Note — It's been a while everyone. I'm really sorry. There were some extended family drama.

However, things have improved now and I finally did manage to get this update out. Sorry for the delay. Thank you for your patience.

Part Two

"It's a hundred percent your fault," Alfred said, wincing when he touched the bandages on his forehead.

"Do you have brain damage? It's all your fault," Ivan said.

They were walking shoulder to shoulder while Alfred munched on fluffy blue cotton candy. The staff had banned them from any competitive rides.

"It is not. You're a sore loser."

"It's hard to be that when I never lost," Ivan replied smugly. "However, I agree with the staff. It was amazing how you flew the Go Kart sideways into the tree. Typical American. You don't think physics applies to you."

"You're just jealous that we can do the impossible," Alfred retorted, trying not to show the pain from the throbbing bump on his forehead. Somehow he had walked away with barely a scratch.

Ivan had been livid. After Ivan had — groped — checked that Alfred was not seriously hurt, he had turned his wrath on the staff who wilted under the cold gaze. Alfred had stood up in their defense like the hero he was, insisting it was an accident. By the end, Ivan agreed to compensate for any damages, and the staff apologizes for "faulty" equipment.

At least, after the Go-Kart incident.

As their trail of mass destruction — accidental — spread, the staff became more skeptical. From the shooting gallery, to the ball pen, to the spinning tea cups, and finally the Whack'A'Mole, the staff did not buy the "faulty" equipment argument anymore.

"You decapitated that mole because I was winning. See? Sore loser," Alfred affirmed.

They turned onto an empty, cobblestoned street, one lined by closed stores. Probably they were open when there were more than two park goers. All of them were designed to look like homes out of a quaint German village.

"Not my fault they constructed them so poorly."

"It is your fault," Alfred said. "You aren't supposed to remove the foam from the whacking sticks."

"That's stupid. They're way more effective without the. The moles don't come back up," Ivan said, as if pointing out the obvious.

"Because they're broken!"

"Exactly. Which means I win."

"No, it doesn't. It's the person with the highest score."

"Which is me. I had 999,999."

"Like hell you did! You broke the machine. That's the default score!"

"Now who's a sore loser?"

Alfred threw a scowl at Ivan, eyes narrowing. Licking the cotton candy from his lips, Alfred asked, "Hasn't anyone ever told you it's not how you win, but how you play the game?"

"Only a sore loser," Ivan replied smugly.

Alfred wanted to punch that shit-eating smirk off Ivan's face so bad. He stomped ahead. "You're a rotten, cheating scumbag who d—"

He was cut off when Ivan yanked him by the arm, dragging him into a narrow alley and pressed him up against a brick wall, planting his large hands to either side of Alfred's head. Ivan leaned in close, running a thumb down the side of Alfred's cheek.

"I won. And I want my prize," Ivan said huskily.

Alfred swallowed hard, heart thumping. His face went on fire. "Back the fuck up! I don't owe you anything."

He tried to pushed Ivan back, but the man was like a wall. Alfred couldn't help but notice the feel of Ivan's broad chest through the fabric of Ivan's beige coat. So toned!

"Are you scared?" Ivan asked.

"Of you! Never!" Alfred said defiantly, glaring at those violet-hued eyes.

"Good," Ivan said, right before he dove in and their lips met.

A startled Alfred gasped, but that only allowed Ivan to deepen the kiss as he probed deeper. His squeezed Alfred's shoulder, and Alfred grabbed Ivan's lapels to push him off, yet somehow found himself dragging Ivan closer.

Someone moaned, but Alfred refused to believe that himself as Ivan assaulted his mouth.

Alfred felt the kiss to his toes. His eyes started to shut and he started to give in. It was over too soon. A breathless Ivan pulled away, staring very contentedly at Alfred who panted, trying to catch his breath.

"You!" Alfred said, snapping to his sense. He kicked Ivan's shin, sending the man hopping back. Shaking his fist at Ivan, he declared, "You're lucky I don't beat the shit out of you right now!"

Then stalked out of the alley, face red as could be.

"That was payment. You said if I won —"

"You didn't win!"

"I did!"

"You cheated! That's not a victory."

"You are a sore loser."

"Shut up!" Alfred said, throwing up his arms. Ivan appeared at his side, smiling at him in that creepy way.

"You're blushing. Still overwhelmed? Your eyes beg for another kiss."

"They do not!" Alfred growled, rounding on Ivan. He hated that the man was taller because he really wanted to look down at him. "The only thing they want is to see my fist in your face.

Ivan leaned forward suddenly and said, "With that cute face, I better mark you before another steals you."

Alfred went rigid, images flashing through him of the hotel, of the hickeys. And he felt ashamed. He swallowed hard and turned away without a word.

"Alfred?" Ivan said. Alfred stopped, shocked to hear Ivan call him by his name. "Is something wrong?"

Since when was Ivan perceptive about mood? It didn't suit him.

Alfred himself to laugh, tilting his head back a bit. "Just can't believe you think you can own this one hundred percent American-crafted stud? I belong to the world."

"So…" Ivan cocked his head to the side in thought before locking his gaze once more on Alfred. "You want me to mark you. Very well."

"Get off!" Alfred said, backing out of reach. "Why are you so possessive? It's creepy."

"Because others shouldn't touch what's mine."

"That's not an answer!"

"What if someone took a bite from your big mac?"

"You mean the one with extra cheese, bacon on the side, and not too much lettuce?" Alfred said, hands curling into fists at the thought. His tone darkened. "I'd kill that person. No one touches my hamburger."

"See? We do think alike."

"How so? I'm not a big mac!"

"You are too me. Greasy, disgusting, stupid and utterly irresistible," Ivan said.

"Did you just insult me?" Alfred said.

"What is someone stole your Happy Meal toy?"

"Which one?"

"Um… one of the cars?" Ivan said. Alfred shrugged. "The space rocket?"

Alfred gasped in horror. "The space rocket really rare to get. What monster does that? Toys and people are different. You can't own a person."

"What if I gave you something to wear that said you were mine?"

"Dude, you're not giving me a ring."

"No, no," Ivan said, shaking his head. "I mean in a visible place, like your neck. A cute collar would suit you."

Alfred gave him a flat look. "I am not wearing a dog collar."

"It's just a collar with 'Property of Braginski' on it."

"You're an idiot," Alfred said, walking up the street. "Geez, you are the definition of the word 'idiot'."

Suddenly, Ivan hooked his arm through Alfred and pointed ahead, saying, "Let's go in there."

"In where?" Alfred said, following in slow horror to where the finger pointed. "No…"

"It looks like a charming place. Like from one of my favorite comedies," Ivan said, smiling wide as he dragged Alfred with him.

"I'm not going in there." He planted his feet, forcing Ivan to halt.

"Are you scared?"

"What?" Alfred gasped. "Me? I'm not scared of nothing!"

"Proof it," Ivan said.

And that's how they entered the "Spooky Mansion".

Note — I wasn't going to do a Pt. 3 but I hadn't gotten anything out in so long. So I got this out for your enjoyment. Sorry for the long wait!