"Okay, so I've like designed a really sweet attack plan which I'm calling Attack Plan Alpha; like Alpha Dog. Woof!" – America/ Funimation Dub/ Eng Dub
XD America said Alpha! He was talking about me~!
Chapter Nine: Home is where the Heartburn is
"Ivan, this is it."
The large Russian was stirred from his thoughts as Alfred pulled into an apartment complex's parking lot. If Alfred was nervous the American hid it well, grinning and jumping out of the car. He bounced around like an excited dog – the uneven pacing reminded Ivan of the blond's prosthetic.
"Come on, my apartment is this way!" Alfred took his hand, skipping off in what almost seemed a random direction.
The apartment complex was a modest middle class community. The buildings were layered on an open grid with room between for plants and sidewalk. The buildings themselves were two stories, each with their own sidewalk and potted plants. Alfred said that a community pool was not far away.
Over the course of their journey to the blond's apartment, only one other person was spotted, an older gentleman who n the middle of painting on his porch. Alfred waved and the older man grunted with acknowledgement. He studied Ivan as they passed.
It was the same look Ivan was given no mater where he went.
Suspicion.
Worry.
Fear.
It seemed the only person who was immune to his terrifying persona was Alfred (and his sister Natalya but that was another story). Alfred was honest, open, and caring. He was an idiot but he meant well. He meddled and pried, and was obtuse; but he was sweet all the same. He really was a mutt who wouldn't go away.
"Well, this is it!" announced Alfred, spinning around to face Ivan. "I live on the second floor so we have to be a bit quiet."
Ivan snorted. He doubted the blond could ever be quiet. Even at a funeral Alfred would still be energetic.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Alfred fumed, pouting as he climbed the stairs. It was obvious he had a bit of trouble because of his leg.
"Nothing, Sunspot. Was only thinking good things about you," was Ivan's giddy reply. Alfred scoffed at the remark as he fought with his keychain (there were at least five keys and twice as many key chains from hamburgers with googly eyes to space aliens).
"Here we go!" The door opened without a sound, Alfred marched through it as if on parade. "Welcome to your new home, Ivan."
The first emotion Ivan had upon entering the small, two bedroom apartment was horror.
The apartment was filthy with clutter. Stacks of food and toy wrappers were piled so high they blocked out the sunlight from the windows. Furniture was buried under a mountain of trash, old pizza boxes and rolled up paper. The smell was stale and suffocating – like Alfred had aired out the room with hamburger scented candles.
What little Ivan could actually see of the room was a bigger than necessary TV, a game console, and a coffee table. Cleared paths trailed all over the room, mounds of trash threatening to collapse onto it. The room broke off into a war-like kitchen (complete with crusty food stains) and to the left a hall way opened up.
It was disgusting. Even when Alfred assured him he cleaned out spoilable trash at regular intervals Ivan still wanted to burn it down.
And he wanted Ivan to live here?
"I don't have much food in the kitchen because I mostly eat at New Hope but you're free to forage."
Ivan strained to maintain his smile. He was homeless but he doubted he'd ever lower his living standards this much.
Alfred's smile was so full of jubilance it was almost painful for Ivan to look at him.
Weary Ivan tried to return the gesture.
"Tere's only on bathroom so we'll have to share,but I do have a guestroom where I've kept my collection. You can sleep there. Or the couch if you want the T.V."
He knew he'd regret it, but he had to ask.
"Collection?"
~O~O~O~O~
Alfred was obsessed.
Alfred was obsessed to a level that was unhealthy.
If Ivan thought that the front of the house was bad he had no words for the guest bedroom.
The shelves, the cabinet, the walls, the floor-it was all covered in Happy Meal toys.
It was a swirling hellish galaxy of colors, plastics, and plush toys. All of them grinning, smiling, and laughing at Ivan. There were so many they engulfed the floor several layers high. The sight was more horrifying than anything the Russian had seen since moving to America (his scarf getting ripped didn't count). What was worse was that Ivan could tell they had been played with.
"Something special, isn't it?" Alfred grinned. The American was glowing with pride. He was damn proud of his collection and loved to show it off. "I've kept every toy since I was a kid! And I have the third biggest collection in the country!"
God. That meant people out there had more? At least there were only two.
"So what do you think? Isn't it awesome?"
"I think you need help, yes."
"Hmm? I guess I do need to organize it more." Alfred smiled at the room, making a happy sigh like a mother. "What do you want for dinner? How 'bout pizza? Pizza sounds good." He hopped off, whistling as he went.
Ivan was left alone in the room of horrors. His cheerful façade fell as he glared at the chaotic mass of toys. No way in hell was he sleeping in here. With a final icy look he left the room, making sure the door was tightly shut.
"Hey, Ivan, what do you want on your pizza?" the blond called from the kitchen, house phone in hand.
Ivan didn't care for pizza but he knew if he left the selection up to Alfred the meal would have everything but the kitchen sink on it. It would even look like the dreaded "collection" room.
