AN: Hello lovelies

there will be some more updates in august so this is not going to be left alone for 13 months do not worry

haha... have fun... don't blame me for anything...

enjoy


The sky had been a murky gray all afternoon, the wind whipping at everyone's ankles, the city moving faster even in its usual schedule. It was always this way on cold stormy days, so Gilbert tended to turn the lights on a bit earlier, letting people with bitten red cheeks and shivering hands clamber into the bar, piling into booth seats or around tables. He found it curious, as he himself would do the opposite, escaping into his home before the eventual rain came.

But who was he to refuse customers?

Lovino was idling on the counter, playing with a shot glass and staring out the window. Every so often he would let off another sigh, and Gilbert finally couldn't ignore the horde of worried glances being thrown at him by patrons.

"Lovi," He said gently, snatching the glass from his fingers and slipping it with the others, "You're not actually allowed to be in this bar, you know. But I am doing the very selfless thing and letting you stay here, because you refuse to go into the back with our brothers, so could you please do me the honor of not drawing attention to yourself?"

Lovino finally pulled his gaze from the window, furrowing his brow and snapping, "What? I literally haven't spoken a word," before dissolving into angry Italian.

The albino raised an eyebrow in response, which only seemed to frustrate him more. Lovino groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in the hopes that when he opened them, Gilbert would be gone.

He had never been lucky.

"Fine," He grumbled, crossing his arms on the counter, "What do you want."

Gilbert smirked smugly and whipped his symbolic towel over his shoulder. "I want you to either get in the back with Feli, or get in the back anyway, to make space for paying customers. Unless you want to wait tables."

"I want to wait tables."

"What?" Gilbert looked up at Lovino, who was staring determinedly up at him, "Do you hate your brother that much?"

He rolled his eyes and sighed, "No, I just don't want to watch him fawning over your fucking brother." When Gilbert didn't respond, he simply slipped off the stool and quickly finagled his way behind the bar. "Just tell me what to take and where to take it."

"Quickly," he added. "Bastard."


Alfred was lying on the cot he had finally dragged into the living room when Matthew came home, dumping several bags of groceries onto the kitchen island. "Hey, Mattie!" He called from the mattress, not looking away from the ceiling. "Look, I got the cots out!"

Matthew yawned idly, removing frozen foods from their containers and glancing at his brother. "Yeah. Did you dress them?"

"I figured I deserved a short break after all that work."

"Of course," Matthew replied calmly, stacking the tea next to the bread box. "Did you write anything today?"

Alfred groaned, swinging off the bed and cracking his back. "Like, a chapter, but it's all crap. I'm probably gonna delete it and rewrite it tomorrow."

The Canadian shrugged, lethargic, but smiled easily. "You should let me read it, see if it's salvageable."

"Of course, baby bro." Alfred grinned leaning onto the island as Matthew unpacked. "But not tonight. I need to add this one scene. The first encounter, the meet-cute, ya know?" He played with a banana, fiddling with the stem until it would be impossible to actually open the thing. "I'm thinking go with something so normal it's odd. Like, they meet at a grocery store or work or something."

"It's not a meet-cute if it's boring."

Alfred pouted and dropped the mutilated banana, "It's not the setting, dude, it's the actual meeting. Their carts bump into each other or one of them has an extra of what the other one needs. You know. Meeting. Cutely."

Matthew gave Alfred a charitable grin, "I'll pretend to care if you do the frigging sheets already."


"So, Arthur," Alfred said inquisitively, making sure to roll every r, "Would you call this a meet-cute?"

Arthur glared at him over his coffee cup, uneasily replying, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm getting coffee, Arthur, I'm exhausted. I need it. It fuels me."

"But why are you here now. Are you stalking me?"

Alfred gasped dramatically, bringing a hand to his chest. "Arthur, this is purely coincidence! Which brings me back to the point. Is this a cute way to meet?"

"We're not meeting, Alfred. Much to my chagrin we already know one another." Arthur knit his brows in mock concern and said quietly, "You- you do know that, right, Alfred?"

"Yes, thank you, I do know we've met. It's for my characters. I can't grasp the situation where they meet each other."

"Your characters?" Maria asked, edging into the conversation and reminding Arthur she was there with him. At her words, however, he as well grasped Alfred's meaning.

"You're a writer? Oh god. I think I've gone faint. I swear I can see the death of literature before my very eyes."

Alfred frowned but Maria chuckled, watching with bright eyes as Alfred began justifying his work.

He was arguing about the artistic style of modern chatspeak when she interrupted him and Arthur, waving her phone, which was receiving a call with an inaudible hum. "It's time for me to go. Arthur, remember what I said." Arthur nodded seriously, catching the name on her screen. He wasn't sure why Ivan was calling Maria, but he knew it had to with what she'd told him. Or rather, warned him.

There's a war coming, Arthur. And it's heading straight for you.


Don't get him wrong; Siberia is as cold as Siberia. It's literally so cold that no other metaphor can capture how cold it is. Frankly, Ivan had no idea how Feliks survived at night, but then again, he had no idea what it was like to have bullet proof skin. But Ivan had been born in Russia, and spent almost his entire life in his isolated mansion on the outskirts of Siberia, so stepping off the airplane at JFK was an abrupt surprise. Cities weren't new to him, but the skyscrapers, most of which hadn't stopped at scraping, were all around him, engulfing him in the reality of his situation. He shuffled nervously to the taxi queue, pulling out his ancient phone and carefully dialing the number he had written down.

The line barely rung before he heard a small snap. "Hallo?" He said nervously, ducking down. "Maria?"

"Privet." A clipped voice responded, "Have you made it to the hotel?"

"Nyet. Am waiting for taxi now."

"I'll be there in half an hour, take your time," there were some muffled clicks on the line and she added, "Wang Yao will be there tomorrow, I'll be sure to brief you before he arrives."

"Okay." Ivan glanced as the taxi slid up beside him, frustrated driver waving at him.

"Excellent. See you soon."


The tangy scent of blood reached Leo's nose blocks away from Kyle's house, stale but newly exposed, unlike the packs he received. Not wanting to make a scene, Leo didn't speed up, only walked at his normal pace, but as the scent only grew stronger he slipped the keys between his fingers, drawing in another breath.

If it weren't so terrifying it would be irresistible, and he forced himself to take deep breaths, keeping his eyes from radiating anything. As he finally reached the house, however, he could no longer hold back, and he tore through the door and up the stairs in seconds, all the while murmuring no like a mantra.

The door to Kyle's room stood ajar, casting a shadow into the younger man's room.

Kyle's room had been painted white, pure white, like a fresh piece of paper. The first time Leo had stepped into the room, he'd remarked snarkily about the minimal furniture and the monochrome theme, but Kyle only laughed it off, citing fresh starts and new beginnings. "After all, isn't that why you came to me?"

Leo hadn't responded, too nervous to say that wasn't really the main reason. He'd only made fun of him more, told him everything was going to stain.

He hadn't been disfigured, or anything, but his skin was pale and depleted, not tan and full of life as he always had been. When Leo brushed a hand along his arm, it felt cold, stiff, lifeless. No matter what he did, Kyle wouldn't respond, and Leo laughed miserably.

The walls were splattered with blood, bright and striking against the walls, and Leo laughed more at the sight.

He thought he'd been laughing, anyway, when his body started shaking, breath coming out in short gasps. "Well," he murmured, brushing a first and only kiss against his temple. "I guess there's no such thing as a new beginning."


Alright yay lovi's waiting tables that'll be fun right

there should be at least two more updates this month, and yes, that was some plot you spied there.

Reviews, etc, are encouraged and appreciated. Happy weekend.