APH PruCan Gakuen Hetalia 4
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Matthew's POV
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Some form of concentration is essential in all artists. While each is unique in his or her method of completion in their projects, not even humble doodles can get finished without a solidification of single mindedness and time.
This is something I repeated back to myself as a sort of mantra when my front door flew open with the sharp cracking of wood and the shriek of torn metal. My canvas reacted or would have, my free hand clamping down in time on any wild movement to keep rocking down to a minimal and thus messing up the last intricate part of my creation.
Were we under attack? No.
Was my dorm room being broken into? Not in the typical sense.
Was it my ridiculous twin with his total lack of restraint and loads of super strength excited about something and silly things like locked door were for other people? My brutalized door barely hanging off of its hinges was saying yes. Yes, yes it was.
"Mattie! Wow, it's actually kind of warm in here for once! I got some…..WHOA! OH MY FUCKING GOD!? WHY!? CAN'T UNSEE! CAN'T UNSEE!", Alfred started off at his normal level of enthusiasm(which is loud to begin with) before taking it to new deafening heights of excitement(I swear to Maple that damn serum did something unholy to his lungs-no one should be that fucking loud).
"Well Alfred, there are these things called doors that one uses to gain entry into another's home. If said door is closed, and above all locked, then one can safely assume that the person within does not want to be disturbed at that particular moment in time.", I said in an icy calm voice, my focus completely on my canvas, the cone shaped applicator of henna moving across the white skin of it without pause to random idiots.
"Geez Mattie….I…um….", Alfred started to say sheepishly.
"I'm not done speaking yet, Alfred Fail Jones.", I said, the words barely above a hiss. I heard Alfred gulp audibly, shutting his mouth with click of porcelain. I bit back a smile, happy with the knowledge that I could still install such pure fear so effectively into him with just a few words.
"Now. For all intents and purposes, I am going to assume the reason you broke my door down for is super important and needs my immediate attention." I intoned, drawing the words out purposely slow for full impact upon my worried audience, "And when I say important, it had better be news of someone, that we both mutually care aboot, being injured or dieing. This does not include the well being of any fictional character.".
Alfred made some sort of peculiar noise. It was a painful sounding mixture between a cough and dry heaving.
"In light of this fact, this had better not be some random information aboot your latest movie or comic book obsession I couldn't give two flying fucks aboot.", I continued, ignoring his discomfort, "Or anything else for that matter, you could have texted me and I could have read at my own leisure, responding accordingly to the contents or lack there of.". I usually don't ramble on like this, but Alfred's discomfort aboot this entire situation was warming the cockles of my heart rather pleasantly. I allowed myself a small smile as I arched the henna over the rise and fall of a prominent ridge in the canvas, the complex lines weaving up its sides in a design that was comparable to the intricate knots the Celts heavily favored. I hummed something new under my breathe, thinking it would rather fitting for a soundtrack for a romantic comedy I was working on. "Because my dear sweet brother, if it is not something that falls into that dire caliber of news, I will be displeased. Very displeased, Alfred."
A nervous shuffle of feet was the answer to my unspoken question on the contents of the subject matter. I would have rolled my eyes if I could have but I was so close to completing my endeavor, the last details around the heart the last thing needing to be done.
"I might be more inclined to forgive you if you fix my door in a timely manner and update my Itunes.", I said after what I deemed a long enough moment of nerve searing tension. I rarely got to torture Alfred like this so I was going to enjoy it to its fullest. I would have liked to watch the results of this but my canvas was presenting its own set of challenges, temperature being one of them. Too much cold, it goose bumped. Too much heat, it sweat. Too much irritation over either and it tensed. Finding middle ground was a constant back and forth to the thermostat, which actually reminded me of an idea.
"Also, make me a controller for the AC or even better, something voice activated.", I told Alfred, dropping the empirical tone as I stepped back to view my work for a moment.
"Mattieeeee.", Alfred whined, sounded slighted for some reason, "It's already enabled for that. You never listen to me.".
