Hetalia kink meme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hetalia_kink) wrote2012-06-03 02:47 pm
hetalia_kink) wrote2012-06-03 02:47 pm
Hetalia Kink meme part 15
axis powers
hetalia kink meme
part 15
hetalia kink meme
part 15
Ahh yeah that is the super duper delayed Christmas reveal for 2009 LOL...just found the time to finish it now...
clean wallpaper version HERE
clean wallpaper version HERE
Bratva 18c/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-12 06:41 pm (UTC)(link)“Not when he's around, anyway.”
Alfred laughed helplessly. “Oh dear.”
-----
Trying to catch his breath, Ivan rolled off of Alfred, settling beside him and tugging him close.
“Mm, stay there...” Alfred murmured. “I like you on me.”
Ivan gave a tired smile. “It's very nice for sex. Not so much for sleep. You would wake up squished.”
“That's okay. It would be happy squished.”
“I see. And I still think I should take the couch and you should go to your own bed...”
“Naaah, Mattie's staying the night elsewhere. If he didn't want me borrowing his bed when he's away, he wouldn't have gotten a bigger bed than me in the first place.”
“We will have to do his laundry for him...”
Alfred glanced down at what they had done to his brother's sheets. “Yeah.”
“And you need to get a bigger bed.”
“No point. I'm not gonna live here forever...” Alfred's sex-happy face grew melancholy. “I've never not lived with him.”
Ivan kissed him. “But he will always be there, even if not in your house.”
“I know.” Alfred burrowed close, tucking his head under Ivan's chin. “Let's stay like this.”
Ivan wrapped an arm around him. “I'd like that.”
“I love you, Vanya.”
Ivan stroked a hand through Alfred's damp hair, wondering what good in his life he had done to deserve this. “I love you, too.”
-----
Alfred sang quietly to himself as he wiped down the bar. He didn't know many of the lyrics, and substituted most of the words with humming and 'doo doo'ing. It was hard to not be in a good mood. Tomorrow, after all, was their birthday. They had a big day full of fun and treats and friends planned. And then Ivan had a big night planned, though he had kept those plans to himself. Alfred was looking forward to finding out what they were.
The door swung open, admitting a pair of men. Alfred glanced up at them with a smile. “Sorry guys, closing time.” They just looked at him, almost curious. They appeared to be brothers, with auburn hair and nice suits. One had a bit of a squint, it was kind of cute. “But hey, I think I can whip up two more drinks. Go ahead and come on in.”
“Thank you,” the darker haired of the two said. Smiling, the brothers let the door shut and approached the bar.
no subject
(Anonymous) 2010-12-12 07:09 pm (UTC)(link)And now more good stuff is coming DX!
Re: Bratva 18c/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-12 07:18 pm (UTC)(link)I love the little snipets of their happy lives, and even if they were coming off the climax, it was still hot when I pictured their position...so Ivan hasn't lost his touch *shudder* How will Alfred feel about that when everything blows up? Poor Matt, too, he was being so happy...
Re: Bratva 18c/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-13 02:45 am (UTC)(link)And I do love the sweet and/or sexy scenes, too. I agree with above anon, even though this second-to-last scene starts after the smut it's still sexy.
Re: Bratva 18c/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-14 12:06 am (UTC)(link)Imma head to my corner and be a good little reader anon and wait patiently for it.
But just to let you know, author anon, there are very very few fics that I look forward to whenever I refresh the fills page, and yours are one of them. I cannot thank you enough not just for filling this, but continuously updating it as well. Much kudos for you.
Recaptcha: "zuligni vacancies"
Bratva 19a/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-14 10:21 pm (UTC)(link)Okay, Ivan was starting to get worried. What the hell were the boys doing? He knew that they were doing their own birthday thing, and his plans with Alfred weren't until later, but why couldn't he get a hold of him? Of either of them? Neither Alfred nor Matthew were answering their phones, and nobody answered when he knocked on their door.
Chances were good that they were doing something stupid, but that didn't stop worry from creeping into Ivan. He had always been able to somehow contact Alfred when he wanted to.
He considered calling Francis, but quickly changed his mind with a grimace. He did not want to think about both twins at the Frenchman's place in the morning. So he tried the only other thing he could think of. Alfred had worked the night before, maybe he could find a clue there.
Ivan stepped out of the car at the familiar street corner, and froze, heart missing a beat. The open sign was unlit, during the bar's open hours. There was a police car parked there.
