Ivan hurried through the halls, ignoring the strange looks and the whispers of his naked neck. He didn't bother heading for his next class, he felt too self conscious and alone. So alone. Instead, he scurried over to the stairs that lead to the roof. No one bothered him up there.

Cool air slapped him across the face when he through the door open. He didn't shiver though, it was only slightly cold to him. He had felt much worse. Still, he didn't like the cold, in fact, he hated it. Especially snow, he abhorred snow. It reminded him too much of home, of his sisters.

He felt his fingers wrap around his bare neck self consciously. Without his scarf, it felt as if a presence was gone. Maybe his sister had been watching him, protecting him with the gift. Maybe the scarf was one last barrier from the cruelness of the world, given to him by Katyusha. He wanted his scarf back!

Why had he given it to Alfred? He needed it!

Ivan took in a calming breath, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. Calm down. He already had a breakdown today, he couldn't have another one. Especially when he was alone on the roof...

And there was no way for Alfred to save him.

He sat down on the roof weakly, feeling the air around him get progressively colder as the blue skies turned a shade of gray. It seemed it was going to rain... He thought nothing of it, and waited for the school day to end.

He wanted it to be tomorrow already so that he could have his scarf back.

He needed it to be tomorrow already.

Alfred was grinning from ear to ear as he skipped off the bus, not even waiting fro Matthew to follow him. With a huff, the younger Bonnefoy hurried to catch up to his brother.

"Al! What's wrong with you?" Matthew questioned, annoyed yet curious at his brother's behavior.

"Hmm? Oh you'll see!" Alfred cried out, giving him a wink before continuing down the street toward their home. Matthew rolled his eyes, feeling something wet on his nose. He looked up to see the clouds darkening. Rain maybe? He shivered as the wind swept through his thinly clothed framed. Global warming was really messing with the climate. It shouldn't be this cold for another month! Maybe it would snow...

He grinned at the thought, he did love the snow. Alfred and him would have intense snowball fights in the backyard though Al wore down easier when cold. Usually, he was back inside in an hour whining for hot chocolate. He rolled his eyes at the thought. Gilbert though, now he was really good at snowball fights. He just seemed to camouflage well in the wintry weather. Matthew blamed it on his albinism. His sexy albinism...

He blinked and realized Alfred had long since left him, seeing him already at their door and slamming it shut. He frowned before picking up his pace in order to get inside. He really didn't want to get caught in the rain, especially when it was so cold. Getting sick meant missing school which also meant not see Gilbert. He felt more droplets strike his hair as he ran to their doorstep. Reaching the door, he opened it and stepped inside.

"Al, really. You don't even have the decency to wa- OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO PAPA'S KITCHEN!" He shrieked, dropping his backpack and running toward his brother.

Alfred looked up at the sound, his face a painting of pure innocence. Around him was a battlefield. Bread, cereal boxes, cans of food were all littered around him like corpses as he dug through the pantry. Throwing the dead bodies uncaringly behind him as he searched desperately. The kitchen, the once spotless kitchen, was in a state of disarray and his brother had been here for only 3 minutes.

"Mattie, where are the zip-lock bags? Like one of the super big ones?" He asked, turning sweet blue eyes to his shocked brother. With carefully controlled steps, Matthew stepped forward, pointing just above his twin's head with a shaky finger. Alfred looked up and brightened, snatching the box triumphantly. He pulled out one of the baggies with a huge grin before dropping it to the ground with the rest of its fallen brethren.

"Thanks Mattie! You're the absolute best!" He praised before retreating away from the mess, leaving Matthew to clean it up. He let out an angry sigh as he bent down to pick up the discarded bodies. He could get Alfred to help but it would take forever and Alfred wouldn't do it properly anyway. If the mess were left here Papa would kill them. It was the only thing he ever got truly mad about. So, Matthew resigned himself to his task.

