Chapter 9

"A stranger?" Matthew choked out. "Are you sure it's not my brother, or Arthur?"

Ivan's chest rumbled against his shoulder blades as he growled, "It is neither of them."

"How would you know that?"

"I can smell them."

"You can...all right," Matthew tightened his grip on his cup of cocoa, considering it a weapon in these trying times. "What if it is a burglar? I think you should stay here-"

Ivan released his hold, only to shove himself in front of Matthew. "I am going to go in there, and chase them out."

"Did you hear what I just said?!" Obviously not. Matthew latched onto Ivan's jacket sleeve. "Stop! We'll both go in. Together. If it is a stranger, we can take him two-on-one."

"What?" Ivan's serious expression melted. "You would...oh! I like that way of thinking!"

"Hush!" Matthew tapped a finger to his lips. "We're going to lose the element of surprise-"

"Matthieu? Is that you I hear out there?" Both froze before the door way as a wispy voice drifted from the direction of the kitchen, "Mon Dieu, close that door, boy! There is a harsh draft coming inside!"

"Mattie, is that person talking to-" Ivan gasped when Matthew pushed into the house. "I thought we were going in together!"

Matthew clutched onto the doorway between the main hall and kitchen to gawk at the newcomer. "Papa!" He called out, slammed his cup of cooling cocoa on the island counter, and threw his arms around the non-burglar.

"Matthieu!" Matthew's father cried out, returning the embrace with equal vigor. "There is one of my boys! I swear, you and your brother grow taller every time I see you."

They let go of each other with silly smiles plastered on their faces. Matthew asked, "Have you seen Alfred?"

"No, he was not here when I came back just a little bit ago. I wanted to surprise you two, but imagine my disdain when I finally come home, and neither of you are here!"

"Alfred's not here? He said he was going to be home all day."

His father swished a hand. "You do not need to fret, cher, Alfred will return by dinner. He never misses a meal."

"I would hope so."

"Besides, I need to have a long talk with him about that phone call from the Saint's Medical Center, so he must return. Honestly, I am going to go gray, and I am not even over the hill yet!"

"Yeah, you'll need to talk to Alfred about that."

His father turned and stiffened, staring at the doorway. "Matthieu, did you forget to introduce someone to me?" Matthew followed his gaze. Ivan peeked into the kitchen with his eyes flickering back and forth.

"What is going on?"

Matthew glanced to his father, who raised an eyebrow as a small smile spread across his stubbly face. "I was thinking the same thing."

"Please excuse us for a moment, Papa." Matthew stepped into the hallway, away from prying eyes. The door was still wide open, so he lunged forward and closed it before all the warm air could escape.

Ivan hissed behind him, "Who is that? Do humans usually embrace burglars?"

"No, no, at least I hope they don't!" Matthew laughed, "That's not a burglar! That's my dad!"

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yes!" Matthew said as if the possibility was ridiculous. "Come on and meet him. He's a great guy."

"Why does he call you m-mah-two?"

"Matthieu? That's my actual name. Mattie is just a nick name."

"Who is Nick?"

"Huh? Nobody. Call me Mattie or Matthew. Whatever, really."

Ivan swatted at the melting snow clumped on his head. "Matthew. That is nice. I like that name."

"Uh, thanks. My dad gave it to me. Speaking of which, let's go. You should meet him." Matthew nudged Ivan in the direction of the kitchen. "Hey, Papa, we're back."

Matthew's father spun around from standing before a pot on the stove and winked. "Finished plotting? What have you caught there, Matthieu?"

Matthew meekly nodded, and held a hand out toward their company. "Papa, this is Ivan." He looked around when Ivan was not there. "Uh, Ivan, this is my father."

"Um, hi."

Matthew glanced behind himself. Ivan tried to hide behind his back, which did not work out too well. His father cooed, "Look at you! No need to be so shy! Sit, sit! I'll warm up some milk. Your cocoa was cold!"

"That's what we came in for. Thanks, Papa." Matthew gave Ivan a look, daring him to scram as he led him to a pair of stools behind the rear counter. "You heard him. Relax."