Just a coincidence. It had to be. Somebody probably broke in while the place was closed. The boys were most likely passed out somewhere, already wasted.
The door was unlocked, so Ivan swept in. He took a deep breath, trying to fight down the rising panic at the sight of the bar's interior. Chairs were overturned on the floor. Shards of glass and pools of alcohol were scattered around where bottles had been thrown. The bar's owner was talking to Alfred's blonde co-worker, both looking worried, and a familiar police officer was talking to... Alfred!
Ivan paused for a moment, savoring the sight of his beloved, safe and sound, shoulders shaking as he cried. He must have been robbed during work. Officer Kirkland was patiently listening to whatever teary story Alfred was telling him.
The moment passed, and Ivan rushed over to the pair, gathering the boy into his arms. “Alfred! I was so worried when I could not get in touch with you. I'm so glad you are all right! Were you robbed?”
Alfred had gone stiff in his arms. “Ivan...” he said, voice hoarse. “Goddammit. I'm not Alfred.”
Ivan jerked away, staring at the tearstained face in horror. No... Matthew was here, talking to the cops, crying. Ivan went cold. No no no... “What... what happened...?” He didn't want to know. It was hard to breathe.
Matthew didn't answer, just looked away, wrapping his arms around himself.
“That's what we're trying to find out,” Kirkland said in his clipped accent, eyeing Ivan with suspicion. “The owner came to open up this morning, and found the door still unlocked. The bar was in disarray, as you can see, and there was some blood.” Ivan's heart froze again. “He called Alfred Jones' home, but only found his brother, who said Alfred had never come home last night.” He folded his arms. “And how do you know Mr. Jones, Braginsky?”
Ivan said nothing. He stared into space, mouth hanging open slightly, mind reeling. He kept mentally repeating No over and over.
“Well?”
“He's Alfred's boyfriend,” Matthew said. “How do you know Ivan?”
Kirkland ignored the question. “Well. That does make this a bit less mysterious.”
Ivan slowly turned back to look at him, swallowing thickly against the strangling panic. “It's... my fault?” Of course it was. If something happened to Alfred, it would have to be his fault.
“It does seem likely, don't you think?”
“Because he's rich?” Matthew asked softly.
Kirkland sighed. “No, not because he's rich.”
Matthew turned on Ivan, who avoided his eyes, still trying to remember to breathe. Matthew's eyes narrowed.
“They don't know what I am,” Ivan murmured to the cop. “Neither of them.” There was still a chance it was because Ivan was rich. There was always a chance it was kidnappers who wanted money.
Not a very good chance... “You tell him.”
Kirkland shrugged. “If you like. Ivan Braginsky is the head of the local branch of the Russian mafia.”
Bratva 19b/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-14 10:22 pm (UTC)(link)“Bloody hell!” Officer Kirkland said, holding Matthew back. “Are you suicidal, lad?”
“Oh, he already gave me permission...” Matthew said darkly. His struggles had ceased, and the cop released him.
“That is correct,” Ivan said, slowly sitting up. “I-”
“Shut up,” Matthew hissed. “You're disgusting. You're a selfish bastard! Do you care anything for Alfred at all? Was any of that good guy act he fell for true? I can't believe this whole time you've been lying and using him, putting him in danger, all for your own sel-”
Ivan was on his feet in an instant, dragging Matthew to eye level by his collar. “Don't.” Matthew gaped at him, eyes widening. Apparently it was dawning on him just what Ivan was. “Do not say those things. They are not true.”
“But...”
“Lying, yes. I have lied to Alfred. To keep him safe, to keep him from being scared, to have him know who I really am, inside. To keep him from leaving. I have not used him for my selfish needs.” Had he? Was it selfish to want uncompromised love from a good person? “I have been nothing but genuine when I have been with him. The Ivan he loves is the real Ivan. There's just another side to me. I hated lying, but I didn't know what else to do.”
“And you sure kept him safe,” Matthew muttered. “Put me down.”
Ivan released him, digging into an inner pocket. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Officer Kirkland reaching cautiously for his gun. Ignoring him, Ivan pulled out a box and tossed it to Matthew. “That was my gift to give Alfred today. Do you still believe I'm just a selfish bastard using him?”
