"Alfred."
The blond didn't move, his gaze fixed on something far away that no one else could see.
"Ve~Alfred, are you okay?"
Still no reaction.
"Hey, you American bastard, why are you ignoring us?"
A hand waving in front of Alfred's face finally brought him back to reality and he blinked a few times.
"What?" he asked, surprised to see three of his four coworkers standing around him, looking at him in concern and, in Lovino's case, irritation.
Feliciano spoke up first, his accent even more pronounced than usual. "Is everything all right, Alfred?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Vee have been trying to talk to you and you veren't responding," Ludwig explained, his forehead creased slightly.
Alfred blushed lightly and hoped his colleagues didn't notice. He'd been thinking about Arthur and hadn't even realized the other males were trying to talk to him. "Sorry. Guess I was spacing off."
"Why is your face turning red?" Feliciano asked, face morphing into a cute, puzzled frown.
"You were having dirty thoughts!" Lovino accused, making Alfred flush darker, which only confirmed the Italian's suspicions.
"N-no I wasn't! I was just lost in thought!"
"What were you thinking about?" the taller blond questioned before Lovino could start an argument.
The American hesitated. He hadn't said anything about Arthur to his coworkers and he hadn't intended to, since the Angel would be leaving soon and he wasn't sure if it was a good idea for anyone to know about his temporary roommate. Now was probably a good opportunity to keep his mouth shut.
"Nothing," he lied, "just spacing off, thinking about going home in a few hours."
"I'm going to take a bubble bath!" the happier of the two Italian's announced, smiling as his hair curl bounced. "Ludwig and I always do after work!"
All eyes turned to the German as his face turned red, though that was the only sign that he was uncomfortable with Feliciano's revelation of their routines. Oblivious, the Italian looked up at him with his usual sleepy-eyed smile, and Ludwig sighed.
"Ja, ja," he muttered, ruffling the short brunet's hair while avoiding his curl.
Lovino grumbled something that included "potato bastard" as he went to stand by Antonio where the green-eyed man sat before the monitors as he always did. The Spaniard's hand moved to the shorter male's lower back and rubbed absently, threatening to drop into a more inappropriate location at any moment. Alfred hoped it wouldn't but was strongly reminded of how he'd touched Arthur's back the day before and wondered if it had seemed as suggestive to the Angel as Antonio's gesture did to him. He really hoped not.
Suddenly, Antonio's arm snaked around the slim waist and he pulled Lovino down onto his lap.
"W-what are you doing?!" the startled Italian yelled, struggling violently. "Let me go!"
Calm green eyes landed on Alfred, Feliciano and Ludwig. "It is time for you three to make your rounds, no?"
Another confused frown appeared on Feliciano's face as he watched his surly brother continue to fight against the larger man's hold. "Ve? No, it's not."
In a flash, Alfred was out of his chair at the table and grabbing his coat as he headed for the door. Ludwig snatched his and Feli's coats from the rack and followed the American as the lovable Italian continued to frown, trailing behind them.
"But it's not time for a patrol, is it, Ludwig?" he asked as the large German put his coat on him.
"Zip zhat all zhe vay up or you'll catch a cold," said German instructed, shrugging on his own coat and ignoring his petite partner's question.
Perplexed, Feli did as he was told then put on the gloves that had been stashed in the coat's pockets. Alfred and Ludwig exchanged knowing glances. The Italian may not have understood why they left so quickly, but he would forget the entire thing before long, so there was little to no point in trying to explain to him that his brother and Antonio were likely engaged in less-than-appropriate interactions back in the security office. Besides, Lovino would be murderously pissed if he found out that they'd told his baby brother about what he did with their Spanish coworker. It wasn't worth the temperamental Italian's wrath to explain it to Feliciano.
By the time they reached the doors to go outside and spit up, Feli was indeed skipping along besides Ludwig, chatting about the cat he'd seen earlier that day as if the German hadn't been there the entire time. It made Alfred laugh and he played along, waving as the other two went off in separate directions and he began his trek along the fence to make sure everything was secure.
That was close. I need to pay more attention or they're going to get really curious and they might trick me into saying something. Who knows what kind of trouble it could cause if someone found out about Arthur.
