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In The Game of Love
Muscles straining against the thick cotton fabric of his polo-shirt, right hand still aching badly from punching Ivan, Alfred pushed hard on the handle of the butter knife, attempting to wedge its blade between the dried gum and the underside of the white Formica table.
Suddenly, the knife popped loose and flew out of Alfred's grip. He fell forward, banging his forehead into the rounded edge of the table. Howling with pain, he rubbed at the injury.
"Son of a bitch!" he yelled. "They cemented this bastard on!"
"Al," Matthew called in his scolding voice. Alfred's brother stood in front of the glass front doors of the Pancake Factory, cleaning them with a bottle of windex and a cloth rag. "I keep telling you to use a bag of ice or peanut butter from the pantry. It'll loosen it up. If you'd listen to me inst—."
"—that'll take too long!" Alfred interrupted, crawling under the booth's table and across the checkered floor of alternating peach and dark brown squares. Once he had retrieved the knife, he squatted next to the booth, one elbow resting on the red vinyl upholstery of its seat, and went back to work.
"Why don't you let me do that? Doesn't your hand hurt?" Matthew asked softly.
"A bit," he lied. "Don't give me that look."
"What look?" Matthew gave a couple quick sprays.
"You know the look. The one you give when you think I'm being stupid."
"What? You can read atmosphere?" Matthew said wryly. Alfred shot a frown over his shoulder at the back of his brother's head. They both wore matching sets of orange shirts and black slacks — their uniforms at the Pancake Factory.
Little by little the wad of gum loosened. "I swear this is vandalism. They super-glued it on. I wanna see the video!"
"If you want to comb through hours of security cam footage over a wad of gum, be my guest. But you'll do it without me." Matthew said, words punctuated by a couple more sprays.
"But Mattie ~ You're my back-up!" Matthew snickered at that. "Lukas would want to know this vandal!"
Matthew laughed at that. "Really, Al? Take a look at the state of this place. I doubt gum will bother him."
Their boss wasn't exactly keeping up with maintenance. There were chips, scratches, and dents everywhere, even on the silverware.
"He'd have more business here if he'd listen to my suggestions," Alfred said.
"Changing our uniform colors to red, white, and blue is not going to bring in more business."
"You can't be sure! And what about my other ideas? They're even better. Like getting rid of Mr. Stack."
Matthew gave a strangled cry and said defensively, "You leave Mr. Stack alone! I like him!"
Mr. Stack was the store mascot, visible on all the napkins and on the glass front doors and behind the counter. He was a stack of pancakes with cartoon eyes on top and pancake lips in the center of his body.
"You also like Nickleback. Your sense of taste can't be trusted," Alfred said, knowing, without looking, that his brother was glaring at him. He pointedly ignored it. "Mr. Stack is stupid. Now if it were up to me, the store mascot would be Mr. Pan-America! A bald eagle with guns that shoot maple syrup and butter stick bombs that explode. Now that would be epic!"
"Only you would think that. Kids love Mr. Stack. He's cute. And who are you to bash others' tastes? Nickleback has plenty of good songs."
"That all sound the same. As for Mr. Stack he's sick." Mathew groaned and Alfred heard him mutter 'not this again'. "He's a stack of pancakes whose phrase is, 'Yummy, dum, dum, get pancakes in your tum!' He's tells people to eat pancakes. Doesn't that make him a pannibal?"
Alfred swore he could hear Matthew rolling his eyes. "That joke will never be funny, Al. Never."
"I have no idea what you mean. It's comedy gold!" Alfred joked and then the gum popped off and landed on the floor. "Ah-hah! Did you see that? I am the hero!"
Matthew gave a very slow clap. "Oh, wow. My hero. The evil gum wad has been slain." His tone hinted at sarcasm.
"Don't be jealous. Not everyone can be the hero. Some are more suited to being sidekicks," Alfred said, plucking a napkin out of one of the metal holders on the table before using that to pick up the gum. He knew Matthew was frowning at him. He could read atmosphere, he just preferred to ignore it.