"I would if you stopped imitated a three year old who wants a cookie. You know I hate all that tech shit and unless you write it down for me, I won't bother to remember it.", I sighed, using a lemon juice soaked Qtip to fix some minor smudges in my lines. "Is there a password for it? I think I did try talking to the room a month ago to no response."
"No, no password. I just might have to recalibrate the voice sensors.", Alfred sounded worried, "Hey, I got to ask. Why is Gilbert naked, covered in paint, and hanging from the ceiling?".
"It's henna actually, not paint.", I corrected, "He suspended to put the right amount of tension in his skin and it keeps him from moving around too much.". Gilbert wasn't actually hanging either. His feet were firmly planted on the floor so that he could brace comfortably against it. It was just his arms that were tied together really, a hook suspended from the ceiling keeping the knot around his wrists solidly in place above his head. Alfred can be such a drama queen sometimes.
"And the ball gag?", Alfred asked, his tone sounding cautious.
"I agree. It's not aesthetically pleasing but necessary.", I lamented, "Unfortunately, it's the only thing I have been able to find that shuts him up.". Gilbert glared back at me, mumbling something vulgar(I am sure) at me in German. I don't know what he was bitching aboot. It was a small ball gag, one that absorbed salvia so we didn't have any of those nasty dripping issues. You think he would be grateful for not being covered in a mess of his own salvia and the lack of pressure on his jaw. Really, there is no pleasing some people.
"That doesn't explain why he's naked.", Alfred mumbled, picking up the door as lightly as if it were made of cardboard to study it.
"Be quiet and stop showing off your ignorance. Obviously, he's naked so that the henna doesn't smear. It also stains like a bitch. " I sighed, grimacing down at myself, "My hands are going to look ridiculous for a while.". I turned to find Alfred already refitting the door to the frame. He wandered around the room for a moment, pulling out tools and parts he had left behind on purpose. Alfred tended to break shit a lot when he got excited.
"Ok, that will do for now. I'll come back in a hour with something better.", Alfred promised, leaving through said door already.
"Where are you going, eh? I thought you had something to tell me.", I reminded him. Alfred glanced back at Gilbert who looked like he was contemplating eating the ball gag to be free of it.
"You know for the life of me, I can't remember.", Alfred shrugged, "Have fun, bro."
I waved him off with a smirk, "I always do." I stepped out of the way in time to avoid a kick to the knees, my canvas expressing him feelings on the matter.
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"This Scheiße is nasty.", Gilbert made a face as he peeled off strips of dried henna from his chest. I studied the results as he did so, ignoring the crusty bits that were now littered my floor and were being ground into my tile. I knew I should have put a tarp down. I knew better, having done messier projects than this with him in the last few weeks.
The henna left a rich reddish brown mark in its wake, made all the more vivid by the paleness of Gilbert's skin. The relief was striking but in retrospect, I would have preferred an even darker color. I wondered if I could make black henna.
"How long is this going to last?", Gilbert grumbled, rubbing his sides smooth, the henna crumbling off in a flurry of flying debris.
"About a week. Maybe two in your case though.", I yawned, pushing my glasses up onto my forehead momentarily so that I could rub the bridge of my nose. The damn things gave me a headache sometimes. "It doesn't matter anyway. I'm going to be painting over all of it.".
"So what was the point?", Gilbert asked, looking more curious than upset. Some people would taken an issue with being suspended for hours for no real reason other than for my own general amusement. Gilbert's tolerance was one of the things I actually liked about him. He was also the type of person who did not ask idle questions to waste time or to hear his own voice(he did enough of that with general conversation). He expected real answers. I only bothered with them because Gilbert actually seemed to listen to my answers. That was a rarity in life for me.