Matthew opened the box, frowning at it. He removed the shiny object inside. “It's very nice, but we don't wear rings. It...” He trailed off, shoulders sagging. “Oh. You were going to...”
“You can hang onto it,” Ivan said. Because he wanted Alfred to get the ring, even if Ivan did not survive whatever it took to get him back. “I have something for you, too.” He handed Matthew another gift he had tucked away.
Matthew gave him a curious look as he tore the paper off and popped the lid up. “Oh. It's lovely.” He smiled wanly as he removed the polar bear figurine. By then, the cop had left them alone to talk with the others.
An awkward silence passed between them, both lost in their own grief. Then Ivan took a deep breath. “I couldn't have lovers, you know. Not real ones.”
“What?”
“With other men in the mafia, they just cared about power. Or were afraid of me. Or whatever, but they could never love me in that way. To everyone else, they were just plain afraid of me. Or disgusted. They walk away once I tell them. Then I met your brother, and he was... just the most wonderful person I had ever met, and we talked and he treated me like a normal human being. And I just couldn't bring myself to ruin that.”
Matthew toyed with the bear, then set it aside. “And what were you planning on doing after you married him? Keep up the lie forever? Or tell him after the honeymoon, figuring it's too late for him to back out?”
“I don't know...”
“God...” Matthew covered his face with his hands. “Now he's...”
Ivan shivered. He was trying desperately to not dwell on where Alfred was now. Is he scared? Is he hurting? Is he crying? Is he dead?
Matthew reached out behind himself, feeling for a chair before dropping into it. “He... and on our...” His shoulders shook. “And on top of everything, I'm probably gonna lose my job on my first week, how am I supposed to go in to work tomorrow and smile at everyone?” He looked up at Ivan in surprise. “I won't, will I?”
Ivan tilted his head, not understanding.
Bratva 19c/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-14 10:23 pm (UTC)(link)“You should go home,” Ivan said. He just couldn't find it in him to be angry at Matthew. Why should he? He was angry at himself.
The miserable young man nodded. “Francis should be here soon...”
“Oh, you called him?”
“Yeah... I asked him to meet me here. I didn't say why, but he could probably tell I was upset...” Tears again filled Matthew's red, swollen eyes. “We might've been opening our presents now. I bet he got me something nice. He acts stupid, but he pays attention. I could notice something I liked in a store tomorrow and make a passing comment about it, and he'd remember and get it for me on our next birthday.”
“I'll find him,” Ivan said quietly. “Or die trying.” He finally turned away, unable to look at Alfred's grieving twin any longer. His own eyes burned with unshed tears.
The door soon opened to admit Francis, who strode through the bar—which was looking a bit better now, the owner and bartender having been cleaning up some—looking around in confusion. His eyes lit on the cop, and he made a beeline in that direction. “Well hello, officer~”
Kirkland eyed him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Oh. British.” Francis walked away, noticing Matthew and heading over. “There you are.” It had always struck Ivan as odd that Francis never mixed the twins up. Ever. He could come across one when he was expecting to find the other, and still not make a mistake. “I've come to pick you up. What is wrong?” He looked around. “Why are you here? A robbery?”
Matthew slowly looked up at him, and Francis' face fell at the look of utter misery. “Alfred's been kidnapped,” he said dully. “Ivan's head of the Russian mafia. The two are probably related.”
Francis started to laugh, though it quickly trailed off at the looks on their faces. “You are serious?” He turned on Ivan, eyes wide.
And so the cycle of accusation started over, only Ivan was much less tolerant of Francis and the Frenchman was soon cowed into just comforting Matthew.
“Take him home,” Ivan said. “I need to get the hell out of here.” And do... what? Getting drunk, killing people, sending everyone in his house away so he could rage... nothing would help. He would just have to concentrate on finding Alfred. On planning what to do when the kidnappers contacted him. If he didn't hear from them... well, Alfred was probably dead then...
Fighting down a wave of nausea, Ivan fled from the bar.
-----
“I don't know...” Matthew bit his lip. “I should wait.”
“Open it,” Francis said gently.
He let out a breath and tore into the present from Alfred. The box contained a lot of tissue, which he flipped aside to reveal a picture book.
“Hmm.” Francis tilted his head. “He didn't think much of your reading abilities.”
“Oh...” Matthew lifted the book up, eyes filling with tears again. “No, this was our favorite book when we were little. It's been out of print for ages. How'd he get it?” He hugged it close to his chest as the tears spilled down his cheeks. “What am I gonna do?”
