"You put Kuma where?"
Ivan could feel a headache coming on. "Alfred, the polar bear bit me on the head and killed three of my soldiers. He almost took out one of my eyes."
"That doesn't mean you should leave him in the dungeons! It's so damp and chilly down there, what if Kuma catches a cold? He's just a little polar bear, he can't take care of himself if he gets sick. No, Ivan, you're gonna let Kuma stay in one of the guest rooms, or with Mattie, or I'm going down to the dungeons myself to keep him company. I'll spend the night down there, too." Alfred crossed his arms with a huff.
"W-what?" The demon practically whimpered, alarmed. His sunflower, not in Ivan's bed? In the more than two years that Alfred had been his consort, there had not been a single morning when Ivan did not wake to the beautiful angel sprawled across Ivan's sheets, content and safe and warm. "Fredka, please do not be hasty…"
Alfred stuck out his tongue. "Too bad. Kuma is all alone down there. He's probably terrified! And the second round of tranquilizers was completely unnecessary. If you give him some salmon and rub his tummy, he'll shrink down to his normal size again."
"Very well, I will have some of the guards move your brother's polar bear up to one of the guest rooms. I will also tell Toris to deliver some salmon in an icebox later today, so he can have it when he wakes up."
"And tell Toris to rub his tummy! Kuma needs belly rubs as he eats, or he gets indigestion."
"I— Okay. Fine. I will tell Toris to do that as well." His Head Housekeeper probably would not relish the task, but Ivan supposed a generous year-end bonus would make up for any complaints. Toris had done an excellent job of keeping Alfred happy when Ivan wasn't around, so what was one more thing for the brunet to do? Never mind that the polar bear had the nastiest claws Ivan had ever seen on any magical creature. Toris would figure it out, Ivan was sure.
"You will sleep in my bed tonight, then?" Ivan's eyes shined with hope.
Alfred pretended to think about it. "Yeah, I guess so," he said finally, shrugging. "Only because the end of the war went so well. I might even, ah, give you a treat. To show my thanks." Alfred draped his arms over Ivan's shoulders.
The demon gave a low, pleased rumble. "It was mostly you, lapochka," Ivan stroked the golden blond's hair. "Things only turned out as they did because of you."
After the angels had surrendered, they had been allowed to return to Heaven unscathed, except for the few who chose to stay in the stronghold temporarily to tie up loose ends. No celestial captives had been taken, and although his soldiers had grumbled over the lack of loot, the look of relief on his consort's face had been more than worth it.
Alfred grinned. "You're so good to me, Vanya," he purred, rolling his hips. "I might have to give you a sneak preview of tonight…"
—
Matthew woke up to soft murmurs and moans. He blearily blinked open his eyes—it felt like a truck had rammed straight into him, why were his limbs so heavy?—and lifted his head from the plush pillow beneath.
His brother was licking General Braginsky's fingers and grinding on the demon's lap like his life depended on it. Braginsky looked like he had just won the lottery.
Calmly, Matthew lied back down.
Cool, so Matthew was dead. Because there was no way in Tartarus that what he just saw could be real.
He didn't see Kumashiro nearby, so maybe the bear was spared; Matthew hoped so. Kumagyro didn't deserve to die yet, he was barely more than a cub.
Matthew was a good person, really, he thought he was, so why was this shit his afterlife?
