" Ivan asked, shifting uncomfortable to try and hide his 'problem.'
"What's wrong, big guy?" He asked with a confused look on his face. His inability to read the atmosphere was working in high gear.
Alfred glanced down and saw a growing bulge in Ivan's pants. The atmosphere quickly became clear, and he joined him in flushing hotly. Now that the suggestive image was in his head, it wouldn't go away. From there, the images of the two of them flashing through his mind only became more and more lewd and risqué.
Hopping up, Matthew pulled the offending ice cream out of Alfred's hand and threw it away. Alfred didn't even object; it was obvious he was horribly embarrassed. They didn't make eyes contact for the rest of the short-lived afternoon.
Matthew remembered another of many times that something compromising happened.
Alfred and Ivan were too strong for their own good. Both had to be carful when yanking open doors that they wouldn't rip them off their hinges. When they jokingly punched Matthew on the arm, he would have black, purple, and green bruises for days, though he never showed them.
They were the only people who could take the other's immense strength, and part of their friendship seemed to be getting into fights to release that excess power. Alfred got some of the release from beating on people in football, as Ivan did in hockey, but it never appeared to be enough.
There was something like an unspoken agreement between them: Ivan never went for Alfred's head because he often suffered from concussions, and Alfred never touched the Russian's neck or scarf. Matthew thought his neck hurt him, but Ivan adamantly refused to speak about it.
Crack! Alfred smashed Ivan across the face, blood trickling from his lips. Thud! Crash! Ivan slugged him in the stomach, and threw him against the wall. Alfred slid to the floor and Bang! He knocked Ivan down with a wayward kick to the back of the knees. With a low chuckle, Ivan pounced on Alfred, pinning him to the floor. Arching his back and thrusting his hips up to knock Ivan off balance, Alfred flipped him over and ended up pining the large Russian. With another chuckle that was joined by the other's loud laugh, the two fell into a fit of giggles with Alfred on top of Ivan. He let him win for once.
Laughter subsiding to a content silence, Alfred's head dropped onto Ivan's shoulder, face against the crook of his neck, and Ivan wrapped a big arm around his waist. They didn't seem to notice the position they were in. Alfred straddled the Russian's hips, and his hands had slipped from their grasp on Ivan's wrists to tuck against his chest. The America's soft hair tickled the other's cheeks but in a good way, a too good way, and Ivan kept him tight to his chest with a grip around the golden blonde's torso.
Shifting slightly, Alfred inadvertently pressed their lengths fully against each other, suddenly making Ivan flush brightly. Why doesn't he notice these things until after I announce them? The Russian thought, mortified he was going to have to bring up the occurrence of one of these awkward moments to the American, again, before it became even worse.
"Alfred, get off me, da?" he said, trying to shift away but failing miserably when the American only latched himself on tightly.
"Whhhyyy?" he moaned, and then happily chirped, "It's fun to be on top!" Noticing how Ivan darkened considerably at the last statement, Alfred mulled over what he said over for half a second suddenly blanching.
"Err! Umm! Yeah, that isn't what I meant!" he blurted out.
After a few more awkward moments between the heavily flushing boys, Matthew got up off the couch from where he had observed this entire exchange, "Anyone want to go to Trade Wind Pub for dinner?"
Scrambling up quickly, Alfred yelled out an "I do!" Relived he could escape another awkward situation by pretending he was completely distracted by food, even though he wasn't.
While the front of his mind was focused on food, the back of his brain was whirling with how much he wanted the Russian, but how it couldn't happen. Especially because the other probably didn't even want him back. How was Alfred to know Ivan was drawing a sad, similar conclusion?