“I don't know... They're looking for him. And once we hear from-”
“Hear from who?” Matthew snapped, setting the book aside. “If they took Al because they want money from Ivan, then yeah, we'd probably hear from them. But if they're just... rival mafia, or other enemies of his... they'd just kill him! His body's probably in a ditch somewhere! Or at the bottom of a river!”
“You shouldn't think that way...”
Matthew stared at the floor, unable to stop thinking of Alfred's dead body, discarded somewhere like trash. He had to be dead. All because of the one person he had trusted and loved above all others. “It all makes so much sense now...”
“What does?” Francis said, voice low and soothing.
Bratva 19d/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-14 10:25 pm (UTC)(link)“Whoa whoa!” Francis stood, eyes wide. “Are you saying my aunt and uncle have dealings with the mafia?”
“They know him, anyway. Know him enough that they wouldn't even dream of turning down his boyfriend's brother for a job. Just how horrible is he?”
Francis didn't answer, eyes trailing to the remaining presents on the table. The ones that would remain unopened. “What did you get him?”
“A model. Of a Republic P-47 Thunderbolt.”
“A what?”
“World War Two plane.” Matthew smiled. “Want some cake?”
“I don't know if-”
“Just get it, okay?”
Francis nodded, sighing, and went to fetch the chocolate cake from the kitchen. He set it down on the table, and Matthew added two candles. Francis lit them.
Matthew made a wish, and blew one of the candles out.
“You missed one,” Francis said, but seemed to instantly regret the comment.
“It's not mine.” Matthew buried his face in his arms, body trembling as he cried. He didn't notice Francis sadly pinching out the other candle.
Re: Bratva 19d/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-14 10:47 pm (UTC)(link)“Well hello, officer~”
Kirkland eyed him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Oh. British.”
AWESOME XDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
yes, FrUK shipper is obviousXD
I think you nailed their reactions, author anon. Matt's rage and difficulty with dealing with his emotions was perfect; I cheered when he threw himself at Ivan, not even thinking about the consequences. The ending made my heart clench, his grief was so palpable...
even if you went a bit over-the-top with the children's books, a bit too melodramaticXDIvan, on the contrary, seems to be at a loss, and it fits so well with him! A powerful man, used to be in control, to change things to his liking, who now sees everything disappear without anything he can do...the info blackness must be driving him mad. Ah, Ivan, you should have told sooner...now it's all worse. What will he do? I loved when he got angry when Matt accused him of lying and taking advantage of Al!
that was sexy!Oh, and I love officer Kirkland; not only is picturing the character like that hot, but his atittude always amuses meXD
It had always struck Ivan as odd that Francis never mixed the twins up. Ever. He could come across one when he was expecting to find the other, and still not make a mistake.
I loved this. Even in the midst of all this big plot developments, little things like this say so much about the characters...Francs, for all his flirting, is observant ^^
Something tells me that Al will actually have a great time kidnapped by the Italian brosXD. If everything wasn't broken at the bar, I'd have said he didn't know he'd been kidnapped! I wonder who captured him; not the Italian boys, that's for sure. He'll probably feel worse about Ivan's lies than about being kidnapped...
Re: Bratva 19d/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-14 10:55 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Bratva 19d/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-14 10:58 pm (UTC)(link)Poor Al, poor Ivan and poor Mattie ;A; I know that it'll all end well and that Ivan will hopefully save Al, but I'm still on the edge of my seat.
That fic is just sooooo amazing, continue your good job !
Re: Bratva 19d/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-14 11:21 pm (UTC)(link)Marvelous setup, though--with the happy vacation in Russia an birthday planning to build up joy before crushing it with the kidnapping...aagh so intense emotions right now...
Amazing update! Can't wait for more!
Re: Bratva 19d/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-15 12:41 am (UTC)(link)Re: Bratva 19d/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-15 01:52 am (UTC)(link)Re: Bratva 19d/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-15 04:51 pm (UTC)(link)Ivan, you're sweet and all but that doesn't make you not an idiot. Alfred shouldn't let you off the hook easily once you've rescued him.
What I love about this is that throughout the story Ivan's been pretty much just facepalming at how everyone and their blind old auntie knows he has a boyfriend, and now it's coming back to bite his sexy Russian ass big time.