Alfred, meanwhile, had brought his zip-lock bag to the table, carrying his backpack over carefully. Matthew watched him curiously as he continued to pick up the mess. Alfred unzipped his backpack, pulling out what appeared to be fabric. He unfolded it carefully, rubbing his thumb over the damaged end before refolding it meticulously. He slipped it into the baggie, pressing all the air out and then he zipped it up. The blond looked around, with a small thoughtful frown before shrugging and putting the baggie back into his backpack.

"Al, what are you doing?" Matthew finally asked as he finished his duties and closed the pantry. Alfred looked up and grinned at his brother deviously.

"Just you know, putting away Ivan's scarf."

Matthew scrunched his eyebrows together before they widened. "Holy! How did you get his scarf? Did you steal it? Oh my god, you stole it. Al, he's going to kill you!"

"Mattie! Mattie calm down! I didn't steal it. He gave it to me so that Dad could fix it! Stop freaking out on me." Alfred assured quickly, feeling slightly hurt Matthews first thought was he stole something. Then again his relations with the Russian were pretty sour.

"He gave it to you? He never takes it off! How'd you manage that?"

Alfred reddened slightly and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know...He just did." Matthew gave him a skeptical look but he ignored him in order to glance at the clock. Only 3:20. Sucks, Dad wouldn't be home for another half hour. He groaned to himself before going over to the family room, plopping down onto the sofa. He flicked on the TV and glared at the clock.

Matthew decided he would never comprehend the inner workings of his brothers mind and sat down next to him, pulling out one of his English books to read for homework.

Time passed slowly and Alfred was getting antsy. The clock read 4:00 and his father still wasn't home. He pulled out his phone and dialed the familiar number.

"'Ello?" Came an irritated British voice.

"Dad? Where are you?"

"In the middle of horrible traffic. And I can't see bloody thing!" His father growled back. Alfred furrowed his brows in confusion. He heard screeching as Arthur swerved on the road along with the curse of 'wankers'.

"Can't see? Why?"

"...Do you not realize we're in the middle of a bloody blizzard?" Arthur snapped obviously. Alfred looked over to the window and his eyes widened as he saw snow falling and whipping around through the wind.

"whoa..." He hadn't even noticed! Too focused on the clock and the scarf sitting in his backpack. He had spared no chances on getting it dirty, having it confined in a protective plastic barrier until his father came home.

"Look I should be home soon. Has the frog called?" Arthur assured, the question posed casually.

"No" Alfred answered truthfully. He didn't normally call unless he was running late or something. He thought nothing of it.

Alfred heard his father curse. "Bloody Frenchman. He didn't answer when I called him. Must still be at the bakery." Alfred nodded, Papa usually ignored his cell when he was working. He preferred being undistributed as he performed his 'art'.

Alfred said his goodbyes and hung up, sighing. Now he'd have to wait even longer for his father to come home and fix the scarf! Grr...

Matthew twisted away from his brother so that he was on the other side of the couch. He brought his legs onto the sofa, placing them on his brothers lap. Alfred flicked his eyes toward his brother before returning them to the TV. He didn't mind the feet on his lap anyway. Matthew was just trying to get comfortable or something.

Ten, then twenty minutes past before the door slammed open. Alfred jumped up, causing Matthew to be pushed off the sofa with a yelp. Alfred ignored him, rushing toward his father eagerly. Arthur was taking of his soggy snowy coat. His face was bright pink from the cold, his hair filled with flecks of white and his green eyes comprised of solely anger.

"Dad! You're home! Fix the scarf please!" Alfred said, bouncing about excitedly. Finally! Now he could fix the scarf and him and Ivan would be even.

"Give me moment won't you? I've barely stepped inside! I need my bloody tea before I do anything. Traffic was horrible and this snow storm is absolutely horrendous." Arthur snapped and Alfred backed away. Arthur was in one of his moods, so he would have to wait until he had his precious tea and calmed down.

As he hung his coat the Brit faltered, turning back toward his son. Alfred saw the green eyes void of all anger. In its place was poorly shielded worry. Odd...

"Francis... Hasn't called has he?"

"I haven't heard from Papa yet..." Alfred answered, shaking his head. Should he start to worry? It hadn't bothered him til now, Dad seemed very anxious about it. Was something wrong?

