It admittedly wasn't very comfortable hiding in an oversized recycle bin, but he'd take it. Thankfully he noted the janitor wheeling the empty, scratched basin back to its normal place near the third floor stairwell, so he had a convenient place to duck into, albeit with quite a bit of awkwardness. The first few times the stupid thing kept falling over, and Ivan with it. But he calmly clamored in it until he learned how to balance himself—and so he waited.
His phone started beeping at one point, but he turned it off, kneeling uncomfortably in the bin as a few students wandered by, their footsteps echoing in the too-still school. Likely student council. It was too late in the day and week for anyone else to be here still, though he did occasionally hear a jingling down the hall and he peeked the lid open just a hair to see someone waddling down the hall with a ring of keys at their side.
The lights went off shortly after one of his legs fell asleep. He couldn't help but recall two little boys confused and scared after accidentally taking a nap in a model plane….
Not making a sound, he waited in the pitch black-blue of the bin. His pipe was hot from being pressed against his body, and one of his legs felt like it was being stuck with a hundred different needles as it too headed off to sleep. Ivan vaguely wondered how Alfred was doing, if the light of his phone would show up in the bin.
He might have dosed off for some time before he heard a door swing open. Tensing, Ivan froze, fingers drumming against the metal as he peeked out just a little, seeing a dark silhouette pass by. It was too dark to make out too many distinguishing features, but he could tell that it was a small person. A student? A faculty member?
Ivan suddenly wished that he had not tried so hard to get the bin in an upright position. Damn, damn, damn, damn. Getting out would likely mean sending the can falling to the floor again, and with the school being so deserted, it would sound like thunder. Even if he'd cornered the perp responsible, they'd likely freeze up and make a run for it, deny that they had anything to do with it….he wished he'd thought this out a little more.
Somewhere nearby he could something clunk to the floor. A low curse. He could not distinguish the word but he could the voice and in a second he quietly opened the lid, and slowly pushed one side of the can until it started to fall over.
With his hands, he held himself up, hoisted himself out, one leg still balancing the haphazard can. Standing on one foot, replacing his leg with his hands, he silently placed the can back where it belonged, and began to pad down the hallway, not needing to see well to know his destination.
A small glimmer of light soon caught his attention. At the end of the hall he noted a large flashlight perched on its bottom glowing brightly as a young girl battled furiously with locker 3205, Alfred's locker.
The light fell over her beige hair, and Ivan listened as she let loose a stream of swearwords, some in English, some in Russian. After several long minutes she at last lifted the lock free and opened it, not hesitating to stuff a brown paper bag from her own satchel into Alfred's locker. And then she seized a series of magazines, tossing them gracelessly in as well before her hand wandered back to the bag.
Ivan seized the girl's hands, smiling languidly as she started, knocking over her light and sending it wildly rocking across the hall, swigging halfheartedly back and forth as Natalya desperately kicked and tore at him for freedom. But immediately the terrified girl fell still when Ivan hoisted her up effortlessly, ignoring her squabbles as he whispered in her ear:
"Hello, little sister."
~o*oOo*o~
This was so awesome. And so terrifying. Arms clenched around Arthur's neck, Alfred stared in shock as Lady Capulet started shooting down snarling, blood-splattered corpses with a machine gun. "Holy—shit! I thought you said this was masterpiece theater, not monsterpiece theater." Ha, he made a funny. His own comment made him start trembling with giggles again, and momentarily forgetting himself he buried his face in Arthur's neck, positively cracking up. Patting his back reassuringly, Arthur rolled his eyes with no real ire as he reached for his glass of amber-colored liquid on the table (with some difficulty), ice chinking,
"Do you want a sip?"
"I think whatever I have, it's catching," Alfred muttered, kicking his legs back and forth from where he sat on Arthur's lap—how exactly had he ended up there? Oh, well. "You're seriously allowing me a taste of booze?"
"If social services doesn't ask, I won't tell," Arthur said simply, lowering the glass invitingly. Alfred awkwardly craned his neck, putting a hand over Arthur's to help guide it.
"Sweet," He said enthusiastically, taking a large gulp and regretting it immediately—this stuff burned! "Oh, blecch, this tastes nasty! It makes you feel so warm, though!"
"Indeed." Arthur set the glass back on the table and the two went back to watching the film. When a screaming Mercutio was pushed into a pit of undead, starving zombies Alfred yelped and immediately hid his eyes in Arthur's shirt, only absently noting how Arthur was stroking his back. It felt nice.
"Poppet, you're not really watching this," Arthur said with gentle mockery, running a hand through Alfred's hair and feeling the boy shiver with delight. Go away, go away down there… "Would you rather go to bed now?"
"Pfff!" Alfred waved his arm carelessly up and down, face still pressed against Arthur's chest. God, what cologne was Arthur even using to smell that good? As far as he knew, they both just used bar soap and no way he smelled that nice…. "I am so watching this movie! And loving it, thank you very much!"
"Then perhaps you should turn around and witness Lady Montague throwing herself to the colony of undead pirates," Arthur suggested calmly, over the screeches and sounds of ripping flesh. Alfred dared a peek, yelped, and immediately turned back to hide.
"I-I'm just restin' my eyes! Ain't nothing wrong with that! And besides, why d'ya have to call me 'poppet' anyway? That's such a British thing to say!"
"You say that like it's an insult. But I suppose 'bunny' suffices just fine?"
Alfred swatted at him. "Mmmph. Whatever, Robin Good."
His shirt was riding up his back and Arthur swallowed at the tantalizing sight of so much sunkissed skin. It was one of the many reasons he loved the summer evenings when Alfred would go to bed without a shirt. Though again, maybe that was just a unique form of torture. "Ick, Alfred, you're so scared your shirt is a sopping mess," he grumbled, not really caring. The boy could be covered in filth and still Arthur would cling to him. Particularly if that filth was his own. "Either watch the damn movie or take the bloody shirt off."
Calling his bluff, a sulking Alfred sat up, impatiently yanked his t-shirt over his head, and upon seeing a horde of screaming, rotting children have their heads blasted off by a vengeful Paris, immediately hid his face against the crook of Arthur's elbow. "Happy now, you jerk?"
Marginally, thank you.
After some time Alfred turned his head and stared at the screen, mostly lying on Arthur's lap. It really was a little too warm and sticky, but he was not about to watch this fantastic, magnificent nightmare without….ensuring Arthur wasn't scared out of his gourd. Arthur scared so easily, bless his heart, so Alfred was going to cling to him to make sure he was alright.
He thought about asking for another sip of alcohol, but upon remembering a campsite and two sobbing losers sharing a kiss in the dark, desisted. Alfred wasn't certain why; after all, that kiss (and horrible hangover) led to something that had made him happier than…ever. Even with all the heartache that came with it.
Sobering up just a little, he absently played with the fabric of Arthur's pants, occasionally gripping at the man whenever a particularly scary scene (which was admittedly most the movie; the romance was a subplot, which he appreciated) popped up. Arthur's hand began to run against the bare nape of his back, and soon the other joined in. Alfred closed his eyes, weakly tensing when he recalled Arthur's freakish behavior the night of the shooting.