"There wasn't one. Not all art has to have a point. Most of it does not, being nothing more than a selfish diversion of time, attention, and materials. Sometimes it is simply meant to be for the sake of existing in a space of a moment, a place. Life given to any form or creation is a limited gift, one that is not meant to be kept. Parchment, paper, and canvas all rot. Paint and ink fade. Marble and stone chip and crumble away. Metal corrodes or rusts. All things end but that is what makes them so precious, so worth doing.", I said after giving it some thought. The Prussian's brow furrowed deeply, the pale man obviously thinking aboot this concept. After a moment of deep contemplation on his part, I took Gilbert's hand. He looked at me in surprise, but let himself be directed. I never made any effort to touch Gilbert unless it was art related and completely necessary. I ignored his arched brow and growing smirk, leading Gilbert toward the bathroom until he was placed in front of the full length mirror there.
"Look at yourself. Really take a long look at yourself. See how beautiful you are?", I told him, gesturing to his body, "This took hours to complete, time that you and I will never get back, and it will all be gone within two weeks."
Gilbert nodded, seeming to follow the line of reasoning so I continued.
"But in this moment and for an increment of a day or so, it's perfect and you are made more striking by it, for the sacrifice of skin and of self to become part of something greater….more.", I said, "That being said, I can give you no higher form of compliment."
"I don't need to be told that. I know I am awesome.", Gilbert winked at me, before turning back to the mirror to examine my craft, "Sweet! You wove the line in my veins so it's all two toned.".
"Yes, the blue of your veins works well with the mahogany of the henna against the pale of your skin.", I said absently though I felt dully happy that he had noticed that bit of detail. I really didn't know whether to laugh at Gilbert's simplistic nature or not. There were people in the world who would have paid a small fortune for what I had just done to him. They would probably even go so far as to make it permanent, tattooing or burning the design into their skin. For some reason, Gilbert's childlike happiness aboot being drawn on meant more to me than some stranger's blind devotion and/or appreciation.
"So you just did it to do it.", Gilbert mused, tracing the lines that curved and swirled with his veins, "I can respect that.". The design covered most of his chest, running down his sides to weave in and out of his ribs. It curved around the globes of his buttocks, sweeping tendrils of intricate knots under to grace the soft skin of his inner thighs. It finished out by tapering down his thighs to the tops of his feet. I would have to remember to take pictures of it all before he left. Lost in thought, I must have been zoning out because I didn't even realize that I had closed my eyes until my glasses were plucked off of my face. I kept my eyes shut and my head down, turned away from Gilbert.
"Why do you wear these?", Gilbert's voice sounded to my left. I turned my head to the right in defense just in case I opened my eyes by provocation or accident.
"Why do people normally wear glasses? I obviously can't see so give them back already.", I said impatiently as I struggled to stay polite. Pissing Gilbert off did not seem like a good idea at the moment. I held my hand out in demand for my eyewear.
"What would happen if I broke them?", Gilbert said casually, his voice moving closer to me.
I took a deep breathe, letting it out slowly in an effort to calm myself down. This was the side of Gilbert I didn't like, the one who toed my boundaries, made me react to him. "I would be very upset with you and Alfred would be as well because he would have to make me another pair. I would rather not have that conversation with him, considering how much shit I have given him over the years with him breaking and losing his own.".
"Look at me and I'll give them back safe and sound.", Gilbert's voice was almost sing song and very close now. I could feel his breathe on my face, making the skin tingle there.
"I could just kick you out.", I said sourly, flinching a bit as Gilbert touched his forehead to my own. Gilbert would take liberties with my personal space as well, another one of his faults. I'm not the touchy feely type to begin with. Coupled that with not getting laid for a while and you get an oversensitivity to touch that drives you nuts. My skin hunger was starting to distract me, my cock twitching in response to it.
"That would be pretty hard to do if you can't see anything", Gilbert teased, "I would just take the glasses with me anyway. C'mon Birdie, I'm not asking for a lot here. Just open your eyes.".