The moaning got louder, and Matthew frowned. The mirages could at least be a little considerate, in terms of volume. What kind of punishment was this? It was definitely punishment of some sort. The gods who wanted to see him suffer had already made their point, but—
Matthew absently wondered if there was a department he could take his concerns to, because clearly someone, somewhere, had made a mistake. Matthew had done enough good deeds, enough for two lifetimes: not snitching on Alfred when Al broke the orphanage's communal cookie jar when they were three, giving his twin an alibi when Al crashed Heaven's master computer when they were a fair bit older, hiding Alfred from Arthur that time Alfred dumped all of the older angel's tea into the pool…
It wasn't right. No just god could be so cruel. His Puritanical, emotionally-repressed brother was getting more action than Matthew in Matthew's afterlife. Should Matthew even be surprised, though? Alfred was the one who got all the luck, Matthew was only the one in the background, always overshadowed—
"What the actual fuck," he muttered as the apparitions started an enthusiastic match of tonsil hockey a few meters away. The mirage-Alfred's fingers strayed to the top buttons of mirage-Braginsky's coat, and Matthew made the executive decision to draw the line right there.
"Hey, guys!" he shouted. It came out as a loud whisper. "Guys, um, I know I'm dead, and this is some kind of divine punishment, but can you please not? Not now? If it's not too much trouble?"
To his surprise, Braginsky instantly shoved Alfred away, a bright flush coloring his cheeks. He hissed something in another language—Russian?—and Alfred turned to face Matthew, looking the same as always, except a little skinnier.
"Oh!" His twin grinned, wiping a glossy strand of saliva from his lips. "You're up, Mattie!"
—
"…But Alfred, you hate him."
Ivan growled, and Matthew held up his hands in a placating gesture. "No offense, eh." Alfred just finished explaining the convoluted chain of events following his capture with a lot of tangents and unhelpful commentary—the details about Braginsky's apparently colossal dick Matthew could have lived very happily without, thank you very much—and Matthew was very, very confused. Shortly after Alfred launched into a description of all the ducks he fed at the local park, Matthew zoned out.
"I hated him," Alfred chirped, still perched on the demon's lap. "But not anymore. 'Cause Ivan didn't actually end up killing those civilians. Turns it out it was just a misunderstanding. Funny, right? Haha."
Matthew's eyebrow twitched. "Alfred," the violet-eyed angel ground out between gritted teeth. "The last time I saw you, you said—and I distinctly remember—that you wanted to shove one of your assault rifles so far up Braginsky's ass that the muzzle would exit his mouth and—"
Alfred yelped as Ivan's hold suddenly tightened around his waist. "You did, did you, Fredka?" Ivan's voice was as sweet as sugar.
The former Light general let out a nervous chuckle. "Vanya, baby, I may, uh, have said something to that effect at some point, but I totally don't mean it now! In fact," he smirked, "the only gun I want up anyone's ass now is yours up mine. Metaphorically speaking, of course—"
"Thank you, Alfred. That's enough." Ivan clapped a hand over his consort's mouth at the same time that Matthew reeled back in disgust, shrieking, "Al, what the fuck?"
"Alfred," Matthew said faintly. "I cannot believe you. No one's seen you for over two years, and then you show up out of nowhere, on the same side as the demons, to betray your own people. You captured me, your twin brother, for the guy you used to hate most in the world. When I woke up, you were grinding on his lap like a shameless hussy." Matthew crossed his arms. "And that debriefing you gave me was the worst debriefing ever! I got nothing out of the mess that you spewed at me, except that you're a huge dumbass and now apparently Braginsky's consort, whatever the fuck that is, eh."
Ivan felt Alfred stiffening in his arms, and stroked the base of the angel's wings before his consort could grow distraught. "Dorogoy," he suggested, "why don't you go down to the kitchens and ask Toris to prepare breakfast for your brother?"
The golden blond jerked his head in a nod, and, hopping off Ivan's lap, exited the room without meeting anyone's eye.
Ivan focused his attention on the other Light general.
Matthew glared at him. "Don't come any closer," he warned, raising both hands. His palms were glowing with divine magic.
"That's not a good idea, Matvey," Ivan said mildly. He crooked a finger, and a thin layer of ice formed over the angel's hands.
The honey blond shivered as his magic dissipated.
"If I let you go, will you be civil?"
"Fine," Matthew agreed grudgingly with a scowl. His fingers were beginning to get numb.