Can't you go pet Hero or something?
But he didn't want Arthur to stop. The strong, calloused hands…he grunted in approval, the small blaze working itself up inside him again flexing and licking his innards pleasantly. Alfred sleepily wriggled against Arthur's hands, appreciating the numbing haze that was slowly wrapping about his thoughts, as insulating and hazy as bubble wrap.
God. This week had been from hell. He was so tired….even if his body kept straining and being an ass. Ha, that was funny because his body was an ass, among other things…a shame he didn't feel like writing these things down.
He scratched his head as a sign that he wanted it to be patted and Arthur obliged. It felt great, but now there wasn't enough skin. The sensuous slides Ivan was giving his body were nice, but—
?
Puzzled, he blinked blearily, trying to note the point of his disconcertion. He'd been….God, why was it hard to string a sentence together? Ivan. Yeah, purple eyes, smiling, warm-hearted doofus….oh, wait, he was mad at the doofus…..for something….something weird, hopefully he'd remember it soon, these hands were not Ivan's, they were smaller and petting his thighs and—
"Uh, Arthur, can you…?"
"Another sip? If you must."
"But I…" He sputtered as more of the sharp-tasting liquid slid down his throat; the glass bumped against his teeth and made them rattle; some of its contents dribbled down his chin. The room was spinning on a strange axle and he had to push away the glass, sputtering. "Aaack! You b-bastard, that's not….I meant."
"Hmm." And in a heartbeat, Arthur had yanked him onto his back. Before Alfred could gather his wits, he'd started tickling him mercilessly and Alfred began cracking up again. "Ahahahahahaha! Dude, not cool, not fair, stoppit, ya bastard!"
Smirking considerably, Arthur just continued his merciless assault. Giggling senselessly, Alfred shoved him back, accidentally tumbling backwards. When his brother tried tugging him back, two just rolled off the sofa altogether, Alfred flopping atop of Arthur's body with a yelp. Arthur groaned and a dazed Alfred sat up, vaguely wondering what had poked his belly on the way down.
"You're smushing me," Arthur muttered into the carpet in a very-smushed voice. Alfred mischievously grinned down at him, strangely feeling as if he'd just won somehow.
"Aah, you like being smushed by me."
There was no response for a second, and then Alfred found both his wrists being clamped by Arthur's hands and a second later found Arthur perched atop him, green eyes glittering victoriously.
"Oh?" He purred, ignoring Alfred's playful and tipsy kicks to try to dislodge him. "Admit you prefer smushing you, and perhaps we can negotiate the terms of your release."
"Nev—" Suddenly Alfred went white; Arthur's knee had just wedged itself in a place it did not need to be and suddenly his hypersensitive body kicked into overdrive and he thrashed, blood boiling and stars exploding before his eyes. "Arthur, Arthur, seriously man, get off."
Arthur bent down until the two were nose to nose and Alfred stopped struggling, though he was bewildered and more than ready to start tripping out. "Not until you admit it."
"Admit damn what?" Oh, God, don't make me say it, please stop touching that, get off, get off—
"You know," Arthur sang, repositioning his hold and he moved his knee again, nudging Alfred just a little. Jolting, he clapped his hands over his mouth, royally mortified.
"Uh, dude?" he squeaked. "I'll be willing to say whatever it is what you want me to so long as you get your knee off the family jewels."
"Oh." Arthur slowly glanced down himself before looking up at Alfred, biting his lip. "Oh." He crawled off Alfred, standing and stretching. "Al, you enjoy the rest of the movie. I have to go bake my head in the oven now."
"Pffff. Just an accident, buddy." Already bored, Alfred flopped back on the sofa and Arthur settled down next to him again. Romeo and Juliet began making out near a river of bubbling acid and the older Jones' brother snickered.
"Ah, isn't this so much better than any kiss the Avengers could come up with?"
"Shut your whore mouth, Arthur."
He huffed in irritation. "I ought to have you wash your mouth out with soap for that one. I taught you better than that. Girls won't want to kiss you if you speak such." He gestured to the couple slobbering all over each other. "Neither will boys, for that matter."
But suddenly his mouth was at Alfred's ear again. "But I'll always love you, filthy mouth or otherwise, my dear, dear little bunny."
"Ha." Alfred smiled nervously when his brother play-leered at him; okay, well, that was another check on his 'uncomfortable' scale for this evening. While Romeo was busy slinging meaningless goo at his underaged girlfriend, he sagged back against the couch and closed his eyes, his general state of exhaustion and the alcohol in his system leading him to drop off despite the explosions in his ears.
And Arthur gently pulled him back into his lap, and upon seeing Alfred did not stir, slid his hands into the taller boy's pants with a moan of pleasure, slipping beneath the elastic span of his boxers.
~o*oOo*o~
What were you doing?"
Stricken, Natalya stared back at her sibling, who had not yet stopped smiling. "Big brother, is not what it looks like, I didn't….it was just a prank—"
She stared as Ivan wordlessly pulled open Alfred's locker, took a look into the bag of green leaves before dropping it in disgust. He glanced at perhaps one magazine cover, and the smile on his face widened. His sister took another step back, and another, shadows hiding Ivan's eyes.
Chuckling, Ivan advanced towards his little sister in the dark hall. She scrambled back until her back hit the opposite row of lockers, a definite THUD echoing out in the silent school. Natalya's fingers scrabbled at the metal behind her as if she wished to rip the doors open and hide in them.
"Is completely unrelated to what those people did…what he, what he made me do…" Her normally hoarse voice was shrill. "Big brother, I did not want to do it, but he forced me, he forced me, Art—"
"I saw what you did," Ivan interrupted, his voice quiet and contemplative as he slowly approached his cowering little sister. "And I found the gun. You shot at Alfred, Natalya. You tried to kill him."
"I did not!" Natalya exclaimed. "Big brother, how can you believe such ugly lies about your own family? It is that awful boy, isn't it? He is full of lies, lies and deceit and—"
With a roar of fury, Ivan seized her by the hair and sent her charging into a locker with another deafening BANG, his hands positively shaking with fury.
"I swore," Ivan whispered in her ear. "That I would crush the person who was doing this to us. I swore to Alfred that I would pull them to pieces."
His grip tightened brutally in her hair, and Natalya cried out.
"I don't like," he breathed, "To break my promises."
~o*oOo*o~
You can really stop panicking so much, you know, the creature said amusedly as Alfred desperately tried to pull himself free of the coils encircling his body, ready to constrict and strangle him at a moment's notice. I'm not going to let you go; all I want is for you to feel a little nice. And you don't even need to feel guilty about it; just tell your little boytoy that the pillssss I gave you made you worthlessss against my advancessss.
It started laughing when Alfred started pounding at it with his fist, tried to spit out the pills it stuffed into his mouth with a humanoid hand—the beast looked very much like a familiar man, with a waist that gave way to one colossal tail instead of legs. It kept laughing when Alfred begged Ivan for help, and it wiped away his tears before bending down to start sucking at his exposed member.
