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Warning: Heavy mentions of drugs, some drug use. Very mild, non-explicit sex.

Chapter Summary: Matthew introduces himself undercover to the drug dealer, Holly, and both of them are startled by their sudden attraction. At the Rainbow, Francis and Arthur share a good time that could prove very enlightening for Francis.

Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.


Chapter 10: Coffee

Arthur had absolutely flipped on Matthew and Alfred after they returned from taking Francis home. Even though they'd sworn it was all in the name of protecting the innocent, Artie was pissed. High, too, Mattie could tell, though he was quite sure Alfred couldn't. It made it difficult to argue with his plan that they split up, after taking a few days to get the layout of the area. Tonight Alfred is at Vodka Now! checking out the Braginskis and their crowd, while Arthur is at the brothel 'asking some questions'. Matthew has a feeling one of those questions will be 'How much?'

He himself is not far from the Rainbow. He's been walking through a maze of back alleys, keeping a low profile and doing his best to ignore everyone - the homeless, the prostitutes, the nutcases, the thugs lying in wait. It's a good thing he's nearly invisible; forgettable. He's looking for a dealer called Holly, who, according to Artie, knows just about everything that goes on in the district. He can't pose as an addict, he knows an experienced eye will catch his lie instantly. He can, however, pose as a good boy gone bad, looking for a better party.

Holly's been hanging out in front of this Austrian-style cafe a little too much lately, listening to the music and poetry drifting outside. He should probably change his location, but something about it soothes him, makes him feel both at home and alive - the soft whispers instead of loud, thumping music and screams of the club and the casino. The poetry. The music.

"What's it all about, Alfie?" a girl sings, playing a piano. "Is it just for the moment we live? What's it all about, when you sort it out, Alfie? Are we meant to take more than we give?" Stupid or brilliant, he can't decide. Sometimes he wonders if maybe humans are born to be tempted. Sometimes he wonders if they're just born because everybody needs somebody else.

Mattie rounds a corner, and suddenly the street opens up. There are shops here, and a higher class of customers. At the least, they've had showers within the past week. There's a man outside one of the cafes, and he instantly knows this is the one: blonde, spiked hair, a long brown coat, a scarf striped blue-and-white, and an air about him that says he's seen it all. He walks over and leans against the wall next to his table "You're Holly?"

Holly whips around, looking the new presence up and down, assessing, cataloging, trying to figure out which category he fits into. Good boy gone bad? Maybe. But those are some eyes for a good boy. "I don't know. Am I?"

He managed to surprise him. It seems to Mattie that such a thing might be counted in his favor. He tries to adopt a 'bored-with-the-world-look', and assesses him again. "Maybe not. It isn't Christmas, and that's the only time I've seen holly around."

Holly's lips twitch a little. Smart-aleck. "And if only fools are kind, Alfie, then I guess it is wise to be cruel..." the woman nearly moans her sad realizations from inside the cafe. He isn't sure if he agrees or not. This kid is making him believe it. "Maybe you're looking for the wrong kind of holly." He sips his coffee. He can only drink coffee at night. Go figure.

Mattie takes a breath. He's got to keep cool, even though it is really hard for him not to stutter. This is a stranger, a dangerous stranger, yet also quite a lovely one. He tries not to blush. "I hear you've got a lot of different kinds."

Holly lets his smile fall, like it wasn't really there. He sits back slowly and drops his hands behind his head, almost reclining in the chair. "I think you should join me for coffee."

Mattie nods, taking the seat next to him, not across from him. He's done this before. Never quite like this, but he knows how it works; it's much easier to trade things when you can just slip your hand into the other person's pocket. "Is the coffee here any good?"

"Fair. The music's better." He slides away a little, somewhat wary. The boy is something different. That makes him nervous. He smells something off, but he's willing to play a little, if only because he always feels something off when he lands a new client. He constantly fears a set-up. "So. ID?"

Mattie raises an eyebrow. "What for? Didn't think you'd like details." At least, he has never yet met the dealer who did. Plausible deniability; if you don't know their name, haven't seen their face for more than a moment, and they turn up dead of an OD you might not have been involved. Plus, money is money. He pulls a bit of cash from his pocket, as though counting through how much he'll need for a coffee. Granted, this much would get him several cups and a box of donuts.

Holly smiles a little. Most dealers don't, if only to keep themselves out of other people's habits. But he needs them. He needs a grasp on the new ones - mostly so he can find them again if something goes down. He needs to make sure everything's legit, and nobody's got a badge. He's very careful with new blood. "With all due respect, pretty boy, I don't get screwed on the first date."

"Too bad." Matthew says it without thinking, and it takes all his will power not to clamp both hands over his mouth. He struggles to keep cool. At least Vosh set them up with regular IDs. He's got a driver's license with a fake last name and a picture of him as a civilian.