"And please..." Wink. "Call me Francis."

"Papa!"

"Oh!" That only seem to make Ivan more pink.

Nice to know my father can intimidate such a big guy. Matthew shook his head as Francis rummaged for another pot.

"I think I dropped my cup somewhere."

"You drank it all, remember?"

"Oh, I did! Hee-hee!"

Matthew caught Francis peeking from the corner of his eye, almost inaudibly chuckling to himself. As he grabbed two mugs, he called out innocently, "Do you go to the same school as my boy?"

"Who me?"

As soon as Francis turned for some milk, Matthew nudged Ivan and vigorously nodded, hoping he would catch the hint.

"Uh, yes! I do go to school with Matthew!"

Oh, thank God.

Francis' face puckered for a quick moment before he laughed some more. "That's wonderful. My Matthieu does not bring home that many friends. That is my Alfred's job, apparently."

"How come, Matthew?"

Matthew got nervous as the countertops turned on him. "I don't know. It's probably because I run home as soon as school lets out."

"That is okay," Ivan assured. "You can take me home and I will be your friend."

Now Francis laughed really loud. Matthew stuck a hand over his eyes, "Thanks."

Francis set two cups in front of them with another wink, before checking on dinner. "It is nice to know my son has been making friends while I was gone. I cannot say the same."

"That bad?" When Matthew grasped his mug, Ivan grabbed his other hand and smiled. At least they were not cold anymore.

Francis put his palm to his forehead dramatically, groaning as he fell into a seat at the island counter, "Germans! Never have I met women more stubborn than an ant stuck in molasses!"

"Did they like your book at least?"

"Of course! Stubborn or not, they do have good tastes."

"Tastes good," Ivan murmured, as if to his hot chocolate. Matthew beamed as he watched him tip his cup back.

"How long you two known each other?"

No more smiles. Ivan glanced at Matthew worryingly, and the latter weakly replied, "A while."

One of Francis' eyebrows raised, unimpressed. "A while can mean very different things to different people."

Neither of them said anything, opting to loudly sip on their drinks. Francis sighed with a smile, "Will you tell me how you met?"

Another desperate look passed between Matthew and Ivan. "School." Matthew told his cocoa, "We met in school."

"Oh?" Francis smirked, tilting his head the slightest way. Matthew bit the inside of his cheek. His dad seemed to always have a knowing look, drawing out more from people than they would usually say. "You just...bumped into each other like that?"

"Actually, yeah." Matthew picked his head up, a little more relaxed as low laughter rumbled beside him. "I even dropped my books."

Finally satisfied, Francis slid out of his chair and checked on the stew. The front door swung open and slammed shut with obnoxious laughter. "As I said, Alfred always comes back in time for dinner," he boasted, taking the pot from its burner, and flicked off the stove.

"...so they're all booing at him, and all of a sudden, the dude bursts into flames. I kind of wanted to cry at this point..." Alfred sauntered into the kitchen, and stopped right in the middle of the doorway with his mouth wide open. His shadow, Arthur, bumped into him from behind and frowned. "Dad!"

Francis turned around in time for Alfred to throw his arms around him. "There you-gah!" He cried out when his son swept him into the air and spun around a few times before roughly setting him down. "Easy there!" He set a hand over his heart and shook his head at Matthew, who beamed at the nostalgic scene.

Alfred lifted the lid of the pot and took a deep inhale. "It smells so good!" Francis smacked his hand, and he yelped, quickly retracting with a wide smile, but didn't stay punished for long as he threw himself for another hug.

"Oh, silly boy!" Francis sounded like he struggled with tears, "You're all right. That call from the hospital had me-"

"Dad!" Alfred let go with an overly loud dissent. "Come on! Let's not talk about that now!"

Francis looked extremely offended, until he spotted what, or who, Alfred stared at. "What's this?! Both my boys brought guests over?"

Matthew had to admit to himself that he should have expected Arthur to come back to their house sooner than later. At least, this time, Francis manned the stove. He watched his brother wander around the counter, giving bedroom eyes to the pot of stew before awkwardly stopping in front of him. "You...you're that guy!"