It felt good. The tongue was curling around him and he let out a series of shallow gasps, trapped hands tangling in the monster's hair as it continued to obediently suck, thin tongue flicking to trace the sac, long, thin white hands cupping the base of his pulsing shaft as the head bobbed up and down, swirling around the tip and stroking up, hmming softly as it looked up at him with bright, bright green eyes. Revolted, Alfred tried to pull free but it held him fast, wild whimpers escaping him.
Horrible. But he could already feel the awful drugs working away at him; he gasped thoughtlessly and his hips automatically thrust up—the creature didn't seem to mind.
When he did come, he sagged limply in the coils like a dumb doll, dazed as he was tugged closer to a set of stroking hands.
Very good, Alfred, the creature said brightly, and he received a kiss on the forehead. Would you care to know a sssecret? Those pillssss had nothing in them. Nothing.
His eyes dilated with horror, and the laughing started up again.
It feelsss good when you let me love you, yessss? Grinning wickedly, Alfred was suddenly thrust back upon his belly, the coils tightening around him as the hands drifting downwards, his body shaking shaking shaking as horror wailed inside. Shall we try again? I so want to see how much your pretty body will take of me.
Give me yourself, Alfred, and I swear it won't hurt as much as it can.
/
What had happened after he fell asleep was a blur of color; sometimes it was the snake touching him and sometimes it was someone else; he felt almost certain that a mouth had gone down on him, though there was no proof of orgasm. All he could tell was that he was desperately thrusting his hips up against something soft and warm.
When some sense returned to him, Alfred found himself on the couch, lying across his brother's lap. The movie was still going on, and he was still rotating his hips, rutting erotically into the warm surf-
Oh, God.
Face flaming, heart nearly stopping, Alfred ceased moving altogether and slowly glanced up, looking into the startled eyes of his brother like he'd noticed nothing, as if he were just as surprised to find Alfred suddenly humping him like a fucking cat in heat as he was-
"Bathroom" Was all he could stammer before he raced off, tripping over his own two feet and taking a fall before immediately leaping up again, sprinting towards the bathroom and shutting the door.
All too soon, Arthur was hammering against the door, calling his name out imploringly but it was hard to hear anything over the nasty sounds of his vomiting.
His brother. His brother. He had been…against his brother, he'd just wanted sex and he wanted it then, had been so out of it he hadn't known or cared that he was fucking molesting Arthur-he'd had what had to be some kind of drug dream, considering he'd imagined both a snake AND his brother forcing ORAL on him before zipping him up and...and...he'd-they-had been thrusting their hips, a hand had been touching his bare ass, and-
With a gasp and a rush of acid burning his throat, he kept throwing up until he was dry-heaving, hating himself. God. Knowing Ivan, he'd just laugh, but….
He curled up into a ball and started whacking his face against the floor. He'd been more bemused than anything else when Arthur had had his…accident. It was gross, sure, and had been weird, but this was different, it was...oh, God, what had he said, what had he done, IT WAS SO DISGUSTING AND NOT AT ALL A TURN ON WHAT THE HELL WAS WRONG WHAT THE FUCK WHY HIM IVAN IVAN IVAN IVAN
Stripping his pants-he was so upset he didn't notice he was unzipped-he headed into the shower, glaring at his hard-on. Fuck. Why did. Why did that even have to be there? The idea of doing it with a snake OR his brother was so repulsive he would be hacking up more if he had more to give!
The erection persisted even under the cold water-why wouldn't it go away? The film wasn't alluring in the slightest, it couldn't have been the food, nothing like this had ever happened to him before and this was scary. Ashamed, he immediately turned up the hot water and imagined Ivan touching his cheek, bending down for a kiss. Pressing their naked bodies up against each other. His cock started stirring again, and he closed his eyes.
"Oh, God," Alfred moaned, "What…what…oh, G—I-Iv..."
Alfred had been in such a hurry that he'd forgotten to lock the door. Slowly, very slowly, the doorknob turned and the door was nudged forward just a crack, a wide green eye hungrily taking in the writhing silhouette from behind the shower curtain.
His member rose back up, and his sweating hands began to shake. Fuck. That was—Alfred keening underneath the hot water after Arthur had sucked him off and let the confused boy start relieving his own body, but how would his body respond to being penetrated—love, love, the most…
Beautiful. Beautiful. His pulse was singing, cock pulsing with his heartbeat and he wanted to seize Alfred by the hair, yank him into a kiss. Fuck him until Alfred couldn't stand, he was screaming and gripping at him for dear life. Whining desperately for Arthur to join their bodies together, as twins—fuck, what bloody right did Matthew have calling Alfred his twin—as one.
Alfred was practically presenting himself to him. His body was aching, full of fire, and wasn't Arthur as his elder brother obliged to ease that ache? Eyes lidding and hazing, Arthur's hands drifted towards his belt, which was steadily growing more uncomfortable by the second. Alfred was whimpering wantonly and rocking his hips up and down, bucking into his hands.
Just inches away. He pushed the door open and froze, fingers inches away from the curtain. Horror bled across his eyes, awful and black, though he still saw too clearly Alfred's shadow. And if he just grabbed the curtain there would be everything. His future and Alfred's intertwined forever.
He couldn't do this. It was wrong. Alfred would scream and bleed and cry and that image stopped him cold, was almost enough to turn him completely flaccid again. Almost.
I'm going to make him feel good, Arthur protested feebly, eying the angelic figure with its back to him behind the curtain. I'll take him to paradise. We can talk later.
But his hands calmly unbuckled his belt, face set.
Oh, no. I'm not finished with you yet.
Go away and leave him alone, worried a stern, paternal corner of his mind. Can't you see he's upset?
Strike while the iron is hot! I want!
You can't.
I want!
Not yet.
Well, wasn't that just too fucking bad?
I've run out of time and he'll have me whether he wants to or not.
And he calmly reached forward and swung the curtain aside.
~o*oOo*o~
"Natalya, how could you fathom doing something so cruel?" Ivan exclaimed, rage kindling in his voice to a passionate inferno. "You tormented us both! We were afraid for our lives! How could you do such hideous things?"
"I was not alone," muttered Natalya, looking down at her feet. "He also—"
Ivan stamped his boot, cussing bitterly. "I do not care who you manipulated into working beside you with your snake's tongue! Natalya, get this through your head forever: I will, never, ever marry you, nor ever love you that way!"
Natalya's smirk abruptly fell away, like autumn leaves before a strong winter wind. "B-brother, just because we are brother and sister does not mean…"
"You think THAT is what stops me?!" Ivan shouted. "HAH! I would not marry you if we were full siblings or distant strangers! I would not want to marry you if we were the last two people on Earth! And you want to know why?" he demanded, his voice rising to a near shriek in his sister's face, "Because Alfred is everything you could never be, all of the good things in life! And YOU," he thundered. "You're a greedy, evil, murderous witch, and I won't stay under a roof with you, now or ever again!"
