A/N: Okay, several notes here.
I'm posting this early because tomorrow I'm leaving my home country to go live in Korea for a year. Yay! But not completely… it's a bit scary too. I'm scared of the Korean food… Anyway, I'm not sure when I'll be able to post the next chapter.
This is why I've been busting my butt to finish the story. It is, in fact, finished except for one chapter. That's right, it has an ending. It also has a bonus chapter(s) set outside the storyline but in the same universe. Don't think you're escaping that easily.
This chapter is split between Matthew's POV and Ivan's. Someone commented that it was hard not knowing Ivan's POV. Well, it's hard to write Ivan's POV, but it's necessary because Matthew isn't able to tell the story. Enjoy.
I don't endorse getting smashed and having unprotected sex. Really, I don't recommend it. Do not try this at home and all that jazz.
Chapter Fourteen
Matthew sighed and for the millionth time wished Alfred could tolerate a quiet, at-home party for their birthday. Or, actually, after-birthday party. Since no one was around during the summer and Alfed was an impossible attention whore, he always held their (HIS) party a month or so after the school year started. And, it was technically at-home, unfortunately for the neighbors, who had evacuated in advance after last year (or were ATTENDING the party). But no one would be under the mistaken impression it was quiet… or tame.
Why the hell did Alfred get enough money to pay for that much booze anyway? Matthew felt like they had a liquor store in their living room.
"Ready for a super-awesome party, Mattie?" Alfred whooped, his arms full of chips, pretzels, and popcorn. "I love this time of year!"
A small pile of presents were stacked by the front door and Matthew was sure Alfred's side would grow like a radioactive tumor once the guests started arriving. Matthew's own modest pile sat under Alfred's ominous shadow.
"Yeah…"
Alfred ignored his quiet answer and asked, "Did you ask Ivan to come? I was going to but I forgot. Well, maybe Toris will tell him. Shit, I forgot to invite Ludwig and Sophie… and I still gotta pick up the cakes. I'll just tell them when I pick up the cakes. Sofie promised to make you a super-awesome-fantastic cake, Mattie. I got chocolate of course, with red, white, and blue frosting! It's got little flags and fireworks on it and everything. It's going to be soooo cooool. I can't wait. Hey, Mattie, can you set up the snacks while I go get the cakes? Great, okay, thanks, be back in a few! Don't drink too much before the party; I know how tempting it is with all the possibilities. I put the jello and oj in the fridge. Be back, bye!"
Matthew wasn't in any mood to invite Ivan to this stupid, pointless party. Maybe Alfred didn't get the memo lately, but they hadn't been hanging out recently. Ivan seemed the same as ever, but when Matthew tried to be normal, Ivan edged away.
He felt stupid about it, so he just avoided Ivan, hoping it would blow over given a little time. Thinking about it just made his grumpy mood worse.
He sighed and grabbed the bags of snacks off the floor where Alfred dropped them. There was a loud slam and then silence. He set up the snack table and noticed Alfred has forgotten the paper plates. Typical. He went to fetch them from where he had hidden the leftovers from last year and tossed them on the snack table next to the napkins.
He considered going out for the night like his prudent neighbors had done. He wasn't really in the mood for an ode-to-Alfred party, celebrating the day he decided to grace his sunshiny, perfect presence on the dreary old world. He was quite sure no one would notice he ditched the party because they were coming for the food, the booze, the music, and Alfred. No one would care if Matthew was there or not, or even notice if he was there or not. Miguel probably wasn't coming (he and Alfred had a falling out recently), so he could probably go hang out there for the night if he wanted to.
Sulkily, he realized that he had to at least greet his guests. He was too polite not to. And he did want to see Sophie's cake and open his few presents.
He wandered over to the cooler and cracked a beer. It was going to be a long night, so he might as well get started now.
As promised, Alfred arrived back in twenty minutes with two massive cakes and Feliciano helping him. The ditzy Italian was chatting away, holding Matthew's cake over his head carelessly. He stumbled over the door jam but caught himself and the cake with a giggle. Chirping about how he had to be more careful, he proceeded to slam his shin into a coffee table. Gritting his teeth and fighting back tears, he finally made it to the kitchen and placed the cake on the table.
"Ve, are you going to have wine?"
"Of course! Wine, beer, vodka, you name it. I want everyone to be happy and I don't want to hear any whining about culture or whatever. Except from Arthur, but he bitches all the time. He's such a funny drunk! I even got some fruit punch for Mattie and Peter. Arthur has to bring him because the 'rents are out of town again."