He took his time making his rounds just to be safe—he had absolutely no interest in walking back into the office before Antonio was finished with whatever plans he had for Lovino. That had happened once before, the first time he, Ludwig and Feliciano had been dismissed for an impromptu patrol, and he hadn't known any better. In that particular instance, he'd walked into the security office and been half out of his coat before he'd looked up and realized that the only reason it was so quiet was because Antonio and Lovino had frozen out of shock of being walked in on. Luckily, Antonio was between him and Lovino so he'd been spared the sight of the partially undressed Italian and had also been shielded from the anger and embarrassment he was sure Lovino felt. If that had happened to Alfred, he would certainly have been upset. At the time, he'd immediately spun around and left again, his cheeks flaming. Thankfully, no one had ever brought it up.
When he was sure he'd waited long enough, Alfred finished his circuit of the fence and went back inside, stomping the small amount of slushy snow that had accumulated on his boots off just outside the door. He met up with Ludwig and Feliciano in the hall and together they went back into the security office, Ludwig peeking in discreetly to make sure it was safe before the tall German held the door open for his two companions. Antonio was seated before the monitors as he always was, smiling in a self-satisfied way that made it obvious that he'd gotten exactly what he'd wanted while they were gone. On the other hand, Lovino was curled up on the couch with his face hidden, betraying his embarrassment over what had occurred regardless of the fact that no one had accidentally walked in on it this time.
Oblivious to his brother's situation, Feliciano hung up his coat and flopped down on the couch by the other Italian, talking to him in a cheery tone. Ludwig simply shook his head, amused, and chose a seat at the table instead as Alfred did the same.
"So," the taller of the two blonds began quietly, catching the American's attention, "vhat vere you so focused on earlier?"
"Ah, nothing. Just spacing off," Alfred lied again, uncomfortable under that piercing icy blue gaze.
He knows I'm lying. He definitely knows.
To his surprise, Ludwig shrugged. "If you say so."
Alfred hid his relief and decided that now was probably a good time to change the subject. "Wanna share a bag of popcorn?"
"Sure."
Standing once again, the American fetched a bag of the suggested snack and put it in the microwave. He stood there as it slowly spun around on the thick glass plate and eventually began to pop, watching it so he could make a pained face without Ludwig seeing. When the popcorn was finished, he took it from the microwave and carefully opened it, poured it into a bowl and then placed it in the middle of the table so everyone would be able to get to it.
The security office was quiet except for Feliciano's more or less constant chatter with occasional comments by the other males. Alfred did his best not to space off again and rouse suspicion amongst his coworkers, though it was difficult seeing as his mind tried to wander into dangerous territory the moment he relaxed his concentration. His only comfort was the knowledge that he'd be going home in a couple of hours and would be able to relax and go to sleep.
Alfred was beginning to feel severely creeped out. It felt like someone was watching him, maybe even following him as he walked home at the end of his shift. Ludwig and Feliciano had offered to give him a ride, but it wasn't snowing and it was still a warm enough time of year that he wouldn't be too cold as long as he kept his hands in his pockets and zipped up his coat, so he'd declined. Now, he was really starting to wish he'd accepted.
Calm down, Alfred. No one's following you. Why would they? You're not carrying anything of value, you've only got, like, four bucks in your wallet, and you've got a gun. There's nothing for you to be worried about. Just stay cool and get home. No need to freak yourself out.
But he couldn't help it. Maybe he was exaggerating, but he could practically feel a pair of eyes drilling into his back, watching his every move, and his pace quickened into almost a slow jog as he wished more and more fervently that he'd let the German and Italian drive him home.
Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, I'm going to get mugged. I'm going to get jumped by some crazy homeless guy and he's gonna try to steal my wallet and I'm gonna have to pull my gun on him but I don't wanna shoot a homeless guy! What if he doesn't die right away and there's no one to take him to a hospital so he just bleeds out in an alleyway or something and then I murdered someone over a few bucks!
These panic-driven thoughts were stopped by the sight of the front door of his apartment and Alfred gratefully sped up, pulling his keys from his pocket so he'd be able to unlock the door on the move and slip inside before whatever was making him feel so damn exposed had a chance to follow him. Flawlessly, he slipped the key into the lock and twisted, simultaneously grabbing the door handle and turning it so the door swung open then stepped inside, swiftly shutting the door behind him and locking it.
He sighed in relief, the feeling of being watched fading now that he was safe in his dark apartment with Arthur sound asleep in the next room.
See? Nothing to worry about, he said to himself as he began to cross the living room to go change into his pajamas. Don't know why you were so paranoid. Why would anyone bother following you any—
Alfred froze, tensing as the sound of someone knocking on his front door reached him. Who the hell was knocking on his door at 5:30 in the morning? If it was whoever he'd felt watching him and potentially following him, then he really didn't want to open the door. In fact, he'd rather use his couch to barricade it and pile the kitchen table and chairs in front of the window just to be safe. But rather than do that and probably end up making a lot of noise which would then disturb Arthur, he peeked out past the curtain over the window and saw a figure standing on the front step.
