[Fanfic] Monster Mash 9
Title: Monster Mash 9
Characters: Francis, Arthur, Alfred, Matthew.
Rating: 12
Warnings: Swearing, a lot of swearing, and some violence.
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.
“Explain?” Alfred repeated back to Arthur slowly, completely abandoning the shopping at the top of the stairs and making a slow descent back down them. “You mean... you did this?”
Arthur looked increasingly uncomfortable. “Well, in a way, yes, but it’s not what you-”
“Haha!” Alfred laughed, eyes wide and disbelieving, taking in the appearance of the other, similarly stunned blonde. “I can’t even- wow. I mean, it’s like he’s right here, and real, in front of me! This is one ghost I don’t mind!” He walked up to the other blonde, stopping a few feet away with his hands on his hips, looking him up and down. “I mean, for a ghost he looks pretty convincing-”
He was cut off as suddenly the other boy threw himself at Alfred, grabbing him in a tight hug. “You’re alive! Oh god, you’re alive, you’ve been alive all along and.... and...” Just as quickly as he’d hugged him, he let him go, stepping back and covering his mouth with a gloved hand. “And... you’re warm. You’re...”
“You’re freezing! And solid!” Alfred exclaimed, once he’d gotten over the shock of the contact. “Shit Matt, we need to get you inside before you catch hypothermia- wait, can you do that as a ghost?”
Matthew looked at Arthur again. “Arthur, he’s- he’s human!” He sounded like he was going to faint. Arthur dropped his meal, walking over to the two boys.
“This is a big misunderstanding. You have to let me explain this-”
Alfred was bending over, looking up at Matthew from a lower angle. “You know, it’s funny, but I was sure you’d still have the big hole in your head from where you shot yourself.” He placed two fingers under his own chin in the imitation of a gun. “Bang, your brains went everywhere. Mom cried so loud I had to shut her up too, it got annoying. I’m still working on killing your dad, by the way, I’ve been distracted lately, but don’t you worry Mattie, I’ll get him!” He flashed a winning smile. Matthew’s eyebrows drew close together in a confused expression. He looked positively adorable.
Arthur cut in while he could. “Alfred, listen, this isn’t your brother. And Matthew, he’s not our- your Alfred.”
“But he looks... he’s human...” Matthew shook his head, not understanding the situation at all. To be honest, Francis was quite lost too. And felt a sense of increasing danger, as Alfred was reminded of exactly who had driven his brother to suicide in the first place.
“Mattie, what are you talking about? I’ve always been human...” Alfred seemed to be completely ignoring everyone though, focusing only on the boy who looked like his brother. “You were too, that’s why you’re dead...” For the first time since they had met, Francis saw a flicker of sadness in Alfred’s face. “I didn’t want you to die. You were the only person I ever wanted to stay alive with me. Not even mom mattered as long as I had you.” He placed his hands on Matthew’s head, threading his fingers through tangled curls. “You were the best brother ever. You helped me bury all those bodies, you never turned me in, or yelled at me. You bandaged me up when I got cut on my chainsaw.” A bittersweet smile graced his lips. “You were so good at burying evidence, they still don’t know about those hikers, never will...”
Matthew smacked his hands away, stepping back. His expression had shifted from confused to fearful. “No... who are you?” He uttered slowly. “Alfred Kirkland would never say those things. He hated killing. He hated it so much even if he had to do it to survive. That’s what made him different from the rest of the coven. It’s what made me like him. What made him leave... and never come back.”
“Enough!” Arthur snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This would be a lot less painful on both of you if you would just bloody listen to me!” Finally, he gained their attention. “Alfred. You are already aware that I had a coven before I met you, and that they were... killed.” Both he and Matthew looked to the floor, downcast. “... long before that time, about 30 years before, Matthew gained his Independence from me. This person here,” he indicated to the newcomer. “Is Matthew Williams, not Jones-Fournier. Your brother is still dead and, as far as I’m aware, has moved on to the next world.”
A moment passed in silence, during which Alfred simply stared at Arthur. The vampire continued unabashed.
“Matthew, a few months back I was hunting in the forest when I ran across the human you see before you. This is Alfred F. Jones, crazed murderer from the United States” He indicated the stunned teen, looking just as annoyed about this admission himself. “He is not the young vampire - your dear friend - that went missing in 1777. I have yet to discover any connection between the two. It is a hard truth, and I’d hate to dash your hopes on the rocky shores of reality - both of you - but it is, at least, the truth.”