Arthur seemed to catch the rising doubt in Alfred's demeanor and quickly set out to squash it. "Don't worry Alfred. The frog is just being the inconsiderate prat he always is." He reassured, normal annoyance shielding his true emotions. "Let me have my tea and I'll mend the scarf."

Alfred nodded, his grin returning before leaving his father to his British activities. Best not to interrupt his tea making, or make fun of how meticulous he was about it. Matthew glanced up from his book as he entered, having resettled on the couch, then returned his focus on his reading.

Ivan watched the white snowflakes whip around in the dark sky, hurling into the ground. He hated snow. Snow was cold, cold brought death. He was sick of death. He wanted his scarf. He needed his scarf.

The phone rang and he growled. He hated that damn contraption, it was so obnoxious and annoying. He picked it up on it's third ring. "Da?"

"Ivan! I'm going to be late. I'm sorry. This blizzard is pretty bad. There's leftovers you can eat in the fridge."

"Da, I understand" Ivan stated before hanging up quickly and returning his angry gaze to the window. He wanted it to be tomorrow morning. He needed his scarf back.

Arthur threaded his needle carefully, the scarf splayed out in front of him. After being told about eighteen times that he needed to be extremely careful, Alfred had left him to do his job. Really, the tear was quite simple, the mending only needed a few stitches. Though, the fabric was worn and old. The color faded. Wouldn't be easier to just get a new one? At least that's what he would recommend.

Arthur usually worked in the master bedroom (he had his own little work area there) or on the dining room table. But, tonight he decided to work in the kitchen for a change of pace. NOT because there was a phone a few inches away from him that could ring and alert him to the whereabouts of his husband. He didn't care, why should he? If the stupid frog wanted to go frolic and not bother calling his husband about it well then fine! All he knew was that he wasn't having any damn sex tonight.

Picking up the end of the fabric he pierced it with his needle, threading through it before bringing it back up and closing the tear little by little. Three stitches later a loud ring echoed through the halls, quickly silenced as Arthur grappled for the phone.

"Francis! About time you-" He paused, slightly reddening as he realized he was yelling at a recording. He listened carefully before hanging up.

"Lads, you don't have school tomorrow." He notified, hearing a happy "Awesome!" from his elder son.

Alfred grinned, this was great. Three day weekend to relax! No grades, no commie...Oh shit, the scarf! Ivan didn't even want to give it to him for the night, how could he survive without it for three more days? He was going to get killed.

Ivan hung up the phone calmly and with great care. So there would be no school tomorrow? They always had school, snow or no snow at the orphanage.

He opened a drawer, taking out a sheet of paper and a pencil. With controlled movements he wrote precisely and clearly a few sentences before sticking the note on the refrigerator. He stepped away and headed for the closet. Opening it, he took out his thick coat, putting it on with a controlled sigh. He buttoned himself up, his fingers trembling despite his best efforts.

He bent down, putting on his boots and laced them up. Another calming breath and he was walking to the door. He opened it, feeling the rush of wind buffet him but the cold had little affect. He closed the door behind him, locked it and stepped into the tundra.

He needed his scarf. And he was going to get it.

Arthur cut the thread carefully and called for Alfred to come over. The boy ran up with a huge grin, taking the scarf from the table to examine the once torn edge up close. He had to give his Dad credit, he was pretty amazing when it came to sewing.

"Thanks Dad! This looks awesome, as if I never tore it." Alfred exclaimed happily. He grabbed at the baggie in order to seal the scarf away from the dangers of the world.

"Wait..You tore it in the first place?"

"Yeah... Look I didn't know!" Alfred quickly defended and Arthur sighed.

"Yes yes. Ever the innocent Alfred. Its fine boy, just a ragged old scarf anyway." Arthur stated, his thoughts drifting elsewhere. It was almost six, still no word from Francis. Alfred frowned at his father's behavior, seeing the worry in his eyes.

"Dad... Where is Papa?" He asked and Arthur looked at him.