"Big brother," Natalya cried, seizing Ivan's arm only to be thrown aside. The girl's back hit the locker again, and Natalya slowly slid to the ground in a crumpled heap. "Do not push me from your side!"
Ivan just looked at her, and Natalya's throat closed in. It was awhile before he spoke again, the low words slivered. "I can hardly stand to look at you. Rot in hell, Natalya. If you go after Alfred again, make no mistake, I will snap your neck in two." He made to go, but Natalya threw himself to his feet, clinging to his ankles.
"If you do not take back your terrible words, something awful will happen and it will be on YOUR hands!" Natalya screamed."You will regret it for the rest of your days, and you will never, ever know happiness, certainly none of the love that you would know from ME!" Tears were streaming down her face. "I love you, I love you more than anyone else, and you tell me that means nothing to you? I am thinking YOU are the heartless one!"
"Burn in hell, you evil bitch!" Ivan snarled, not caring how Natalya flinched as though she'd been whipped. He sent her sprawling with a good kick. "I will not stay in a house that is welcome to the likes of you!"
And with a final curse, Ivan strode out of the building, mind a livid wall of flame as he ran off, Natalya's crying a dull and bitter refrain in the night.
~o*oOo*o~
"Aaaaaa!" Alfred let out a piercing scream and it confused Arthur—he staggered backwards and fell against the sink, blinking stupidly as his brother immediately swiped the curtain around him again, clutching it like a blanket.
"Get out, get out, get out! Artie, you fucking weirdo, GET LOST!"
Baffled, Arthur blindly obeyed, unzipped pants flapping and erection still prominent as he blindly stumbled out, head pulsing.
Seizing a small packet of lubricant from his bag, he then proceeded to collapse upon their bed, dragging Alfred's pillow to his face as he started masturbating in earnest.
It had looked at him with those wide blue eyes and it had been ripe for the taking and yet he had not. Why not? There was a reason, he knew, but he'd forgotten it and it could likely wait until later anyhow; he wanted relief.
~o*oOo*o~
Fuming, Alfred gnawed at the inside of his mouth, face burning a bright red. It didn't help matters that the cause of his humiliation was sitting beside him, glaring resolutely away from him, arms crossed.
By the time Alfred had stopped showering, his head had cleared up by a mite, though he'd sat in there for what had to be a good twenty minutes before crawling out. The sickness—or whatever it was—seemed to have lessened the tingling at his fingers and the stirring at his parts, but that didn't make him feel any less disturbed. Not even the fact that Arthur had clean pajamas, a fluffy towel, a head compress and a mug of hot chocolate waiting for him made him feel much better; he'd even skipped out on the chocolate, a fact that had Arthur wondering aloud if Alfred needed a trip to the emergency room.
Tucked into bed (Arthur had tried to do it himself and Alfred nearly strangled him), he wrung the blankets in his hands, wanting not to say a word and yet knowing it was inevitable; this could not be overlooked. It was fucking creepy.
"What the fuck, man?" He asked at last, rolling his eyes and scoffing when Arthur hissed from the edge of the bed. "Why'd you do that?! You could hear the shower running, you sicko, what's wrong with you?!"
"I heard you throwing up," Arthur muttered sullenly, ears as scarlet as cherries. "And then I hear you squealing and whining like your appendix is about to rupture! Al, I'm sorry—" He spat beneath gritted teeth in a way that suggested he was not at all sorry, "But I knocked on the fucking door and asked if I could come in like thirty times; you just kept making noises and I thought you were in some kind of distress!"
"I wasn't until you barged in!" Alfred snapped, ducking his head underneath the quilts. "Staring at me!" And I wasn't squealing!
"Of course I was, you prudish booby, I half-expected you to be lying comatose in the bathtub! Goodness, Alfred, I know it was…" He shivered. "But if you don't think it was like that for me as well, you have another thing coming!"
The young man turned away; Arthur very nearly lost his temper. "Alfred, for God's sake, grow up! I've seen you naked countless times before!" Alfred buried his head underneath his pillow and that made him smile, despite his paramount frustration. "The important thing is, are you quite feeling better or do I have to fucking call the paramedics?"
No tears. No tears. He'd had enough of tears.
"I'm feeling better," he said shortly, voice muffled.
"That's good," Arthur said coolly, resisting the urge to smooth Alfred's hair because the little chick really did sound exhausted. And it was his fault, really. Money was tight right now but if he went without buying lunch at school for a few days, perhaps tomorrow he could purchase one of those graphic novels his darling was always faffing about.
He slowly rose to his feet, pressing a kiss to his hand before touching it to Alfred's back. The younger one suppressed a shudder as Arthur silently headed out, his footsteps fading away.
Alfred bit his lip so hard it hurt. The Arthur-seeing-him-naked part didn't real disturb him so much as the look on his face had. The man hadn't looked concerned so much as he looked downright freaky, almost feral.
But that was ridiculous and he knew it. Still, there was the matter of his waking up to humping Arthur's leg….Arthur claimed he hadn't noticed, but how did you not notice that? Why hadn't his bro just punched him awake and rolled him off? It was what Alfred would have done.
I can't wait to get out of here.
Maybe the town he grew up in would always have a little sway over him, but he was fucking sick of constantly sharing such a small space with someone. Well, maybe that wasn't true—he always liked a bedmate after a scary movie….but Arthur really could be smothering in his attempts to be doting and protective. And creepy. People at school called Ivan creepy but they had no fucking clue.
He blew at his bangs, ruffling them before closing his eyes. He wished he had not laughed so much at Arthur when it had happened to him; this was positively the worst feeling in the world. It was revolting and slimy and so wrong that he wanted to climb to the top floor of their complex and maybe toss himself off.
Blinking, Arthur continued to gaze at him from the door, skin stretched too tightly over the thinning and haggard face.
This had gone. This had gone so much worse than he had anticipated, but it was fine, Alfred was still here. His bloodshot eyes bulged when he considered the younger man storming out of here with a suitcase.
But he was going to stay here whether he liked it or not. And Arthur would make him like it until he was begging underneath him, not wanting to get out of bed ever, not wanting anyone else to touch him ever.
Damage control first, however. I can fix this. He'd been a little too fast and Alfred was understandably freaked out. That was okay.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Puzzled, he reluctantly drew back from the door and glanced at the screen, heavy brows almost disappearing into his hair when he took a look at the message recipient:
Natalya. What did she want? His thoughts flew to his gun and he wondered if it might not be such a bad idea to settle his anger by settling her. His eyes automatically shifted to the small line of text in the glowing green speech bubble, aggravation quickly cooling over to confusion:
All is lost.
Why? He narrowed his eyes. What had happened? Was the six-hundredth sixty-sixth demand for marriage the real deal breaker with Ivan and he had at last lost his temper? He viciously hoped so; if he wasn't succeeding this evening, it would be a comfort to see Natalya failing.
What do you mean by that? He typed. Stop spouting nonsense.