"Al," Matthew warned his awful tactfulness. Ivan tore his gaze from Arthur to glance between the two brothers with wide eyes. "This is my friend. Ivan..."

Ivan stared at Alfred, and jerked back as Alfred grinned and stuck out a hand. "Hi! You can just call me Al, dude."

More staring.

Matthew stuck an elbow against Ivan's side and hissed, "Come on, shake his hand."

"Oh!" Ivan leaned forward and grabbed Alfred's hand with both of his own, and proceeded to really shake it, traumatizing Alfred.

Francis sang from behind them, "It is a good thing I made more stew than I intended!"

"Uh, all right..." Alfred scrunched his nose at Ivan before hurrying back to Arthur. "Come on and meet my pops, dude!"

Ivan gave Matthew a look of utter confusion.

Similar to a dog jerking back its leash, Arthur practically dug his heels in the floor. "Alfred-" His scowl flipped to a kinder near-smile as Francis turned around and appraised him in awe. "Uh, um, good evening, Mister Bonnefoy-"

"Please, this Mister Bonnefoy nonsense! Bah!" Francis grabbed one of Arthur's hands and kissed his knuckles. "You can call me Francis, my dear."

Ivan let out a warbling groan, but Alfred's booming laughter overtook anything in the room as Arthur yanked away from Francis. "Dad! Come on! Ha-ha-ha!" He smacked Arthur's shoulder, making the scowling return ten-fold. "When's the food going to be ready?"

Francis put his hands on his hips, an end game to Alfred's antics. "That is not how we treat new company, Alfred!"

"Aw, but I'm hungry!" Alfred locked eyes with the stove again. Sooner than later, they will need a private room. "I missed you! And your cooking."

Sucking it up like a sap, Francis sighed happily and tossed an arm around Alfred's shoulders. "I missed you, too, and look! Both of you have been up to so much and I haven't even been gone for over a month this time."

Matthew hesitated a couple of times, before telling himself to get over it, and touched the back of Ivan's fist balled into his lap. "Are you all right?"

"It...it just got a little more lively in here."

Whatever that meant. Ivan clamped a hand over his nose. Matthew pulled away and turned his face to the nearby window as his brother complained about being hungry again. Soon after, Alfred plunked a bowl of stew on their counter with a big grin. "What?"

Alfred's eyes flickered to Ivan, who was staring at Arthur again. "Nothing!" He laughed, probably dying to say something smart. At Francis' direction, he gave Ivan a bowl, too.

"Oh, thank you, Alfred."

"Sure thing."

"Alfred?"

Alfred stopped. "Yeah, what?"

"Like the sauce? Alfredo sauce?"

"What? No!" Alfred snorted and turned for the stove.

Matthew groaned and smacked his head as Ivan let out a little giggle. "Just eat your food, would you?"

Alfred asked after a thorough chowing session, "How long are you staying home this time?"

"Are you rushing to get rid of me?" Francis feinted hurt with a hand to his chest.

"Not at all, Pops, it's just that I'm wondering how long I have to enjoy good food until I have to go back to boxed dinners."

"Boxed dinners?!" Francis blanched in great horror. He whirled on Matthew, "Matthieu! Do you not take any control of the grocery funds?"

"I try, Papa."

Francis scoffed and flicked his hair over his shoulder, "I leave for a little over a month and you choose to eat radioactive Tupperware!"

Matthew put a hand over his eyes. "Okay, Papa, I get it."

"People will begin to think I do not look after my boys!"

Ivan whispered, "Matthew, I...I need to...excuse me." He shot from the stool and hurried out of the kitchen. He glanced down the hall, turned right, and there was a slam from the bathroom door behind the stairs.

Francis looked to Matthew in obvious worry and surprise, but Alfred managed first, "What's with him?"

