[Fanfic] Monster Mash 8
Title: Monster Mash 8
Characters: Francis, Arthur, Alfred, Ludwig, Feliciano and a surprise!
Rating: 12
Warnings: Am I evil? I think I'm a little bit evil. But yeah, not much in this one to warn over.
Summary: Originally inspired by this. (Link to pic for those who don't have Pixiv here.) Due to popular demand, what was a oneshot has now spawned a fic.
“Cold!” yelped Alfred, taking one step out into the night air and then three steps back into the house, wrapping his arms around himself and gritting his teeth. Francis, bundled up in so many layers of clothing he felt and probably looked like an obese hippo, rubbed his hands through his gloves. “Why is it so cold?! It’s only like, November 24th!” he whined, glaring at the outside.
Feliciano padded past them, wolf fur providing him with protection, but even he flinched as the frozen wind gusted across the front porch. Ludwig was more stoic, but his posture indicated he was at least aware of the cold. He held a bag in his mouth, full of clothes. Arthur, on the other hand, was wearing no more than he would in summer, arms folded and looking at the remaining two in the house with annoyance.
“Oh belt up Alfred. I’ll admit the temperature difference is large compared to the start of the month but we’re still a while from the Thames freezing over.” He said, rolling his eyes. Francis wondered if one day they would exasperate him enough to get those eyes to roll straight out of his head. “It’s not exactly California but will you please stop being such a child?”
“Don’t wanna.” Alfred pouted, voice muffled by his scarf. “How cold is it?”
“About -4 Celsius, why?” Arthur said, hands in the pockets of his crisp looking waterproof coat.
After a moment of calculating that in Fahrenheit, Alfred shook his head rapidly. “Oh hell no I am not going out there!” he protested, folding his arms determinedly. Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated.
“The snow is predicted to come any day now. You and Francis are going to need food and there’s hardly any left in the house thanks to uninvited guests.” A poisonous green glare shot at the wolves, which Ludwig stoutly ignored. Feliciano seemed too interested in how the fountain had frozen. “And I won’t be able to hunt properly in the snow; anyone would be able to follow me back. We have to get food now, or else starve until the snow goes.”
Alfred pouted sulkily, looking 9 instead of 19. “Only if we get to have McDonald’s tonight.” Was the ultimatum. Arthur grimaced at the same time as Francis.
“Bloody- fine, get McDonald’s. Now, you have to drive Francis in to town, Bristol will do, to get shopping. The wolves are getting their own food on their own budget. I’m going on a hunt. We’re all to be back here by 1am or I’m locking the doors and you can sleep in the shed. Understood?” Arthur sounded like some sort of army officer, Francis mused. What a rag-tag group he was commanding, though.
Alfred seemed to get the same impression, because he saluted with a grin. “Yessir, Captain Kirkland.”
A smirk curled at the vampire’s lip. “Right, it’s 9pm now, so I’ll see you in 4 hours or else.” And with that, he took off at a run into the forest, disappearing between the trees like he’d never been there at all. The wolves also started running, just as fast, but in the other direction, Feliciano’s wagging tail vanishing into the dark as well.
Alfred took a few more brave steps out of the house, drawing in on himself as the cruel wind blew his scarf half off. Blonde hair was half hidden under a hat that Francis suspected Arthur had knitted himself. “He’s such a paranoid old man. I bet it won’t even snow that hard.” Alfred muttered, carefully making his way down the icy steps. Francis closed the door to the house, and followed him.
“Don’t tempt fate, mon cher.” He said, slightly muffled by his own scarf and several jackets zipped up to the neck. “You’re practically asking for it.”
Gloved fingers fumbled with the car keys for a moment, before he managed to unlock the door and get in hurriedly. Francis tapped on the passenger side door, prompting Alfred to unlock the other side. The inside of the car was just as cold, but it was sheltered from the wind. Alfred was muttering something about stupid backwards English roads and cars, trying to get the engine to turn over. The cold made it shudder in several false starts, before finally juddering to life. On the bright side, thought Francis, if they crashed, at least he would have lots of padding to protect him, with all these clothes on.
If Alfred was deliberately trying to kill him, they wouldn’t even slow him down, but Francis tried to put such things from his mind. The more concerned he acted, the faster Alfred would likely catch on, and that was the last thing Francis wanted. If he had to die, he’d prefer it not to be on the receiving end of a vengeful teenage murderer’s chainsaw.
