Rat Trap [2/6]
Title: Rat Trap [2/6]
Author/Artist: Sayasama
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Russia/US, and an "It's complicated" UK->US. Minor pairings include: LietPol, Netherlands/Canada, and GerIta. France and Prussia also make some appearances later.
Rating: PG-13 (maybe M) for sexual themes, some swearing, and later allusions to violence.
Warnings: Prostitution and the psychology thereof, psychological abuse, Dub-con and/or non-con depending on how you define the terms, swearing, and OOC.
Summary: "'Tis the strumpet's plague/To beguile many and be beguiled by one"-Iago; Othello, Act 4, Scene 1
A/N: Did I say it would take a week to update this? 'Cause I really meant a few days. Really. In any case, to the next chapter!
-----
“You are a very sleepy fellow,” Ivan said in lieu of a greeting. Alfred, who had been dozing off under the tree closest to their usual bench, jumped upon hearing the new voice. It was late Saturday morning and Ivan had learned that Alfred was always tired on Saturday morning.
“Wha-Oh geez, gimme a heart attack will you?” Alfred stammered out, clutching at his chest. Ivan made a curious face as he took a seat next to Alfred. It was a bit late in the season to be meeting outside in the park, but they weathered the cold by sitting as close together as possible. Ivan tried to ignore the fact that despite how Alfred seemed to be okay enough with hand-holding and innocent kisses, he was very hesitant to be especially close to him in terms of physical proximity for very long and it took near-freezing weather to get him to stay close to his side. Ivan wondered if he was just that intimidating or if there was a deeper reason.
“If you are tired you may lean on me. I do not mind,” Ivan said in a way he sincerely hoped was non-threatening. Their bodies were lined up at their sides, from their knees to their shoulders they were touching, but Alfred’s body had a strange rigidity to it, as though he was desperately trying to keep some invisible distance between them. Ivan wouldn’t say anything, but it sort of hurt. Perhaps Alfred did not trust him enough to relax? A few months had passed since they started this thing (they had yet to talk about just what it was; Alfred seemed to avoid the topic and Ivan was too unsure of what the answer would be to ask), but maybe Alfred way just a particularly wary fellow?
“Are you sure?” Alfred asked seeming tempted by the offer.
“да. You are cold and tired. I do not see a problem with you using me as a pillow. Though if you are perhaps too uncomfortable with me fo--”
“No, it’s not you!” Alfred nearly shouted, making Ivan wince; they were a bit too close for loud conversation. Registering the wince and adjusting his volume accordingly Alfred continued.
“It’s not you, I’m just unused to being… close to people like this,” he admitted, gently bumping Ivan’s shoulder with his own. “It’s a bit weird, yeah, but it’s… nice.” Nice and warm and safe, safer than he’d felt in so long. Not since before the bordello, before the orphanages, not since his days with his grandfather, his little ranch house seeming like an island in the midst of the sprawling acres of grassy fields. The more he thought about it, the more Alfred realized it was true and slowly he relaxed against Ivan’s side.
Then the chilly wind pierced him through and he was tense and shivering again. Beside him, Ivan only hummed.
“Damnit, how can you not be cold?” Alfred asked accusingly, as though the Russian was hiding the secret to warmth from him.
“In Russia, this is swimming weather,” Ivan said with a grin. Alfred stared at him for a moment before giving into the need to laugh.
“No way, you serious?”
“нет, but where I lived was colder than this very often, so I am used to it. Plus, my coat is thicker than yours.”
“Hey, no pickin’ on the jacket, ‘kay? It’s what I’ve got an’ I like it,” Alfred said through chattering teeth. He considered just leaning against Ivan’s side again for warmth, but then had a better idea. He would probably feel nervous and a bit uncomfortable at first, but Ivan felt like safety so surely those negative things would die off quickly.