A simple request but I still debated with myself on it. Alfred had warned me aboot this sort of thing repeatedly. Genetic manipulation wasn't exactly legal for one thing, the serum Alfred had used on the both of us an ethical no-no. Not that any major power or government would really care given the discovery, but Alfred went to great extents to remain free of people, nations, and governments who would use him. Brute alien force backing him up gave Alfred a lot of leverage. Discovery and confirmation of his foray into playing mad scientist would be a definite disadvantage.
Gilbert wasn't a major power though and neither was his family. His closest friends were rich men's sons but they were small fish in a bigger pond than they would ever realize. The danger was minimal and I knew for a fact that Alfred had already shown and told Arthur all about it.
Which left me with a very uncomfortable question-When had Gilbert become as important to me as Arthur to Alfred?
In my shock at this personal revelation, I opened my eyes without meaning to. Advantage was taken fully as cool fingers grasped the sides of my face even as I tried to draw back.
"Beautiful…."
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Gilbert's POV
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And they were.
Matthew's eyes were like fire opals. Fiery reds, scintillating greens, and shards of blue fractured and swirled in a glitter that was very similar to starlight seen through a drunken haze. They shone faintly even in the harsh, reflective light of the bathroom.
"You got what you wanted. Now quit being a shithead and give them back.", Matthew muttered, flinching in my hold, the tips of my fingers stroking the skin it rested on with faint movements. Having enough of it, Matthew shook his head, freeing himself from me. I didn't let myself look as disappointed as I felt.
"Why? You look better without them.", I argued but handed Matthew back his slim silver frames. I was tempted to break them but didn't want to endanger our deal. Matthew was just starting to get comfortable enough around me to joke and talk about things on his mind.
"Don't be stupid. How many people do you know or have seen with eyes like mine?", Matthew snapped, shoving his glasses back into place to glare at me. His eyes were a bluish purple again through the glass. Pretty to look at but not what I wanted to see.
"It's just us here and I already know about them, so why not?", I pressed, "Those glasses can't be comfortable.".
Matthew sighed in response, looking caught between tempted and tortured.
"They're not but they are a necessary evil. I shouldn't get out of the habit of wearing them.".
"If you really don't want people to notice, you should stop looking over the rims of them. That is how I found out.", I told him, wandering out of the bathroom in search of my clothes. It looked like we were done for today and I was starting to feel chilly. Matthew kept the room much warmer now but I was still susceptible to even the slightest drafts thanks to Matthew's preference for nudity. Unfortunately, it was just for my own, my artist showing no inclination in joining me in my state of undress.
"You're the only one…." I heard Matthew mumble behind me. He pulled the pants I had picked up out of my hands. "Don't get dressed yet. Go lay down on the bed. I want to take pictures of the design to catalog the work."
"You know you just want naked pictures of my body.", I grinned evilly, "You secretly masturbate to them when I'm not around.". I swaggered toward Matthew's bed, climbing into it. It was a wonderful bed made of some sort of memory foam that cradled every part of me. It was like a cloud fucked a water bed and made very comfortable babies together. I luxuriated in it, rolling onto my back.
"I think I can do a little better than that. There is this thing called the internet. Far better selection and not half as annoying.", Matthew scoffed, rolling his eyes at me. He leaned over to smack at my sides. "Quit squirming. I'm trying to take a picture."
Just to be difficult, I stretched out further, arching my back off of the bed before finally settling back down. Matthew liked to take pictures of me here because the spread was a solid black background and he could adjust me more easily in a prone position. I held still as Matthew captured the designs on my skin, letting him move me when needed. I tried not to react, even when he flipped me over easily so that I was on my stomach, though I did shiver when he parted my thighs. Despite his brusque nature and harsh words, Matthew handled me very gently, like delicate fruit that would bruise.
I waited until he was done, timing it just right as he started to move away. I snagged the front of his shirt so that Matthew fell on top of me in a mess of flailing limbs and some lovely French curses. I took off his glasses again, tossing the frames onto a nearby pillow for safe keeping. Matthew pulled back far enough to glare daggers at me, his naked eyes glittering brightly like angry supernovas.