Bratva 20a/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-18 02:51 am (UTC)(link)They never got to find out Eduard's move. The door slammed open and Ivan stormed into the room like a hurricane, flinging the table aside with one swipe of his hand. Chips and cards and alcohol went flying. The men scattered with shouts of alarm.
“Boss!” Raivis yelped, especially worried as he had long ago been forbidden from joining in on the adults' games. He trembled when Ivan's horrifying gaze fell on him, but it quickly passed him over to take in everyone else.
“Someone has kidnapped Alfred,” Ivan said, voice deadly quiet. “My bets are on the Italians, but we don't know for sure.”
“Oh no,” Toris gasped.
“I want you to find out for sure. I want you to find him. The police are working on it, but we all know how competent they are...” The men smiled slightly and nodded, and Ivan's glare intensified. “Go!”
They bolted, tripping over each other in their haste to get away. All but one, who stood his ground and stared nervously at his feet.
“You do not wish to go, Aleksei?” Ivan had never liked the man.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah... well, boss, it's just that... you don't need all of us, do you? There's other things that need to be done besides looking for the kid...”
Ivan smiled at him. “You're right, of course.”
“You think so?”
“I do. He's only one person, yes?”
Aleksei nodded, looking relieved.
“So you continue with your gaming, and whatever other important business you have.”
“Boss?”
Ivan's smile never wavered as he pulled a gun out, taking aim at the terrified man. Aleksei had probably never moved so fast in his life, scrambling toward the door. Ivan didn't even especially care if he hit or not when he fired, and the bullet slammed into the wall where Aleksei's head had been an instant before.
“I missed,” Ivan sighed. He glanced toward the men who had returned to investigate. “Oh well. Does anyone else have anything better to do?”
Nobody did.
-----
Alfred wondered how much time had passed. There was no way of knowing, in an unlit basement with no windows. His foot itched, but he was thoroughly tied to a chair and couldn't do much about that. He was hungry, but hadn't seen anybody since they had first tied him up and left. He was still sore from the initial attack. What did those nice-seeming brothers want with him? Money, he figured. It had to be about money. Access to Ivan's money was the only thing Alfred had that anyone would want!
Ivan... he must be so worried. And Mattie. Alfred felt a twinge of guilt, knowing they were upset because of him. The kidnappers had looked so small and weak, how could they have overpowered him? Well, he had been holding his own pretty well, until their larger blond friend had joined in.
When the doorway finally creaked open, Alfred wasn't sure whether to be more worried or relieved. He swallowed and assured himself that he was not at all afraid at the sound of footsteps descending the stairs.
Relief overpowered worry at the smell of food. Good smelling food. He had no idea how long it had been since he last had something to eat, but it felt like days, though he knew that couldn't be right.
A bare bulb hanging from the ceiling was clicked on, and Alfred winced at the sudden onslaught of light. Standing before him was one of the brothers, the one with the squint. He was holding a plate of spaghetti.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he said. He had an accent, but Alfred had never been good at placing accents. Spanish? “Do you like spaghetti, Mr. Jones? Can I call you Alfred?”
“You kidnapped me and tied me up,” Alfred muttered. “You can probably do what you like.”
“Sorry...” The possibly Spanish young man (he couldn't have been much older than Alfred!) set the steaming plate aside and untied Alfred's arms. He plunked the plate down by Alfred, watching almost expectantly.
Bratva 20b/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-18 02:54 am (UTC)(link)“You need to ask?” he said, almost sounding sad.
“Uh. Yeah. I mean, I figure it's for ransom money, but...”
“Ransom money?” He tilted his head, forehead wrinkling. “Why would we want money? We are very wealthy.”
Alfred froze. If they didn't want money... “Who are you?”
He seemed utterly baffled that Alfred didn't know. “We are Cosa Nostra.”
“I don't speak Spanish.”
“It's Italian. We're mafia.”
“Mafia?” Alfred paused in his eating again. The mafia? The mafia? What did they want with him? “I think you've got the wrong guy.” It was all just a mistake. “Mistaken identity, perhaps?” What had Matthew gotten himself into?
“I don't think so,” the Italian said, gesturing for Alfred to keep eating. “Our enemies are the Russian mafia. You're their leader's lover. Unless there's another Alfred Jones who looks like you, you're the one we want.”
What...? Alfred set the plate aside, no longer hungry. “That's ridiculous. I am not.”
“You really don't know?”