Quiet fell again.
Matthew took a deep breath in, before exhaling slowly, the sound shuddering slightly like he was holding back tears. He reached up and and removed his glasses. Without the tinted lenses, his softly glowing eyes were clearly visible in the dark. The glasses must have been only to hide his vividly coloured eyes from humans, who would get easily entranced by them. He held out a hand to shake. “... It’s nice to meet you, Mr Jones.”
Alfred stared at the offered hand like it was dirty. “What the hell... that’s not funny Matt, don’t call me that. We’re brothers, come on...”
“Alfred, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.” Arthur sounded exasperated. “I’m sorry Matthew, I should have told you, but I thought you weren’t coming this year.”
“Jacques settled down and promised to behave while I was gone if I gave him hunting privileges. The others are well behaved enough that I don’t need to worry.” Matthew said, sounding emotionally drained. “I guess I won’t be staying my usual two weeks though. I’m sorry Mr Jones, I’m not your Mattie.” If he looked any sadder Francis thought he might burst into tears. “And you’re not my Alfred.”
In a rare moment of speechlessness, Alfred’s mouth opened and shut several times, managing nothing. Finally, he bowed his head, clenching his fists at his sides. At first he was still, but then he started shaking, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands until a tiny trickle of blood escaped. He might have been crying, but if so, he was very good at hiding it. Not a sound escaped him.
Matthew sighed, and turned to Francis. “I met you earlier in the shop, I think. It’s nice to meet you…?”
“Francis, Francis Bonnefoy. Bonsoir.” The Frenchman returned, shaking the boy’s offered hand. But before he could get there, something grabbed his wrist. Looking over, he could see the teenage murderer, head still bowed, was still shaking.
“Alfred…!” Francis started. A shooting pain from his captured wrist made him stop. He hissed in pain and screwed his eyes shut. From the nasty crunching sound that it had just made, he could assume that his wrist was now broken.
“You…” the blonde snarled, blue eyes looking up over the frames of his glasses. “Don’t you touch him. You don’t deserve to… making him lie to me like that… course I’m his fucking brother…” His gaze darted between Francis, who was struggling to get out of his iron grip, and Matthew, who appeared alarmed at the sudden change. Whatever strange, rusted cogs turned in Alfred’s head, they were quickly arriving at a conclusion that was making him angry. Francis had never seen him angry before. He didn’t want to. "I knew it. I fucking knew it and I didn't do anything, because nobody's that stupid, right? But it was you all along. It's always been you." he snarled like an animal. "Seeing you next to Mattie... now I know for sure!"
At some point the werewolves had escaped, slipping away unnoticed. France became aware they were gone only once he’d been thrown to the floor sideways, his wrist twisting painfully in Alfred’s grip, and was left staring at where they had once been standing. He let out a pained gasp as another crack sounded. His arm was broken. Dieu, that hurt, that hurt a lot. He’d not dealt with a broken bone in over a hundred years, and the pain was enough to send him into a stream of French swears.
“Shut the fuck up!” Alfred yelled, right in his ear before grinding Francis’ face into the dirt. A knee landed on his back with enough force to fracture a rib, and Francis suddenly found it even more difficult to breathe. Distantly, he could hear Arthur yelling something, but all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears and Alfred yelling. “You never liked me from the start! You always tried to keep me and Mattie apart, just out of fucking spite! You never even loved Mattie, not like I did! And now I’m on the fucking run, and Mattie’s dead! And it’s all your fault, all your fucking fault you motherfucking- Mattie get off, lemme kill him! I’m gonna kill him!”
The blow to the side of Francis’ head felt like it could have knocked it clean off. Consciousness faded in and out. Another hit rained down, and another. This was it. He was going to die. He’d picked the wrong stupid body to jump into and now he was going to pay for something he hadn’t even done.
Merde.
“Why won’t you just die, Phillipe Fournier!”
And then there was blackness.
----
Francis came to and wished that he hadn’t. Everything hurt. He felt bruised all over. He probably was bruised all over, he realized as memories of what happened came back in a painful rush. It was a small wonder he wasn’t dead. Well, technically he was and had been for hundreds of years…
He cursed to himself when he realized after all that, he still was stuck in this body.
