A/N: There is a another part to this I cannot post on FF due to the rating. It is posted on my livejournal account (which you can access via my profile). However, the journal too is locked for the content, so if you can't access it... sorry!
So the basic premise is Matthew has some disturbing wet dreams :)
Chapter Twenty
Ivan sat quietly in the dark, listening to the two across the room snore loudly. If he strained his ears, he could hear Matvey thrashing softly in the bunk above him. A small ball of concern wiggled in his chest. It had taken quite a while (and some friendly pressure on Yao) to identify the semi-unpleasant feeling that nestled in his chest every so often. Mostly when he was considering something about Matvey—which he seemed to be doing more often than not.
Things have been going so well earlier. Aside from the extremely amusing (only slightly dampened by Natalia's attention) evening that had unfolded earlier, he had been given a perfect reason to kiss Matvey. And he had been wanting to do that again (more thoroughly this time) since he and Matvey had kissed in front of Francis. He had been hoping the bottle would land on Matvey so he could kiss him in front over everyone, show everyone that Matvey was HIS. Unfortunately, it did not, and Ivan vividly remembered Matvey's reaction to 'being a circus exhibit.' Normally that wouldn't matter much to him, he rarely paid attention to the wishes of others when those wishes conflicted with something he desired. This time he waited.
Ivan was very patient.
And he had thought his patient, good behavior had earned him some affection from Matvey. In fact, they had moved much faster than he had anticipated, all for the better in his opinion, when Matvey stopped cold.
He did not understand it. The only thing Ivan could conclude was that Matvey was playing the part and not particularly interested. And that Alfred had been wrong. Not that the second conclusion was a novelty. Alfred was frequently chided for being bull-headed and insensitive with the inability to 'read the atmosphere.' Ivan wondered how much of it was in the spirit of being sneaky and obnoxious rather than a real lack of ability.
He imagined that Matvey would have—what was the American slang again? Oh yes—a shitfit if he knew that Ivan and Alfred had been discussing him. It had been an offhanded conversation in Alfred's mind, as he babbled beautifully once pointed towards a topic, but Ivan had soaked up every detail.
He had noticed Matvey more since the carnival and then the party. A lot more. And Alfred a lot less. At first it had puzzled him. Did he feel attracted to Matvey because of Alfred? The thought had troubled him a lot for some reason. Matvey was not Alfred. They were as different to him as winter and summer.
And he had long known, despite his complaining, that he was drawn inexplicitly towards winter.
Matvey was cool and collected with a biting wit and a lovely, pale form. Even his violet eyes reminded Ivan of a winter sunset and his pale hair a winter sunrise. He was softly quiet, instead of filled with chatter. Even snow, if touched long enough, burned the skin. The way Matvey's kisses and touches burned him. Matvey was like winter to Alfred's noisy, bright summer.
Another soft moan from above jolted Ivan out of his train of thought. He considered climbing up into the bunk. He was not sure if the bed would support their combined weight, but considering the construction and expense, it was probably safe enough. He was about to get up when Matvey made several more soft moans and then bolted up hard enough to shake the bunk.
Curiously, Ivan held still.
"Shit." Matvey whispered, "What a mess. God, I'm so depraved."
Ivan smiled in the dark. He was always highly amused when proper little Matvey swore. Matvey shifted around in the top bunk, hissing and muttering to himself. Ivan heard his name several times coupled with the words 'hot' and 'horny' and 'god dammit.'
Matvey stumbled down off the bunk and bumped across the room in the dark towards the other bunk. He stumbled over the dog, which sleepily whined, and fumbled blindly on. He banged his way up the ladder and Ivan heard him say something to Alfred. Alfred grunted in reply and then there was silence.
Did Matvey have a nightmare? He had crawled into bed with his brother because he was scared? It seemed probable and Ivan felt a flash of jealousy. Matvey should have been crawling in bed with him if he was scared. He would do a much better job than Alfred at soothing Matvey's fears.