He waited expectantly for several seconds, but no reply was forthwith coming. He hesitantly tucked his phone away again, turning to watch Alfred's sleeping figure through the crack. If Arthur tried pressing himself on Alfred now, his poor baby would likely start bawling or throw a temper tantrum, completely overwhelmed. Maybe just this once Arthur would step back and leave Alfred to stew for a little before he inevitably got over it. He would sleep on the sofa—and watch should the boy try sneaking out in the middle of the night. A pity locking Alfred in would be pointless, considering there was a lock on the other side of the door, too.
All the more reason he was looking forward to getting a new job and a nicer home with one-way locking mechanisms.
His cell vibrated against his leg and he suppressed a curse, but it was better not to keep Natalya waiting less she do something stupid. As was her wont. He glanced at his cell again and nearly dropped it:
Someone is going to die soon.
Arthur stared dumbly at the screen for a second and then he was gone.
The white hot rage he could never direct at himself—or at the bunny nestled cozily in the next room, the most precious thing in the world—became his living reality. Well.
Unless she had a very, very good explanation he was going to wrap his hands in her hair and whack her like a dusty rug against the wall. Until she was screaming for mercy and he was laughing, singing even as he dug into her stomach and dragged out her intestine and choked her with them.
What the deuce are you talking about? He typed calmly, a watery smile appearing on a white face. If you come here, make no mistake, I will KILL YOU.
No response. He waited patiently. Perhaps a ploy to draw him out? But there was no way Natalya was getting in by any means but the front door, so all he had to do was hunt her down first.
And it would be good, better than good, and he would laugh and she would cry and everything would be better somehow. Well, perhaps it wouldn't—he wasn't that juvenile—but he would definitely feel better, and a good attitude was what he needed if he wanted Alfred.
He stifled a desperate choking sound, and he bustled off to the living room to bury his head in a pillow and muffle the sound. It took him a moment to realize that he was laughing. Hard.
The irony. He had Alfred already, but that wasn't enough, it wasn't all of him, Ivan had been privy to that small percentage Alfred would not give and Arthur would take it back. Sometimes he wished Alfred was born his son…but he had all the powers of parental custody at his disposal. He had some time yet.
When he stopped shaking somewhat, he paused by the mirror and worked his face into composure before knocking cautiously on the bedroom door. He poked his head in, his surprised brother lifting his head just a little."Alfred. Bunny, I have to go. Emergency."
"Emergency?" Alfred asked feebly, the anger in his eyes reluctantly phasing to bafflement. "Arthur, what's wrong? Is everything…"
He smiled just a little, face still taut.
"A friend of mine," he said, and Arthur looked down at himself curiously from the ceiling, listening to himself speak and maybe almost feeling his jaw moving. "Just called and they're in a spot of trouble. Please, Al, just stay here for now." Still drifting, Arthur bent the dummy's head down in a suitable, contrite fashion. "I'm sorry our evening together was spoiled. Maybe tomorrow we can head to the bookstore or the arboretum, hmm? I think the weather's supposed to be nice, so maybe we can go on a hike or something."
Alfred was staring at him with a strange look on his face. He looked torn. "Um, okay…is everything gonna be alright?"
"Oh, yes!" Arthur heard, in a voice that seemed very high. "I'll call later on, poppet. Likely won't be back until later this morning, but I think I can straighten this out right quick. Get some rest, and remember that there's medicine in the bathroom cabinet if you need it." He mechanically pulled up both sides of his mouth and for whatever dismaying reason, Alfred was looking seriously put-out. Almost nervous.
But he'd be back soon and if good bunnies did what they were told and stayed in the burrow, everything would be fine and it needn't mind the storm outside. "Sure. Uh, see you later?" It came out a timid question and he laughed again because it was so funny. Of course he would!
"Goodnight," he said simply, and left, knowing it was pointless but locking the door anyway. He half-considered making a decent barricade against the door but that would have seemed just too strange. Whistling, he retrieved his gun from the hollowed medical text book on the shelf—whilst Alfred liked science, he would never pick up a manuscript that looked so boring as this.
Natalya would be snuffed out, and if Ivan was still a threat he'd murder him too. Then there was only the question of Matthew getting in the way and stealing his prize but maybe he could take Alfred's advice and leave this godforsaken town, this stupid country altogether. He'd show Alfred what adventure and culture really tasted like, just so long as it didn't involve any wandering eyes on his bunny.
His feet slapped down the stairs and he smiled the livelong way. A fresh beginning, where no one knew them. It was certainly something to consider after he ripped Natalya's throat out.
~o*oOo*o~
Alfred lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Well. He'd just been on the verge of falling asleep again and now he was contemplating piling up furniture against the door. The heck had been Arthur's deal, stumbling into the bathroom while he was in the shower? He'd looked…like a lost little boy, mildly horrified and more than a little blank. It was creepy and while he'd undoubtedly come in out of concern, it was….
Unsettling. That was a good word. He ducked his head underneath the blankets, biting his lip. Arthur looked awfully cheerful considering his friend was in trouble—in what sort of trouble? It really wasn't like the man to lie to him, but what was with the creepo, Norman Bates grin? Maybe he was so embarrassed by the incident he just wanted to get out for a little while. He wondered if the two would ever laugh over the incident someday. It seemed most unlikely.
He turned over in the bed that smelled like Arthur, curling up into a small ball. Siblings likely talked about sex if the age range was right—especially if they were the same gender. That didn't seem too abnormal. But the idea of parent and child discussing sex seemed so utterly mortifying he shied away from the idea. Imagining talking to Arthur or Mrs. Braginski about….about that made him consider smacking his head against the wall over and over again. Just. No. Just no, no, no, no.
What was Arthur to him? A sibling who had taken upon a very patronizing and paternal role. It was too hard to see themselves as equals when Arthur had always strived to be the protector and who cheated at card games so that he would lose to him.
It was uncomfortable admitting this, but even though he loved Arthur—practically worshipped the fussbudget when he was a child—lately it was just…suffocating around him. Like the very air around him was stifling, and kind though he was, he was…way too touchy-feely. Ivan could touch him like that, as much as he wanted to unless Alfred said no. Arthur could not. He'd probably die from humiliation telling him so, but he resolved to tell him the very next morning.
He was still feeling a little woozy, still a little out-of-sorts, but he was sick of thinking and headed off to the living room to get his cell phone. He ought to check up on Ivan and see that he was okay.
Alfred dug it from the cushions and tried to call; no answer. Concerned, he tried again—still no answer. A text, asking him how everything was.
He started playing Angry Birds on his cell, checking every few minutes for a response. When there was none after twenty minutes, however, the nerves he was suppressing started rising in him like bubbles in a shaken can of cola.
ivan, is everything okay? Did u find our perp? I'm calling your mom in a second. I really wanna see you, babe. What happened?
No answer after five minutes. He took a deep breath and tried again.
Ivan, you're safe, right?
No answer. God. His breathing started to become terse and shallow, and he tried calling again. He really, really respected if Ivan wanted some space from him, but if the fucking headcase had tried shooting at him, what would he do to….
