"Ivan, have you seen Alfred?" the King of Spades ran up to the King of Clubs.
Ivan was walking the battle field, carefully pulling arrows out of bodies. Occasionally, he would find a Club arrow or dart and smile a dark, demented curve.
But he looked up from a body with six arrows in its gut and shook his head. "I have not. The mare he was riding is with my horse." Ivan hid his emotions well. Arthur would never know his mind was screaming in terror. Behind his smile, fear at loosing Alfred was all he could think about. He had found someone, someone beautiful, someone kind, someone who didn't look at him in fear. And the Hearts had taken Alfred from him!
"Can you look for him?" Arthur asked, his face pale and scared.
A wave of jealously hit Ivan. He, the King of Clubs, was the only one how could love Alfred! But he quickly shook that off. Arthur was Alfred's brother. He deserved to be frightened.
Ivan nodded and walked back to his horse and swung into the saddle.
"Pretty one," He whispered in his language to Alfred's mare. "Let's find your rider."
He wandered the field slowly.
"What do you think?" he asked the horses. His gelding daintily stepped over weapons and the dead. Which was surprising from a horse of that size. The gelding's hooves were easily the size of dinner plates. "You are not frightened of anything, are you? Nikita." He paused. "That is your name now." He looked over at Alfred's horse. "You need a name, pretty girl. But that should be Alfred's choice." He felt his chest clench. What if Alfred was dead? What if Alfred was taken from him, just like his parents? And before he had ever told the lovely Ace he loved him?
Ivan look around and spotted a glint of sunlight off glass. Glass? On a battlefield? He turned Nikita and the mare towards the gleam. Not glass, glasses.
"Alfred, net!" (Alfred, no) he jumped out of the saddle, landing on a body. But that didn't matter. He ran to the Ace and slid to his knees next to him. Ivan gathered him into his arms and smoothed the Ace's wheat gold hair. A huge gash stretched across Alfred's forehead. Surprisingly, his glasses where untouched. "Alfred, posmotrite na menya!" (Look at me) He switched a heavily accented version of the Spade's language. "Alfred, wake up! Now is not time for sleeping, podsolnechnik! Open eyes! I don't want to lose you! I can't lose you!"
Nothing. Not even a twitch. Anger replaced Ivan's grief. "Alfred, wake up! Is not funny! Wake up this instant! Alfred, please, PLEASE!"
"Scheisse!" The Nine of Hearts slapped the doctor's hand away. "That hurt!"
"It's stitches, sir, it will hurt."
"Here, let me do it." Basch looked up and paled.
"Fine, miss. I doubt he'll slap you." The Doctor held out the tools.
"Lili, what are you doing here?"
"I wanted to see the fruits of your efforts, big brother." She took the needle from the doctor and quickly pushed the needle through his skin.
Basch hissed a little but didn't say any more.
"How do you like Paris?" he asked as she tied the string.
"It's very pretty here." Lili smiled. "I like it very much."
"Would you like to stay here?"
"Oh, yes!" Lili nodded. "If you come back here after battles-."
"I won't come back as often as you'd like." Basch looked at the huge gash running down his arm. "But it'll be often enough."
"That makes me happy, brother." Lili gently rubbed a salve on the wound. "What happened?"
Basch grimaced. He couldn't taint his sister's mind with the truth. The poor girl was still under the impression war and battles were a glorious occasion.
"The Ace of Spades." Basch said slowly. "I underestimated him."
"Is the bone broken?"
Basch nodded curtly. "He dislocated my shoulder too. Bastard." Lili gasped. "I'm sorry, Schwester. I shouldn't curse in front of you."
"Can I ask you something?" Lili looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent. Basch nodded again. "Where do the people on the trains go? I heard the Jack talking about them-."
"Never listen to what the Jack says, Lili." Basch whispered, grabbing her shoulder in his unbroken hand. "Promise me you will never, ever listen to him!"
"But he is the Jack-."
"I don't care. Listen to the King. Ludwig is the only one who matters. Hell, listen to Roderich before you listen to Gilbert. Promise me, Lili!"
"I promise!" Lili shrank back from him. "Brother, you're scaring me!"
"Mein Liebling kleine Schwester. Ich will nur das Beste für Sie ." (my darling little sister. I only want the best for you.) Basch pulled her into him and held her.
