Hello! We are Cat and Bee from RusCanWonderland on Tumblr.

Disclaimers, Notes & Warnings:

We do not own Hetalia or any characters within.

Warnings: Gore, prostitution, murder,

Notes: This is heavily based off of Gangs of New York, so that's pretty much what this AU is known as between us.

"It's the bleeding heart, isn't it?" Gilbert murmured as he laid beside Francis, the blonde tilting his head to peer at the older man. "That pig that walks around with the hammer and the willing pockets…"

"I wouldn't know, Gilbert." Francis murmured. "It was money… And if he had it then why worry about where he got it?" The blonde rolled onto his stomach and attempted at a coy grin. "And should I worry that you're thinking of my son right after sex with me?"

Gilbert grunted and smirked, tilting his head to smile at the blonde against him. "Get over here."

Though the thought didn't leave his mind.

Which was probably why the next morning Ivan was being escorted into the tavern, his hammer in hand as he stood, legs balanced and eyes darting over faces, recognizing some if not all of them as he wandered into the area that was filled with tables and chairs and people and liquor.

"Braginski." The albino grinned and Ivan nodded, eyes catching sight of Matthew and pausing only for a moment before he turned his gaze back to the younger male.

"Beilschmidt… It's been what? Five? Six years?"

"Ten, actually." Gilbert smirked. "Losing track of time?"

"At least I keep track of faces." Ivan pointed out. "And names. Unlike you." The older male lowered his hammer, the head resting on his foot as he stood, prepared to fight should someone attempt an attack. "What's this about?"

Gilbert smirked. "You know that I'm willing to pay my dues where they're due… And you sir… You're an important part of our little world." Gilbert smirked and gave Ivan a nod, the albino straightening and standing slowly. "Why not get on my payroll? Instead of the Bowry Boys'?"

Biting his lip, Matthew shifted so his curls hid some of his face as he watched from his shadowy perch, his father by his side. It was almost unnerving that they had found and pinpointed the officer in particular after he had been so generous to give him money when he could've very well arrested him.

Gilbert was up to something, always had double sided reasons to everything he did and this was no different.

"Name your price." Gilbert leaned back in his chair, his hands folded over his stomach and his feet propped on the table. "Money, drink… Pretty girls? Or boys if that's your fancy." The albino smiled and nodded to the crowd. "Whatever you want, it's yours."

Ivan frowned tightly and folded his arms over his chest, his hammer resting on his shoulder as he stared at the younger male. "I don't need money. And I don't need drink. I don't care for girls and I don't care for your boys." The man rested his mallet across his shoulders and he straightened. "You know there's a woman, two blocks from here, with three children starving because their father went missing a month ago… Another woman, a prostitute, who died and left her daughter sick in the hospital while her husband drank himself under the table." Ivan glared down at Gilbert. "You might be able to live with ruining their lives, but I can't and I won't." The man turned to leave, pausing in the doorway. "Keep your money. And keep your whores off of me."

Sneers and mockings to Ivan's bleeding heart followed the officer to the door until Matthew couldn't see him anymore. He was silent though a heavy sense of guilt sat in his chest. The man had been kind enough to give him money that kept his brother comfortable for another week and without his help, that would've never happened.

"What's he trying to pull?" Matthew mumbled quietly, eyes flicking to his father's face. Francis wasn't particularly paying attention to him, and with a little smile he shook his head.

"He wants to keep that man off of his tracks," was all the explanation Matthew received.

Gilbert didn't let his smile fade until Ivan was out in the street again before he bared his teeth and snarled, grabbing a shot glass and throwing it across the room for it to shatter against the wood of a support. "Fucking bleeding heart." He growled, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. His gaze landed on Francis and without another word the man was across the room, hands soothing away tension and hurt pride gently, his front pressed to Gilbert's back as he moved his hands slowly.

Though the wheels didn't stop turning, and that thoughtful gaze didn't fade away.

—

Ivan groaned as he leaned back against the front wall of his apartment, watching people go by in the streets, tracking with his eyes the journey of those he knew and those that he didn't, careful and watchful despite their seemingly cold gaze.

He blinked at the sight of a familiar head of blonde and whistled softly. "Turtle-dove." He called, nodding to the blonde as he stood, hoisting his hammer onto his shoulder and striding over. "Anymore jewels I should start looking for on you?"

Pausing in the street, Matthew tilted his head as he peered across to where he had heard the surprisingly familiar voice. He considered not stopping, but Ivan had been nothing but kind to him. He owed him at least a hello.