Christ. He was the worst. Boyfriend. Alive. Swearing, he started to dial the number for the Braginski household, praying Natalya wouldn't pick up. Oh god. What if he'd never come home? What if someone had beaten even Ivan senseless? What if he'd been waiting and waiting for the man who said he'd be there for him and was lying in the streets, beaten and bruised and with a bloody mouth and—
"Pick up," Alfred growled, immediately leaping to his feet and pacing the floor. "Pick up, pick up, pick up!"
The number jumped to voicemail. He all but screamed in anger, and Hero fled the room. Trying to get some hold of himself, he bit back tears, wondering if it would be too much to call the police.
He would try one more time with Ivan's cell.
When it went to the clinical, cool voice of the automatic voicemail list, he nearly lost it. Upon hearing the familiar beep, the words spilled out of him.
"Ivan, Ivan, I am two seconds away from running outside and tracking you down, I swear to God. Vanya, I want to see you, I'll help you with whatever you need to do, I get if you're pissed at me for not insisting on being with you just let me know you're not dead, please, Vanya, I need to see you now—"
And he did start crying, his screen fogging up as a hot tear splashed. "Arthur's not even here right now and we had a crazy evening I want to tell you about it was fucking weird and scary and I want to help you, let me help you, I'll call the cops and do whatever—"
His phone pinged and he about dropped it. Scrambling to get the message, he cut off and read it, deflating like a squashed moonbounce with relief.
Alfred I am here come outside
He rushed over to the porch and headed out—and to his surprise he saw the familiar flash of red paint. Matthew's car. Huh. So maybe he recruited Matthew and they were gonna whack someone with a hockey stick?
He didn't particularly feel like killing anyone at the moment—Ivan aside, once he kissed him half to death like the sap he was. Smiling in relief, he grabbed a notecard and scribbled a message. There would be hell to pay come tomorrow, but he would find some excuse.
Got lonely and went to Mattie's. Don't worry; he's driving me there himself, so keep your head on. Hope everything's okay. Love, Al.
Elated, he tore down the stairs.
Matthew insisted on taking him back to his deserted place (his parents were in Maui for their twentieth wedding anniversary) and making him hot chocolate before he'd even let him hear the news. Despite his pleas and his threats, neither Ivan nor his twin would say a word, though judging by just how grave and anxious Matthew looked, Alfred wondered if it had anything to do with the stalker at all. Maybe someone had died.
Ivan had just clutched him like he'd never get to again, whey-faced. Thankfully, it was less than a ten minute trip and Alfred got the entire story.
Almost all of it, anyway. Matthew excused himself, saying that he had a sleepover at a friend's house, though he highly doubted that was the case.
Staring at the electric fire blazing in the hearth, he hugged his knees, feeling sicker than ever.
"I don't understand…" Alfred said weakly. "What did I do, Vanya? What did either of us do to make…" Garbled snarl or a hopeless snort. "She could have killed us both. Hell, she was probably tryin' to!"
"I am sorry," Ivan whispered, face in his hands. "So sorry."
Alfred sighed and pressed his nose against Ivan's, who did not move. A second later he felt the alarming way Ivan was shaking and realized that the man was near tears. "Hey, hey….it's fine…at least we know now, it's not your fault….we're gonna be just fine…."
"All this time, under my nose…you hate me." Ivan croaked, hands dropping as Alfred squeezed his arm, bluish eyes filled with misery. "You SHOULD hate me. I hate myself. I am stupid, because I knew what she was like and she had so many excuses—I w-wanted to believe! I make so many threats to eliminate what's been hurting you and it comes from my own house! Stupid, fucking, awful, hateful piece of shit—"
Alfred had heard enough. "Ivan," he said sharply, cutting the despairing boy off in his tracks and making him most unwillingly look at him. "I love you."
The Russian froze.
"What?"
Alfred smiled at him, looking exhausted but incredibly at peace, his blue eyes shining.
"I love you," he repeated, smiling when Ivan pulled him into his lap and kissed him, once, twice, and then it was probably more than that but maybe the second kiss just didn't stop.
Of course he was horrified. And afraid. But he knew now and the words were out and for some reason it was so purifying that he felt cleaner than he had in weeks. It was terrible, knowing that someone was so jealous of him that they wanted him dead, but breaking away from Ivan's lips to press kisses all over his big, adorable nose—
Panting, Ivan impatiently grabbed Alfred's face and crushed his lips against his again and he sagged into the kiss, lips moving against each other, imperfect but all the more enjoyable for the little flaws, like how he accidentally caught his lower lip on one of Ivan's teeth or strange it still felt to actually feel another person's tongue tracing it, peppering with hot, apologetic little kisses.
But it was breath and skin and it was Ivan and it all made his head swim so delightfully. When they did break apart, he could have laughed at how dumb Ivan looked, his face flushed and his lips swollen and his eyes lidded and stupid-happy. He let out a garbled laugh and hoped he felt the same, pressing his forehead against the Russian's and smiling.
Oh, the clichés, the clichés, the godawful stupid clichés. But his heart was breaking with love.
"Say it in Russian," Ivan said hopefully. Alfred grinned and pecked him on the head with a small chuckle. "Shaddup."
"Like you have heard me say." The Russian's smile began to fade just a little. "Ah, but I guess I am not so much in a place that I can ask for favors…."
"Ya lyublu tebya," Alfred muttered, kissing one of Ivan's eyes before moving onto the other. It had been years since he'd seen Ivan really cry, and as far as he could control it, he would keep it that way. "I love you, you big schmo. Uh, as for…Natalya…" Oh, boy. He could feel Ivan tensing underneath him. "Well, uh, we gotta talk about that. In detail. Just…not now."
Suddenly, his eyes lit up and he suppressed an evil laugh. Oh, Mattie knew him only too well. He really needed to think of a proper thank you after this.
"You know—ah—we're alone," he noted cheerfully, wrapping his arms around Ivan's shoulders and smiling in his neck.
Ivan gazed at him uncomprehendingly, and then Alfred saw what wasn't covered by his scarf immediately turn bright pink. The whites of his eyes looked like dinner plates and Alfred kind of wanted to laugh.
"Are you sure about this?" He stammered, fidgeting. "I—I….I d-don't…"
"Gotta warn ya, buddy—chances are, we'll look back and laugh," Alfred said resignedly, kissing Ivan on the cheek for no other reason than the simple fact he looked very kissable at the moment. "Or maybe get paper bags and hide forever and a day, cause I don't think I have a clue what I'm doing, but—"
Ivan was staring at him like he'd just lost his mind but an arm was curling around his waist and a hand was touching his cheek and that was kind of definitely awesome.
"Ivan, I love you. I want you." He hadn't told Ivan yet about his weird ass night with Arthur, but that could only be too easily put to the wayside for now. "Gotta thank Mattie for this, cause, uh, we seem to be alone. Looks like we're gonna be alone for some time. In fact, I'd go ahead and say—"
Awestruck, Ivan silently cupped both sides of Alfred's face and leaned in, silently savoring the way the blond's hot breath intermingled with his before their lips tentatively touched, and for a moment he was an awkward, shy little boy again. But Alfred's smiling mouth pressed against his again, and soon memories were a faint, superfluous buzz as he greedily tasted the lips moving against his, all thoughts not pertaining to how good it felt to have Alfred's lips parting for him or how beautifully Alfred's eyes were shining up at him evaporating like smoke on the wind.