"I'm not sure. I'll go check on him. Eat your stew." Matthew spun around on his stool and hopped off, feeling three pairs of eyes on his back as he followed Ivan's footsteps. He crept close to the door, but did not hear anything from the other side. The light was not even on from beneath the panel. He knocked, "Ivan?" He did not want to ask him if he was all right, because that would be a stupid question. "What's wrong?"

It was quiet for a few breaths until Ivan mumbled, "I suddenly do not feel so well."

"Can I come in, please?"

"Are the others out there?"

Matthew glanced down the hall, listening to quiet voices over dinner. "No, they're still in the kitchen."

Ivan let out a loud sigh, "Just you."

Matthew slowly opened the door, and slipped a hand against the wall to turn on the light. The bathroom's occupant screwed his eyes up to the ceiling lamp, winking and blinking from his seat on the floor beside the toilet. Matthew knelt down, and almost reached out to press his hand to Ivan's forehead, but thought better of it. "Do you need an ice pack or something?"

Ivan uneasily smiled despite his malady. "No, oh, no, no ice, please." He blanched and gave his head a small shake. "It feels as if somebody shoved their claws up my nose! Something...something about him makes me feel like I am suffocating underneath my cloak. It never felt this way until he walked in here! Even disguised...it stinks! I do not know how to describe it!"

Matthew took a long inhale, not sure what to say. "Y-you...you mean Arthur?"

Ivan eagerly nodded, then pinched his nose again.

I don't think Arthur smells...not that I was trying to sniff him. Matthew rose to his feet, and turned on the cold sink faucet. "Here, splash some water on your face. It'll clear your head." He held out his other hand to help Ivan to his feet, and backed away out of mannerism as he uncertainly prodded the running water before scooping some in his hands and scrubbing at his cheeks.

While he was doing that, Matthew peeked outside the small bathroom to check for any eavesdroppers. The hall still remained clear, so he slowly closed the door again so it would not make a noise. "Since you're a demon and all, that means there's angels out there, too, right?"

Ivan picked up his head from the sink, and patted around to turn off the current. "Of course, Matthew! Ah, I forgot, it is not as obvious to your kind as it is to mine. You mentioned a glowing. Watch out for that, and you will know angels in disguise from your fellow humans." He smiled legitimately when Matthew guided a towel to his hands. "They are around too much, and there are too many of them creeping around the surface for any of us to linger even for a moment without risking our wings. They take their jobs extremely seriously."

"So...Arthur is...?"

"If that is the one your brother brought along, yes."

Matthew gulped. "Oh. Does Al know?"

Ivan patted the last of the water from his chin, although there was nothing to be done about the splotches on his scarf. "I am not certain. Sometimes, angels tell humans about themselves, and others do not. For what, I do not know...yet, If you talk to your brother about it, and he does not know, it is risking my safety and his own, so you should watch what you tell him, okay?"

"That's what I was thinking!" Matthew put a hand over his mouth to hush himself. "That's why I didn't bring it up to him. Just in case."

At last, Ivan grinned again, and the paleness washed away from his cheeks. "You are so smart, Matthew! And you know how to keep a secret. Hm..."

"Oh, thanks," Matthew mumbled like idiot as Ivan swung open the door. Maybe if he spent some time in Hell, it would make him eloquent, too. He took the hand towel from the sink and whipped it against Ivan's backside, earning a delighted smile. "Let's go get something to eat. Maybe it'll clear your head."

"I hope so, too!"

If Matthew had to get his soul taken away by any demon, he would rather this one to do it. Although, as long as they were eager to get along, there still were no signs of pitchforks.

Of course, everyone turned and stared when they came back. Francis asked, "Is everything all right?"

Ivan nonchalantly put a hand over his nose as he made a bee-line for the pot of stew on the stove, so Matthew had to come up with something. "Uh, yeah. He just..." he gestured wildly with his hand, and Arthur raised a grand eyebrow from his perch, which made possible excuses run away even faster. "Whatever it was, some warm food will help."

"Oh yeah!" Alfred hopped from his chair to saddle up to Ivan with a lame remark, "You better get some while you can, because I already had like, five bowls."