It seemed they weren’t the only ones who had the idea of last minute shopping. The late night stores were packed with people when they were usually deserted at such an hour. The staff were dashing about everywhere, trying to attend to everything at once despite having only the evening shift workers to do it. Once in a while Alfred would follow after one with his eyes, but then dismiss them. Despite not having a chance to kill any one in a while, he was holding up pretty well under temptation. Francis certainly appreciated his self control when they had to spend a long time talking with the butcher in the meat section over certain cuts of beef. Before long, Alfred got bored and said he was going to the bakery, which obviously meant he was going to get a cake of some kind.
The butcher was from France himself, and before long Francis had got carried away in a friendly conversation with the man, glad to be able to speak French again with someone who understood. He got so engrossed that he barely noticed when someone behind them cleared their throat politely.
A young man, possibly in his early 20s, smiled hesitantly at them. Surprisingly, Francis thought he looked quite similar to himself, with blonde hair curling and stopping just short of being girlishly long. His glasses were tinted slightly, hinting at a sight problem, but he could see his eyes were an interesting purple colour behind them. The pale, almost sickly pallor of his skin made Francis wonder if the boy was albino.
“Excuse me sirs.” The young man said in French, fluent sounding but with an obvious accent. “I’m sorry for disrupting you. I just need to buy some pork and then I’ll let you resume your conversation.”
“Oh I’m so sorry.” Francis apologised, picking up his order from the counter. “I didn’t know you were behind me. Your French is quite good.”
The boy beamed. “Thank you! I’m from Quebec.”
Ahh, that explained the accent. “Go ahead and get your order, I was done anyway. Have a nice evening!”
“Ah- you too!” the young man waved as Francis walked off to where he knew he’d find Alfred; near anything sweet. True enough, the boy had his nose pressed to the glass of the cake display cabinet.
“Oh man Francis.” He said longingly as the Frenchman drew closer, not taking his eyes off the cakes. “I could eat all of them…”
Francis didn’t doubt that he could. “You want one?”
“All of them.” Alfred licked his lips. If Gilbert ever did manage to drag this boy to hell, there would be a fight between Greed and Wrath over his soul. “But that one the most.” He pointed to a cute looking cake amongst a collection that all seemed to have flags of the world on them. He had, of course, selected the American one.
“If we get it, you forfeit your right to eat McDonalds.”
Alfred drew back as though disgusted. “What? Oh no way. I’m definitely getting a burger. Come on, let’s pay and go.”
They proceeded through the checkout as normal, Alfred completely ignoring the till girl’s excessive flirting and the way she leaned forward on the counter so he could see her admittedly impressive cleavage. Francis wasn’t going to turn down second hand goods. As Alfred packed the last item into a bag and hefted six of them at once, Francis noticed the boy from earlier looking over at them from one of the other tills. Francis was about to wave, when he noticed the expression on the boy’s face, and that he wasn’t looking at him.
He was looking at Alfred, completely disbelieving.
“Merde.” He muttered under his breath, moving beside Alfred and walking quickly. “Alfred, we have to get out of here. I think someone back there just recognised you.”
Alfred’s head whipped round, scanning behind him. “What, really?”
“Don’t look you idiot!” Francis hissed, pushing him out of the shop and towards the car. “Drive home, and quickly, so we can lose them.”
That boy was from Quebec. The news of the Chainsaw Killer was all over North America; of course he’d be familiar with his face. Disappeared or not, the man hunt for the teen murderer was still on. What if he reported what he saw? No matter how fast and dangerously Alfred drove, Francis couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched, followed. But that was impossible. By the time they were twisting through the country roads on the way to Arthur’s house, there were no other cars but their own. And yet, that feeling wouldn’t go away, so much so that when they finally reached the house, he scanned the driveway for a whole minute, looking for signs that someone was coming.
He nearly had a heart attack when the bushes rustled, and Feliciano walked out, fully clothed and in human form, shortly followed by Ludwig. They didn’t seem to mind the cold, and Feliciano was jabbering away happily like nothing was wrong.
“Ve, and it looks like Arthur’s going to be the last one back after all!” the cheerful Italian exclaimed, looking at both Francis and Alfred. “That’s um…”
“Ironic.” Supplied Ludwig.
“Yeah! That one!”
“Francis thinks someone followed us.” Alfred explained, not seeming too bothered by it now that they were out of the public eye. “If it’s just one, do you guys wanna help me kill him?”