Cautiously approaching, the blonde kept his distance, but came close enough that he could see what color Ivan's eyes were and appreciate his dark eyelashes. "…you live here?" he asked, a little awkward for something to say as he twirled a slightly dirty finger in a particularly long curl.

"It's…uhm, it's nice.."

"Nicer than most of the Five Points." The older male smiled down at Matthew before he nodded to the blonde. "And you, My Bludget? You on your way home?"

"Well I'm certainly not heading to someone else's home if that's what you're implying," he clipped, head tucking as he attempted to hide a little blush.

"I wasn't." Ivan pointed out, stepping forward and leaning down, his hand reaching up slowly, carefully, before wiping away at a smear of dirt on a pale cheek. "You have very pretty eyes." He murmured, his hand slowly dropping before he straightened. "I guess you should get home before it gets too dark… Would you like me to escort you?"

Matthew almost took the man up on the offer, but as of late, he didn't wish to drag Ivan into the heart of the Five Points more than he needed to be with Gilbert still ruffled. Instead he flushed and cleared his throat softly, his feet moving him backwards and away. "That's….not necessary," Matthew offered, not trying to be rude, but feeling he was going to be no matter what.

He made to turn to go, hands wringing out of habit before he turned to look at him again. "Thank you…for…your generosity," he mumbled, not exactly good at expressing his gratitude for handouts. "It helped more than you know."

The older male smiled and nodded. "You're welcome, My Bludget." The man reached out, taking a thin hand in his own and pressing a kiss to the dirty knuckles before letting the slim hand slide out of his hand. "Get home, before it gets darker."

The blonde could only nod as he cradled his hand against his body and hurried away in the direction he had been going, sparing the officer one last glance before rounding a corner. His heart was pounding as he paused to lean against a brick wall, lips parting to take in a little breath.

Only then did he realize that if Gilbert didn't know where Ivan lived, he could very well know now if someone had seen Matthew speaking with him. Swallowing hard, Matthew hurried across the street and down an alley, a short cut that would take him closer to where Alfred was waiting for him. Papa never came home anymore, which was both unsettling and better off. There was more space for the two of them to at least sleep, though Matthew made sure Alfred was never cold and well covered at all times. He sighed as he settled beside his brother, weary blue eyes opening to smile at him as Matthew returned the gesture.

"You look different…" Alfred murmured, voice hoarse and weary, exhausted despite sleeping most of the day. "You look like how Papa used to look at Father."

"Shh," Matthew hushed him softly, moving to tuck him closer under the blankets. "You need to sleep and I'll get you something to eat, alright?"

"Is he kind?" Alfred asked, as if he hadn't heard Matthew. "You're blushing…"

Matthew was quiet for a moment as he paused in finding a small canteen of clean water that he shared between cooking and drinking. "No one is kind, Alfred…just nice when they have to be," he told him, though he knew that wasn't true about Ivan. No one was like the man and it was probably for the best. Ivan's bleeding heart could have him in danger and no matter how mighty that hammer might've been, once Gilbert had his disgusting hands on him no one seemed to escape. Francis was a prime example.

"Since when did you become father?" Alfred coughed and attempted to laugh, rolling onto his side and covering his mouth, wiping the blood on the rag beside the bed, breath shaky before he smiled up at Matthew. "You should invite him to the Fall Festival… Dance with him."

"Don't be ridiculous, Alfred," Matthew berated him softly, worriedly coming over to dab at his forehead. "I'm not going to the Festival."

Alfred pouted at Matthew. "Gilbert doesn't own you like he owns Papa…" Alfred reached out and grasped Matthew's hand, tangling their fingers together gently. "Go to the Festival? For me?"

"I don't want to go without you," he told him with a little smile, fingers moving to brush through Alfred's hair. "And I'm perfectly happy staying right here, Gilbert has no say over that."

Alfred pouted, but his eyes were drooping sleepily and he let out a huff of air that sounded like a cough before he sighed and rested his head against Matthew's hand tangled with his. "You should go… And dance with him." His eyes slid close and he began to breathe as deeply as he could, sleep taking over as he curled his hand in Matthew's.

"Oh, Alfred," he breathed, feeling his throat clench as he bent to kiss his head, Matthew's body settling beside his. It wasn't wise to sleep in such close quarters with those that were sick, doctors warned, in fear of it being contagious, but Matthew didn't care. Papa belonged to Gilbert, and the only person he had was Alfred since their Father was gone. He stroked his brother's hair as he fell asleep, mind stuck on the idea of dancing with Ivan and how much the idea made him strangely anxious and dare he say happy.