“Ivan, d’ya mind if I use you as something of a human space-heater?” Alfred asked trying his best to look like a very cold puppy. It seemed to work as Ivan gave his consent and didn’t complain or question it as Alfred moved in front of him and sat between his legs. Leaning back against Ivan’s chest, Alfred was very aware of every wrinkle in the fabric of his coat, of every contour of the body lying beneath it, of the warmth radiating from it. He was aware but this safe touch didn’t feel bad at all, nor did it alarm him when Ivan took the hint and wrapped his arms around Alfred’s shoulder’s.
“I think I am being more of a blanket than a space-heater,” Ivan said, speaking quietly next to Alfred’s ear.
“How ‘bout we compromise and say you’re an electric blanket?” Alfred asked, tilting his head so that he could see Ivan’s face.
“That sounds good,” Ivan murmured into his ear before leaving a gentle kiss on his cheek. The heat from that one touch flared and spread all the way down to the tips of his toes, and Alfred knew he would never need more than this, if only he could have it.
000
“You have been exceptionally chipper lately.”
Alfred nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of his neighbor Francis’ voice coming from his doorway. As it was, he didn’t quite make it out of his skin, though he did fall out of the windowsill. “Mary mother of-Would it kill you to knock first?” He grumbled, rolling himself into an upright position.
“Sorry, but I brought a token of apology with me?” Francis held up a case of beer as a peace offering. Alfred took a minute to consider whether or not the beer would make up for his bruising arm and the invasion of his personal space that always came with allowing Francis in his room. Deciding that he’d need the booze because Francis probably wouldn’t leave even if he asked, he waved the older man in, snatching up a bottle the minute it was within reach.
“Planning to get off the floor, mon ami?” Francis asked, looking down at him with a quirked eyebrow. Alfred shook his head in response, beckoning the other man down with his hand.
“Nope, so you’re gonna have to come down here.”
“It’s the floor, Alfred.”
“That it is, Franny.” Francis’ eye twitched in response to the nickname, but he finally deigned to sit down nonetheless. His distaste for the location was obvious, but that was just how Francis was. He was just as much of a whore as Alfred and had certainly been in the business longer, but he carried himself with all the confidence and snootiness of a celebrity.
“It is not an appropriate place to talk,” Francis sniffed, shifting around to both make himself comfortable and to get an arm around the younger blond. Alfred just rolled his eyes and opened his beer bottle on the windowsill.
“Wouldn’t be the first time you did something inappropriate on the floor.”
Francis snorted, as if to say “I could say the same to you,” but didn’t pursue that line of conversation. Instead he backtracked to his original line of thought. “So, why have you been so much happier lately?”
A beat then, “Don’t be silly, I’m the same as always.”
“Not so! You leave earlier than ever on many mornings, and stay out until Arthur has to call you back! And I have never seen you so excited so early in the morning. What is it that is keeping you from home for so many hours? I miss you!” Francis proclaimed dramatically, draping himself over Alfred. A hand drifted down to his hip, which Alfred tried to shift away from. Francis was simply a touchy-feely sort of person; he liked to get a good feel on people whenever the opportunity presented itself. Alfred tried to keep these opportunities few and far between. He got enough of that touching on the job, thank you very much.
“Nothing,” Alfred mumbled, squirming around in hopes that he’d crush Francis’ hand before it reached his butt. “I’m just enjoying the weather before it turns bad.”
Sighing, Francis brought his hand up to Alfred’s shoulder. “If you were just enjoying the weather, you’d do it without cutting into your precious few hours of sleep. Surely you have a real purpose for all this?” Francis prodded; it seemed he had given up on being physically intrusive in favor of being generally nosy.
Alfred started drinking his beer, trying to buy himself some time before he had to answer. He was bad at lying outright, so he had to give an answer that was technically true, and yet didn’t mention Ivan at all. He knew that if he told Francis about his dates, then soon everyone would know. This was something he couldn’t risk Arthur knowing; he had no idea how the other man would react. He had to think quickly-he was running out of both beer and air.