Well then. Holly raises an eyebrow. Such cheek from cherubic lips is very enticing. But, that thought should stay slotted for some other moment, some lonely night in his apartment when he has nothing to satisfy him. Maybe this one's a little more interesting than he originally thought. Matthew Kirk. Cute. "Well. Been burned before, you understand." He returns the ID.

Mattie does understand. Though for him, the burning is usually less about being remembered, and more about being forgotten. It's useful now, but not so pleasant when everyone is cheering for Alfred and calling him a hero when Mattie was with him the whole time, keeping him from doing something stupid. Like going to that party the night before exams, or eating only burgers, or not eating at all when the burgers he did have finally added up, or making a damn stupid show-offy play in baseball, or...well, the list goes on for years and years. "Yeah. Apparently there's a lot of that going around. All I hear is people talking shit about some poor bastards that got shot."

Holly chuckles. "Poor bastards... not exactly right. Those three may be better off dead these days." He sips his coffee, watching the boy out of the corner of his eye. Well, that perked him right up. Time to change the subject, see if he tries to reel it back. You can always tell a cop when they get too interested in small-talk. "So. You like flavored coffee? Got a favorite?"

Now they're getting into the real game. Holly appears to be a pro, but for a rookie, Mattie isn't too bad at this part. He's shy, but cool under pressure. It's clear that Holly knows something, and that's enough for the moment. He can come back later when he's not so suspicious. "Cinnamon. Makes it taste like maple syrup."

"Breakfast boy." Holly laughs a little, stowing the information in his own mental file. This one likes a little pick-me up. "I'll have to remember that. So, I guess you want a cup?" He swallows the last of his drink, setting it down. God, this one is too cute. Pretty blue eyes. He didn't realize just how blue they were. "I want another. So. How strong do you like it?"

Mattie's not sure they're talking about coffee anymore. All these dealers use different slang, and sometimes it's hard to keep up. If you get it wrong you could end up with some bad drugs, or looking like an idiot. He shrugs. "Not too strong. Just enough to wake me up."

Holly smiles a little, pulling out his phone to text Kaoru. The problem with new kids is you really have to keep your distance. This one makes him want to toss distance out the window. After they earn his trust, he can ease up. But right now, even pretty blue eyes can't turn his head from money. "There's a special inside. Go to the coffee bar and talk to my friend Kaoru. Order a pick-me-up. And a black coffee for me." The kid starts to turn away, but Holly can't help it. This one's interesting. "Go ahead and bring 'em back to the table. Maybe we got a few things to talk about."

Mattie allows himself a smile. This is going so much better than he thought. If they actually get a chance to talk, he might be able to work out a little more of what's going on. He stands, heading inside. It's not crowded or empty, and the air is filled with the tones of a piano and a pretty girl singing something sad and 'deep.' A poet's haven. The customers inside are nodding along as though the music touches their souls. He has a feeling that has more to do with what they're smoking than anything else; it's easy to see why Holly comes here.

There are two people working behind the counter, both Asian. He immediately knows Kaoru though; the name was familiar, and the face is even more so. This is Yao Wang's nephew. Vosh has had eyes on him for a while, but the boy is clever and hard to trace. This may prove a productive evening indeed. "Give me a pick-me-up, please. And a black coffee for my friend."

Kaoru got the text seconds ago, and he's not at all surprised to see the new customer is cute, blue-eyed, and sweet like syrup. His phone buzzes again and he knows it's Raiv. He's getting tired of answering. Maybe he should get a separate line for work. "Fifteen. Black coffee's on the house." He hands the boy two capped cups, one with a baggie inside, the other with pills taped to the inside of the lid. His coworker has been paid not to notice how quickly orders come up.

Mattie pays up, keeping it all observation for now. Alfred would already be trying to chat him up, or worse, calling it in to Vosh in front of everyone. He'd rather get more information. When does Kaoru work here? How does he come? Is there muscle around to keep things under control? Probably. He takes the cups and heads back out.

Holly's glad to see him come back, though his ass made it no chore to watch him leave. Such a cute little thing, it's no wonder he's gotten himself in trouble. The cute ones so often do. "Taste good?" He asks, reaching for his own cup as Matthew sits down again.

Mattie looks down. There's no coffee in the cup; it's not hot or heavy. He wonders what he just got, and desperately hopes Holly doesn't expect him to take it now. "We'll see."

Raising an eyebrow, Holly reaches over and pops the cap off the cup, turning it over to show off the selection brazenly as possible. "Yeah. We'll see." It's a command. They both know it. But the kid looks like he's ready to rabbit. "Show me you're not a cop."