Feliciano drooped. “Ve, I don’t like fighting. Ludwig used to! But now he only does it in self defence since his Alpha was-”
“Feliciano.” The other wolf said warningly. The boy in question shut up quickly. “If he proves to be a threat, I will assist you in neutralising him.”
“Oooh, when you say it like that in your accent it makes you sound all military.” Alfred laughed, marching up the stairs with bags of shopping in hand. “Ein, zwei, ein, zwei!”
Francis prayed for patience. If Alfred wasn’t going to take this seriously then the Frenchman began to wonder why he bothered in the first place.
“Alfred…”
The breathless voice hadn’t come from any of them. They jumped back in surprise as another person seemed to appear out of thin air. No, they’d simply moved very fast, stopping right next to Francis, staring up at the teen on the stairs. Francis tried to control his racing heartbeat as he stared at the exact same boy from earlier in the shop. He was windswept, his clothes looking beaten up compared to earlier and there were leaves in his hair, like he’d lost a fight with a bush. He was standing stock still in an unnatural way, and if it weren’t for the way his eyes kept getting wider and wider, Francis would have thought he’d frozen solid.
Alfred dropped the shopping with a loud thud, the sound of several jars cracking accompanying it. His mouth dropped open.
“Mattie…”
Francis looked from the boy on the steps, to the boy next to them. Now he compared them, they looked strangely alike; similar height, hair colours, and body structures. Their faces were practically identical. It was uncanny.
“You’re alive!” They both cried at the same time, and even their voices were like one person speaking with two accents.
He suddenly became aware of the whimpering sounds Feliciano was making, hiding behind Ludwig slightly. The taller blonde was standing warily, watching the newcomer with proverbial hackles raised. Someone walked around from the side of the house, dragging something with them. As soon as he laid eyes on the scene, Arthur paused in pulling his meal along, looking between the teen murderer and the strange newcomer with an expression that amounted to “oh crap.”
The body’s scent was easily caught from here, and as the new boy’s head turned, Francis saw his eyes burn a dim red.
“Arthur, what’s going on?” they both spoke again, glancing back at each other as their voices harmonised.
“Erm.” The vampire started, red eyes like little pinpricks in the dark. “I can explain.”
Monster Mash 9
Notes:
- Can you explain, Arthur? Can you? Better question; can you do it before Alfred does something stupid?
Characters: Francis, Arthur, Alfred, Ludwig, Feliciano and a surprise!
Rating: 12
Warnings: Am I evil? I think I'm a little bit evil. But yeah, not much in this one to warn over.
Summary: Originally inspired by this. (Link to pic for those who don't have Pixiv here.) Due to popular demand, what was a oneshot has now spawned a fic.
“Cold!” yelped Alfred, taking one step out into the night air and then three steps back into the house, wrapping his arms around himself and gritting his teeth. Francis, bundled up in so many layers of clothing he felt and probably looked like an obese hippo, rubbed his hands through his gloves. “Why is it so cold?! It’s only like, November 24th!” he whined, glaring at the outside.
Feliciano padded past them, wolf fur providing him with protection, but even he flinched as the frozen wind gusted across the front porch. Ludwig was more stoic, but his posture indicated he was at least aware of the cold. He held a bag in his mouth, full of clothes. Arthur, on the other hand, was wearing no more than he would in summer, arms folded and looking at the remaining two in the house with annoyance.
“Oh belt up Alfred. I’ll admit the temperature difference is large compared to the start of the month but we’re still a while from the Thames freezing over.” He said, rolling his eyes. Francis wondered if one day they would exasperate him enough to get those eyes to roll straight out of his head. “It’s not exactly California but will you please stop being such a child?”
“Don’t wanna.” Alfred pouted, voice muffled by his scarf. “How cold is it?”
“About -4 Celsius, why?” Arthur said, hands in the pockets of his crisp looking waterproof coat.
After a moment of calculating that in Fahrenheit, Alfred shook his head rapidly. “Oh hell no I am not going out there!” he protested, folding his arms determinedly. Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated.
“The snow is predicted to come any day now. You and Francis are going to need food and there’s hardly any left in the house thanks to uninvited guests.” A poisonous green glare shot at the wolves, which Ludwig stoutly ignored. Feliciano seemed too interested in how the fountain had frozen. “And I won’t be able to hunt properly in the snow; anyone would be able to follow me back. We have to get food now, or else starve until the snow goes.”
Alfred pouted sulkily, looking 9 instead of 19. “Only if we get to have McDonald’s tonight.” Was the ultimatum. Arthur grimaced at the same time as Francis.