"Damn it, Gilbert! Stop fucking around!", Matthew started to get up and reach for his eyewear. Having none of it, I wrapped my arms and legs around him like a koala monkey baby thing.
"Quit your bitching. You're still dressed and I'm not even hard.", I said, touching our foreheads together so I could look directly into his eyes and he could not look away, "I just want to look at you a bit longer.".
Matthew grew still under my death grip, my fingers digging into his back. He might have issues with bruising me but I sure as shit didn't. I like a little pain with my pleasure, a drop of poison in the wine, "I thought that was what I was supposed to do to you. You're not being a very good model."
"Kesesese. Tough Scheiße. Deal with it.", I chuckled softly. I deemed it safe enough to release my hold on Matthew's back, one arm slipping down lower to caress at the gentle curve of his ass. I used the other to move strands of long blonde hair out of his face. It was like spun silk in my fingers.
"Let me go.", Matthew said in a warning tone. It lacked any real intent or threat though I noticed. I grinned openly at him, my hand tracing his jaw line to loop around to the back of his neck. I gripped the nape of it, massaging away the tension there. I was starting to wear him down.
"We both know you won't do anything. My skin bruises too easily and that would ruin your precious canvas.", I taunted him, losing myself in the sparkle of his strange eyes. They really did glow a soft golden shimmer in the dying of the light, the hour going late.
"I could always paint over it.", Matthew hissed snidely back.
"Don't be a douche. Can't you see we are having a moment.", I sighed. Just to be cheeky, I kissed the tip of his nose. I was delighted to see that it made him blush. Matthew wasn't as tough as he thought he was or else I was better at breaking down his barriers than he realized. By the time Matthew figured either out, it would be too late for him. He would be mine.
"Says the naked man who won't let me go.", Matthew huffed, his breathe coming out in hot little puffs of exasperation and awkwardness, "What kind of moment has yet to be established. I'm leaning toward a violent one if you don't let me up."
"Not my fault you made me this way.", I sighed breathily so that the heat of it would brush up against his cheeks. I watched as his eyelids fluttered a bit. He was relaxing into my hold without even realizing it, my arm around his waist tightening as I reached down to palm his ass.
Matthew moistened his dry lips hesitantly with the tip of his tongue. I lent him my own as well, swiping Matthew's bottom lip with a deft wet stroke. He let out a stuttering noise, his pupils dilating widely as his irises turned almost solidly golden with open desire. "Don't put that entire burden on me, hoser.", he murmured, his retort weak sounding due to note of desperate need in it.
I grinned, knowing the expression made me look feral and wanting. I didn't care. He was breaking down after all these weeks of touching me, working on my body with all manners of material. All he needed was just another little push and Matthew would be mine. He might hate me for a little while afterward but I would help him get over that too. Matthew was looking at my strangely though again, an intent wandering look. I would catch him occasionally casting it in my direction. His eyes flickered over my head and shoulders as if he were divining air or trying to make sense of something intangible around me. "What are you looking at?", I asked, keeping my tone soft so I would not startle him or break the mood, "I left Gilbird with Francis. Did I miss a few feathers or do I have bird shit in my hair again?"
"No. You're fine…..just fine. Just you, so vividly so. You wouldn't believe me if I told you what I see…..how much you shine.", Matthew whispered nonsense, his lips turning up in a sly half smile, amused but content to keep his own secrets. His expression softened with more wanton emotions though after a moment, his head tilting so that his lips brushed barely against my own. The silken skin rasped in its passing, a fantastic sound so soft in its utterance it could have been missed easily but it rang as loud as church bells in my ears. It was a perfect moment, one that I wanted to last forever or move on to something else…something greater…..
"I-I'll just come back later.", Alfred stammered out, making us both freeze mid-action.
"Damn it, Alfred!"
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Needless to say the moment was ruined and I was kicked out along with Alfred after his poorly mistimed interruption of cock block.