“That's either really funny or really sad,” another voice said, and the other Italian joined them, stomping down the stairs. “You'd have to be pretty stupid and blind to be dating Ivan Braginsky all this time and not know that.”
Alfred flinched at the mention of his name, throat closing. That couldn't be true! Ivan was the sweetest man he knew. “You're lying.”
“Nope, sorry.”
“You are! He's a nice, sweet, loving person.”
“So am I!” the first brother said.
“When we're not working,” the other added.
“He wouldn't lie to me!”
The darker-haired brother snorted. “Would you start dating a mafia boss?”
“Of course not!”
“There you go, then. That's why he lied.”
“But...” Alfred looked back and forth between them, desperately looking for signs of lying. That made no sense at all! Ivan was no criminal. He... well, yes, he had a lot more money than a small business owner should have when he didn't come from a rich family. And Alfred still wasn't entirely sure just what that business was. And he had a lot of Russiany people hanging around his house. And people had started treating Alfred with fear and respect, and Ivan didn't like taking Alfred to places he frequented where he would be known... and...
“I think it's dawning on him,” the second Italian said.
“No!” Alfred said, trying to shake off the sensation of drowning. “No, he... he isn't a criminal. Oh! We were mugged!” Not a mugger, his traitorous mind said, didn't demand our money, was dressed too nice, just wanted to kill him... “Ivan didn't do anything! He was freaked out. If he really was what you say he is, he'd have been much more kickass.”
“Unless he was with somebody he didn't want to reveal himself to. Are you done with that? We'd really like to tie you back up and go.”
“I'm done...”
The darker-haired one picked up the half-eaten spaghetti and left. The remaining brother gazed sadly at Alfred. “I'm sorry we had to be the ones to tell you. That was very rude of him to keep secrets.”
Alfred stared dully at him. “So what... what do you want from Ivan, if not money?”
“Something he won't like, and probably won't agree to.” The Italian sighed, stooping over to retie Alfred's arms to the chair. “And if he doesn't, we'll have to kill you. I'm really sorry!” He backed away and turned the light off, plunging Alfred back into darkness, then retreated up the stairs. The door slammed shut, and Alfred allowed his tears to fall freely.
“That bastard...” he whispered brokenly. “He... he lied! He betrayed me!” He thought of all the times he had told Ivan everything, had told Ivan he could never lie to him. Ivan had never said that in return.
No no, he was letting his kidnappers get to him. Ivan couldn't be a criminal, he would never deceive Alfred.
Re: Bratva 20a/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-18 02:56 am (UTC)(link)Bratva 20c/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-18 02:56 am (UTC)(link)Alfred felt his life crumble around him. It had all been a lie. Ivan was out cheating and swindling and robbing and then going to Alfred's bed afterward and lying about everything.
And yet... Alfred just couldn't hate him. He couldn't believe that Ivan had lied about loving him. Nobody was that good of an actor. Nobody would feign love just to get laid, when one was a powerful mob boss who could fuck anyone they wanted. The Italians seemed to think Ivan had lied so as not to be rejected...
But he still lied and deceived. He still did... god knew what. Horrible illegal stuff. He... hurt people (Alfred's brain shied away from the 'k' word). It was next to impossible to wrap his brain around the idea of Ivan—sweet, adorable, adoring, perfect Ivan—doing anything like that. For the first time in this ordeal, Alfred thought that this couldn't be happening.
But it was. And what did any of that matter when Alfred was going to die soon, anyway?
The door soon banged open again and heavy footsteps rapidly moved down the stairs. Alfred again went through the process of being blinded by the abrupt light, until he was able to make out the newcomer. It was the third kidnapper. He was tall, stern-looking, and his blond hair was slicked back. He did not look Italian.
“They kind of forgot one of the jobs I gave them,” he said, in yet another accent. German? “Is it true you didn't know about Braginsky?”
“Shut up.”
The German just shrugged. He bent, tugging something out of his boot. A knife. Alfred cringed, struggling against the ropes. Were they going to kill him already? Had Ivan already given his answer? Just because the love of his life was a fucking liar and his life was pretty much meaningless and over didn't mean Alfred actually wanted to die.
“Stop fidgeting. I need to send the bastard a note.”
“Don't call him that!” Alfred said, regardless of the fact he had been doing the same. He had the right to, after all. The German stepped closer and Alfred swallowed. He sat up straight, determined to meet any fate with dignity.