"Ich kenne." (I know.) She whispered.
"Goddamnit." The King of Spades slowly lowered himself into a warm bath. Even after a day, his legs screamed bloody murder from the battle. He groaned as the warm water loosened his muscles and closed his eyes. "Fuck, this is wonderful."
"You know, I have always dreamed of you saying that to me." Arthur's eyes snapped open. The King of Diamonds sat on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him.
"When the bloody hell did you come in?" Arthur screeched. Francis grinned.
"You're rather skinny." Francis said. "But fantastique in all the right places." Arthur flushed a dark red that could rival a tomato.
"Why the fuck are you in here!"
"To tell you Alfred still hasn't woken up." Arthur sighed.
"How are his wounds?"
"The bleeding has stopped and the stitches are doing their work."
Arthur nodded. Unlike his soreness, his worry wasn't washing away with the warm water.
"The doctors are confident he will wake up. Be patient." Francis stood up and picked Arthur's comb off the counter. "He is a strong boy." He pulled the ribbon holding his hair back and started running the comb through the waves.
"I know." Arthur tried covering himself in the bath. Francis noticed the move and raised an eyebrow.
"Prude." He said teasingly. With a devious grin, he set down the comb and pulled off his shirt. Arthur's blush managed to darken to a shade of purple. But he didn't move or speak as Francis wriggled out of the rest of his clothes.
"I, uh, don't believe this bath is big enough for the both of us." Arthur mumbled weakly. "Francis, I really don't-."
"Hush, mon chère." Francis slid into the tub and straddled the King of Spades. "Don't speak." He held Arthur's face and met his lips. Arthur gave a feeble moan of protest, his wet hands sliding up Francis's sides, then down his chest.
It was Francis's turn to moan as Arthur's warm hands brushed along his hips.
"Je t'aime, grenouille." (I love you, frog) Arthur whispered, the warm knot in his stomach tightening at the overjoyed smile on the Diamond's face.
The Ace of Spades snapped his eyes open. The smell of blood and other disgusting bodily fluids tore at his nose. He glanced around and realized he was in the room he slept in before the battle.
The door opened softly. A familiar green clad person walked in, holding a pot and rags.
"Alfred?" heavy footsteps approached him. "Alfred, you are awake!"
Alfred groaned. "Ivan?"
"How are you?" Ivan knelt by him
"I'm alive, I guess."
"I can see that." Ivan chuckled. "It is very good to know you are awake."
"Oh?"
"I was worried." Ivan looked over him, his purple eyes concerned.
"Oh?" Alfred asked again.
"Your mare found Nikita." Ivan said. "I did not think she would leave you leave you willingly."
"Nikita?" Alfred didn't look at him.
"My horse. You should name the mare. When we found you, she was very worried."
"She's a horse."
"She was pushing you with her nose, like a mother does to her foal to make him stand." Ivan smiled. "She is a good girl."
"Why did'ya name him Nikita?" Alfred asked.
"In my language it means unconquerable." They fell silent for a moment. Ivan dipped a cloth in the water and wrung in out. He carefully lay it against a nasty gash on Alfred's forehead.
Alfred hissed but fell silent when the pain turned to comfort. "Biscuit."
"Are you hungry?"
"No, that's what I'm gonna call her. Biscuit." Alfred said. "She's the same color as Arthur's favorite ginger biscuits. And it's cute." A dark expression passed over Alfred's face.
"What is it?" Ivan paused, the warm cloth and his gloved hand resting on Alfred's neck.
"I've never seen someone die before." Alfred said, his voice a groan. "Not even Mom or Dad. I've never killed anyone either. And yesterday, I killed ten people and almost ripped the Nine of Heart's arm off." Tears welled up in Alfred's eyes.
Ivan watched him, confused. He had never felt sorrow at killing someone. He had wanted to kill the Monster that murdered his parents; he wanted to see the man suffer, to see his blood spilling across the floor. And Ivan had watched his mother die in agony. He had watched the light leave the Monster's eyes as Ivan's scepter punched through his throat.
As Alfred struggled to contain his tears, Ivan desperately wanted to hold him. His arms ached with the desire to reach out and comfort the sorrow filled Ace.