“If you have energy to talk you should use it to heal.” Came a familiar snarky voice. Francis would have opened his eyes, but they appeared to be swollen shut. “You’ve been unconscious some three days. I’m surprised Alfred didn’t literally beat your brains out. Matthew had to restrain him and knock him out. There’s been no living with him since. He’s glued to Matthew’s side and won’t leave him alone. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
“You say that… like it’s my fault, cher…” Francis rasped, discovering how difficult it was to talk with broken ribs.
“You’re the one who talked to him in the meat isle in the first place.”
“And you… simply can’t… stand to blame Alfred… can you.” It wasn’t a question. Sometimes Arthur’s weakness for the boy went too far. From the long silence after his words, Francis knew he’d hit right on target.
“It’s a lot harder to blame the mentally deranged for their actions.” He defended eventually. “Either way your body’s not healing like it’s meant to, and I’m going to have to research to see if there’s a way to heal it at all. You’re bed bound until then. I’m sure Bess will keep you company. She does like to sit with the dying.”
Francis smiled, but it hurt. “Your… bedside manner… needs to be a little less morbid… Nurse Kirkland.”
Arthur sniffed. “Doctor. Now shut up and go back to sleep. There’s not much you can do but that until I find a fix for this.”
The closing of a door sounded, and then quiet returned. The bed was heated, probably out of consideration for Francis’ variable body temperature, and for a moment he wondered how it had come to pass that Arthur would care enough about him that he’d save him from someone like Alfred.
Either way, he decided, it was time to do a little research of his own. With nothing to do for potentially days, it was time to dust off a little technique he’d uncovered a couple of hundred years ago. It wasn’t hard to retrieve memories like passwords and PIN from those he’d possessed, it was something needed in the world these days. But now, he needed to go deeper, as corny as that sounded.
It was time to get to the bottom of Phillipe Fournier and Alfred’s past.
Monster Mash 10
Notes:
- I have no idea where the sudden rush of new readers came from last chapter but, hi! Thanks for all of your comments! I think I managed to reply to them all, if I missed one I'll go back and get it.
- Alfred does not like Phillipe Francis touching his Mattie. Even if that's not his Mattie. I don't think I can ever stress enough how insane Alfred's thought processes are.
Characters: Francis, Arthur, Alfred, Matthew.
Rating: 12
Warnings: Swearing, a lot of swearing, and some violence.
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.
“Explain?” Alfred repeated back to Arthur slowly, completely abandoning the shopping at the top of the stairs and making a slow descent back down them. “You mean... you did this?”
Arthur looked increasingly uncomfortable. “Well, in a way, yes, but it’s not what you-”
“Haha!” Alfred laughed, eyes wide and disbelieving, taking in the appearance of the other, similarly stunned blonde. “I can’t even- wow. I mean, it’s like he’s right here, and real, in front of me! This is one ghost I don’t mind!” He walked up to the other blonde, stopping a few feet away with his hands on his hips, looking him up and down. “I mean, for a ghost he looks pretty convincing-”
He was cut off as suddenly the other boy threw himself at Alfred, grabbing him in a tight hug. “You’re alive! Oh god, you’re alive, you’ve been alive all along and.... and...” Just as quickly as he’d hugged him, he let him go, stepping back and covering his mouth with a gloved hand. “And... you’re warm. You’re...”
“You’re freezing! And solid!” Alfred exclaimed, once he’d gotten over the shock of the contact. “Shit Matt, we need to get you inside before you catch hypothermia- wait, can you do that as a ghost?”
Matthew looked at Arthur again. “Arthur, he’s- he’s human!” He sounded like he was going to faint. Arthur dropped his meal, walking over to the two boys.
“This is a big misunderstanding. You have to let me explain this-”
Alfred was bending over, looking up at Matthew from a lower angle. “You know, it’s funny, but I was sure you’d still have the big hole in your head from where you shot yourself.” He placed two fingers under his own chin in the imitation of a gun. “Bang, your brains went everywhere. Mom cried so loud I had to shut her up too, it got annoying. I’m still working on killing your dad, by the way, I’ve been distracted lately, but don’t you worry Mattie, I’ll get him!” He flashed a winning smile. Matthew’s eyebrows drew close together in a confused expression. He looked positively adorable.
Arthur cut in while he could. “Alfred, listen, this isn’t your brother. And Matthew, he’s not our- your Alfred.”