"Off running about. He's quite irresponsible like that. Nothing to worry about." Arthur quickly responded. He didn't want to worry the lad. It was probably nothing anyway.

"But... He's always home to make dinner"

Arthur frowned, looking down at the floor. Matthew appeared in the doorway, the only one openly worried over the lack of their father's presence.

"I can make pancakes for dinner... Unless Papa is just running late?" He added on a hopeful note. Arthur looked over at him.

"Why not? Francis wouldn't mind it if you cooked in his oh-so-precious kitchen." Arthur answered with slight humor. Anything to lighten the situation. Neither of his sons found it particularly amusing at the moment.

The doorbell rang through the quiet home, startling the trio. "Ah, that's probably him now! Must of forgotten his key the damn wanker." Arthur said as he sped off toward the door. "Really Francis! You're sons were worried sick. Have you no decency at al- Oh. Hello."

The male before him was not, in fact, his husband. Much too tall for that. It was that friend of Alfred's, Ivan right?

"Hello." Ivan responded, unsure how to speak to the stricter father. His pale hair was covered in snow along with his shoulders. The wind howled angrily blowing his hair about. Ivan didn't seem particularly bothered by the cold.

"Come in then! Mustn't have you freeze to death. How on earth did you walk through this blizzard?" Arthur started speaking quickly and hurriedly, ushering the teen inside and taking his drenched coat. Ivan blinked, most of the quick words skipping over his mind as he peered around the home. Walking in this weather hadn't been that difficult, the only problem was remembering the directions and trying to read the snow covered signs.

"Alfred! Your friend!" Arthur called and Alfred looked into the hallway. Blue eyes widened and stared at the other who merely smiled. Ivan? Here? In the middle of a blizzard? Why?

"Ivan? How the hell did you get here!" He asked incredulously, shocked at the others appearance.

"Walked. My scarf?" Ivan responded bluntly. Alfred didn't have it in his hands, what if it was even more damaged? What if the other lost it? Why had he given it to him!

"Through a blizzard? Oh and yeah, let me go get it" Alfred answered, ducking back into the kitchen to get the garment. He hurried back to his classmate, offering the scarf (after taking it out of the baggie). Ivan took it back reverentially, his eyes scanning where the tear had been. Alfred's father was very talented. He wrapped it around his neck and sighed in contentment. Everything felt better now.

Alfred hadn't messed up, he had been correct in trusting him.

"I shall leave now." He said, no other reason to stay in the home now that he had gotten his scarf. It appeared Alfred's father had a different idea though.

"Oh no you wont! Its a bloody blizzard out there! You can't just go gallivanting in the snow, without telling or bothering to contact your husband!" Arthur scolded angrily, reddening as he realized what he had slipped out. "I mean guardian! Toris is probably worried sick."

"I left him a note" Ivan replied simply.

"Well, at least you have the decency to do that." Arthur muttered. "You're staying. Its much to dangerous to walk so far in the snow. Alfred, get him set up for the night."

"Wait. You're having him sleep over!" Alfred cried out in shock. The commie, sleeping under the same roof as the hero? What if he drugged him! Or killed him in his sleep? Sure, Ivan had been cool recently but it could all be some huge trick. He was probably trying to instill trust and then pull some super secret killer move when he least expected it.

"Don't test me Alfred." Arthur bit out and the teen quieted down. He could tell inside his father was freaking out. Papa would come home. It was no big deal. Just running late. Or at least that's what he told himself. Still, his father's behavior was of little comfort.

"Fine." Alfred sighed, giving a half hearted glare in Ivan's direction. The Russian thought nothing of it, still basking in the glow of his returned scarf. How he had missed the warm fabric wrapped around his neck reminding him of his lost sister's embrace. He wished both of them were well back in Russia. Alfred groaned, so now he had to deal with the commie for the entire night, have him sleep in the same room. Just great.