Alfred was desperate for comfort. For love. He slowly reached his hand up and entwined his fingers in Ivan's silvery hair.
King of Clubs stiffened as the Ace of Spades' hand rested on the back of Ivan's head. Alfred stared up at him, ignoring the dried blood still splattered over the Club's pale skin.
"Ivan." The King started in surprise.
"What?"
"You pronounced my name correctly." Alfred grinned through his pain. Ivan sat on the edge of Alfred's bed and stared awkwardly at him.
"Shocking, isn't it?" Alfred asked teasingly, his fingers playing with Ivan's soft silver hair. His grin fell a little as they looked at each other.
Blue eyes watched the purple with caution and the purple just stared in what seemed to be fear.
"Ivan." Alfred pushed himself up with a grimace and, ever so shyly, brushed his lips against Ivan's.
"Alfred, wait." Ivan gently pushed him back down to the bed. "You're hurt, you need to rest."
"Shit, you're confusing." Alfred grumbled. "When you found me you were begging for me to be alive. You said you didn't want to lose me." Ivan blushed.
"You're hurt." He repeated in a soft, helpless voice. "You aren't thinking straight."
"What about then?" Alfred demanded. "I heard you! Hell, you were speaking my language!" He winced. Ivan's expression softened.
"Alfred, please, calm down."Ivan brushed the side of Alfred's face with the tips of his gloved fingers.
"I will once you tell me what the fuck is going on in your head!" Alfred glared at him.
Ivan's shoulders slumped and Alfred instantly regretted his outburst.
"I was scared then, Alfred." Ivan said slowly.
"Of what?"
"Of loosing you." Ivan looked away from him and toyed with the end of his scarf. "I was scared that because I loved you, you were taken away from me. Just like Mama." Ivan closed his eyes, looking exactly like an over grown, terrified child.
Alfred didn't respond. Couldn't respond.
"Do you," he paused, trying to find the right words. He settled on the simplest he could find. "Really love me?"
Ivan looked back at him, his eyes open wide and pleading. "Yes." It came out as less than a whisper. He slid down to the floor and kneeled. "I love you." He cautiously reached out a hand and rested it on Alfred's cheek. "I love you more than anything, Alfred. That is why I was scared." He swallowed quickly. "Why I am still scared. I cannot lose you. I will lose everything if you're gone." Alfred blinked back tears. He hadn't heard any one speak that tenderly, not even when his mother lay dying.
"Then why won't you kiss me?" it sounded immature, Alfred knew, but he didn't care.
"If I love you, you will be taken from me." Ivan said like it was the simplest thing in the world. "The Hearts will take you from me."
"So you're gonna live your whole life without loving any one?" Alfred asked.
"I lost my mother, Alfred. I cannot lose anyone else I love. It is better-."
"It can't be, Ivan" Alfred whispered. "It can't be better than having something to live for. Yeah, we have our Suits but they can't love us the way another person can. They can't hold you when you're scared or lonely. Besides, if I'm Ace-napped, you can just come rescue me with that awesome stick of yours." Ivan scoffed slightly.
"I didn't expect you to under-." Alfred kissed him. Ivan sat, stiff and terrified, then relaxed into the soft, pink lips.
"I might not understand your fear, Ivan," Alfred breathed against Ivan's lips. "But I understand even you need to be loved. Let me love you." Ivan took a shaky breath, his eyes locked on the perfect young man in front of him. "Please."
They were silent.
"Perhaps when you feel better." Ivan pushed Alfred back to the mattress.
Alfred frowned but closed his eyes. "Can you stay with me for a bit?" Ivan nodded, taking Alfred's warm hand in his own.
The Ace's breathing slowed as he drifted off to sleep. Ivan smiled a small, genuine, happy smile. He thought for a second and slid his hand out of Alfred's. He quietly pulled off a blood stained glove and brushed his calloused fingers along Alfred's jaw.
"YA lyublyu tebya." (I love you) he whispered. "Bolʹshe, chem vy mozhete sebe predstavitʹ, podsolnechnika." (More than you can imagine, sunflower)
Here we can clearly see the differences between Francis, Arthur, Alfred, and Ivan. Francis and Arthur deal with stress with sex. Alfred and Ivan just have a tender moment.
Anyways. Please review if you've made it this far. If you have: OMG, that is amazing.