"You fucking suck, you know that?", I growled at the stupid American, Alfred walking beside me for whatever reason. I don't know why the asshole was following me but it was really starting to piss me off. It was late so no one was really around since World Academy had a curfew. Not like I cared and apparently Alfred didn't either, but it did give me the perfect opportunity to kick his ass.
"Did you want something from me, Du Hurensohn? Cause I'll feeling all sorts of generous.". I cracked my knuckles for sharp emphasis on my meaning. You know, just in case Alfred missed the point I was trying to make which wouldn't have surprised me at all. Alfred's expression told me he was unimpressed though. I recognized the look, having seen it more than once on Matthew's face. It bothered me on some level that the twins could share the same manner of expressions so closely. Even worse, Alfred didn't even appear to be listening to me, the dumb ass looking around the campus for something. He stopped when his eyes alighted upon a nearby bench made entirely of carved white marble.
"Hey, I'm talking to you….", I yelled at Alfred though I ended up trailing off when he went over to the bench to pick it up. And when I say pick it up, I mean Alfred grabbed the thing with two hands and lifted it high over his head. He proceeded to balance the damn thing in one hand as if it were a baton or something.
"This is roughly about 900 pounds, give or take a few. Did you know that?", Alfred said conversationally, as if we were talking about the weather and not the piece of solidly carved rock that he was currently playing with.
"Nein. Can't say that I did.", I dry swallowed, shoving my hands into my pockets. I need when I had been one upped. Alfred was making a point about something. I just needed to wait and see what it was…that and try not to be beaten to death with a chunk of rock.
"Well, now you know.", Alfred smiled. It didn't look pleasant though. More like he was considering where to bury my body or if the blood stains were going to be worth washing out of his clothes. "I also really love my brother."
Oh, so that's what it was about. "Funny thing. I do to.", I said carefully, moving a little further away from Alfred as I confessed. I am pretty sure he could have thrown the bench at me and I wanted to give myself some room it dodge.
"I would really hate to see him get hurt.", Alfred looked at me pointedly. A rush of blunt rage made me reconsider things like commonsense and personal well being as I strode up to the American to shove my face into his own.
"If you care so fucking much, why haven't you noticed that he's bleeding out emotionally?! It obvious he's been that way for a while!", I snarled, my spit hitting Alfred in the face. "You're worried about ME hurting him?! Why the hell don't you go use that bench on the guy who screwed up or screwed over Birdie in the first place?! Where the fuck were you?!".
We both had to scramble for a moment. Alfred lost his concentration balancing the bench, so it came crashing down nearly on top of us. If you were wondering, 900+ pounds of marble hitting the ground makes a lot of noise. Alfred and I looked down at the pile of rock formerly known as bench before looking back at each other. We did the first thing that came to mind.
We ran like hell.
"You fucking moron! Why the hell did you drop it?! I thought you were strong!", I yelled at him as we put hell to leather across campus.
"I am! You just surprised me is all.", Alfred snapped back.
"Why are you following me?!", I skidded to a stop as we ducked into one of the Academy's gardens, a safe distance away for the crime. Destruction of property wasn't a new thing for me, just not on that sort of permanent scale. From the smell of it, we were in the rose garden.
"We're not done, that's why. Not by a long shot.", Alfred puffed out, "Shit, Arthur is going to kill me when he finds out."
"Pussy. Who's going to tell him?", I laughed, adrenalin getting to me.
Alfred rolled his eyes at me so hard I think he might have pulled something. "How many people do you know that can do that?", he grumbled, "Artie's gonna figure it out. He's smart like that. I am so fucked". Alfred looked around worriedly as if he half expected Arthur to jump out of nowhere ready to reprimand him.
"Keep the kinky details of your sex life to yourself. Furthermore, keep the hell out of mine as well.", I found my cigarettes, tapping one out. Matthew didn't let me smoke around him and my addiction was gnawing a hole in my gut for a cancer stick.
"That's not good for you. You should quit.", Alfred pointed out.