"Lets get you a sleeping bag." Alfred continued, bringing Ivan back from his thoughts as he walked off. Violet eyes watched as the teen opened a door down the hallway and descended. Curiously, Ivan followed him, seeing the doorway housed stairs leading to a dimly lit room. The floor was concrete and it seemed to be used for storage. Alfred was rummaging through a pile of boxes.

"Ah hah!" Alfred said triumphantly, holding up a large bundle. Ivan wasn't sure what it was exactly. Alfred thrusted it into his hands anyway and pushed him unceremoniously up the stairs without an explanation. They reappeared in the hallway and Alfred moved in front of the Russian in order to lead the way. "To my room." He instructed.

They passed by the kitchen, Arthur sitting alone at the table. Ivan wondered why the man was glaring at the telephone. Though, he didn't seem angry. More worried really or maybe anxious. His fingers drummed against the table impatiently. Alfred let out a sigh bringing Ivan's violet eyes back to him. Blue eyes watched the door, hopefully before looking at the floor. Ivan was confused to say the least. Alfred was normally so perky, had someone made fun of his intellect again?

"Well lets go" Alfred reiterated, walking once more and turning to climb up the stairs. Ivan followed wordlessly and almost crashed into the other when he stopped suddenly. The phone rang angrily though the home but was quickly silenced.

"Hello? Francis?" Came a hopeful British voice. Alfred's fingers tightened on the banister and Ivan blinked. "Oh, hello Toris... Yes he's here, do not worry. He can stay for the night... No its no trouble... Bye. Oh wait! Have you heard from Francis by any chance? No? Oh I see...Its nothing,, he just hasn't called yet... I'm sure its nothing... Thank you, goodbye."

Alfred started walking up the stairs again. He barely caught his fathers murmured words, "Where are you?" as he focused his gaze on the floorboards. Ivan wondered why there seemed to be an invisible darkness hanging over the household. He gathered it had to do with Alfred's french father, but wasn't exactly sure why.

As they walked down the hall, Alfred realized he could just make Ivan sleep in the guestroom and not in his own. Well, too late now. He convinced himself that that was the only reason, and maybe also wanting to know more about the others scarf and its importance. Didn't the Russian say something about a sister? Did she go to the school too? Was she hot?

Though his focus refused to remain on the commie for once, instead they drifted. Where was Papa?

They entered his bedroom and Alfred ordered Ivan to drop the bag. Ivan obeyed, slightly perplexed about the whole thing. Alfred sighed and set up the sleeping bag himself, unrolling it on his hands and knees. Ivan watched him carefully, what a creep. It almost felt like he was staring at his ass... He was probably just paranoid.

"Okay, so that's where your sleeping tonight." Alfred explained and Ivan raised an eyebrow. So, Alfred wanted him to sleep on a mat instead of on the bed? How selfish.

"Why can't I sleep with you?" Ivan asked, bluntly.

Alfred crinkled his nose at the thought and did not blush whatsoever. "You're not sleeping in my bed with me."

"You're bed is large enough for the both of us. In fact, a mattress like that could fit five children easily."

Alfred didn't want to know how he knew that. Such a creeper.

"We are not sleeping together!" Alfred snapped, feeling his cheeks heat up. He hadn't meant it like that! At least Ivan didn't notice the double meaning and just gave up. He wasn't in the mood to argue with the other.

"Fine, though it seems counter-intuitive" Ivan acquiesced. Alfred was so odd yet adorable. And he had fixed his scarf which made him very happy inside. He should probably thank him more. "And thank you again, for fixing my scarf."

Alfred reddened. "Its nothing." He said quickly. Usually he liked attention but Ivan's attention made him feel weird. The Russian flashed him that creepy little smile of his. "Look, lets just go down stairs and watch the TV or something... I think Mattie's making pancakes for dinner."

Ivan didn't know what to say. The whole household seem to be dark and gloomy. Vibrant Alfred was hiding something sad within him. Ivan didn't really know how to comfort others, so he stood there awkwardly and followed Alfred. He didn't want to mess up anything.

Matthew had just set down the meal when the phone rang, startling all of them. Arthur lept out of his chair, almost tripping and wrenched the device to his ear.