Wanting to keep things simple Ivan asked for pepperoni only. Alfred stuck out his tongue and said that was boring. He ordered everything on the menu anyway.
They waited on the couch for the pizza to arrive, Alfred again talking about everything and nothing. Ivan was quiet as he listened, his comments few. Much of the Russian's life had been spent in silence. It was nice to have someone to talk to, to fill the void.
Now if only he'd clean up the house.
The pizza arrived; Alfred bounced off the couch to answer the door. When he returned he cleared a space on the coffee table (knocking over the trash and old magazines – one on alien and Bigfoot discoveries). The blond lay back down and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels until he came to a cartoon he liked.
What the American did next was less usual.
He rolled up his pant leg and unstrapped his false leg, massaging the stump of flesh. Next he unwound the cloths around the stump. It was agitated and red from being in the prosthetic all day. Alfred stared at the stub for a long moment before reaching forward to the coffee table. He pushed aside more trash and found some lotion. He slathered his aching stub and wiped the rest of the lotion off on his pants.
Alfred reached forward again, this time for the pizza. His left leg nudged into Ivan's, making the American blink then blush as he realized the Russian was there. Ivan's eyes hadn't moved from Alfred's lack of leg since it had been exposed.
"I . . . sorry. I haven't had company in a while," the blond explained, taking a slice of pizza.
Ivan shrugged, reaching for a pizza slice. He picked off all the toppings but cheese and piled them onto another slice. "It is your house. You have free reign to do as you please."
Alfred nodded but it was less enthusiastic than normal.
The blond continued talking. It was awkward but Ivan appreciated the effort. As time passed eating dinner became less and less of a necessity. Ivan found himself staring.
Not at the leg, no.
At his lips.
Alfred's lips glistened as he ate the icky, complicated, Americanized excuse for an Italian meal. They were red from whatever pepper was on the pizza and as tempting as the urge to pull a fire alarm. Ivan stared at those lips the way a jumper watches a crowd from atop a building; longing, regret, guilt, nervousness, and above all else excitement.
"Ivan? Heeelooo? You're hearin' me, right? I asked if -"
The lavender eyed man didn't let Alfred finish, leaning forward to capture the blond's lips before they could waste themselves on another pointless word.
Alfred's blue eyes flashed with surprise before closing. He breathed into the kiss as Ivan dwelled deeper, trying to get a moan from his younger lover. In contact with his lips Ivan's own burned from the pepper toppings. Unfortunately the American tasted like pizza and the one hundred toppings on it. Another unfortunate fact was that Alfred smelled like grease and lotion – not a pleasant mix.
The Russian would have pulled away in disgust if it weren't for what Alfred did next. His arms wrapped around Ivan's neck. While he was distracted with Alfred's greasy fingers playing with his ashen hair the American flipped their positions so that he topped. Ivan didn't mind for the moment, taking in the sudden display of power from his disabled lover.
It was mean, but he liked seeing such an underdog strive for equality with him. The attempt was almost laughable. Ivan snaked his hands under Alfred's shirt to his chest. The blond gasped at the touch and broke the kiss. Ivan grinned, biting Alfred's neck.
"H-hey! Don't bite!" he flushed, pulling away. Ivan tilted his head and smirked, look as innocent as a sinner on trial.
"But Sunspot, if I don't mark you other boys might try to steal what is mine."
The hands pilled away from the shirt to group the American's large rump. Too many burgers and doughnuts made his ass almost look Spanish. Then again the man was probably a mutt in terms of ethnicity.
"Gahh! M-m-mark?"
Ivan giggled as Alfred's face turned as red as the peppers on his pizza.
Alfred pulled away and glared, sitting on Ivan's lap. His stub felt odd against Ivan's thigh. The Russian continued smiling at his lover's antics.
"There will be no marking of any kind. . . At all." Alfred's gaze and lips were firm as he said this.
The larger man laughed voice loud and humorous. Alfred pouted, making Ivan's laugher all the more intense. In retaliation Alfred jabbed Ivan's side with a stiff finger. Ivan's chuckle came out in a wince, but the smile never left his lips. He reached up to weave his large fingers through Alfred's short locks.
"Sunspot, soon I will have you begging for my mark. That is a promise, yes."
Alfred rolled his eyes. "Last time I let you east pizza. And stop calling me Sunspot. What am I a dog?"
"Woof," Ivan replied, patting Alfred's head. "But it's so cute. And it fits you~! You're bright and obnoxious like a sunspot!" Alfred smacked the side of Ivan's arm in retaliation. Ivan just continued to giggle. "So abusive! See? The nickname suits you well, yes!"
"Oh, just shut up," Alfred snapped, crossing his arms. His glare was soft and his nose dusted pink. It was obvious he wasn't really mad.
Really, he was too cute.
"Are you done with the pizza?" The blond took a last slice and closed the box.
"I am not done with you."
Alfred rolled his eyes again. When he finished the slice he wiped off his hands and strapped the prosthetic bank on. Alfred took the pizza box into the kitchen to seal it away in the fridge.