Matthew slid the finished beer to the side and tried to look punch-worthy in case Alfred or Feliciano actually noticed he was in the room. They didn't and left to go get the gelato to go with the cakes. Sometimes he wanted to slapped Alfred—well, in this case, sock him—for treating him like a kid. They were twins, dammit, the same age. He was just as capable as Alfred was about holding his liquor (although in hindsight, Alfred was the one who jumped into a prickle bush while drunk), and he could make adult decisions. He didn't need a big brother, who was actually YOUNGER by 12 minutes, to tell him how he should live or what he should drink.
Snagging another beer out of the cooler, he went to answer the door, since Alfred was still outside. A few people Matthew vaguely knew from school looked at him blankly before it clicked. They congratulated him on his birthday and asked where the party was being held. He politely told them about the living room, where the bathroom was, and that the apartment across the hall was going to be for dancing, and the apartment next door to the left was for gaming. The park across the street was going to be for fireworks once it got dark.
He answered the door a few more times, his smile getting fainter and fainter as Alfred's friends and acquaintances brushed past him. Or mistook him for Alfred, heartily congratulating him and dumping fireworks in the BYOFW pile. Eventually Alfred came back, voice booming with maniac energy, and took over, regaling Matthew to the corner with his third beer of the evening.
"Hey," Gilbert greeted him and flopped down half in his lap, spilling his beer. "What's hanging? You look pissed. Let the awesome me cheer you up!"
Matthew grunted and shoved at Gilbert. He just laughed and made himself more comfortable, grabbing Matthew's beer and taking a swig. He grinned and balanced the can on Matthew's head. Irritably Matthew snatched it off and finished it.
"Fiery." Gilbert sniggered, mussing up Matthew's hair with his hand. "Let me make it up to you by getting you another beer."
A few beers later, Matthew decided maybe Gilbert wasn't THAT annoying. And Arthur, who was well on his way to being completely smashed, had decided that the dance part of the party was really karaoke. His voice was belting out The Beatles (which was rather disharmonious with the Black Eyed Peas). Matthew may have conceded Alfred had a marginal amount of talent, purely to save face, but no amount of alcohol was ever going to make Arthur a better singer.
"I'm gonna go kick those Asian dudes off the xbox and play Halo. Wanna join me?"
Matthew shook his head. He wasn't that good at shooting game, and now that he was drunk, he could only get worse. Plus, he decided he really wanted to dance. He could hear the throb of music from the other apartment. Normally he wouldn't even dare step on the dance floor, but now he wanted to dance.
He wandered across the hall and made a beeline for the dance floor.
Ivan was cross about being late to the party. And he was late to the party because he had not been informed that there WAS a party. An oversight on the hosts' part, he was sure; otherwise he would have been invited. Or that's what he told Toris, when Toris asked if he was going to go. And that certainly better be the case, for the hosts' safety. It was just a mistake, he was quite sure. At least on Alfred's part.
Why was Toris invited? He was not a schoolmate not did he live in this town. Yet he was invited and Ivan had not been. And this made Ivan very peeved.
He wandered into Alfred and Mathew's apartment, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the mess the party-goers had made all over the floor and couches. He followed Alfred's booming laugh outside to the back patio to where he was cooking hamburgers and hot dogs. Kiku and Toris were gamely trying to do damage control with the grill. They appeared to be somewhat succeeding, as there were only two black scorch marks on the grass.
"I-Ivan, you came." Toris spotted him first and sputtered out a greeting.
"Hey big guy, glad you made it! Want a hamburger?" Alfred had an apron on that said kiss-the-cook and a charred spatula in one hand and a plate of burgers in the other.
Ivan needed no further invitation. He crossed the distance between them and planted a firm kiss on Alfred's lips. He tasted of cherry jello and Red Bull and Ivan fought back distaste at how Americans felt the need to dress vodka up. He hoped there was straight vodka inside.
Alfred dropped the hamburgers, although Toris dove to catch them, and shoved the spatula into Ivan's chest to push him back after a moment. He was panting and looking slightly glassy-eyed, much to Ivan's satisfaction.
"What the hell man?" Alfred sputtered and gave Ivan a reproachful look. Ivan merely pointed to his apron. He flushed bright red and muttered, "That's not what it means."
"I see. My mistake: I mistook you for a cook. I see that I was wrong." Ivan smiled pleasantly, stealing little licks to his lips.
Alfred seemed to notice the missing hamburgers and yelped until he saw Toris had them. He gave the Lithuanian a grateful smile and Ivan glared. On the one hand, he found Toris attractive enough; he would have been extremely interested if he had not met Alfred earlier. But on the other, Toris seemed to gather attention that Ivan coveted for himself. And Ivan had never been particularly interested in sharing.