By the time he reached the bottom of his bottle, Alfred knew what he could say, something undeniably true, yet having nothing to do with Ivan.
“I just need to be out of here, that’s all.”
Francis looked unimpressed. “Really? You take a whole bottle to think and that’s all you come up with? I could’ve sworn you were more creative than that.”
“It’s true!” Alfred defended. Because it was, it just wasn’t Ivan true. “I feel like if I don’t take every chance I have to be out of this house, even if it’s only for work or just to walk around, then I’m going to lose those chances altogether.”
Francis inspected Alfred for a moment, taking in his hunched form, the unfocused way he stared at his empty beer bottle, his scrunched up eyebrows. Clearly, Alfred wouldn’t be talking about this right now if Francis wasn’t making him. Of course, it was precisely because it was Francis who was asking that he was answering at all. The Frenchman, for all his perverse ways, was a good sympathizer and exceptionally perceptive.
“Arthur has been putting pressure on you again, hasn’t he?” Francis asked at last, ending a tense few moments of silence. Alfred gave a barely perceptible nod.
“You know,” Francis continued when it seemed that Alfred didn’t want to speak. “If I were like you, a good boy who’s just gotten in way over his head, I would take that offer. He wants you to be his exclusively, non? To live permanently in his apartment like you did before you were brought into this mess? You are more suited to such a comparatively normal lifestyle, rather than this business. Why do you refuse?”
Alfred took a minute to try and think of how to word his reasoning. It wasn’t that he preferred having a hundred partners rather than just one, because he certainly didn’t and would hate to make it seem that way. That was just the price he had to pay for what he did want-a bit of room to spread his wings. He just wanted the ability to move around, to make some decisions on his own, to see people who lived outside of the boarding house, to see more than just the inside of Arthur’s apartment.
“It’s…It’s like there’s a rubber band around the world that’s slowly constricting,” Alfred said finally. “First it confined me to this city-I can’t leave without giving notice ‘cause if I do Arthur’ll think I’m running away and he’ll stop paying Matt’s tuition and then I’ll have messed up both our lives. Now it’s trying to keep me in this house and I feel like if I don’t keep pushing back on it, it’ll push me in here and I won’t be able to get out.”
Noticing how the younger man seemed to droop more and more with every word, Francis wrapped his arm more tightly around the boy’s shoulders and pulled him closer to his side, until Alfred was leaning his weight on Francis. It surprised the older blond some just how easy it was to pull the usually reserved boy to him; Alfred had never before been able to relax when being held this way.
“For someone who acts so oblivious,” Francis said dryly, “you sure do have a great understanding of Arthur. Surely, if you gave him the chance to keep you in, he would never let you out.”
“It-it’s not even that he’s that bad of a guy-I mean, i-if you take away the whole human exploitation and possessiveness thing-it’s just, I can’t, I can’t do it Francis. I can’t just stay trapped with him on the second floor for the rest of my life or until he gets bored of me. Not-not even for Mattie. I can’t.” Alfred bit his quivering lower lip. Damn it-this was true, it was all true, but he wasn’t supposed to say anything this true. Now he was getting emotional but he couldn’t, because if he did that meant he was being self-pitying and weak and he didn’t want to be. He wouldn’t be.
“Ssh, it’s alright,” Francis murmured, gently rocking Alfred. It was times like these that made Alfred really appreciate Francis, time where he felt like the younger brother for once, like he didn’t have to be so strong because “Big Brother” Francis was.
“Don’t worry, as long as you insist on keeping things the way they are, they will stay this way. Just, just hold on for a while longer, and you’ll make your way out.”
“I don’t wanna be here Francis.” His voice was thick and muffled against his knees now.
“I know, just be patient.”
“I hate this all so much.”
“I know, just be strong.”