As he carried the wad around the grey counter, lined with stools of red vinyl upholstery, he glanced at his brother who was still staring at him. While they had similar faces, Matthew's was rounder and softer at the edges. He also had a leaner frame compared to Alfred's muscular, more tanned one. Their glasses were similar, but their eyes slightly different shades of blue. Where Alfred had sky-blue irises, Matthew's had a violet-tinge to his.
"Speakings of heroics," Matthew said, sounding nervous, "Do you think Ivan will retaliate?"
"Probably," Alfred said, chucking the gum in the trash before heading into the kitchen. They continued to talk in raised voices as he tossed the butter knife in the sink and took out the broom and dust pan. "But I'll take on the whole school if I have to. I'm not afraid. They can't break me! No siree!"
When he came back, Matthew had put away the windex and cloth and was now tapping on the buttons of the cash register.
"Will… will he sue you?"
"For what?"
"For assault and battery."
"Me?" Alfred guffawed. "It was in self-defense."
"You said they filmed it."
"Yeah. Hope they post it," Alfred said, pausing to stare off dreamily until he noticed Matthew frowning at him. "What? It was an awesome punch. I want to relive knocking out that creep."
Matthew shook his head. "Al, they could use that as evidence."
"Against me? He was the one ordering me and Toris to lick his shoes."
There was the jingle of keys as Matthew fished out the Pancake Factory's key ring from his back pocket. After Matthew inserted the smallest key and turned it, the register began printing out a receipt with all the transactions for the days.
Shaking his head, Matthew said, "They can edit the footage. Plus you'll have to describe how the punch was self-defense. You could have walked away."
"How was it not? Way to kill my hero buzz. You make it sound like I should've just licked his shoe," Alfred said, starting to sweep furiously around the stools. He kicked up more dust than gathered it.
"Never mind," Matthew said with a heavy sigh. "I can believe Louis Bonnaparte and Old Fritz' sons are such jerks. I always thought their kids would be… erm…"
"Like the dads? Maybe they are," Alfred said.
"No, they aren't like that," Matthew insisted. "I wish I could meet Louis. His recipes are so amazing."
"I think you'd lick his shoes if given the chance," Alfred said, flashing his brother a grin.
"I love his souffle recipe," Matthew sighed, looking lost in a daydream. "I wish I could cook like him."
"You'll be better than him one day. You'll be the world's greatest chef," Alfred said, opening his arms wide.
"Y-you really think so?"
"I know so. Heck, even Lukas would admit most of the customers come here only when you're in the kitchen. They know you're schedule better than you!"
"Y-you're exaggerating," Matthew said, dropping his gaze to the register, but he couldn't hide the smile ghosting his lips or the faint pink blush on his cheeks. "I'm not that good."
"Oh, come off it. If I didn't work out so much you'd need a crane to get me up the stairs of our apartment, I'd be so fat from eating your cooking," Alfred said, beaming at his brother who quickly looked away. He knew Matthew was turning bright red, like he did whenever anyone praised him.
When his brother turned back, he had a sad look in his eyes and Alfred could guess why. Matthew felt incredibly guilty at the cost of his culinary school's tuition. The only reason they could afford it was because Alfred had free tuition right now. If Alfred was kicked out of Hetalia High, Matthew might have to drop out as well.
Alfred refused to let that happen.
"S-so will Toris be all right?" Matthew asked in a shaky voice, clearly wanting a new topic.
"I already told you. I left him with the school nurse. He seemed better. I wish I had a phone, then he could text me." Alfred bent to sweep under a table.
"Yeah…" Matthew said. "Alejandro keeps pestering me to get one as well."
Alfred grunted, but said nothing. Matthew was aware that Alfred and Alejandro disliked each other. He really didn't know why his brother insisted on dating that Cuban creep nor what he saw in him.
Deciding to lighten the mood, Alfred joked, "You think Lukas' hair curl might give us a loan?"
Matthew chuckled softly as he squatted down, no doubt checking stock. "For the last time, it's not possessed or sentient. His hair tends to stick up. That's all. It's a different strand."