When he retuned he stared at Ivan from the kitchen doorway.
"Ready for bed?"
"If you are, yes."
The tone was casual. Alfred stretched and yawned as he walked. It was earlier than when most people turning in for bed but Alfred worked early in the morning. He needed all the rest he could get.
"I have some old pajamas if you want – but I don't know if they're big enough for you."
"I am alright. I sleep in, as you say, the buff." Although the comment was half true, the lie was well worth Alfred's vibrant blush.
"W-well make sure you put some clothes on before you leave your room."
"Only if you insist, yes."
The two laughed, Ivan's more honest and Alfred's one of disbelief.
"Well get some good sleep Ivan. If you wake up after six five I'm at New Hope. Tomorrow I'll get you a spare key to the house – oh I forgot to ask! Do you have a job right now?"
"No, I was fired for drinking. That was the same night you kicked me out of New Hope."
Ivan's words were cheerful but the comment sot straight though Alfred's chest. That had been an awful night for the both of them. It surprised Alfred that Ivan was speaking about it so openly. It also worried him a little.
"Oh. . . well I can help you job search when you're feeling better. Remember to take your medicine tomorrow before breakfast. I can make a quick meal for you if you'd like, then you can just rest for the rest of the day. Kiku said you should stay off your feet for a few days."
"Alfred," Ivan breathed, voice irritated. He wrapped his arms around the blond and held the man to his chest. The American froze.
This was the first time Ivan called him by his name. His name on Ivan's lips warmed his chest. It was silly, but this simple fact made Alfred feel giddy. Ivan pressed a sharp kiss to the base of his neck. Alfred jumped at the kiss, blushing again.
"Alfred. Please shut up. I don't want to hear about jobs right now."
He pressed another kiss to Alfred's neck and another before the American could catch his breath. Ivan spun the blond around, kissing Alfred's adorable lips again. The Russian's large nose rubbed into Allred's as they kissed, his breath tickling the blond.
Swept up in the surreal feeling Alfred fell completely into the kiss.
It had been a while since he had been so intimate with another person. Every touch, every caress, every nip felt like it was the first time. Alfred's blush was dark and expressive.
Bursts of passion went off in Ivan's mind.
He wanted more.
He wanted all of Alfred.
He didn't want to share any of this generous man; this angel.
Ivan licked a trail down to the juncture between Alfred's shoulder and neck. He nipped at the spot before sucking, determined to leave a mark.
"I-Ivan –" the American panted. The desperation in his voice encouraged Ivan, hand groping. He was rewarded with another gasp from his lover.
Alfred couldn't get enough air. He was barley aware of anything but Ivan, the stale hospital scent that clung to him, his huge hands, his lips. He didn't register the pain of having his back shoved against his own hall or when his prosthetic leg groaned in protest.
Alfred's blue eye squeezed in shut in pleasure, breath ragged as Ivan's hands wandered his body. Massive, calloused hands pinched his skin as they trailed up his shirt. Ivan's fingertips brushed against the blond's chest, pinching and teasing skin.
"Ah-hahh."
Ivan's second hand snuck away, squeezing Alfred's hips and love handles before dwelling farther.
"Wait. W-wait."
His reluctance went unnoticed by Ivan. The Russian's hands continued searching, teasing warm fingertips pressed against Alfred's crotch.
"Stop."
The fingers pressed further, wrapping themselves around Alfred.
"I said stop!"
Alfred regained control of himself, pulling Ivan's hands out of his pants before shoving the larger man away. The American slowed his breath, trying to act the part of being in control of the situation (all he wanted to do was collapse against the wall).
Ivan watched the distressed blond from where he had been pushed to. Alfred was upset. He was acting like a cornered bird, ready to snap and flail his talons.
"Alfred –"
The American went ridged at his voice.
No.
Alfred wasn't supposed to be afraid of him. Alfred was supposed to be immune to his scariness . . . right? He was open, and kind, and brave and . . . and shrinking away.
Anger flushed through Ivan's veins but was quickly drained as the reality of Alfred's rejection became apparent.
No. He was supposed to be big and strong as him . . . why would he run?
"I . . . sleep well, yes?" Ivan amended, pulling away and heading for the couch.
Alfred stayed in the hallway for a moment longer. Had that all really just happened? Ivan and he almost . . . But then he froze up and chased him away. Nothing made sense anymore. Alfred just needed to get some sleep.
He freshened up in the bathroom before retreating to his room. Dragging a hand over his face he undressed himself, flopping on the bed. He unstrapped his prosthetic, letting the plastic fall to the ground. Alfred wiggled into a comfortable position and fell asleep.
Hey . . . do I have any readers anymore? It's been a while, sorry. I meant for this to be longer and before I knew it a couple of months passed by. I guess that's what college can do to you.
Anyway, I wanted some opinions. Do you think I should bump up the rating to M or are you guys good with T?
Thank you for reading and critique would be wonderful. The more specific your critique the better the next chapter will be. Thanks and see you next time.