After they had entered Moscow, and Alfred had wormed his way into Natalya's confidences, the trio began to spend their time absorbed in their respective hobbies-of course, the hunts were still the same, but Alfred spent more time on the computer, while Ivan took care of their utensils. Speech was kept to a minimum. Moaning and swearing, of course, were not off limits, and Ivan had taken to using a pillow over his head instead of under whenever Alfred spent the night in Natalya's clutches.

However, most nights he was able to avoid the mayhem, slipping out when neither of them noticed in order to wander the streets. He would return home in the morning bruised, sometimes bloodied, but Alfred never questioned his disappearances, and Natalya had never asked to begin with. It was only after a month or so, unfortunately a night when Alfred had elected to stay up in the main room, that Ivan was stopped, the American tumbling out of his blanket to approach the taller man.

"Ivan? Hold up a second, I had something to ask you…"

"Alfred, I have to go."

"Go? See, that's the problem! Go where?" Alfred adjusted his glasses, thinking. "You aren't hunting without us, are you?"

"Alfred, how often have I left?"

"At least twice a week, usually more."

"And how often do we hunt?"

"Once a week…"

"Why on earth would I be hunting?"

"That's the question! Is there something you're not telling us?"

Ivan scoffed. "It isn't like you to be so concerned. It is none of your business."

"Listen, Vanya-"

"Ivan."

"Ivan, you're the one who got me here, you're the one I-you're the first friend I've had in a long time, and-"

"Friend, or boyfriend?"

The question threw Alfred off, and he furrowed his brow before replying. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean, have I been demoted to friend, or are we still together? Was that….something that happened?"

"What? No! I mean-we never officially got together, so-"

Ivan rolled his eyes. "I would have thought you begging me to fuck you was enough of an announcement."

"What? Wait, Ivan-" Alfred winced, shaking his head. "It's…it's not like that, I-"

"I have to go." Ivan tried to make his way toward the door again, but Alfred once again blocked his path.

"Hold it! Bastard, you distracted me-where do you go? Do you kill people?"

The Russian shifted, eventually shrugging. "Sometimes."

"Is it a hunt?"

"Not as we define it."

"Have you…found other people to hunt with? Is that it?"

"Not quite, no, it's-" He sighed harshly, glaring at Alfred. "Let me through."

"Let me come with."

"You'll be in the way."

"Of what?"

"Of-" Ivan massaged a temple, finally nodding. "Fine. Come with. But be quiet, and stay out of the way."

"Aye aye, captain." Alfred nodded, letting him through before moving to trail behind him. "So, where do we go?"

"The rendezvous point. Nowhere special."

"Wait, you rendezvous with these people? Who are they?"

"You will see. Now shut up!" Ivan glared at him, finally getting the point through to the blonde and was relieved to hear him fall silent. They walked in the shadows of the city, the noise of the cars overshadowing their footsteps, until Ivan turned to lead him into a small bar. Alfred glanced around at his surroundings, perplexed, then sat as Ivan sat in a small booth, opposite a hooded man.

The stranger stared at Alfred, finally asking Ivan a question in a quick spurt of Russian. Ivan shrugged, then replied in kind, watching Alfred before nodding. The stranger sighed, then shoved a piece of paper across the table, jabbing violently at imaginary space behind him before standing to go. Alfred blinked at the speed of the transaction, then looked to Ivan.

"You're a hit man."

"Shut up." Ivan stood to leave, tugging his jacket tighter as they headed outside again. Alfred tried to formulate a response, but failed, eventually stumbling as Ivan pulled him aside.

"I have favors to repay. This is the simplest method."

"Are you running drugs? Setting up brothels? What?"

"I do what we do best. There are a few people that needed disposal, and I know how to cover my tracks. We decided it would be easiest this way."

"We?"

Ivan sighed, bowing his head. "Getting new passports is not an easy process, Alfred."

"What are you saying?"

"Kiku had…items that needed to be delivered. I dropped them off when we first arrived. From there, I have been repaying our debt with my services."

"But-Ivan-" Alfred backed away, thinking. "What if you can't stop? What if they hold it over you forever, and-"

"Kiku is an honest man. And his employers have a sense of honor. I promise you, these will be the last few jobs."

"And you managed to do this for a month? How many people has it been?"

"It was not always that. I had to stand in as bodyguard once or twice, threaten a few…" Ivan suddenly grinned. "I don't think they know I can't use a gun."

Alfred shook his head, sighing. "So? What now?"

"You go home. You don't tell Natalya about this. And you let me do my job."

"But-I'm serious! What if it doesn't stop!"

"It will." Ivan growled, approaching him. "Now, either you go home, or I add you to the list."

Alfred paled, then grinned, chuckling faintly. "Good one! I was sold there, for a second, well done!" Ivan shrugged, scowl replaced with a small smile.

"I do try. Now, if I could-"

"Okay, okay, I'll go. But I want to hear about it when you get home, okay? I'll be up."

"It will be boring."

"I don't care."

Ivan shrugged. "If you insist. You know the way back?"

"Yes, Ivan, I'm a big kid. I know something of the city by now, I'll be fine."

"If you're sure. Don't get mugged. Or murdered."

"Right. Um, same to you." Alfred saluted, then turned to go, sighing. Ivan, a hit man? He supposed the idea wasn't too strange, after all-he was good at the hunt, so why not repay old debts with the talent? The fact that he hadn't told Alfred was a bit unsettling but…Alfred hadn't exactly been fair to him these past few weeks either. In either case, running drugs for some black market bigwig had to be more exciting than scanning news reports all day. Ivan was bound to have some stories.

Alfred grinned, resisting the urge to whistle to himself. His hit man, Ivan. Ivan, the hit man. Ivan "The Bear" Braginsky. Thinking up nicknames as he went, he wound his way back to the apartment, listening to the cars roar around him. Moscow was turning out to be more fun than he had imagined.