"I think I'll rise above your influence and just say 'nein'.", I mocked, lighting one to suck in sweet chemical bliss. "And I'm not about to take advice from an idiot so blind he doesn't even see his own bruder.".
The American flinched at my words, looking back at me with an almost helpless expression. "It's not my fault. I told him not to date the Commie bastard.", Alfred muttered. His hands started to twist together, his fingers making themselves into tight knots. "I mean it was so obvious that Carlos was piece of shit. I never thought Mattie would actually fall in love with the guy."
My temper bit at the surface of my skin in sharp pricks at the very thought of another guy touching Matthew. I soothed it with nicotine, taking another long drag to calm myself down. "What happened?", I asked. Despite my growing hatred for the bastard, I really did want to know what had happened so that I didn't repeat the asshole's mistakes.
Alfred unknotted his fingers long enough to run his hands through his hair, tugging at it in open distress. I noticed that he kept it shorter than Matthew's. Part of me wondered idly if that was on purpose, a twin thing or both. "The bastard cheated on him, then lied about it. He strung Mattie along for the longest time. Mattie was so in love with the prick that he believed anything the Commie said. He wouldn't believe anyone else, not even me. And I tried. Oh god, I tried.", Alfred laughed, the sound strained with old wounds and bitterness, "He accused me of being jealous of their relationship. It took Matthew walking in on him doing it with some slut in their bed to finally believe us all. After that…..". Alfred let his words die to gesture wordlessly to the present.
I absorbed this new information with all the heavy consideration that it deserved. "Did you talk to him about it or just tell him 'I told you so'?", I snorted. I must have pushed a button because the next thing I knew, my back was being pushed up firmly against the top of a hedge. I would have complained about this but Alfred had a very firm grip on my throat.
"Fuck you! I'm the one who had to pick up the pieces afterward, you fucking prick! Do you think there is anyone one else in the world who can understand Mattie? Really understand him? Think on his level?", Alfred roared up at me. His glasses had gotten knocked off or lost at some point. They glowed in the dark of the garden, casting a hot blue white light on me. It was like looking into the hidden heart of a star. "You're so fucking beneath him, it's nearly an abstract concept. Do you really think you have anything of value to offer him?".
I took the opportunity to respond. My hands shot up to grip Alfred at the wrist but not to remove it from my throat. I braced myself so that I could plant a foot on his chest, using the other to brutally bring up my knee directly into Alfred's chin. His head snapped back with a cracking sound as bones made connection. Staggered by the sudden blossoming pain, Alfred's grip faltered completely as I put my weight into it, sending me crashing into the American with my fists swinging. I got in two solids hits to his face before he threw me off…literally. While airborne, I did manage to tuck and roll, effectively bruising my shoulder, wrenching it, when I land. I seemed otherwise alright as I rolled to a stop into a hedge. Well at least in one piece, so winning?
"I got plenty to offer, Arschgeige.", I groaned, "And if I got to kick your ass or die trying to prove it, then I got no problem with that.". I untangled myself from the grip of the hedge, flopping onto my stomach with a grunt of pain. My throat burned from where it had been crushed by Alfred's fingers. I already knew it was going to bruise. Other injuries put in their vote as well, my shoulder and arm complaining noisily in shades of vivid pain. It didn't feel broken but I wasn't going to be jerking off with it anytime soon. My focus was not on my body though but on getting the hell off of the ground. I was fucked if I didn't get back on my feet. Fights were never won by eating pavement. I could already hear Alfred moving toward me, the light from his bizarre eyes casting trailing shadows. I couldn't make my body move fast enough though, rising to my hand and knees to fall back down. I was a dead man.
So I was really surprised when a helpful hand up was offered to me. I rolled onto my back to glare at Alfred more comfortably. "I don't want your pity, Jones. Just finish it. Kick my ass or kill me. I'm not going to stop seeing your brother and there is nothing you can say or do that can make me.", I spat out. Alfred made no move to kick my head in though. Instead, Alfred crouched down beside me until he sat back on his heels, studying me with a thoughtful expression. I was pleased to see I had given him one hell of shiner and a cut lip, the blood already dripping off of his chin and onto his t-shirt. It felt good to know that Superman wasn't invincible.