Tall with broad shoulders and silvery hair. Even though Alfred couldn't see the person's face, he knew who it was. The sinking feeling in his stomach knew it, too.
Damn it, what's he doing here?! How'd he even find my house?!
He had to have been the one who was following Al home from work, which sent a shiver of fear down his spine. How had he even figured out where Al worked in order to follow him home?
"Alfred? Alfred, I know you are in there. Let me in, мой любовник. I just want to talk to you."
The American put his mouth near the crack between the door and its frame. "Go away, Ivan," he called, loud enough that he hoped the man standing outside would hear him but too quietly to wake Arthur. Had Ivan really just called him "my lover"? He may not have anything more than basic survival skills in the Russian language, but he'd known Ivan long enough to pick up on a few things, and he definitely recognized the old endearment.
"Open the door, да? I miss you, Alfred. Please."
Maybe…maybe he's better now. He doesn't sound drunk, although that doesn't really mean anything. He never sounded drunk until right before he passed out. But he misses me? Even after all this time? Maybe he's finally changed…
Hesitant, Alfred slowly unlocked the door and opened it to look up into the strangest but possibly the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. They were violet, just as odd as the silver hair, and it felt like they gazed straight into his soul the moment he looked at them. A smile, sweet and innocent, made Ivan's face appear to be as naïve as a child's as he looked down at Alfred.
"Привет, Alfred," the taller man said softly, and the moment he spoke Alfred could smell the alcohol on him. Vodka, like Ivan always drank, and he immediately regretted opening the door. Despite his hope, Ivan was drunk.
"What do you want, Ivan?" he asked tonelessly, looking away from those violet eyes so they wouldn't distract him the way they always had before.
"To see you. You leave without saying goodbye, you do not tell me where you are going, you ignore my phone calls. Why?"
Alfred frowned, hating how hurt the Russian sounded, as if what he'd done was cruel. "What else was I supposed to do? You were changing, Ivan, and you didn't even realize it. You're drunk right now! How am I supposed to feel about you showing up drunk on my doorstep at 5:30 in the morning?"
"You could let me in, да?" Ivan wheedled, still smiling that innocent smile. He leaned forward like he meant to brush his lips against Alfred's, but the American leaned back out of range.
Casting a nervous glance towards the bedroom door, Al took a step back and allowed Ivan into the apartment, shutting the door behind him. "You can only stay for a few minutes, Ivan. Then you have to leave."
"But I do not want to leave. I just found you. Of course, I would be happy to go if you come with me." His large hand moved to stroke Alfred's cheek and the American brushed it away, almost angry.
"No. It's over between us and I'm not coming back. Do you even realize what you did to me? How much you hurt me?"
"Alfred…"
The blond shook his head, glaring at the floor. "Why the fuck are you here, Ivan? And don't give me that 'I miss you' bullshit because if you cared enough to miss me then you would never have treated me the way you did."
"I came to take Alfred home."
"I am home. This is my home now, okay? And you're not welcome here. Now, please, get out, go home, and leave me alone."
"Нет." Ivan was pouting now, his arms folding across his muscular chest in a way that made his biceps stand out intimidatingly. "Not without you."
"What do you mean 'no'?" Alfred hissed, afraid of raising his voice and waking the Angel in the next room. Subconsciously, he inched sideways to place himself between Ivan and the bedroom door in a move to protect Arthur even though Ivan didn't know they weren't alone in the apartment. "This is my apartment and I want you to get out, so go!"
"Нет, not without Alfred." Suddenly, Ivan's hand darted out and he grabbed Alfred's wrist, dragging the American forward until their chests were pressed together.
"Let me go, Ivan!" the blond shouted, panic making him forget about his plan to keep quiet as he felt the Russian's lips by his ear.
"You will come back with me and things will be like they were before, and you will never leave me again," Ivan whispered, a trace of a threat in his words that made Alfred shiver.
"N-no…Ivan, let me go…"
A chuckle sounded and the grip on his wrist tightened; the smell of alcohol was overwhelming in such close proximity to the Russian.
"You will never leave me again." With that, he began pulling Alfred towards the front door, apparently with every intention of forcing him all the way back to the apartment they'd shared before Alfred had moved out and rented this one.
"Ivan, stop it! Let go! I mean it! I'm not going with you!" Alfred struggled to pry the large fingers off his wrist but it was no use. Ivan had always been and still was much stronger than him, so there was little he could do but yell and curse and yank against the iron grip.