Slightly irritated, he flopped over with his face to the wall. He decided that he would confront Matvey about it in the morning and tell him that it was unnecessary to rely on Alfred's protection when Ivan was in the room.
Now that he had realized he wanted Matvey, he intended to have him. After all, although it had taken some time and effort, he realized that Matvey was a far greater prize than Alfred. But he could work on Matvey tomorrow; perhaps suggest that they make the relationship legitimate. He preferred willing and compliant acquiesces after all.
With that last thought, he drifted off.
The first conscious thought Matthew had the next morning was that Alfred needed a shower… badly. His second thought was that if Alfred didn't stop groping his chest in the next few seconds, Matthew was going to give him a flying lesson over the bunk railing.
"Nat…" Alfred mumbled and Matthew groaned. His breath was awful. Really, Matthew was going to invest in some gum or mints or something for him.
He groggily considered what time it was before bolting upright in horror. He stared across the dimly lit room (realizing unconsciously that it must be past dawn) at his crumpled up bunk. Luckily, Gilbert and Alfred were still dead to the world, and would be for at least another hour (two for Gilbert).
He crept off of Alfred's bunk, fending off his brother's gropes and kisses, and went to retrieve his sheets. He almost had them in hand when he was grabbed from behind. Fueled by guilt and surprise, he twisted his attacker's wrist. A grunt sounded behind him he immediately let go and tried not to flinch when a second hand was placed firmly on his shoulder and the original grasped his own wrist to keep him from retaliating again. Not that he had any reason to.
"Ivan."
"Matvey.
"I didn't realize you were awake. Sorry, you surprised me, eh?"
Silence.
"Er, good morning. Did you sleep well?"
"Better than Matvey did."
Now just what did that mean—oh no! Matthew felt his face flame and wanted to sink into the ground. He was quiet as a mouse in every aspect but the most important one? He wanted to die. He just wanted to die. And if Ivan heard his body's reaction to his dream, then he probably heard Matthew's nocturnal curses too. If he could combust, he would be doing it right now.
"Matvey had issues sleeping, da? Perhaps he needed some help getting to sleep?" Ivan suggested in a possessive purr. He had tucked Matthew to him while he said this and was rocking slowly.
Matthew resisted, still utterly mortified. He was frozen with a mixture of embarrassment and the beginning of another kind of problem he always seemed to have when Ivan handled him. His boxers were sticky and his hair was tangled.
He managed to make a meep sound and bolted out of Ivan's firm grasp with a burst of desperation. He snatched the sheets off the bed with a sharp tug, ignoring the flying pillow that smacked Alfred in the face or the comforter that buried Gilbert's head. Wadding up the sheets, he bolted out of the room. He had no idea where he was going or where the laundry room was, but he did know he had to get away from Ivan. Or he wasn't going to be responsible for his actions.
"Hi Matthew."
Matthew jumped and shouted (whispered). Tino looked at him brightly, wearing too-big of a smile for so early in the morning. He had a tray of hot cocoa balanced on one hand and was dressed in fuzzy bunny slippers and flannels. A small white dog sat at his feet (where'd that one come from?).
"I was a waiter for a summer." Tino explained with another smile at Matthew's unspoken question. He followed his gaze, "Oh, this is Berwald and my dog Hanatamago. She was sleeping under Aster last night, so you probably didn't see her. Apparently she also bit Gilbert in a very bad place when the dogs attacked, but don't tell him that please."
"Cute." Matthew managed to squeak out. She was kind of cute, like a fluffy, white kitten or something. He moved out of the way so Tino could get past with his tray.
"Need the laundry?"
Matthew wanted to slam his head into the wall. Repeatedly. Maybe the blunt trauma would steal away his coherency and he'd just be a vegetable. Vegetables didn't have to worry about explaining why they were running around with dirty sheets at 6am. Vegetables also didn't have to sit there and blush in embarrassment because the other person already knew why the bed sheets needed to go in the laundry.