Strong. Strong-
000
From:
Matthew Williams-Jones
To:
Alfred Williams-Jones
It’s good to hear that you’re doing something non-work-related. It worries me to always hear about work from you, so I hope that whoever this guy is, he can help you relax. Still, be sure to warn him that if he ever makes you cry, I’ll come down there with a hockey stick and teach him some manners.
I really do hope you can make it to our last game, at least. It’ll be so great to see you again, and you’ll be really impressed by this year’s team. I know you don’t like hockey as much as I do, but I think you’ll be able to appreciate how awesome we are.
Other than a few papers and tests coming up, there’s nothing big going on over here. Though, someone has been leaving tulips in my locker. I don’t know if there’s been a mix-up or they’re actually for me but it’s a nice thing to see after practice.
Have fun on your dates but don’t forget to write (er, email),
Matt
000
Arthur had warned him to be extra careful with this one, and Alfred could understand why from the minute she walked into the door.
She. Girls were sort of a rarity in his room.
Whoever she was, she was pretty and looked like she was from a good family-not the kind of person who had any idea what she was doing when she went out to buy a whore. Maybe her boyfriend had broken up with her and she was feeling low, or she was rebelling against her too-controlling parents, or she’d been dared to. Whatever her reasons were, he could tell from the way her hands shook and her shoulders tensed that she really didn’t want to do this.
“Hey,” he said gently when she crawled into his lap, just as eager to get this done and over with as he usually was. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Wh-who are you to tell-to tell me what to do!” She said, looking near tears. Well damn, if she was going to cry on him then they wouldn’t be able to do this even if she really did want to. There was no way he could get it up when she looked so sad.
“No, I’m not telling you what to do. I can just tell that you really, really don’t want to at all, do you?”
She looked at him from under her bangs (her hair was so long and inky black, so pretty), her face red with embarrassment and unshed tears. “I-I… I don’t. Oh God, I don’t know what I’m doing here and-“ And tears were starting to slip past her eyes and down her face and Alfred just had to wipe them away.
“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay, okay? I’ve got some mugs and cocoa up here, we’ll make that and talk, alright?” He said in a soothing tone, pulling a blanket around her. “I know I’m not the ideal therapist, but I can promise I’ll listen, alright?” She nodded and allowed herself to be led to the chair beside his nightstand. Alfred heaved a sigh, both unnerved by her tears and thankful that he’d have the night off. He’d listen to her problems and try his best to comfort her and hopefully, when she left this place she’d realize this isn’t where good girls like her ought to be and if he never sees her again, well, that would be for the best.
000
“Lucky bastard, taking the afternoon off for a date. We should like, totally do that sometime Tor, see how he likes us rubbing it in his face!” Feliks huffed from the door of the break room as Alfred shrugged on a nice blazer over his usual slacks and button-down shirt. He decided that he wanted to have a nice dinner date with Ivan at a reasonable time for once, and had bartered with Ludwig to get some time off in exchange for working the Sunday afternoon shift.
Ivan was taking him to one of the classier restaurants in town. It wasn’t so swanky that he’d feel particularly uncomfortable there, but it was the sort of place one dressed nicely to go to, hence the blazer which made his typical uniform look much more formal.
“Hey, it’s not like I’m not gonna pick up the hours later. I just really wanted to go on a date at some time that isn’t the middle of the night or the morning, you know?” Alfred said, taking the time to pout over his shoulder while he adjusted the blazer around him.
“It seems perfectly reasonable to want to go on a normal dinner date, I think,” Toris said, walking over to Alfred with the lint brush. Feliks stuck his tongue out at the brunette and muttered, “Traitor.”
“Ah, don’t get too blue Feliks,” Alfred said as he picked up his things, “I’ll be sure to fill you in on all the juicy details tomorrow.”
At that, the shorter blond scoffed. “Yeah right. The most you do on a date is like, hold hands!”
“Not true,” Alfred scowled at him halfheartedly, his face flushed. “We kiss.”
“Dude, I can count the times you’ve kissed him on like, one hand. You’re gonna like, be a virgin forever at this rate.”