"There's drinks inside. You sure you don't want a burger?" Alfred coughed. "Oh, and Mattie's here somewhere. Hey, Kiku, have you seen Mattie lately?" The Japanese boy shook his head. Ivan felt his keen black-button eyes boring through him. He merely gave a sickly sweet harmless smile in return. "Where's Mattie then? I haven't seen him since I got the cakes. Hey, Ivan, go find Mattie for me, will ya?"
Ivan disliked being given orders, but he wandered back inside. It certainly would not hurt to pick up a drink and go find Matvey. He felt slightly guilty for ignoring his friend and hoped to repair their friendship. He had just been so surprised! Not about the kiss of course, that was just an accident, but about how he felt receiving the kiss. And how he continued to think about it. And couldn't stop thinking about it every time he saw Matvey.
He found the alcohol easily enough and there was straight vodka stashed away towards the back. He simply took the whole bottle. It was simply too bad if someone else had wanted a Screwdriver or Vodbomb.
He walked through the seemingly endless stream of rowdy party-goers. He stared at a few couples who were quite unembarrassed to be half-nude and engaging in sexual foreplay in the hallway and tripped over more than one discarded glass bottle. He took a few drinks of the vodka, enjoying the familiar burn. He had not been so well acquainted with his old friend since taking up residence in this small college town. Not that he minded, but taking a drink was a warm, friendly feeling.
Not finding Matvey, he made his way towards the horribly loud music. He could feel the pounding beat as much as hear it, and he was reluctant to go there. But Matvey had been nowhere else, including his room, so Ivan had no choice.
He cautiously looked in the apartment that he assumed was the dance floor. Strobe lights bounced crazily off the wall and the DJ was tucked away in the corner, blasting out loud, heavy beat music. There were a couple dozen dancers in the middle of the living room. Ivan glanced over them curiously, noting the jerky, drunk dancing and smiling at the absurdity of it all. Alfred certainly had a fondness for extravagance.
He almost turned away again when movement caught his eye. Unlike the uncoordinated grinding of the other dancers, this dancer was moving slowly, sensually off to the side by himself. Ivan focused and was surprised to see that it was Matvey. Instead of his usual loose jeans and red hoodie, he was decked out in tight-fitting jeans that hugged his thighs and butt like a second skin. His shirt was a light cotton material that hugged his torso equally close. His small hands were sliding restlessly across his body in-sync with the slow, controlled wiggles of his slim body. They rolled across his flat stomach, splaying out for a second, before running over the slight jut of Matvey's hips and sliding down across the jeans into his back pockets. His lips were parted and Ivan suddenly remembered the kiss. Again. But much stronger.
And he just stared.
Francis, who Ivan had not seen, slipped out from a dark corner of the room with a glass in hand. He threaded through the dancers towards Matvey. Reaching his destination, he leaned forward, his blond curls obscuring his face, and said something to Matvey. The other boy stopped his lewd hip movements and settled for rocking back and forth as he focused on Francis. Francis reached out to gently grab his wrist with his free hand and tugged.
Ivan suddenly felt a strong need to find a blunt metal object.
He had not had a lot of contact with Francis. Alfred, for all his friendliness towards man, woman, child, and dog seemed to have an aversion to the so-called Bad Touch Trio. Which may have been Arthur's influence, who could not seem to stand any of them. Then again, Arthur did not care much for Ivan either. Francis mostly kept away from Alfred. Not to mention his failed attempt to run his hands over Ivan had been laughable; mostly to Ivan, who thought purple was a rather fetching color on him. So he did not see Francis often either.
And now Francis was touching Matvey, who was clearly drunk and willing.
Ivan strode forward without thinking, not bothering to tread around the dancers. Most of them yelped at him, looked, and went back to dancing without another protest. He paid them no mind. Reaching Francis and Matvey, Ivan just stood and stared with a smile tickling his lips.
Francis must have felt him standing there and risked a look over his shoulders. His lips, which had been curved in a sensual smirk, slowly turned into an o. His blue eyes narrowed and he stared back at Ivan challenging.
Matvey, realizing that Francis was no longer talking to him, started dancing again. He moved with a strangely boneless grace, hitting the right notes with a sharp pelvic thrust and a thrown back head. His cheeks were flushed from the heat and the alcohol and his curly hair was slicked back with sweat.
"Yes?" Francis finally asked, plastering on a charming smile. Ivan noted how his eyes kept flickering back to Matvey. "May I help you… ah… forgive me for not knowing your name." Because you are not important enough for me to remember, Ivan read.