"Alfred? What's going on?"
Ivan's hand froze on the door knob and Alfred looked back to see Arthur standing in the doorway to the bedroom, green eyes blurry with sleep and hair tousled, the cotton boxers he wore wrinkled. The look on Ivan's face when he turned to face the petite Angel would have made a lesser man cringe and cower in fear, maybe even cry.
"Who is this?" he growled, squeezing Alfred's wrist so tightly it was painful.
"E-everything's okay, Arthur," Alfred lied, trying to hide his discomfort and fear as he forced a weak smile. "Go back to bed. Ivan just dropped by to chat but now he's leaving."
"Нет, I came to get Alfred, but it seems someone else already has Alfred." The Russian's tone was quiet and deadly, promising pain to anyone who thought they had more of a claim to the American than he did.
Understanding bloomed in the green eyes and Arthur straightened, his expression turning into something that resembled a glare. "Let him go," he ordered quietly, eyes never leaving Ivan's face, "before I do something you'll regret."
The Russian laughed. "You, hurt me? You are too small, and look weak. You have lowered your standards, да, Alfred?"
Arthur's glare became more pronounced and, despite his disheveled and under-dressed appearance, he looked just as intimidating as Ivan did. "I said, let him go. Alfred told you to get out, so get out, and don't come back. He doesn't want to see you anymore."
Pulling Alfred with him, Ivan took a step towards Arthur as if he meant to grab him, as well, and Arthur's wings flared out in an oddly aggressive display, similar to a dog raising his hackles or a predatory bird puffing its feathers. Ivan stopped, dumbfounded by the sudden appearance of wings on this otherwise ordinary man, and his grip on Alfred loosened enough for the American to yank his wrist free and quickly move to stand beside Arthur. He put a protective arm around the Angel's shoulders, both trying to let him know that everything was going to be okay and to let Ivan know that he was not, in fact, leaving with him. It was the wrong thing to do.
Violet eyes narrowing, Ivan rose to his full height and clenched his hands into fists. "This is why you will not come with me? This skinny little man? I could break him in half without trying!"
A harsh laugh burst from Arthur as he continued to glare at the angry Russian. "You, break me in half? I hardly think you capable of that. Now, I'm only going to say it one more time. Get out before I make you get out."
Rage is normally an emotion that makes a person's face turn red, their speech because fast and uneven and their hands tremble. Not so with Ivan. The anger seemed to drain from his face and his eyes dimmed as if he'd lost interest in the conversation, his hands hanging relaxed at his sides. But it was far from comforting. The Russian smiled slightly, a sadistic smile that chilled Alfred to the bones.
"I am not leaving without Alfred."
Faster than the American could react, Ivan lunged forward, his hands outstretched to grab him once again.
"Alfred!"
He felt himself be shoved out of the way and nearly fell but managed to regain his balance as the strangest scream he'd ever heard sounded from behind him. Turning, he saw the last thing he'd ever wanted to happen. Arthur had pushed him out of the way of Ivan's lunge and had therefore been caught instead, but it wasn't his arm or shoulders that were trapped in the Russian's powerful grip. It was his wing.
Fear and pain radiated from the Angel's very pores and his free wing fluttered feebly, though the rest of Arthur's body remained perfectly still, like a rabbit that freezes in the hopes of going undetected by predators. The smile on Ivan's face widened into a cruel grin.
"These are impressive. Very realistic. Was Alfred trying a game with his new lover?" he asked, his tone making Alfred feel sick to his stomach. "Does Alfred have a fetish for angel costumes?"
"Let him go, Ivan. He has nothing to do with this."
"He is the reason you will not leave with me." His grip tightened on the wing and Arthur whimpered pitifully. "He has everything to do with this. You will not leave with me? Then I will make him want to leave you."
The next thing Alfred heard was a snapping sound followed by the most terrible scream he had ever heard in his life. It tore at him like a feral beast and he stared in horror as Arthur's now broken wing fell from Ivan's grasp and the petite Angel collapsed, still screaming as tears poured down his face. Ivan stared, stunned at the sight before him, at the blood staining the feathers where the edges of the bone had broken the skin.
"But…but it is a costume…how is he bleeding…?"
A clicking sound was barely audible over Arthur's cries and the Russian looked up to find Alfred pointing a gun at him, already cocked and with his finger on the trigger.
"A-Alfred?"
"Get out."