"It's to the left of the kitchen. Oh, and if this lodge is like Vash's, then the clean linens are in the hall closet next to the laundry room." Tino supplied cheerfully with a curious look, "I hope you didn't… with your brother there…"
Matthew wailed and ran down the hall.
He found the laundry room and the clean sheets. By the time he returned to the room both Ivan and Alfred had disappeared, although Gilbert was making choking sounds from beneath the comforter. Apparently Ivan and Alfred assumed he would wake up before the oxygen deprivation killed him. Matthew pulled the comforter off and Gilbert's breathing went back to normal, although he had a blue tint to his face for a few minutes.
He wandered down to the kitchen for breakfast, fully intending to sneak out the back door after grabbing a snack. He wasn't in any shape to deal with anyone, but he especially wanted to avoid Michelle, Ivan, and Alfred. Failing that, he'd like to dump them in a snowdrift and spend the day skiing.
Much to his dismay, Roderich had posted that the slopes were off-limits until the afternoon. He wasn't sure he could deal with Alfred long enough to put Plan B into effect. He wondered if he could lure some people down to the ice pond for hockey… but then Ivan would show up and that would be super awkward.
In the end he ended up munching on his bagel and slumped over the countertop. He eyed the coffee pot, which was bubbling merrily, and wondered if he could have a cup. The day just looked too bleak without a little pick-me-up.
"You drink it as well? Do you take it with five teaspoons of sugar and a dash of cream?" Ivan asked, standing in the door. A cheap, dollar store smile was tacked across his lips, but Matthew could see the anger simmering behind his eyes.
"N-no." Matthew looked away, knowing Ivan's anger was justified. Matthew had been terrible to him lately. God, he was the man-slut Alfred had joked he was! He jumped Ivan without a second thought last night then cut him off. Then he had an explicit (amazing!) wet dream starring Ivan then crawl into Alfred's bed. And then he panicked and ran away (again!) when all Ivan was doing was… was… offering… Matthew's face flamed up again. "S-sorry."
"It is quite alright if Matvey does not take his coffee that way." Ivan answered pleasantly, in the tone he reserved for Kiku. Ouch. Well, it was a step up from Gilbert.
"T-that's not what I me—"
"Morning guys!" Alfred paused and blinked slowly. Matthew desperately hoped he got it and beat a hasty retreat. Every second that went by he wasn't apologizing and Ivan was probably getting more and more irritated. He didn't know why he didn't just throw himself at Ivan's feet and grovel, since that seemed to be what was expected of him. Instead Alfred just grinned, "Snowball fight out front sound good?"
Ivan shook his head, the plastic smile melting a little with warmth. Not for the first time Matthew wished he could be a little more like Alfred. Not a lot, not identical, but just a little. Alfred made everyone smile… and all he had to do was be an overbearing, nosy charmer.
"Mattie?"
"Er, sure, I'll go. But let me finish my breakfast—"
"Cool, is that your coffee?" Alfred blurted while pouring himself a mug. He proceeded to dump five scoops of sugar and then fished around in the fridge for some cream. He threw a bit of cream in there. Then he took a big gulp, scalding his tongue. Sometimes Ivan did things that even Matthew had to be a little freaked out about. But maybe he knew how Alfred took his coffee because he made it for him? Or he really was just that freakish about watching Alfred.
"Okay, let's go!"
Before Matthew could protest that he hadn't finished his coffee (nor did he plan to any time soon), Alfred grabbed him and dragged him out the door.
Matthew expected to get an earful about last night; after all, Alfred had seen at least the end of the hot scramble on the rug. Instead Alfred started making a snow fort.
"Who's playing?" Matthew asked, falling in beside his brother to help. They usually ended up on opposite sides, so he might be creating his downfall, but he had to be busy and moving his hands. Otherwise he'd be thinking about what other things they could (should) be doing instead.
"Dunno."
"What do you mean?"
"I figured if we build it, they will come, right? So keep building." Alfred grinned plastering another fistful of icy snow on the top of the mound. Matthew just stared. His brother just dragged him out of the warm (uncomfortable) kitchen where he had been eating (pretending to drink coffee) breakfast and talking to (avoiding) Ivan. And not for the first time he found himself wondering just how perceptive Alfred actually was.