"My name is not important." Ivan's smile widened a bit and he glared down meaningfully. Francis was not like Gilbert, who Ivan could provoke into a fight. Francis was not a fighter; he was a wily thief and con artist. If Ivan punched him, Ivan would be kicked out of the party and Francis could continue his conquest. "And I would ask that you leave Matvey alone."
"Are you his mother, mon ami? His caretaker? I believe Mathieu is a big boy and can decide for himself whom he would like to associate with." Francis replied smoothly, "Or perhaps, you are his boyfriend and do not want to share? No? Then perhaps you have no business interrupting."
Ivan had a suspicion that Francis had used this speech before. Unfortunately, Ivan was not related to Matvey and was merely a friend. So if Matvey didn't protest Francis' advances, no matter how drunk he was, then Francis would appear to be in the right.
Ivan reached past Francis and tugged Matvey to him. Matvey blinked a few times and stood still, confused.
"Perhaps Matvey is my boyfriend, da? And you are not welcome." Ivan replied chillily. He did it out of reflex, not realizing the implications of what he was doing immediately. But Francis did and a small smirk decorated his face, repeating Ivan's tone and words back to him, "Excusez-moi, I did not know you and 'Matvey' are dating. This is quite a shock, no? Especially since you declined his advances a mere week ago! I am sure Alfred has given you his blessing."
Ivan realized, with a sinking feeling, that Matvey would not likely remember the conversation, but that he had announced his pretend relationship with Matvey to one of the biggest gossips in school. He did not care what most other people thought of him, but it would not look particularly impressive on his part if he were to be dating the brother of his crush. Unfortunately, Francis had flittered off leaving Ivan with a handful of squirming, drunk Matvey.
Ivan looked down at his new 'boyfriend' vaguely amused and somewhat aroused. Matvey had grown tired of standing still and decided that if Ivan was going to hold him, then he was going to use Ivan as an impromptu dance partner. Which seemed to involve quite a bit of grinding and rubbing. On Ivan.
"Matvey," Ivan said, gently catching Matvey's chin with his big fingers and bringing his face up. He had a glassy haze and pouted at being stopped. Slowly a smile spread sloppily across his face and he twisted out of Ivan's grip. Before Ivan could react he had grabbed his hand and placed two fingers up to the knuckles in his mouth. He gave a slight suckle and made a mewling sound in the back of his throat. Ivan swallowed, hard, and tried to tug his fingers out of reach. Matvey stubbornly hung on, flicking his tongue across the fingers before giving a harder suck.
If he desired Ivan's complete attention, he had effectively grabbed it. Ivan was standing stock still, riveted to the way Matvey was playing with his fingers. He swallowed again, trying to tear his eyes away, but didn't try to remove his fingers this time. He was not sure if it was the vodka or his imagination that kept overlapping Matvey's face with Alfred's. And his body apparently didn't care. After a few moments, Matvey appeared to get bored. His ministrations slowed and Ivan almost felt like he could breathe again… until the first nip tickled the sensitive skin on his wrist. The nips and kisses traveled up Ivan's arm. Cloth didn't seem to discourage him in the slightest; he simply bit down harder.
Eventually he was swaying precariously on tiptoes with his hands pressed against Ivan's broad chest and his lips seeking exposed skin at Ivan's collarbone.
Ivan snapped out of his trance when a dancer accidentally bumped into him. A flood of guilt and confusion washed over him. It was the same guilt he had since the party but much, much stronger. He liked Alfred and Matvey was his best friend. What was he doing? This was not something friends did. And he was interested in Alfred. He had never seen how the two twins were so frequently confused; they were very different. And now he was overlapping them and it wasn't all the vodka. Ivan knew that Matthew felt like he was his brother some of the time and nobody the rest of the time, so he was grateful that Matvey was too drunk to notice his slip.
His confused feeling aside, Matvey was clearly highly intoxicated, and Ivan was just as bad as Francis for allowing this to happen.
He firmly grabbed Matvey up, careful about where he allowed Matvey to touch him, and took him off the dance floor. Ideally he would have liked to take Matvey to a quiet place to sleep off his intoxication, but this party was anything but quiet. It was amazing that no one in the area had called the cops for a noise complaint yet. Matvey snuggled compliantly into his chest, panting in small, dainty gasps and occasionally letting a high-pitched noise seep through his slack lips. Ivan carefully carried him into his apartment and headed for the bedroom. He would put Matvey to bed, give him a glass of water to sober him up a little, and leave another glass of water with some aspirin for the morning.
Matvey slipped his hand up Ivan's shirt, an amazingly coordinated move for someone who could barely stand, and gave a sharp tweak. Ivan jumped in surprise and nearly dropped him. He furrowed his brow and removed the hand quickly. However, he could feel the touch lingering and gritted his teeth.