Both Alfred and Toris choked on their own breath at that statement. Toris sputtered, “Fe-Feliks! That’s not appropriate at all! Don’t, ah, don’t worry Alfred, it’s totally respectable to take your time and wait and-Uh, Alfred?”
“Pft…”
“Are you, um, are you okay?”
“Ah, ye-yeah, it-it’s-hehe, nothing…”
“Holy shit Tor, I broke him!”
Alfred’s shoulders were quivering with suppressed laughter at the sheer irony of the statement. It was a disparaging, self-depreciating kind of laughter, but he just couldn’t stop himself. A whore being accused of being a virgin, what a laugh! Then again, wasn’t this entire thing he had with Ivan a farce in and of itself? It was all a part of one very long joke, only he wasn’t sure what the punch line was.
Toris, perceptive as ever, seemed to catch the dark undertone of his laughter and made him meet the other’s forest green eyes. “Alfred, are you feeling alright?” Toris asked, his expression communicating an intense worry.
Feeling a bit sobered by the pure concern his friend was showing him, Alfred straightened himself up and tried to remember who he was supposed to be. Turning himself away from his friend’s gaze and toward the door he replied, “Yeah, Toris, I’m fine. I’ve gotta go now though. And I’ll ah, keep your words in mind tonight Feliks.”
“Oh, Alfred-“ Toris tried to reach forward and stop Alfred from leaving, but he was already half-way out the door.
“See ya guys!”
000
It was such a nice feeling when Ivan wove their fingers together. Ivan’s hands were bigger than Alfred’s, and a little cool but Alfred’s were warm enough for the both of them.
“It is not far from here, don’t worry,” Ivan said, motioning just up the street from where they were.
“I’m not,” Alfred leaned on the taller man, enjoying the feeling of the other’s body alongside his own. He knew what the warmth in him was, that silly thing that made him happy to just be walking hand-in-hand with the Russian. He knew what it was but let it float around in the air, nameless. If he named it, then he’d have to abandon Ivan, because he couldn’t be in-he couldn’t do that thing. He just couldn’t, it had to be against some sort of rule, or maybe it was in the fine print of his contract.
Shaking his head to rid himself of any and all particularly weighty thoughts, Alfred smiled and gave a little cheer when they reached the entrance to the restaurant. As they were shown to a little window-side table, Alfred couldn’t help but think that he rather enjoyed being waited on for once, instead of the other way around.
“Heh, think there are any good burgers on the menu?” Alfred asked with a grin once the waiter had left. Ivan’s hand stopped on its way to the menu in front of him and quirked an eyebrow.
“If you wanted a burger, I would have taken you to a McDonald’s,” he said, resuming he previous action and taking up the menu. Alfred mimicked the action before answering.
“If we were going to McDonald’s, then I’d be the one paying for dinner,” Alfred said, feeling a small smirk of triumph grow on his face as he found that the restaurant did in fact have burgers. Fancy burgers. He was half-tempted to order one, but went with one of the steak dinners instead. It would be a waste to come to a restaurant like this and order something so common-place, after all.
“…You were very hesitant to say yes to this restaurant though. Would you have perhaps preferred that?” Ivan asked, his expression mostly curious except for the small nervous light in his eyes.
“No! It-it’s not the place at all!” Alfred denied quickly, gesturing perhaps a bit more frantically than necessary. “It’s… ah…” Alfred could feel his face heating up, embarrassed by his reasoning.
“It’s the price,” Ivan inferred correctly. Sighing he said, “Alfred, you work very hard and selflessly for your brother. There is no shame in letting someone treat you to dinner.”
Alfred was about to object and say that yeah, being treated to dinner in a place that he would otherwise never be able to afford was actually pretty embarrassing, but that wasn’t the main reason that he was particularly hesitant to agree to this restaurant.