Eventually people started wandering out from the lodge as Alfred had said they would. Teams and alliances were built in seconds (mostly after Alfred decked them in the face then pointed at Matthew—for some reason no one believed him… even when Matthew actually did hit Michelle and Gilbert when they weren't looking).
Eventually the teams hashed out with Matthew, Alfred, and Gilbert hunkered down together under the snow fort with Vash, Heidi, and Michelle taking up residency by the shed with Tino and Berwald lurking in the woods. Roderich, Liz, Ludwig, and Sophie had managed hide behind the corner of the lodge. Matthew was surprised when Ivan showed up. He figured Ivan was sulking, considering he disappeared and refused Alfred's earlier offer. However, Matthew's stomach tried to visit his crotch when he saw Ivan had reinforcements. Katerina was (probably) harmless enough, and poor Toris was nervously patting a snowball behind Ivan, but it was Natalia who Matthew winced at. Aside from the really freaky kiss the night before, she mostly still ignored him (which was good in his opinion), but he knew she was a crackshot with her aim. And she had quite a few to reasons to pepper him with ice balls. He hoped Alfred would be useful as a decoy and draw her fire… until he realized Ivan might be just as (or more) likely to come after him for the past few days. The thought made him pack snowballs even faster and keep his head down below the snow fort.
Ivan's voice floated across the yard, "…put rocks in there, Toris."
Toris shook his head and protested softly.
"It is merely incentive for Alfred to become better. Alfred will move quicker if there is a little punishment for being slow. It will hardly hurt him at all." Ivan smiled. Matthew noted to never play paintball or any other kind of aggressive war game with Ivan. Ever. He liked living.
The snowball fight turned ugly fast. Mostly because the teams were so spread out that any pincher movement left the team in the middle pretty screwed being hailed from both sides with ice balls. Roderich, at one point, had to beat a hasty retreat from under Gilbert's reign of balls—rain of balls, ha—and ended up hiding with Vash. Of course, squabbling ensued complete with 'we're not nine anymore, so go fight your own damn battles!' and 'I could hardly expect someone as rough as you to understand.'
No one dared to go near the woods. Ivan and his team had attempted to forge a path to get Berwald and Tino, probably (falsely) thinking two people were easy prey. Apparently Eduard was right to duck inside while calmly (shakily) saying that they were dooming themselves by playing with Tino. He was literally death from above. How he actually managed to scale the pine tree, set up a solid platform, and launch Berwald's snowballs, no one knew. What they did know was he was deadly accurate and no one could return fire without high casualties. What was that saying? It was always the quiet ones? Because Berwald, who was scary under normal circumstances, could somehow ghost up out of nowhere and nail you at close range. Not to mention their tiny little white dog that was like a giant snowball that bit your ankles until you stumbled as you tried to flee.
"Gil-Gil, watch out!" Michelle yelled and tackled Gilbert as a volley of snowballs came in from Ludwig's group (mostly noticeably from Liz, who had a homicidal glint in her eyes since Roderich took a snowball to the glasses a few moments earlier). The two landed in the pit behind the fort and Michelle giggled helplessly as Gilbert glared. He smirked and remarked, "I didn't know you wanted me that badly. Dontcha think it's a bit cold?"
"Your awesome will insulate you, I'm sure." Alfred quipped back and dived down as a snowball present from Ivan crashed into the wall.
"That's what she said!"
"It's all about the size, baby, and I've got 5 meters." Gilbert huffed with a grinned while Michelle rolled her eyes, "Not in the cold."
"So is the cold another way to get blue balls?" Alfred wondered out loud. Gilbert cackled, "Hey Vash! How's yer package after last night's midnight streaking? You a girl yet?"