The blond reached out and grabbed Alfred's hair—specifically, the cowlick that always stuck up. With one sweep of his blade, he severed the lock of hair.
“Hey!” Alfred yelped.
He eyed the captive. “Are you seriously whining about losing something that will grow back...?” The unspoken threat hung in the air, and Alfred quickly shook his head.
“What do you want from him?” Alfred again asked.
The German smoothed the lock of hair between his fingers. “We don't like the Russian mafia.”
“I gathered.”
“We'd like them to leave.”
“Oh, you're just asking them to leave?”
“Most of them.” He turned to leave, clicking off the light. “Except Braginsky.”
“You'll kill him?” Alfred said weakly.
“Good guess.” And Alfred was once again left alone in the dark room, with nothing for company but his miserable, confused thoughts, and the overwhelming feeling of betrayal.
Re: Bratva 20c/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-18 03:17 am (UTC)(link)This continues to be awesomely tense and wonderful, eeeeeeeeek.
Re: Bratva 20c/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-18 03:26 am (UTC)(link)Oh god the cliffhangers ... XD
Re: Bratva 20c/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-18 06:16 am (UTC)(link)WHY IS THIS SO PERFECT?!
Anon you have my heart ;3;
Bratva 21a/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-21 12:45 am (UTC)(link)Matthew snorted. Understanding, right. That was because Francis had been quick to take advantage of their newfound connections. He had secured himself a job, as well as ensured Matthew would keep his even during this unpleasant time of family emergency, by implying that Ivan would be very unhappy otherwise. It was disgusting. “I'm fine.”
“You're not. You look terrible.”
“Seriously, I'm fine.”
The waiter sighed. “You've been walking around with those same steaks for a lot longer than necessary. What table are they going to?”
“Uh...”
“Go home.”
Matthew gave up. “Okay.”
So Matthew left work early and made his way home. He changed into more comfortable clothes, and turned the television on to keep himself company. He watched game shows until thirst sent him to the kitchen, and he stared into the fridge. Did he want beer or juice? Root beer or milk? He turned, eyeing the bottle of vodka Alfred had picked up in Moscow. That looked good. He turned back to the fridge, pondering, then swung it shut and marched over to the bottle. He would get lost in oblivion. Wake up feeling like shit, possibly in bed with a stranger, possibly tattooed or... Hey, he should get tattooed! Alfred had wanted Matthew to get a tattoo.
But before he could open it, a knock came at the door. Matthew swallowed thickly, afraid of what news was being brought to him. He set the vodka down and shuffled back to the living room as the knocking continued. Standing on the other side of the door was Ivan. Matthew's eyes narrowed, hand twitching with desire to just slam the door shut again.
His heart lurched at Ivan's grim expression. Not really a good sign.
“They found his body?” Matthew said dully.
Ivan's amethyst eyes flashed. “No.”
“Then what is it?”
Ivan held up an envelope with his name on it. “I received this today. I thought we might see what it says together.”
Matthew stared at the envelope, a gasp escaping. “Is that from...?” If it was, that meant Alfred was probably alive!
“I would assume so.” He stepped into the room, tearing the envelope open. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Matthew repeated, voice climbing an octave.
Ivan removed a familiar lock of hair, and Matthew dropped onto the couch, unable to tear his eyes away. “Oh...”
“It's okay,” Ivan said softly. “They could have lopped off something a lot worse.” He set the hair aside and tugged out the sheet of paper, eyes scanning its contents. Matthew watched him, on the verge of panic. He was just about to rip the note away to read it himself when Ivan heaved a sigh. “I knew it was them.”
“Who, dammit?”
“The mafia. The Italian mafia, that is.”
Matthew drew his knees up to his chest, stomach plummeting. “Fuck. What the hell do they want?”
“They want the Russian mafia to go away. Preferably to Russia. Except for me.” Ivan gave a humorless, chilling laugh. “They want me to turn myself in to them. To kill.”
“Oh god...”
“Within the week, or they'll kill him.”
“So it's you or him...”
“It seems that way.” Ivan settled onto the couch beside Matthew. “I will do whatever it takes to get him back. I will try and rescue him with nobody dying—except them if at all possible—but if I cannot, I will do what they say.”
“Ivan...” It was hard to hate somebody after they said something like that.
“Hopefully it won't come to that. I do have an idea.”