Ivan snapped, and the ice shattered into powder. "You really should be kinder to your brother, Matvey. He gave me his halo so that you would be spared."
Matthew froze. "He what?" Alfred hadn't mentioned that one teeny, crucial bit of information. "He wouldn't. You're lying." It was absurd—Alfred would never willingly hand his halo over to a demon, much less Braginsky.
The Dark general wordlessly raised his right hand in response.
Just as Matthew was picking his jaw up off the ground, the door opened. Alfred hesitantly poked his head in.
"Here, Mattie," he muttered as he plopped a tray laden with various fruits down near the other angel. "Angels can only eat fruit in the Underworld. Anything else makes us sick." Subdued, the blue-eyed former general made his way over to Ivan, who immediately wrapped his arms around Alfred.
"Are you feeling better, lapochka?"
Alfred gave a tiny nod, still eyeing Matthew warily.
The violet-eyed angel sighed. "Alfred, please just tell me what's going on. Why did you give your halo to General Braginsky?"
"Um," Alfred fidgeted. "Ivan was in charge of capturing the stronghold. His officers didn't believe me when I told them there was a way to do without killing anyone. So I kinda had to give Ivan my halo so they'd believe me."
"But it's not that bad," Alfred hastily added at seeing the look of horror that shadowed Matthew's face. "Ivan's been nice to me." He smiled at Ivan.
Matthew choked on an apple slice as the demon gave an adoring, terrifying smile to Alfred in return. What the actual fuck.
Okay, so his twin was certifiably insane. Great. "Well, what now?" Matthew asked, swallowing with some difficulty.
Alfred cocked his head. "Whadya mean?"
"Am I supposed to stay in Ivan's castle with you? And what about Kilimanjaro, eh?"
"Oh, I'm not sure… Kuma is down in the dungeons right now, but Ivan will be letting him stay in a nice guest room, won't he?" Alfred gave Ivan a dirty look.
"Da, da." Ivan was not going to argue with Alfred on this topic again. "As for your brother… I am not certain. You are welcome to stay here for as long as you would like, Matvey," Ivan offered, turning to the honey blond. "You will be treated well. But I would have to check with King Bonnefoy. He might have some other arrangements planned for you."
Matthew's eyes widened. He hadn't gotten that much out of Alfred's shitty explanation, but he was pretty sure that he heard the words "pleasure slave" tossed around a few times when Alfred was recounting his time in the palace. Oh, gods, would he have to be one of those? The scent of maple syrup and jasmine filled the room.
Alfred looked upset. "No. Tell Francis that Mattie's not going to the palace. I don't want Jacques anywhere near Matt."
Ivan hummed in understanding. Alfred had been regaling Ivan with stories about this "Jacques" character for years. Whoever he was, he seemed unsavory, to say the least. "I will speak to the king," he promised, and was rewarded with a sweet smile from Alfred.
"Thank you, Vanya," Alfred cuddled closer. "You're the best." He fluffed up his wings a little and brought them slightly around Ivan's shoulders—a "wing-kiss," Alfred called it once.
Ivan melted into his consort's affectionate gesture. Alfred so rarely did it that each wing-kiss felt immensely special. "Dorogoy," the platinum blond murmured, almost dizzy with joy.
Alfred petted Ivan's hair. "I'm here, big guy." He pecked Ivan on the nose.
Matthew fought down the urge to gag as he watched his twin slobber over Ivan fucking Braginsky, Terror of the North, scariest demon alive, and killer of small children. The guy probably stomped puppies for fun in his free time. Really, Matthew had no idea what was going on in his brother's brain, if it even existed.
Shuddering as the gross PDA intensified, Matthew resolutely stared out the window—nice pond, cute garden, why were there so many sunflowers?—chomped down on his fruit, and wondered about the spectacular shitshow that his life had become in the short span of a day.
Yeah, Matthew decided. He really shouldn't have woken up this morning.