Ivan stared him down for a moment before Alfred took a step back. "You must be very hungry, then."

Alfred cracked a grin, but before he could say anything, Francis announced, "Ah, but he is always hungry!"

"Dad! Ha-ha, it's true!"

"Do not worry! I made enough for everyone to have seconds, thirds, and even forths!"

Matthew's stomach rumbled with anticipation at the thought. He joined the congregation around the stove, watching Ivan spoon some broth, then dump it back in the pot with amusement for a few scoops before he gave his elbow a nudge. Ivan turned around, pleased at all the food, but his smile broke into a gasp as the bowl took a leap from his hands.

The ceramic immediately busted into many shards and skittered on the previously white wooden floor. Francis leaped from his seat with a high cry. Stew had splattered everyone's shoes, and Alfred groaned in annoyance, "Dude, what the Hell?"

"Don't just stand there!" Matthew put a worried hand on Ivan's shoulder before reaching for a dish rag. "Let's get it cleaned up."

Arthur was right beside them, steadily staring up at Ivan, which must have been the cause for his sudden clumsiness. "Did I give you a fright?"

Alfred picked up his head from scrubbing at the spill and snorted, "Give him a fright? Dude..."

Matthew gawked between Ivan and Arthur, nudging them away before ducking to help clean up the spill so no one else would slip. Ivan's voice jumped a pitch, "No, it just slipped!" He held out an outstretched palm, "My hand had the meat juice on it and slipped!"

Alfred threw his dish towel down. "Did he just say 'meat juice?!'''

Matthew looked up, feeling the stupid shock on his face as Arthur smirked at Ivan. "Oh, my Lord. Do be careful next time."

Alfred curled his nose, and shook his head at his brother, who was just about to say something, but heavy footsteps thumped away from the kitchen. Matthew sprung from the desecrated dinner, "Did he just run off again? Ugh, Ivan!"

"Seriously?!" Alfred yelled after him. "Leave me here with the mess!"

This time, the bathroom door was locked, so he had to feebly knock on it. A pitiful laugh snuck through the other side. "Ivan..."

"I messed up, Matthew."

"Ugh, you didn't mess up. You dropped a freaking bowl of stew on the floor. Do you know how many times Alfred and I dropped shit?"

"You drop shit on the floor?"

"What, no! I mean...!" Matthew tossed a quick look down the hall, and hovered closer to the door even though nobody was around. "It was an accident, all right?"

"But the angel snuck up on me."

"And you weren't expecting that, were you? You dropped your stew. An accident. We're not mad at you for making a mess."

"Do you think the little man knows what I am?"

"No! He's just...weird." Another nervous look down the hall. "Don't freak out, because if you freak out, then it'll be obvious, and he'll know something's up."

"He knows something is up?! I thought-"

"No! No! I said if you freak out, then he will know!"

"Oh! So, don't freak out! Okay!" Ivan went quiet for a moment. "That is easier to say than it is to do!"

"I know." Matthew grinned as he pressed his forehead to the door. "He may be a little guy, but he acts tough! If he gets in your face, you should let me know right away."

The door opened, and Matthew took a step back from the cheeky smile peeking through the crevice. "You would lift your claws to an angel?"

"Eh, maybe if I had claws...yeah!"

The door opened all the way to show Ivan sticking a hand to his chest, "Beautiful and dangerous?! I thank you many times for calling me up here to be in your company!"

"Uh..."

Ivan tipped his head, probably weirded out from Matthew's sorry attempt at conversation. "That is why you called me, yes? Or do you want protection from the angels?"

"Protection from...no, no! I don't want you to get yourself hurt over me! Don't worry about the angels."

"You will do the worrying instead?"

Matthew blurted, "Yes!"

Ivan studied him for a long moment before a big smile sprung on his face again. Matthew flinched as he left his safe haven of the bathroom to clamp his hands on his shoulders and pressed his nose to his forehead. "Our little secret," he murmured, and the scent of campfire enticed Matthew to close his eyes and grin with the devil. "Barring angels aside, I will give you my time and company for as long as you want it."