“Bloody- fine, get McDonald’s. Now, you have to drive Francis in to town, Bristol will do, to get shopping. The wolves are getting their own food on their own budget. I’m going on a hunt. We’re all to be back here by 1am or I’m locking the doors and you can sleep in the shed. Understood?” Arthur sounded like some sort of army officer, Francis mused. What a rag-tag group he was commanding, though.
Alfred seemed to get the same impression, because he saluted with a grin. “Yessir, Captain Kirkland.”
A smirk curled at the vampire’s lip. “Right, it’s 9pm now, so I’ll see you in 4 hours or else.” And with that, he took off at a run into the forest, disappearing between the trees like he’d never been there at all. The wolves also started running, just as fast, but in the other direction, Feliciano’s wagging tail vanishing into the dark as well.
Alfred took a few more brave steps out of the house, drawing in on himself as the cruel wind blew his scarf half off. Blonde hair was half hidden under a hat that Francis suspected Arthur had knitted himself. “He’s such a paranoid old man. I bet it won’t even snow that hard.” Alfred muttered, carefully making his way down the icy steps. Francis closed the door to the house, and followed him.
“Don’t tempt fate, mon cher.” He said, slightly muffled by his own scarf and several jackets zipped up to the neck. “You’re practically asking for it.”
Gloved fingers fumbled with the car keys for a moment, before he managed to unlock the door and get in hurriedly. Francis tapped on the passenger side door, prompting Alfred to unlock the other side. The inside of the car was just as cold, but it was sheltered from the wind. Alfred was muttering something about stupid backwards English roads and cars, trying to get the engine to turn over. The cold made it shudder in several false starts, before finally juddering to life. On the bright side, thought Francis, if they crashed, at least he would have lots of padding to protect him, with all these clothes on.
If Alfred was deliberately trying to kill him, they wouldn’t even slow him down, but Francis tried to put such things from his mind. The more concerned he acted, the faster Alfred would likely catch on, and that was the last thing Francis wanted. If he had to die, he’d prefer it not to be on the receiving end of a vengeful teenage murderer’s chainsaw.
It seemed they weren’t the only ones who had the idea of last minute shopping. The late night stores were packed with people when they were usually deserted at such an hour. The staff were dashing about everywhere, trying to attend to everything at once despite having only the evening shift workers to do it. Once in a while Alfred would follow after one with his eyes, but then dismiss them. Despite not having a chance to kill any one in a while, he was holding up pretty well under temptation. Francis certainly appreciated his self control when they had to spend a long time talking with the butcher in the meat section over certain cuts of beef. Before long, Alfred got bored and said he was going to the bakery, which obviously meant he was going to get a cake of some kind.
The butcher was from France himself, and before long Francis had got carried away in a friendly conversation with the man, glad to be able to speak French again with someone who understood. He got so engrossed that he barely noticed when someone behind them cleared their throat politely.
A young man, possibly in his early 20s, smiled hesitantly at them. Surprisingly, Francis thought he looked quite similar to himself, with blonde hair curling and stopping just short of being girlishly long. His glasses were tinted slightly, hinting at a sight problem, but he could see his eyes were an interesting purple colour behind them. The pale, almost sickly pallor of his skin made Francis wonder if the boy was albino.
“Excuse me sirs.” The young man said in French, fluent sounding but with an obvious accent. “I’m sorry for disrupting you. I just need to buy some pork and then I’ll let you resume your conversation.”
“Oh I’m so sorry.” Francis apologised, picking up his order from the counter. “I didn’t know you were behind me. Your French is quite good.”
The boy beamed. “Thank you! I’m from Quebec.”
Ahh, that explained the accent. “Go ahead and get your order, I was done anyway. Have a nice evening!”
“Ah- you too!” the young man waved as Francis walked off to where he knew he’d find Alfred; near anything sweet. True enough, the boy had his nose pressed to the glass of the cake display cabinet.
“Oh man Francis.” He said longingly as the Frenchman drew closer, not taking his eyes off the cakes. “I could eat all of them…”
Francis didn’t doubt that he could. “You want one?”
“All of them.” Alfred licked his lips. If Gilbert ever did manage to drag this boy to hell, there would be a fight between Greed and Wrath over his soul. “But that one the most.” He pointed to a cute looking cake amongst a collection that all seemed to have flags of the world on them. He had, of course, selected the American one.
“If we get it, you forfeit your right to eat McDonalds.”