One kiss. And then another. Another. His hands splayed Alfred's face, caressed it, felt Alfred's hands sifting through his hair, his hot tongue playfully caressing Ivan's bottom lip. The Russian growled softly, and all of a sudden, his blood boiled, the air above them both becoming shot.
Somehow, Alfred's legs were twisted around his waist, and his arms were around his shoulders, and it was all Ivan could do to not throw him against the sofa and ravage his mouth for dear life, his tongue lapping like a starving kitten's at every little inch Alfred would surrender.
He'd thought—or at least in the brief, occasionally lucid thoughts he could think at that point—that undressing Alfred would be a slow, chary act, like undressing a child and helping them into their night things before bed. Not so. His hands tore into the t-shirt Alfred was wearing, and all but ripped it over his head, Alfred hurriedly raising his arms to help. The shirt had not yet fallen to the floor before Ivan's hands were roaming over the newfound skin, and Alfred's moans filled the air as fingers frantically started to explore new territory.
Oh, God. Alfred's head spun as he smashed his lips against Ivan's, burying his hands into the strands and shivering as Ivan's tongue
Every nerve was tingling like a live wire, in a way that was pleasant and addictive and full of Ivan swimming in his face, which made it perfect.
More. More. I want more.
"Alfred," Ivan asked nervously when the two broke apart again. "Are you sure?"
"No, don't—enngh—stop," Alfred murmured, spine arching when he felt Ivan's hand hesitantly close over his member. "Don't look so scared, Vanya. I'm made of tough stuff."
"Aaah!"
A few moments later found the two stumbling into Mr. and Mrs. Bonnefoy's bedroom, Ivan locating a goody drawer next to the bed and taking out a bottle of lube with a shaking hand. They retreated back to the living room because it just seemed tacky to do it on the bed, though the comfy shag carpeting was as far as they got.
It wasn't admittedly the most beautiful and perfect thing in the world, the first intrusion. Alfred squirmed and Ivan with him, muttering apologies every few seconds before slipping another finger in. Suddenly, Alfred seized up, mouth dropping in shock.
"A-aah!"
He hastily retreated. "Did I hurt you?"
"Oh, oh God, what—do, do that again," Alfred moaned imploringly, and the fingers inside of him shot forward again, feeling around. A second later, Alfred nearly doubled up and Ivan pressed his forehead against Alfred's.
"I love you." The words came spiraling out and he slowly pulled out of him, something Alfred accentuated with a whine. Smirking, he pulled Alfred into an embrace. "I want—I want to do so much for you."
He felt Alfred beam against his shoulder, kiss it and look up into his eyes. "Yeah. I love you too, big guy. But you don't have to do much of anything." A dancing, electric spark appeared in his normally innocent eyes and Ivan felt a hot rush of energy rip through him. Alfred leaned back and considered his boyfriend, smirking in such a way that had Ivan swallowing.
"Now, would you mind makin' love to me?" he drawled.
Ivan swallowed and clumsily nodded, kissing Alfred as the boy lay back down, Ivan hoisting his legs up on his shoulders and carefully moisturizing his cock before driving a third of the way in, their hot gasps painting the air.
Sweat streaming down his face, Ivan glanced down at Alfred with lidded eyes, the boy's face contorted in such a way it almost made him want to laugh. "Nnngh."
"A-am I-"
"No," Alfred choked out, eyes flying open as he gave the worried boy a reassuring look, his gleaming face torn between pleasure and pain. "No, God, Ivan, if you stop now-"
Groaning, Ivan sank, inch by inch into the warm body, hot gasps filling the room until he was buried to the hilt. The tanned fingers left imprints on his arm as Alfred thrashed underneath him, struggling to get acquainted to the size and the odd stretch.
"Please," he begged between grit teeth after several seconds, and it was kind of funny how much he was shaking. Stupid, really. "Vanya, please, move—"
And he obliged. Gladly.
Breathlessly, Alfred clung on for dear life, babbling senselessly as the taller's thrusts became increasingly eratic, Ivan's groans filtering the hot air. Or maybe those were his own. He panted, gazing up with lidded eyes as Ivan continued to buck into him, brushing against that special spot that made him twitch and writhe, too much, too much but too good and he wanted more.
Alfred let out a cry when a cool hand wrapped around his aching cock and began to work in time to their thrusts, stroking, pulling, rubbing, teasing and worrying the head, hardening under the touch—
Ivan was kissing him and he leaned his head back, tongues happily twirling about the other—
Violet orbs loomed in and out of the darkness over him, occasionally disappearing when Ivan sank especially deep and the Russian's voice hitched, gentle words steadily climbing into something incomprehensible, an inane babbling broken with gasps, with snatches of senseless English and Russian.
He was close. Alfred lifted his hips nearly clean off the floor to meet Ivan's flesh, and Ivan eagerly pressed down, hitting that all-too sensitive basket of nerves dead on, over and over again before pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in—
"I-IVAN!" Alfred shrieked, his eyes wild, "IVAN!"
His mouth still moving desperately against the other's, Alfred threw his head back, mouth open in a silent scream as the world abruptly turned to white before his eyes, the painful descend rapid, exhilarating, almost terrifying but so hot so warm as somewhere above him, Ivan let out a choking gasp and released, hot essence spilling and his hand flying to Alfred's as the two fell together, Ivan rocking into his body until he was spent.
Alfred's quivering legs tumbled aside from Ivan's sagging shoulders, and the Russian pulled out of Alfred's body, felt himself being pulled into a pair of hot arms, glistening with sweat in the dying firelight. Still gasping, Ivan silently looked at the precious body, and felt the wonderful, terrible feeling of his heart almost breaking.
While the room was still filled with some light, he leaned in for a kiss, breath ghosting over Alfred's cheek before he pressed against his lips, pulling Alfred's hand to his chest, willing the boy to feel some of the tenderness eating away at Ivan, thrumming with every hot rush of blood.
Somewhere below him, he could hear Alfred beaming when the embers finally went out, collapsing from golden jewels to silver ashes.
~o*oOo*o~
~*oOo*~
Dazed, still enveloped in a post-coital glow, the two did stumble out eventually, however reluctantly. Alfred was limping slightly and Ivan felt awful, but the boy simply told him to suck it up, in too good of a mood to mind very much.
The mood was different, however, when Ivan directed the two of them into a car and Alfred realized where they were going and what they had to do. Oh. Oh.
"Ivan, the cops are gonna…they're gonna put her away, huh?"
"Alfred." Ivan said quietly, his emotionless eyes fixed on the steering wheel as he pulled out of the drive. "She nearly killed you."