Mattie is prepared for the question, but that doesn't stop the hot little knot from forming in his gut when it's actually asked aloud. Still he presses down the nerves, and replaces the lid. "Right. Because I'd do so well chasing down thugs and leaping fences. I'm saving that. My neighbor is having a party."

That's a point Holly has to give him. But he's seen worse, been taken down by worse. Fuck, Artie was higher than a kite the first time he brought him in.

"Fine." He takes Mattie's hand, and for a moment there's no air in the world. That just makes him grip harder, his stomach jolting, as he pulls him out of his seat and into the back alley where the performers are exiting. In his own cup is a baggie with a joint in it. He pulls it out, dropping the cup and lighting up. "So give me one good reason," he takes a drag and closes his eyes, just long enough to enjoy it before letting it out again, "to trust your pretty boy good looks."

"The same reason I trust you didn't just slip me something poisonous. I get the feeling that would put a damper on business." He steals the joint from Holly's fingers, taking one drag. This he can handle. He and Alfred built up a bit of a tolerance for it back in school.

Holly smiles, shaking his head at the sight. Pretty, pretty. Leaning in, kind of squaring him into the wall, he brings his lips close enough to kiss, close enough to take a ride off his high. His lips close in and he shotguns the exhale, unable to help himself. He's ashamed to say he's closing his eyes. When he pulls back enough to make some space, he smiles, breathing out and stealing his joint back. "Hey, my spliff. I get the first take. Those are the rules; there's an etiquette, in case they didn't teach you that in school."

Relieved, Mattie returns the smile. He knows he is far from safe yet; this is only the first round of the game. The strange thing is, he can't wait for the next. He wants more of this man, who is far more intoxicating than any drug. It's even more of a kick than he felt meeting Francis. "Sorry; couldn't help it. Now I've got a party to get to. Maybe I'll see you around, if the coffee's worth coming back for."

Damn, Holly thinks. Why does he feel so sad? Why does he want to just trap him here and keep him? "Be fashionably late." He smirks, flicking ash to the ground. His arm falls, but the other stays firmly pressed into the wall above Matthew's head. "Share with me."

This is indeed going far better than Mattie thought it would. Or is it worse? He has an urge to stay, to just give in and go anywhere at all with this man. Nevertheless, he has to meet back with Alfred and Arthur. God knows he'll be the only one there on time, but someone has to be. Someone needs to play by the rules, or all will turn to chaos. He draws in close, this time breathing in Holly's exhale, enjoying the gentle curl of smoke between them. "Another time. Think I'd like partying with you."

Holly doesn't want to seem too eager, or desperate, or anything along those lines. But... Oh, just hell. That kid has his interest in a way no one's held it before. He makes him want to chase. He already knows he'll be here nightly now, just hoping this one will come back.

He lets his arm fall, looking down at the joint between his fingers. Damn caution. Damn his itching nerves, still telling him to step back, be cool. "Another time," he agrees, stepping back and heading to his table again, trying not to look over his shoulder.

XXX

Francis' whole day had been one of successes. He'd made nearly half a grand just doing blowjobs, and he was offered double the usual rate from an eager man who wanted to cum on his face. He didn't mind that so much, though he certainly acted like he did to rack the price up. So, it seemed fairly reasonable to expect success in his appointment with Artie tonight. And after giving the cop the blowjob of his life, he already knows he can only get his way.

He keeps licking the softening cock until Artie is quite finished, then tosses the condom. "Feeling good, cheri?" He hums, kissing the cop's hipbone.

Arthur is indeed feeling good, as he always does with Francis. Sad he can't expect more than his mouth tonight. "Very." He smirks a little, reaching out a hand and to pull Francis up his body to press a half-sloppy kiss to his mouth. The pills he took earlier have his motor skills a little off, but with the euphoria of Francis' tongue, he's fairly sure it could be the orgasm. "Always a pleasure, pet."

"I would be insulted if it weren't." Frannie reorganizes the kiss, makes it work for them. He likes Arthur sometimes. Most of the time, really, when the man isn't being a complete ass. He's not a bad lay, and he's fun to tease. Once upon a time, they might have been in love; but he's got a bad habit of falling in and out of such romances. Artie is an especially difficult case, considering all the mistakes they've made together. They're friends now, mostly to honor the memory of something that could have been beautiful if it hadn't gone so wrong.

He spreads kisses over Arthur's face, wondering if he should work him up for another round. On the other hand, he has been busy tonight, and he's getting tired and sore. It's only been a week since the...incident. His wrist is still in its sling, held tight against his chest, and the bruises have faded to an uglier shade than before. Worst of all, he's had to go through it without the drugs - except baby aspirin. Broken bones and bruises, unfortunately, are nothing new; he's lucky he doesn't scar easily, save for the ugly mark around his neck. He would take all of that over the withdraw; it was a week spent groaning, sick, and shaking in bed after he'd gotten rid of every damned pill in his room. There were moments where he'd wanted to kill himself for that, but Kiku stayed with him through the worst of it. He's still feeling the edge of it, and seeing Artie flying high has him jealous. Well, he will think of nicer things.