Alfred drew back as though disgusted. “What? Oh no way. I’m definitely getting a burger. Come on, let’s pay and go.”
They proceeded through the checkout as normal, Alfred completely ignoring the till girl’s excessive flirting and the way she leaned forward on the counter so he could see her admittedly impressive cleavage. Francis wasn’t going to turn down second hand goods. As Alfred packed the last item into a bag and hefted six of them at once, Francis noticed the boy from earlier looking over at them from one of the other tills. Francis was about to wave, when he noticed the expression on the boy’s face, and that he wasn’t looking at him.
He was looking at Alfred, completely disbelieving.
“Merde.” He muttered under his breath, moving beside Alfred and walking quickly. “Alfred, we have to get out of here. I think someone back there just recognised you.”
Alfred’s head whipped round, scanning behind him. “What, really?”
“Don’t look you idiot!” Francis hissed, pushing him out of the shop and towards the car. “Drive home, and quickly, so we can lose them.”
That boy was from Quebec. The news of the Chainsaw Killer was all over North America; of course he’d be familiar with his face. Disappeared or not, the man hunt for the teen murderer was still on. What if he reported what he saw? No matter how fast and dangerously Alfred drove, Francis couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched, followed. But that was impossible. By the time they were twisting through the country roads on the way to Arthur’s house, there were no other cars but their own. And yet, that feeling wouldn’t go away, so much so that when they finally reached the house, he scanned the driveway for a whole minute, looking for signs that someone was coming.
He nearly had a heart attack when the bushes rustled, and Feliciano walked out, fully clothed and in human form, shortly followed by Ludwig. They didn’t seem to mind the cold, and Feliciano was jabbering away happily like nothing was wrong.
“Ve, and it looks like Arthur’s going to be the last one back after all!” the cheerful Italian exclaimed, looking at both Francis and Alfred. “That’s um…”
“Ironic.” Supplied Ludwig.
“Yeah! That one!”
“Francis thinks someone followed us.” Alfred explained, not seeming too bothered by it now that they were out of the public eye. “If it’s just one, do you guys wanna help me kill him?”
Feliciano drooped. “Ve, I don’t like fighting. Ludwig used to! But now he only does it in self defence since his Alpha was-”
“Feliciano.” The other wolf said warningly. The boy in question shut up quickly. “If he proves to be a threat, I will assist you in neutralising him.”
“Oooh, when you say it like that in your accent it makes you sound all military.” Alfred laughed, marching up the stairs with bags of shopping in hand. “Ein, zwei, ein, zwei!”
Francis prayed for patience. If Alfred wasn’t going to take this seriously then the Frenchman began to wonder why he bothered in the first place.
“Alfred…”
The breathless voice hadn’t come from any of them. They jumped back in surprise as another person seemed to appear out of thin air. No, they’d simply moved very fast, stopping right next to Francis, staring up at the teen on the stairs. Francis tried to control his racing heartbeat as he stared at the exact same boy from earlier in the shop. He was windswept, his clothes looking beaten up compared to earlier and there were leaves in his hair, like he’d lost a fight with a bush. He was standing stock still in an unnatural way, and if it weren’t for the way his eyes kept getting wider and wider, Francis would have thought he’d frozen solid.
Alfred dropped the shopping with a loud thud, the sound of several jars cracking accompanying it. His mouth dropped open.
“Mattie…”
Francis looked from the boy on the steps, to the boy next to them. Now he compared them, they looked strangely alike; similar height, hair colours, and body structures. Their faces were practically identical. It was uncanny.
“You’re alive!” They both cried at the same time, and even their voices were like one person speaking with two accents.
He suddenly became aware of the whimpering sounds Feliciano was making, hiding behind Ludwig slightly. The taller blonde was standing warily, watching the newcomer with proverbial hackles raised. Someone walked around from the side of the house, dragging something with them. As soon as he laid eyes on the scene, Arthur paused in pulling his meal along, looking between the teen murderer and the strange newcomer with an expression that amounted to “oh crap.”
The body’s scent was easily caught from here, and as the new boy’s head turned, Francis saw his eyes burn a dim red.
“Arthur, what’s going on?” they both spoke again, glancing back at each other as their voices harmonised.
“Erm.” The vampire started, red eyes like little pinpricks in the dark. “I can explain.”
Monster Mash 9
Notes:
- Can you explain, Arthur? Can you? Better question; can you do it before Alfred does something stupid?