"Do you love him?", Alfred asked, his elbows resting on his knees as he steepled his fingers.
"Nein.", I answered honestly, watching Alfred's eyes widen to painful extents before narrowing at me into slits. "It's more than that. I can't explain it to you because I don't even know.", I continued, "But I would never do what that bastard did and I would hurt myself before I ever hurt Birdie. On that you have my word as a Prussian."
"You make no sense.", Alfred sighed, falling back onto his butt to lie down completely. He stared up at the stars for so long, I thought he had totally forgotten what we were talking about or fallen asleep. "I don't know….Don't know now what to think about this or you and that is saying something."
"What's to know? I'm awesome and that's all that matters.", I cackled, my voice rough from the damage to my throat. "So are we good or are you going to try and kill me again? I can give you another black eye for your troubles so that you have a matching set. I don't plan on going down easily.".
Laughing, Alfred sat up, offering his hand to me again, this time in truce. "You have got to be one of the stupidest people I have ever met.", he said bluntly. Alfred was not known for his skills in social diplomacy. "But if you can make my brother happy again, I guess that's all that matters. You certainly have the balls to do it."
"Gee thanks Al. That was a fucking stirring speech. I'm getting all misty eyed here from it.", I rolled my eyes, but took the offered appendage to shake it.
"And anyway, if you guys become permanent, I'm sure I can fix that and raise your IQ by at least fifty points.", Alfred nodded to himself. "The side effects will be minimal. I got almost all the kinks worked out."
"Wait, what?"
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO
After a rather confusing conversation with Alfred about DNA and chemical composition, I decided that I had had enough surprises for today, my weary feet turning toward my dorm room. I hoped that Ludwig was asleep already or was too busy fucking his Italian idiot into a mattress. Either would work for me at the moment and would buy me some time to come up with a believable story of why I looked like a truck ran me over. I must of pissed off some deity with my sheer amount of awesome though, because two idiots tackled me from behind before I could make it through my front door.
"Zo, iz he the Ghost or not!?", Francis asked with no prelude of wanted conversation, leaning heavily off of my right side. My shoulder shrieked in sharp, renewed pain causing me to grit my teeth.
"Tell us, amigo.", Antonio demanded, leaning heavily off of my left side. My body complained about it in several new places of discontent.
I groaned in response, shaking them both off. "What the fuck are you idiots talking about?".
"Ze Ghost!", Francis practically shrieked at me in his irritation, even going so far as to stomp his foot.
"What ghost? Holy shit, are you drunk again or something?", I snapped back, "I'm kind of injured here if you haven't bother to notice, you useless bastards!".
"You are looking a bit more mottled than usual.", Antonio leaning in to study the darkening handprint around my neck in shades of plum and magenta. I really hoped that Matthew was planning on painting my skin tomorrow. He was going to have a shit fit over it. I wondered what I was going to tell him or what Alfred was going to blurt out or admit to meddling. It wasn't going be too hard to put two and two together after Matthew saw his brother's fucked up face and my own battle wounds.
"You are always stepping in ze pile of ze zhit.", Francis said exasperatedly, waving the notion of my bodily harm aside as it were buzzing about his head like an annoying fly. "Now come, come. Tell uz all that you know! You haven't been zpending all that time with the American's brother for nothing, of that I am zure.".
"Oh that ghost thing? You're still on that? How the hell should I know?", I shrugged. Francis should know better than that. We've been friends long enough with each other to know that I tend to dismiss things I don't give a shit about from reality.
"How could you not?! Are you blind or just stupid?! I must know!", Francis wailed, looking about ready to give himself up to despair.
"Like I give a Scheiße. Where's my bird, wino?"