"Matvey, stop." Ivan demanded firmly as Matvey's fingers quested for the edges of his clothing. "Matvey is drunk."
He whined in reply and Ivan was grateful to push the door open to his room and deposit him on the bed. After he kicked out a pair of fornicators and their discarded clothing. Literally. Slamming the door irritably, he made sure Matvey was in bed. He was for the moment. And placed his bottle of vodka down on the nightstand behind the lamp where Matvey wouldn't notice it. He intended to drink the rest of it later after all.
"Stay."
Ivan let himself back out the door and went towards the kitchen. He grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and took them with him to the bathroom, which smelled vaguely of vomit. He filled the glass and rooted around behind the mirror for some painkiller. Finding some, he took out two pills, grabbed the glasses of water, and went back to the room.
Matvey jumped on him from behind. He grunted in surprise, almost dropping the glasses and pills, then sighed. He never would have guessed Matvey to be so incompliant when drunk. This was putting a strain on his patience and he felt something shift.
He decided to take a firmer tact. Because he was scared to lose himself with Matvey.
He grabbed Matvey up by the scruff and tossed him on the bed. He made a whine of protest at the rough treatment but made no move to get up again.
"Drink this."
Matvey took the glass and took a sip. Realizing it was not more alcohol, he tried to give it back. Ivan commanded him to drink again. Reluctantly he brought the glass back up to his lips and took a small sip. He started tracing the rim of the glass with a wet, pink tongue, rolling his lips over it slowly. Ivan had enough. He was becoming cross and frustrated; two emotions he was ill-equipped to handle. They were tumbling around inside of him with a cocktail of testosterone and the idea that Matvey looked like Alfred.
He clamped down on that something even harder and took a deep breath.
"Drink." Ivan commanded again, this time grabbing the glass and forcing it up to Matvey's lips. He pressed his lips together obstinately and started trying to strip off his clothing. Apparently he could be just as persistent as Alfred could with enough incentive.
By the time Ivan had gotten him in a modified headlock, Matvey had managed to get his shirt off and had those skinny jeans at his knees. Ivan had seen him naked before, of course, in the locker room, but this was completely different. Matvey hadn't been grinding his rump into Ivan's crotch with an insistent rhythm nor had he been flushed and whimpering in frustration. And Ivan most certainly hadn't been thinking him in the way he was thinking of him now.
"Drink." Ivan forced his head back and pushed the water against his lips. He sputtered and swallowed and stopped squirming for the moment. Matvey then went limp, water trickling out the corner of his mouth, and Ivan let go of the remaining water to catch him. It spilled all over the sheets and Matvey's boxers.
Alfred burst in the door looking furious. His eyes glittered with an abnormal malice and Ivan was taken aback. Malice was not like Alfred, who on occasion was angry or upset, but rarely mean. His eyes swept over the scene and darkened while his lips twisted up in a snarl.
"Get the fuck out." Alfred said in a low voice that threatened violence.
Instantly Ivan knew that Francis had told Alfred about Ivan's lie, probably neglecting to tell Alfred exactly why he was speaking to Ivan about such things. Alfred must have been very alarmed to leave his fireworks, which Ivan could hear going off across the street. And with typical timing, had chosen the worst possible moment to find Ivan holding his limp, half-naked brother with an empty glass and wet marks over the two of them.
"It is not as it appears."
"It looks pretty fucking convincing to me that you were taking advantage of Mattie." Alfred glared and took a step forward. He was surprisingly sober and coordinated, "Listen up, Ivan; let me tell you a secret. Around here that's called rape and it'll land your vodka-chugging ass in jail or maybe get you deported back to the motherland."
Ivan held back his temper with all the patience he had left. He was furious that Alfred would insinuate such baseless and immortal acts and seemed to care little for how he besmirched Ivan's character. He was not a rapist nor was he soliciting consensual sex from a drunk Matvey.
He had tried very hard to be in control. He expected to be lauded for his efforts—how he was changing his behavior—although Alfred didn't know much about his past.
With stiff dignity, he carefully shifted the unconscious Matvey off his lap and placed him on the bed. He carefully picked up the empty glass and placed it next to the full one. Turning back, he impulsively pulled the covers over Matvey's form and placed a soft kiss on his sweat-soaked brow. He wasn't sure why he did so, although it was delightfully fun to see how much the action riled Alfred.
His lips tingled as he straightened up, grabbing the vodka bottle as he went, and walked past Alfred, "Alfred is wrong."
Alfred didn't say anything in return, just followed Ivan out of the apartment. He watched until Ivan was out of sight before going back inside.