“But he looks... he’s human...” Matthew shook his head, not understanding the situation at all. To be honest, Francis was quite lost too. And felt a sense of increasing danger, as Alfred was reminded of exactly who had driven his brother to suicide in the first place.
“Mattie, what are you talking about? I’ve always been human...” Alfred seemed to be completely ignoring everyone though, focusing only on the boy who looked like his brother. “You were too, that’s why you’re dead...” For the first time since they had met, Francis saw a flicker of sadness in Alfred’s face. “I didn’t want you to die. You were the only person I ever wanted to stay alive with me. Not even mom mattered as long as I had you.” He placed his hands on Matthew’s head, threading his fingers through tangled curls. “You were the best brother ever. You helped me bury all those bodies, you never turned me in, or yelled at me. You bandaged me up when I got cut on my chainsaw.” A bittersweet smile graced his lips. “You were so good at burying evidence, they still don’t know about those hikers, never will...”
Matthew smacked his hands away, stepping back. His expression had shifted from confused to fearful. “No... who are you?” He uttered slowly. “Alfred Kirkland would never say those things. He hated killing. He hated it so much even if he had to do it to survive. That’s what made him different from the rest of the coven. It’s what made me like him. What made him leave... and never come back.”
“Enough!” Arthur snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This would be a lot less painful on both of you if you would just bloody listen to me!” Finally, he gained their attention. “Alfred. You are already aware that I had a coven before I met you, and that they were... killed.” Both he and Matthew looked to the floor, downcast. “... long before that time, about 30 years before, Matthew gained his Independence from me. This person here,” he indicated to the newcomer. “Is Matthew Williams, not Jones-Fournier. Your brother is still dead and, as far as I’m aware, has moved on to the next world.”
A moment passed in silence, during which Alfred simply stared at Arthur. The vampire continued unabashed.
“Matthew, a few months back I was hunting in the forest when I ran across the human you see before you. This is Alfred F. Jones, crazed murderer from the United States” He indicated the stunned teen, looking just as annoyed about this admission himself. “He is not the young vampire - your dear friend - that went missing in 1777. I have yet to discover any connection between the two. It is a hard truth, and I’d hate to dash your hopes on the rocky shores of reality - both of you - but it is, at least, the truth.”
Quiet fell again.
Matthew took a deep breath in, before exhaling slowly, the sound shuddering slightly like he was holding back tears. He reached up and and removed his glasses. Without the tinted lenses, his softly glowing eyes were clearly visible in the dark. The glasses must have been only to hide his vividly coloured eyes from humans, who would get easily entranced by them. He held out a hand to shake. “... It’s nice to meet you, Mr Jones.”
Alfred stared at the offered hand like it was dirty. “What the hell... that’s not funny Matt, don’t call me that. We’re brothers, come on...”
“Alfred, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.” Arthur sounded exasperated. “I’m sorry Matthew, I should have told you, but I thought you weren’t coming this year.”
“Jacques settled down and promised to behave while I was gone if I gave him hunting privileges. The others are well behaved enough that I don’t need to worry.” Matthew said, sounding emotionally drained. “I guess I won’t be staying my usual two weeks though. I’m sorry Mr Jones, I’m not your Mattie.” If he looked any sadder Francis thought he might burst into tears. “And you’re not my Alfred.”
In a rare moment of speechlessness, Alfred’s mouth opened and shut several times, managing nothing. Finally, he bowed his head, clenching his fists at his sides. At first he was still, but then he started shaking, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands until a tiny trickle of blood escaped. He might have been crying, but if so, he was very good at hiding it. Not a sound escaped him.
Matthew sighed, and turned to Francis. “I met you earlier in the shop, I think. It’s nice to meet you…?”
“Francis, Francis Bonnefoy. Bonsoir.” The Frenchman returned, shaking the boy’s offered hand. But before he could get there, something grabbed his wrist. Looking over, he could see the teenage murderer, head still bowed, was still shaking.
“Alfred…!” Francis started. A shooting pain from his captured wrist made him stop. He hissed in pain and screwed his eyes shut. From the nasty crunching sound that it had just made, he could assume that his wrist was now broken.