Never before in his life had Alfred been so angry, so enraged, so furious as to point a gun at someone without his own life being in danger first. He didn't like guns and only carried one because it was part of his job, though he'd hoped he would never have to use it. But this was different. This was Arthur, his Arthur, broken, bleeding and crying on his living room floor, all because of the man standing before him.
"Alfred, I did not mean to, you must believe me, I—"
"I said get out!" Alfred roared, shoving the barrel of the gun under Ivan's chin so that the Russian paled even more than usual. With his free hand, Al shoved him back towards the door and kept pointing the gun at him until the man was outside and standing in the street, his hands raised in surrender. The American's tone was like ice when he spoke. "Get out of here, Ivan, and I swear to God, if you ever come back or bother me or Arthur again, I'll shoot you. I'll shoot you somewhere that won't kill you right away, but somewhere that means you'll be dead in a few hours after the worst pain you'll ever feel, and that's a promise. Now go."
Ivan looked like he wanted to say something else, but the expression on Alfred's face made it clear that now was not the time, and he turned and ran off down the street. The moment he was gone, Alfred turned around and went to Arthur as fast as he could, carelessly dropping the gun as he did so.
Falling to his knees, he glanced at the broken wing then focused on the Angel's face, panic rising in his chest to see that what little color Arthur's cheeks usually had was gone, and his green eyes looked dull and lifeless. "Arthur? Arthur, can you hear me? It's Alfred. It's gonna be okay, Arthur." He hesitated for a moment then carefully, so carefully, picked Arthur up and carried him into the kitchen. Even though he tried not to jostle the wing too much, Arthur cried out as he was being moved and again when he was set on the kitchen table, fresh tears following the tracks led by those that had come before.
"It's okay, Arthur. I'm going to take care of you. Everything's going to be okay," Alfred attempted to soothe the twice-injured Angel as he retrieved his medical kit from above the fridge. Moving quickly, he washed his hands in the sink then disinfected the wing where the skin had broken, cleaning up as much of the blood as possible. Arthur whimpered at the sting of the antiseptic, his fingernails biting into the table as he squeezed his eyes shut.
"Shhh….you're okay, Arthur. It's all right. I'm gonna set the bone now, okay? It's gonna hurt, Artie, but I promise it'll be all right. You just gotta trust me." Alfred took a deep breath then carefully gripped the wing on either side of the break, wrenching a painful groan from the Angel, and with a powerful yank and twist, forced the pieces of bone back together in their proper places.
Another scream ripped from Arthur's throat and his entire body went rigid, and even though it absolutely destroyed him to hear the Angel in so much pain, Alfred didn't pause before binding the wing tightly and using the neck of a broken umbrella he found in the closet as a makeshift splint. He worked as fast as he could, taping gauze over the broken skin after the splint was secure, all the while talking to Arthur in an attempt to keep him calm.
"All done, Arthur. You're gonna be fine." Alfred washed his hands again before stroking the Angel's cheek tenderly, brushing the golden blond hair back from those emerald eyes. "The bone's set and I put a splint on it, and the cuts are sterilized and protected. Your wings gonna heal up in no time."
The Angel didn't respond, though judging by the way he was panting and lying on the table as if he was using every last ounce of his strength just to keep from passing out.
"God, Artie, I'm so sorry. I never should have let him in, and then you saved me from him and I let you get hurt like this…I'm so, so sorry…" he apologized quietly, kneeling by the table so he was at eye level with the petite man
"It…it's okay…Alfred…"
"No, no, it's not okay. I'm supposed to be taking care of you while your back heals and I let my ex-boyfriend walk right in and then he broke your wing cause he thought we were a couple or something. But I'm going to take care of you. I promise. I won't let anything else happen to you, Arthur."
The Angel smiled weakly and reached for Alfred, his hand trembling and lingering tears still wet on his cheeks. "I…believe you…"
Without even a pause, Alfred took that pale, trembling hand in his own and kissed Arthur's fingers, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He held it until Arthur gave a shuddering sigh and closed his eyes, either falling asleep or fainting, Alfred didn't know, but he waited until the Angels' breathing steadied and deepened before gently carrying him in into the bedroom and tucking him in bed. It felt oddly similar to that first morning when he'd found the Angel, but this time, rather than change and go sleep on the couch, Alfred traded his uniform for his pajamas then slipped into bed, lying close to Arthur and taking his hand once again.
"I know you can't hear me, Arthur, but I love you," he whispered. "Even though I haven't known you for very long, and you're an Angel and I'm human and we'll never be together, I love you."
He kissed Arthur's hand again before closing his eyes and letting himself fall asleep, content that his confession was the last thing he said before drifting off.