Vash turned immediately towards Gilbert giving him the craziest look Matthew had ever seen. It wasn't positive, it wasn't negative. At best, it was flat out neutral. Not emotion on his face. Vash held the neutral look, one that screamed 'WRONG, you're behavior is wrong,' for a few moments. Gilbert instantly stopped (Matthew felt like stopping too, and he hadn't even been catcalling) and his mouth snapped shut. Gilbert blinked uncertainly and frowned.
Ludwig, blue eyes wide and snowball arm cocked to throw, whispered, "That was beautiful. Please teach me that look… for the dogs."
"What was that pause for Luddy? You're not going to use it on the dogs, are you? Hey, this calls for major embarrassment on your part! I'm going to rearrange your sock drawer and stick my knife in the jelly before the peanut butter when I make a sandwich! Then I'm going to tell the neighbors what color underwear you're wearing and… and…"
"Woof woof!" Alfred chortled and Gilbert punched him (not-so-nicely) in the shoulder. "Oww, easy on the arm. I need it to cream Ivan!"
Matthew realized why Alfred and Gilbert could never be friends… the world would never survive.
And from then on Michelle was on "their" team, laughing with Alfred and Gilbert. It only got ugly at one point where Ivan actually managed to hit Alfred with a snowball (sans the rocks) in the face. Alfred's expression morphed into a dark glare (one Matthew had seen only a handful of times before and feared) for a split second. He packed an extra-hard iceball methodically and Matthew had to run over and grab his arm before he shop putted it into Ivan's head. If he had hit Ivan, there was a good chance it'd be to knock his block clean off, and that would involve blood and concussions and a hospital trip. And Matthew would have been cackling hysterically the whole time.
Just as the snowball war was winding down, Michelle gave Matthew a huge grin and grabbed him. She tugged him into the line of fire (Alfred and Ivan were still going at it) and to the abandoned shed to the side. She stealthily opened it and slipped inside. Seconds later she emerged with a snowblower, laughing under her breath.
"Time to end this war once and for all." She giggled, patting the snowblower like a rifle. "Hey, Mattie, can you grab the other one? We'll clear the field!"
Matthew really didn't feel like turning the wrath of a snowblower on people who could (potentially) make him eat snow. And as fun as it would be to see Alfred the Dressiest Snowman dance, he didn't think it was that fair to bring a snowblower to a snowball fight.
Reluctantly he crept into the shed, his heart already hammering from the battle, and tried to locate the blower. He jumped about four and three quarters feet when the door slammed shut behind him. Racing back to the door, he found it jammed. Banging on the door and calling out, he realized that Michelle had just locked him in the shed on purpose. He banged harder then sighed. Roderich would probably return the snowblower to the shed…eventually. That was his only hope because no one would actually notice he was missing until they were ready to go in a few days. Maybe not even then. He liked the cold, but he didn't want to live in a shed without food, water, or a toilet.
He could hear shrieking from outside. Apparently everyone had enough of Ivan pulverizing them all (Kat and Natalia were crazy good back up and Matthew had to remember they grew up together) and this was the resulting, final show down.
Gilbert was screaming something in German and cussing out the 'chickenshit mutts' and Ivan laughed, "Your dog is smarter than you are, da?"
Then Ludwig shouted a different command and Matthew could hear all three dogs barking. There were heavy footsteps and suddenly the door yanked open. Before Matthew could leap to freedom, the door slammed shut and the other person was breathing heavily a foot away.
"You just locked us in." Matthew groaned. He very clearly heard the click on the other side of the door. Apparently it only opened from the outside and locked when closed. It made sense. What idiot locked themselves in a shed?
"How come the dogs listen to you and not me?" Gilbert whined dejectedly, "Aster, I'm your master, and you threw me under the bus or some such shit. You suck, reject."
"Like, the radio said the slopes are like, totes open now. Just thought all of you would like to know." Feliks shouted out from the lodge. No doubt he had been painting his toes and listening to NPR instead of participating in the snowball fight.
Matthew could visual the scramble to get back in the lodge to collect the gear. He groaned again, wishing he had peed after breakfast.
"Matvey?"