"Artie, I met angels the other day. Did you know there were angels here?" he asks.

Artie snorts, his head falling back and his breath coming through in laughter. "Angels?" Shaking his head slowly, he looks toward him with a smirk that was probably not at all sexy, not with how high he is right now. "Were you high when you met them, pet? Because angels haven't touched the ground here since the stone one fell off the statue in Grove Park."

"Very," Francis admits. "But they were real. I'm sure of it." His anges are the clearest part of that night. Actually, they're the clearest memory he has of the last month or so. His smile becomes dreamy, and he falls back on the pillows, petting his hand over Arthur's chest. "They were beautiful. Almost the same, they could've been brothers. One spoke French. I want to find them again."

"French?" He blinks, thinking on it. French. French, and they could've been the same. That's reminding him of something - or someone. "Huh." Cute new partner, and the handsome one that matched. Right. "Well. Funny you should mention. I got two new partners yesterday."

This is the other reason Francis likes Arthur. The man will tell him absolutely everything, and all Francis has to do is get him to a state past noticing. It's nearly unfair, since Artie gets himself most of the way there without his help. "Do tell. I always like a taste of new blue blood."

Resting one arm behind his head, Artie smiles wide. He's glad to let his thoughts stray to them, to Francis, anything but the flying green nightmare that likes to show up when he's trying to force his brain to forget. "They looked a bit alike. Blonde hair, blue eyes. The one was a bit taller, but that might've been the backbone on him. The other one's a cute little cupcake. Cupcake speaks French. Mattie." He grins at the thought. "Very cute. The other one's Alf. I don't think he speaks French. Or subtlety."

Francis leaps up, nearly throwing Artie from the bed and wrenching his arm again. He doesn't feel it; it doesn't matter. He has not forgotten their names, and never could. "Mattie and Alf? Mes anges! You know mes anges!"

What? Arthur blinks, but the world is fuzzy. What the hell? "What're you talking about?" He blinks again, dazedly. "Christ, calm down. You're killing my buzz."

He doesn't care that Arthur is a customer; he'll be back. He always comes back, even when they argue. He shakes him with his good hand, bringing him in close. When that only seems to confuse the man, he tries another tactic - one he's much better with. Laying kisses all along his jaw, nipping at his ear, hand sliding from his shoulder to his chest, Francis begins again. "Your partners. I believe they are my angels. Tell me about them, Artie. Tell me everything. Where are they from? What's their favorite flower? Do they like to kiss boys?"

Things are whirling so fast that Artie can barely concentrate on anything but the colors spinning behind his eyes, and when he can finally see again he's seeing Francis, looking very seductive as he drags his hands up his shoulders and kisses at his skin. Mmm... That's more like it. "Angels? Oh, I don't know. They're rookies. Best mates; known each other forever, from the looks. Don't think they're related, but they look it. Wouldn't be surprised if they've been kissin' each other."

"Keep talking, Artie, and I'll make it worth your while." He continues with the steady caress, glad he's been with this one enough times to know all the sensitive places. Like this one on the back of his neck, that with a graze of teeth should drive him mad. His own mind is whirling elsewhere, to the scent of fast food and sweet things. It should've been vomit-worthy. Instead it was heaven. For a second Frannie's gaze slides to the closet. He kept Mattie's coat by mistake, but it has kept him sane this week. He'd pulled it over himself when Kiku wasn't around, breathed in the scent, and felt a little calmer. What he would give to see them again...

Hah. Good fortune is with Arthur tonight. He settles back into bed, letting Francis do things exactly as he pleases. Wetting his lips, he continues, "Don't know why Chief Tightarse had to saddle me with them, but they're a right treat, innit? Think Mattie's been playing around undercover. Alf I know - he's been working a beat for the last five months, over on the other side of the tracks. Made a lot of friends. Those won't help 'im now, but he has a habit of makin' friends. Acts like this town isn't a wasteland; gotta love optimism, right?"

Francis hums as he sucks at Artie's neck, down his collar, and laps over a nipple. Optimism. A breath of fresh air. That's what they are. Something sweet, pretty, new, and alive in a world gone dead and ugly. They make him want to hope. Francis is generally cheerful, but hope has never been with him. He puts his faith in what is right in front of him, and moans his prayers beneath the sheets. Hope abandoned him long ago; he made his own way. They all did. But there is something about this pair that makes him want to believe again, just a little bit.