Biting his lip, Alfred silently squirmed in the passenger seat, not knowing where to look. "Yeah," he said softly, scuffing one shoe with the toe of his other. "That's….that's kind of….bad." He swore and closed his eyes, sinking into the oversized sweatshirt Ivan had slid onto him. "I don't wanna turn her in to the police cause she's your sister, but…"
"She confessed." The Russian murmured, drawing a hand through Alfred's yellow hair, his eyes unhappy. "You ought to call the authorities and have them deal with her...she cannot get away with something like this. She's dangerous, and now she knows we are still together." His hand snaked over Alfred's, and the boy planted his other hand above it, sandwiching and keeping it there. "I can't trust that she won't do something truly awful again, especially now that we know everything. Nothing is more dangerous than criminal who has nothing left to lose, da? I tell Mama first only so that she is prepared when police take Natalya away."
"Iv, you and I both know that's not what you want." Alfred said gently, clasping Ivan's hand and leaning forward. Now it was Ivan whose eyes wandered away from him, but Alfred prodded until at last they reluctantly returned. "I can…kind of….sort of understand why she did it." He rolled his eyes as Ivan gave him a look that all too clearly questioned Alfred's sanity. "Look, I can't imagine loving your big brother or sister like that, but hell, to go through all that trouble to get rid of someone the person you care about loves...of course Natalya didn't think she was doing anything wrong."
"Does that make it right?" Ivan asked. "It does not matter whether she did or did not know. I know Natalya, Alfred, and in either case, she simply did not care. You were an obstacle to something she wanted, and her actions should speak loud enough for us to understand that there is nothing she will not do if it means getting her way."
Alfred turned away to sadly contemplate his own hands. Ivan considered him thoughtfully. "If...if ah, you and I...had been born...born together—" He flushed. Alfred quickly looked away, flushed face mirroring Ivan's own degradation, own disgust. "Do...do you think..."
"No," Alfred said gently, his eyes kind. "Hell, I dunno what sort of person I'd be. But even if I'd been in Natalya's position…been your bro and loved you like….like that….." As mortifying as this was, Ivan couldn't help but admire at just how sweet Alfred was when he blushed. "Ugh, Iv, I love you, but if we'd been born siblings—"
"Let's not discuss that. I am sorry I brought it up."
His lover shook his head.
"I couldn't hurt someone you really cared about, Ivan. Never," he emphasized firmly, tugging Ivan's hand to his heart, where the Russian could feel it fluttering warmly. "If at any time…you…you left—"
He leaned in, violet eyes boring into Alfred's until he could make out nothing else. "I'm not going anywhere. I love you."
Alfred gave him the sweetest of smiles, his cheeks rosy. "But," he added insistently. "If at any time you left me for someone else, of course I'd be crushed, be jealous as all hell of whoever you decided to see. But I wouldn't try to wax them. That'd hurt you, and that would just make me sick. Uh, and murder's just a little...not nice. Maybe even a federal no-no."
"All the more reason Natalya should be punished. Why I must not stay anymore in this house."
"Are you sure you don't want me to go in with you?" Alfred asked anxiously as they parked outside Ivan's home.
Ivan nodded, brushing his nose against Alfred's collarbone. "I do not want you within five miles of my little sister. Am only going back to tell my mother what Natalya has done, and then I am packing my bags and I will leave. Matthew says I might stay with him until I figure out what to do."
"Yer Ma's gonna have a field day about that," The blond muttered as Ivan opened the door. Before he could climb out, Alfred grabbed his arm, pulled him back. "Natalya's just a kid, albeit a dangerous, total headcase of one. Maybe you don't have to leave at all—maybe your Mom will send her to live with Katyusha, or someplace where she can get help. Get better," he said hopefully. "There's still time for her, Ivan."
Ivan just gave him a furtive look, did something between a shrug and a shake of the head. His eyes seemed almost pitying, a fact that annoyed Alfred.
"Are you SURE you don't want me to—"
"Da," Ivan breathed, pressing his lips against the place where Alfred's stubborn strand used to sit on his head and draping an arm around Alfred's shoulders, giving him an affectionate squeeze. "Stay in car. Stay warm." He patted his love's knee before drawing back from the hug. "If I need you, I will text you."
"Ivan..."
He looked at him. "Please."
Alfred let out a long, resigned sigh, shoulders slumping in a way that might have been comical if not for the present circumstances. "I realize that this might take awhile, but if I don't hear from you in ten, I'm going in after you."
Ivan cautiously entered the house, as tentative as if he were a burglar entering a stranger's abode. He expected the smell of cooking vegetables or meat to be wandering in from the kitchen by now-after all, it was almost dinnertime-but nothing. Nonetheless, Ivan poked his head in, only to find it deserted.
"Mama?" he asked aloud, wandering to the living room. But she was not there either. Confused, Ivan headed up the steps. He hoped he didn't have to deal with Natalya again, felt his blood searing at the very thought. Hopefully she'd already fled by now.
But the woman was not in her room, and the bathroom door was ajar. He checked his own room. Nothing. Her car had still been in the driveway, so more likely than not she was still here...
He turned most unwillingly to Natalya's door, which had light coming from underneath the crack. Perhaps she had wanted to talk to the woman, shed crocodile tears and convince the woman that another series of events had occurred altogether. Ivan's teeth clenched.
Natalya would have her so-called 'justice.' Without bothering to knock, he swung open the door, surprised; he'd half-expected that he'd have to break the lock.
"Ma—"
But his words abruptly died; Mrs. Braginski lay on the floor in a dead faint near Natalya's closet. In a flash her son had raced to her side, knelt, shook the woman with strays of gray in her still lovely, proud crown of hair, who did not move, did not stir.
He looked into the open closet door, where his mother had been facing.
And what he saw tugged him to the floor, anchoring him to it even as a part of him died and drifted away. He heard footsteps pounding up the stairs, heard Alfred concernedly calling out his name from a distance. But it registered nothing to him.
Creak, creak.
Creak, creak.
Her body rotated eerily back and forth, back and forth from where it hung in the air. Natalya Braginski had hung herself in the closet, dead, cold eyes swiveled to stare emptily at her sibling, devoid of the passion that normally directed at Ivan and Ivan alone.
She was clad in her mother's wedding dress.
Ivan did not let out one cry, not one sob; there was no breath left to do so. He felt himself submerged in the same waters that had overtaken his mother; the ghost of his little sister's promise frozen on her face as a cry echoed through the room, filtering into the rest of the house.
~o*oOo*o~
The definition of irony: Your aphrodisiac works in favor of the guy you hate.
...oh, yeah. *Sighs sadly* There you go, all—Natalya Braginski is dead, but the story still isn't over just yet.
Yes, Ivan's a bit of a Mama's boy. *Shrugs* I'm not denying it-he definitely admires her, considering the crap she's lived (and is about) to live through. :( Mrs. B is essentially okay with homosexuals, but she's still very adamant that you at least be married before you have sex. The whole 'preserving one's honor' and stuff (though she could probably tell you about a VERY interesting vacation she had in Italy with a young man some years ago). I'm not sure she's kidding about the whole castration part. *Shivers* Hope she doesn't find out about Ivan and Al's happy fun time! But even if she does, I'm thinking she's just joking. She has a very big heart and open mind.
Next chapter: My Brother's Keeper.
Or: The Truth.