"Yes? Hello?" He spoke into the phone, his lips soon forming into a frown. Alfred and Matthew listened carefully to the one sided conversation. Ivan assumed he should too.

"Yes, Arthur Bonnefoy speaking... What accident?" Arthur's hand began to tremble and he turned to his sons. "Turn on the news please." He ordered quietly and the two rushed to follow the order. Matthew was faster and was able to switch the TV on while flipping to the local news channel.

"-rible accident. Just now have we been able to get footage because of what experts say is one of the worst snowstorms in the area's history." A women was speaking into a microphone before the screen switched to video. The two boys gasped in unison.

"Th-that's Papa's car" Matthew murmured shakily, his heart rate accelerating considerably. Alfred didn't say anything, merely watched.

"At 5:18 a McDonald's truck swerved off the icy roads and smashed into a civilian's car which was then pinned to the side of the road. Two more cars hit the truck and car. Because of the storm it has been hard to access the accident and we are still waiting to see the status of the victims."

"That's Papa's car." Matthew reiterated, louder and more panicky. His blue violet eyes widened, turning to his older brother for some sort of comfort. Alfred was still staring at the TV. They both turned at the click of a phone hanging up.

"Dad?" They both questioned in identical worried tones.

Arthur didn't look at them, his body turned the other way and his hand still gripping the phone tightly. "Papa's in the hospital."

"Is he ok?" Alfred asked hurriedly, getting up to rush over to his father. Matthew was frozen in place and Ivan stayed at the table unsure what to do.

"They don't know. He just arrived 10 or so minutes ago." His voice was neutral, calm and distant.

"Just arrived? But the accident was around five! It's past six!"Alfred insisted, feeling anger course through him. HOw dare they take so long to treat his Papa!

"The ambulance couldn't get to them as fast. The storm..." Arthur answered, voice cracking slightly and dripping with poorly hidden emotion.

Alfred hesitated, seeing how his father's shoulders trembled minutely. He still hadn't turned around. "Dad?"

"I'm going. I'm going to go see him." He hissed determinately, moving to get to the front door. Alfred's eyes widened and he grabbed his father's arm quickly, holding him back.

"Alfred. Let. Go." Arthur growled, glaring at the floor and still not turning around. Alfred held firmly.

"No. Dad you can't go into that storm!" Alfred insisted and felt a tremor pass through his father's body. The elder whirled around, green eyes filled with desperation and tears held stubbornly back. Alfred almost let go. Almost.

"I have to Alfred! He's alone and he's hurt!" Arthur pleaded pulling at his hand. He didn't look like the stern harsh father Alfred had grown accustomed to. He looked vulnerable, small and fearful that he was going to lose the most important thing in his world. Again he almost let go. The look on his father's eyes hurt him.

"But what if you get hurt to!" Alfred reasoned and felt Arthur stiffen. "You can't both get hurt! Please, don't go."

Arthur took in a shaky breath and let it out. "I'll leave as soon as the snow stops." He sighed and felt the grip on his arm loosen enough to free him. Alfred pulled him in for a comforting hug but Arthur remained tense, fearful. The teen realized his father needed to be alone. Arthur wasn't accustomed to revealing his emotions, he didn't like to. He preferred to deal with these things alone or else he would bottle them up forever.

The family wasn't hungry anymore, the pancakes left abandoned and untouched on the table. Almost untouched, Ivan had started eating before the family started freaking out but he quickly stopped. The pancakes were delicious in his opinion and leaving them uneaten seemed like a huge waste. Normally, he would have brought it up but something was wrong and the twins were practically unapproachable. Ivan wished Alfred's English father had let him return home.

"Ivan." Alfred murmured, tugging at his sleeve. Ivan looked at him, seeing his blue eyes swimming with fear and worry. He wanted to get rid of such feelings. Alfred should only be happy in his opinion, that emotion fit him best. "Let's go to my room..."

The Russian stood up obediently and followed the twins up the stairs, leaving Arthur in the kitchen. He was glaring at the T.V. silent tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He slowly sat back down at the table and rested his head in his hands in defeat.