Matthew looked up sharply, breath catching. “You do?” He didn't dare hope.
Ivan nodded, crossing his arms. “I just happen to know somebody with a bit of an inside edge who owes me a favor.”
-----
“Let me go!” Alfred said the second the door swung open. Another day tied to a chair in the dark had done wonders for his pride. “What the hell is wrong with you? I don't have anything to do with your goddamn mob wars. Leave us alone!”
“I'm sorry!” the nicer Italian said, turning the light on and setting a plate of lasagna and bottle of water down.
Bratva 21b/??
(Anonymous) 2010-12-21 12:49 am (UTC)(link)“Not entirely.” He again untied Alfred's arms so he could eat.
“It is! Do you know what will happen if you kill me? Ivan will kill all of you!” Of that he had no doubt. He probably would have thought that before knowing what Ivan was.
“We'll see. Do you like that?”
Alfred stretched his sore arms, then tried a bite of lasagna. “Yeah, it's good. What did you mean, not entirely?”
The Italian wouldn't meet Alfred's eyes. “Well... we figure, after going to all this trouble, we should get something for it, even if it's not what we want. Even if it's only money.”
“I don't have any money.”
“No... but two things we deal in are human trafficking, and organ trafficking. We'll have to figure out which way would be more profitable.”
Alfred stared at him in growing horror, mind shuddering away from either option. “You can't do that...”
“Sorry.”
“You can't! That's...”
“The sort of thing your boyfriend does.”
Alfred shook his head. “I don't care what you say, he wouldn't do something so evil!”
He opened his squinty eyes, glaring at Alfred. “He beats people who cross him to death with a faucet pipe, giggling all the while as they scream. He does plenty of evil, Alfred.”
Faucet pipe. Alfred had seen that pipe, had touched it and picked it up. He had thought it was rusty! His stomach lurched. “Oh god...”
“I'm sorry.” He looked like he genuinely regretted his words. “If he really cares for you, maybe he will give in to our demands.”
Alfred shook his head. “He's a horrible lying bastard. Our entire relationship was filled with deceit. He has done what I imagine are monstrous crimes. I don't know that I can ever forgive him. But I still love him, and if one of us has to die, I don't want it to be him...”
His captor stared at Alfred in surprise, jaw hanging open.
Alfred just shrugged, wolfing down the lasagna. He set the empty plate aside and reached for the water bottle. “So what is your name?”
“Um...”
“I see no reason not to tell me. I'll be dead or whatever before the week's out, and Ivan already knows who you are.”
“Oh. I guess you're right. I'm Feliciano. My brother's Lovino.”
Alfred gulped down some water. “And the German?”
“Ludwig.”
“What's up with him in the Italian mafia, anyway?”
“Oh... Ludwig, he and I...” Feliciano looked away again, face reddening.
“Ah. I see.” Alfred added the bottle to the empty plate. “The mafia sure is gay.”
Feliciano giggled. “I guess it is! Oh good, you can joke about it now?”
Alfred ignored that. He had no idea what to think about Ivan and the mafia. Some moments he couldn't help but remember their wonderful relationship and how much they loved each other. Others, he mused that if they really wanted to kill Ivan, their best bet was to unleash Alfred on him... “So anyway. You're sure nice and friendly for someone who's going to chop my organs out. Or... what was the other one? Sell me into sex slavery...”
“I wouldn't do any of that personally. And if it makes you feel better, I voted for killing you for organs! Less suffering that way.”
“Aren't you a peach.”
“Work's work. I'm sure it's the same way for your man.”
Alfred snorted. “If you believe that, why do you want to kill him?”
“Never mind.”
Alfred shrugged. He stretched his arms out some more, relishing the time before they were tied down once again. If he got out of this alive, he was never going to sit in a chair again. He'd have to pull a treadmill up to the dinner table or something.
“There is something I've been wondering about Braginsky,” Feliciano said.
“Well I'm not talking.”
“It's not a big mafia secret, just something I heard rumors about and have been curious. Is it true he has a really-”
“Oh god!” Alfred yelped. “Don't tell me you guys heard about that, too!”
The Italian nodded, grinning. “I guess I'm something of a car enthusiast, so that interested me. Ludwig, too.”
“Car...?” Alfred chuckled. “Ohh. Um, well, I actually wouldn't know. He never told me about what cars he owns besides the limo, and I didn't visit him at home much.”
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