“It’s not… it’s not just that. Though, I’ve gotta tell you that being taken to a place that’s sorta beyond your means is a bit embarrassing. It’s just that, well, I don’t like that you’re not letting me pay for my bit this time. I don’t like feeling like I owe people.”
Ivan’s expression became a mix of confusion and something like offense, or maybe even hurt. “You do not owe me for this. I would not hold this over your head.”
“I-I know! I didn’t mean it like that. Gosh, I’m sorry-I’m being dumb, I know!” Alfred apologized quickly, desperately wanting to bang his head against the table. “I know you wouldn’t, because you’re-“ The best thing in my life “-a good man. You wouldn’t, but you could. And if you were anyone else you might. It’s just… not a comfortable position for me to be in. I’ve gotta get used to it.” Closing his eyes and sighing, Alfred leaned back and took the chance to covertly hit his head on the backrest of his seat. He was such an idiot, he should’ve just kept his mouth shut. Ivan probably felt insulted and he’d never want to go anywhere with Alfred again, no matter who was paying.
Alfred did not expect to feel a rough, cool hand meet his own on the table. Peaking from under one eyelid and fearing the worst, he was surprised to see not an aggravated look, but another one of Ivan’s complicated expressions. It seemed a bit more positive than his earlier one, the offense having been replaced by something far more pleased.
“You know, I love how you have all these really interesting and complex expressions, but you’re gonna have to explain this one to me,” Alfred said after a moment of trying to figure it out himself. What was he supposed to make of the upturned lips and the dancing light in the other’s eyes, when it was coupled with the concerned knitting of his eyebrows and the bit of sadness he hid at the corners of his eyes?
“You trust me enough to let me pay for your dinner,” Ivan stated, perhaps more happily than was entirely necessary. To say Alfred was confused would be an understatement.
“Yes…”
“You worry other people will take advantage of such things, but you trust me to because even if I could I wouldn’t.”
“I’m pretty sure I just said that, big guy. Am I missing something here?” Mattie used to tell him he tended to miss the point, so maybe he was doing that again.
“You trust me. I was never sure of this.”
“Oh.” Oh indeed. Alfred’s face heated up as he realized that, indeed, he did trust the older man. It surprised him to realize this; after Matthew went away and everything that happened with Arthur, he had stopped trusting people easily. Even before leaving the orphanage he’d been unusually paranoid. To realize so belatedly that he had very easily slipped into trusting Ivan hit him hard and even made him feel a bit choked up, like he was finding something dear and important that he’d lost long ago.
“Yeah, I do Ivan. I trust you.” With a pang of guilt, Alfred thought that might just be the closest he ever came to telling the truth about his feelings.
For a moment, Ivan simply shined with joy over the statement, perhaps understanding the gravity of it on a more instinctual level than intellectual one. However, a moment later it was once again tinged by confusion and that strange little sadness around his eyes.
“You trust me, but not others, not even for something as simple as a meal. This is very sad thing. You should not feel that people will only take care of you to get something in return.”
It was like Ivan’s words were a pin and he was a butterfly, stabbed through the center and stuck to a board for inspection. He tried to scramble for words, for a response that would make Ivan dismiss the topic but found none. Luckily though, the universe seemed to be on his side at the moment for just then their waiter came back for their orders. Heaving a sigh of relief, Alfred ordered and Ivan allowed him to change the subject to their meal choices without too much difficulty.
From there, they moved on to more normal topics of conversation. Ivan talked and Alfred listened with rapt attention (which was a rarity as his attention span was the size of a rodent’s). Alfred joked and Ivan would give his somewhat strange but endearing laugh in response. They took turns picking away at their meals while the other talked, and Alfred managed to astound even himself with his ability to eat at a normal pace.
They were in the middle of a fairly silly conversation about his brother (“And I don’t know much about hockey, but I do know when my bro is kicking ass”) when his phone started vibrating in his pocket. It startled him to realize it was even on; he had become very good at turning it off before he met up with Ivan. Every press of that off button felt like the cutting of a string, one that held Alfred to the part of his life he always tried to hide. He usually never forgot to give himself the pleasure of doing that.