Inside Alfred's bedroom the elder twin switched his T.V. on to the news where the accident was still being broadcasted. Ivan sat down on the 'sleeping bag', leaning his back on the bed's edge and watched the story curiously. So Alfred's French father had been in the accident? Best to find out more about it then.

"Alfred." Matthew whispered, sitting down on his brother's bed. His eyes were watery as he watched the screen. "Papa's going to be ok, right?" He knew it was a childish thing to ask but he just needed to be comforted. If only a little.

"Of course he'll be fine, Mattie." Alfred answered confidently, as he sat down beside him and looped an arm around his shoulder. "He probably only has a few bruises but can't come home because of the storm. I can just see him insisting with the nurses. 'I have to get home before dinner! My husband will kill my sons with his horrid cooking!'"

Matthew didn't smile, blue violet eyes not meeting the others bright blue. "Al... What if he dies?"

Alfred's eyes widened and he stiffened. He hadn't thought of that. He couldn't imagine tomorrow without Papa, without a warm meal, without a happy smile, without embarrassing noises from the master bedroom. Papa couldn't die. He just couldn't.

"He won't die! Don't say things like that. He'll be fine and molesting Dad by tomorrow." Alfred assured shakily, wrapping his arms around his brothers tightly. He could tell his twin was crying into his shirt but he refused to do the same. Heroes don't cry, especially when they needed to comfort others.

"It has been confirmed that the truck driver has died in the hospital." A neutral voice spoke from the TV.

The pair stiffened and Matthew gripped his brother tighter, eyes squeezing shut as if trying to block everything bad out. Not even Alfred's comforting chant of "He'll be fine Mattie, Papa will be fine." gave him reassurance. With a shaky intake of breath he pulled away from the other.

"I'm g-going to call Gil and get Kumajiko." He whispered as he left the bedroom. Alfred wondered why but didn't question it. Gilbert did get along well with Papa for some odd reason. The Kumajirou part though was understandable, his brother still held a great attachment to the stuffed bear.

Ivan watched as a transformation underwent Alfred with his brother now gone. The confidence disappeared as he slumped. The empty space in his arms was soon replaced with a pillow he hugged close to his chest. His face disappeared from his view as it hid beneath said pillow. His shoulder's trembling alerted to Ivan that behind the pillow Alfred was crying. He decided to correct that, even if he didn't know how.

He crawled up on to the bed and kneeled in front of the other. "Alfred?" He asked softly, watching the others grip on the pillow tightened, his face burrowing into it more. More shaking.

With calm, slow movements Ivan pushed the pillow down and revealed the red, tear stained face. He had always entertained the idea of seeing Alfred weak and crying before him, thinking he'd enjoy seeing the other so vulnerable. He realized he hated the look of hopelessness that painted the others face. He had to fix this somehow.

"Alfred"

"I'm fine." Alfred quickly said, wiping at his eyes in denial. He didn't need the fucking commie making fun of him because he was fucking crying. That was the last fucking thing he needed. He needed to know that Papa was ok.

"No, you are not." Ivan stated truthfully. How does one comfort in this situation? Alfred had hugged his brother to his chest but Ivan doubted Alfred would respond positively if he were to do the same...

"Do... Do you have a father?" Alfred asked suddenly. He didn't want Ivan to press him and he was curious. He knew the other was also adopted but didn't know the details. Alfred himself had barely known his birth parents, but Ivan might of.

Ivan stiffened at the questions, unwanted memories filling his mind. "Da. He's dead." He answered curtly. Hopefully the conversation was now over. Apparently not.

"I'm so sorry."

"Do not be."

"Oh, so you didn't know him?" Maybe he had died when Ivan was really young and that why he became an orphan.

"Nyet. I knew him very well."

Alfred furrowed his brows in confusion. "Then aren't you sad he's dead?" He asked incredulously. Surely he had to be!

"No. Never." Ivan snapped, hands tightening on the bedsheets. His voice cold and bare of any sympathy.