"It's the same one and it moves, Mattie. It moves," Alfred insisted, voice going a little higher than intended. "I hope it's not e-e-evil."
Matthew peeked above the counter, one blond eyebrow arched. "So you believe one strand of hair rips itself out by the roots and moves around his scalp?"
"It's possessed, Mattie. Ghosts are real," Alfred said, voice quaking. "I've shown the proof."
"Ghost Hunters is a TV show. It's not proof."
"A reality TV show. Based on reality."
"Good grief," Matthew said, disappearing back below. "I still can't believe you get scared watching that stuff."
"Coz it's real," Alfred said. "I showed you that civil war episode they filmed in Gettysburg. And that hair curl is weird."
"I'll agree that Lukas is weird."
"That too."
Their boss was obsessed with trolls, his office papered with posters of them. He had salt on the windows and often wore mismatched socks to work, claiming the gnomes stole the other one. And on more than one occasion, they had passed his office to hear him having a conversation in Norwegian to no one in particular.
"Why don't you head home? I can close up," Matthew said, sounding like he was moving stock around.
"No way. We go home together. This isn't an easy neighborhood," Alfred said.
"Then at least study. I can finish the cleaning. You have a lot of work."
"I'll be fine," Alfred said, gathering up the dust in a pile.
"We'll be careful tomorrow," Matthew said, sounding concerned. "Ivan sounds unstable."
"Eh, what's the worst that he'll do? Try to beat me up?" Alfred said. "As long as it stays at school I can handle it."
There was not enough coffee in the universe to rouse Alfred from the haze of sleep. The deep bags under his eyes were a testament to that.
Pre-dawn shadows masked the grime, potholes, and numerous cracks of the street and sidewalk. He carried Tony down the cracked concrete steps of the brick apartment's stoop and set him down.
After mounting Tony, he pumped the petals and took off down the street, careful of the corners where young men gathered and slouched around in groups. Fortunately, most of the gangs liked Alfred. Unfortunately, they liked him too much and kept pushing him to join. That was a trade he wanted to stay clear of.
Once out of the rougher side of town, Alfred let his guard down and began to enjoy the ride. The street lamps turned off, but there were still a couple stars out. Venus gleamed proudly in a crisp sky on the verge of daylight.
Too busy admiring Venus, Alfred did not notice the unmarked white van following him from along the street. When he braked and waited for a stoplight to change, he did not notice it also stopped nor the men two men in dark grey jumpsuits that stepped out behind him.
Only when a limo pulled up in front of him, blocking the cross walk, did he start to notice something was wrong. A frown grew on his features as he wondered why a limo was out in this part of town.
The passenger window in its rear rolled down to reveal a pale, square face, one that made Alfred's blood run cold as he recognized Ivan. Ivan stared at him, smiling knowingly.
A small glance behind Alfred was the only warning he had before a black bag was pulled over his head. His whole body sprung into action, limbs flailing as arms snaked around his waist and limbs, dragging him off Tony.
He tried to shout, but a large hand clamped over his mouth and the map made it difficult to bit into the palm. He bucked and twisted, managing to kick one of his attackers who gave an "oomph".
Then he felt a pinprick in his neck from a sharp needle sliding under the skin. Hot liquid coursed through his veins and his body went limp, strength ebbing away.
"Take the bike," A voice grunted.
"Mmph," Alfred said, words muffled. His body would no longer obey him.
He was dragged; he heard the van's side door slide open before they tossed him inside.
He never felt himself hit the floor. The last thing he remembered thinking was "Ivan is kidnapping me".
(TBC in… "Be My Toy")
Note — Confession. *draws in deep breath*. I like Nickleback as well.
Note #2 — Ah, the infamous kidnapping scene that is manga canon and is features in the anime and all versions of the drama. It is like cornerstone of the story because it leads to the first confrontation between the protagonist and initial antagonist. This wouldn't be a "Boys Over Flowers" tribute without it. However, I might add my own ideas.