“You…” the blonde snarled, blue eyes looking up over the frames of his glasses. “Don’t you touch him. You don’t deserve to… making him lie to me like that… course I’m his fucking brother…” His gaze darted between Francis, who was struggling to get out of his iron grip, and Matthew, who appeared alarmed at the sudden change. Whatever strange, rusted cogs turned in Alfred’s head, they were quickly arriving at a conclusion that was making him angry. Francis had never seen him angry before. He didn’t want to. "I knew it. I fucking knew it and I didn't do anything, because nobody's that stupid, right? But it was you all along. It's always been you." he snarled like an animal. "Seeing you next to Mattie... now I know for sure!"
At some point the werewolves had escaped, slipping away unnoticed. France became aware they were gone only once he’d been thrown to the floor sideways, his wrist twisting painfully in Alfred’s grip, and was left staring at where they had once been standing. He let out a pained gasp as another crack sounded. His arm was broken. Dieu, that hurt, that hurt a lot. He’d not dealt with a broken bone in over a hundred years, and the pain was enough to send him into a stream of French swears.
“Shut the fuck up!” Alfred yelled, right in his ear before grinding Francis’ face into the dirt. A knee landed on his back with enough force to fracture a rib, and Francis suddenly found it even more difficult to breathe. Distantly, he could hear Arthur yelling something, but all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears and Alfred yelling. “You never liked me from the start! You always tried to keep me and Mattie apart, just out of fucking spite! You never even loved Mattie, not like I did! And now I’m on the fucking run, and Mattie’s dead! And it’s all your fault, all your fucking fault you motherfucking- Mattie get off, lemme kill him! I’m gonna kill him!”
The blow to the side of Francis’ head felt like it could have knocked it clean off. Consciousness faded in and out. Another hit rained down, and another. This was it. He was going to die. He’d picked the wrong stupid body to jump into and now he was going to pay for something he hadn’t even done.
Merde.
“Why won’t you just die, Phillipe Fournier!”
And then there was blackness.
----
Francis came to and wished that he hadn’t. Everything hurt. He felt bruised all over. He probably was bruised all over, he realized as memories of what happened came back in a painful rush. It was a small wonder he wasn’t dead. Well, technically he was and had been for hundreds of years…
He cursed to himself when he realized after all that, he still was stuck in this body.
“If you have energy to talk you should use it to heal.” Came a familiar snarky voice. Francis would have opened his eyes, but they appeared to be swollen shut. “You’ve been unconscious some three days. I’m surprised Alfred didn’t literally beat your brains out. Matthew had to restrain him and knock him out. There’s been no living with him since. He’s glued to Matthew’s side and won’t leave him alone. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
“You say that… like it’s my fault, cher…” Francis rasped, discovering how difficult it was to talk with broken ribs.
“You’re the one who talked to him in the meat isle in the first place.”
“And you… simply can’t… stand to blame Alfred… can you.” It wasn’t a question. Sometimes Arthur’s weakness for the boy went too far. From the long silence after his words, Francis knew he’d hit right on target.
“It’s a lot harder to blame the mentally deranged for their actions.” He defended eventually. “Either way your body’s not healing like it’s meant to, and I’m going to have to research to see if there’s a way to heal it at all. You’re bed bound until then. I’m sure Bess will keep you company. She does like to sit with the dying.”
Francis smiled, but it hurt. “Your… bedside manner… needs to be a little less morbid… Nurse Kirkland.”
Arthur sniffed. “Doctor. Now shut up and go back to sleep. There’s not much you can do but that until I find a fix for this.”
The closing of a door sounded, and then quiet returned. The bed was heated, probably out of consideration for Francis’ variable body temperature, and for a moment he wondered how it had come to pass that Arthur would care enough about him that he’d save him from someone like Alfred.
Either way, he decided, it was time to do a little research of his own. With nothing to do for potentially days, it was time to dust off a little technique he’d uncovered a couple of hundred years ago. It wasn’t hard to retrieve memories like passwords and PIN from those he’d possessed, it was something needed in the world these days. But now, he needed to go deeper, as corny as that sounded.
It was time to get to the bottom of Phillipe Fournier and Alfred’s past.
Monster Mash 10
Notes:
- I have no idea where the sudden rush of new readers came from last chapter but, hi! Thanks for all of your comments! I think I managed to reply to them all, if I missed one I'll go back and get it.
- Alfred does not like Phillipe Francis touching his Mattie. Even if that's not his Mattie. I don't think I can ever stress enough how insane Alfred's thought processes are.