"You heartless bastard!" Alfred shrieked, body tense and angry. How could the other just not care that his father was dead? Especially if he knew him 'very well'. What kind of sick bastard is completely numb of any compassion? Alfred had never felt so angry at anything in his life.

Ivan's eyes widened at the accusation and he was caught by surprise as the other lunged at him. They fell off the bed and onto the wood floor, Alfred on top and beating at his chest clumsily and angrily. Ivan was too shocked to do anything but stare. That is, until a blow hit his still sensitive nose and he quickly tried to stop the blond. He wasn't sure what was going on but he needed the other to calm down.

Alfred was yelling at him, amongst angry tears but his blows were more emotional then tactical and they were loosing strength. Ivan found it to be quite easy to flip them over. He sat on top of the other, immobilizing him while his large hand gripped the others wrists and held them over his head. Alfred thrashed and squirmed before finally stopping with a shudder. Tears continued to fall from his blue eyes that now locked on violet.

"H-how can you say that? How can you not care? Papa might be dead! He could've died! And you don't care! I cant... I can't imagine Papa being dead. And you! You're a h-heartless bastard!"

Ivan blinked, "You're father is very different then my own. You said it previously, your father will live."

"I just said that to make Mattie feel better! He might have died already!" Alfred cried out, trying to pull his wrists free. Ivan didn't know what else to say but he decided to release the others hands. Alfred didn't seem to want to attack him anymore.

"Get off." Alfred ordered, voice hoarse as he pushed at the others broad chest. Couldn't the other just leave him the fuck alone? Why did he always get like this when he was around? All emotional and shit. Ivan complied slowly and then decided to just try it and hope for the best. He grabbed the other and hugged him to his chest. He felt Alfred stiffen in his arms and try to pull away angrily. Now was when he was suppose to say comforting words, right?

"You're father will be alright. If you look at the accident, most of the damage was on the rear of the car. He won't die. Maybe a broken leg or arm but not dead." He spoke calmly and factually. He felt the other still his movements but the American remained tense in his arms. Alfred didn't try and pull away, merely looked up into the others pale face.

"H-how do you know that?" He asked, fearful of regaining hope only to have it dashed once again.

"I can tell from the news footage." He answered truthfully and then decided to add, "I can read it because of my secret communistic training."

Alfred stared at him a moment before his lips quirked upward at the last comment. "I knew it." He breathed out playfully and his mood felt slightly lighter. Ivan said Papa would be alright, basing it on facts from the footage. He was the one who believed in him so he was going to have to believe him here too. He put it to the back of his mind that it was really awkward to hug Ivan of all people and wrapped his arms around the other, reciprocating the embrace.

Ivan smiled at the movement, Alfred seemed to be liking him more. From mending his scarf to hugging him. Soon they would be able to go further, but not now. Alfred was much to worried to respond positively if he were to bring it up.

The dreaded phone rang and Alfred knew, just like his father probably did, that it was the hospital. It continued to ring since everyone in the household (well, maybe not Ivan) feared what kind of information it might disclose. It was finally silenced by he assumed his father and Alfred merely burrowed his face into Ivan's shoulder.

Please. Please make sure Papa is ok.

SO SORRY THIS IS A DAY LATE!

I had SO much homework it was ridiculous. Stupid APs and there stupidness. Grrr!
Also, this chapter was REALLY hard to write. Probably because Francis was in it but in a bad way.
You guys probably hate me now. In my defense, I do have this story under Hurt/Comfort.
You're going to hate me more from now on...
Maybe the humor in the last chapters was just to instill trust...*shifty eyes*
Lol, or maybe I'm just messing with ya.
Anyway, I feel like this chapter is really sterile, but I guess thats how it should feel.
Whatever, next chapter we find out Francis' fate and Arthur is adorable. Just sayin~

Review! Because even if you hate me now I still love you! With all my heart and more!
Oh and seriously more than 20 reviews for last chapter! Holy shit guys! Thats amazing!

Now make it 50!

hehe...just kidding...hehe...

Love you and Review!~