“Ah, sorry, I guess I forgot to turn it off during the mad dash to get outta the café,” Alfred said as he fished the phone out of his pocket with the intent to turn it off. “I’ll just do that now-“
“Who is it, calling at this time?” Ivan asked, looking simultaneously curious and annoyed by the little device in Alfred’s hand.
“It’s uh... Arthur, my landlord,” Alfred read off the missed call screen before moving his thumb to once again go through with his plan to shut the damnable thing off.
“Should you not call back? It might have been important.”
“Ivan,” Alfred said, looking directly into the older man’s amethyst eyes. “I took today off for you, because I want to spend time with you, not my landlord. So unless the boarding house is burning down, I don’t care why he’s calling. This is you time.” Alfred took a moment to revel in the fact that for once he was the one to make Ivan go pink.
“But what if it is burning down?”
“Then he’ll call twi-“ Just then the (still not turned off, damn it) phone started vibrating in his hand again. “Fuck.”
“Answer it,” Ivan said with a sigh. Alfred made a kicked puppy face, but answered the call anyway.
“What do you want?” He asked, perhaps a bit more rudely than he should’ve.
“What do I want?” The voice on the other end was familiar, but definitely not Arthur. “I wanna get this God forsaken lush outta my bar, that’s what!”
Alfred cringed; damn, Arthur was drunk already? Wasn’t it way too early for that? In any case, that explained why the voice was so familiar-Alfred was rather well-known in the local pubs for being a certain drunkard’s escort home.
“Um, I understand your problem, but is there someone else you could call to handle this? I’m in the middle of something important.” There was a moment of silence on the other end, which Alfred took to be the bartender talking to Arthur. He took the chance to quickly explain the situation to Ivan.
“The guy’s drunk at a bar somewhere. I think they want me to pick him up…”
“Ah.”
The bartender’s return to the conversation was announced by a rustling on the phone, “Nope, you’re shit outta luck kid. The guy’s throwin’ a fit, all ‘Get me Alfred, get me Alfred.’ Won’t leave without you coming to get him, I already tried calling a cab.”
Alfred let out a groan and resisted the urge to bang his head on the table. Of all the days to leave his damned phone on, it had to be the day that Arthur decided to get drunk early. It was like the man timed these things.
“I understand… give me a moment please.”
“Sure.”
Alfred took the phone away from his ear and gave Ivan an imploring look. “Please tell me I don’t have to go, or say you’ll be angry if I do, or something that would validate my not going to pick him up. Please.”
Ivan was making a complicated face again. It was pinched, he was clearly and rightfully annoyed, but there was also a hint of resignation that Alfred was not liking at all. “I… would certainly be upset if our date were to end early.”
“Yes!”
“But it would not be responsible of you to leave someone drunk at a bar.”
“Ivan, you’re not supposed to say that part!”
“Alfred,” Ivan said with a voice that would stand for no whining. “You are not the sort to leave people stranded at bars. If you do not go now you will feel distracted all evening, and tomorrow you will deal with an angry landlord. We can easily do this again, so do not worry about going now.”
Alfred sat, torn over what to do. Truthfully he didn’t like the idea of leaving Arthur alone to terrorize the town while drunk, but he hated Arthur when he was drunk more than anything. He just wanted to stay with Ivan; he wanted to be selfish and irresponsible and happy right where he was. Still, Ivan had a point: it would be on his mind the rest of the night if he didn’t go get Arthur now.
Giving a resigned sigh and putting the phone back to his ear, Alfred said, “Give me the address and I’ll be over in a few.” Rummaging through his pockets until he found a pen, he wrote the address down on a napkin, found he recognized it, and ended the call once he was done writing.
“I’m so sorry for this, I swear I’ll make it up to you somehow,” Alfred said, shrugging on his jacket. The movement was hurried and he didn’t notice when something slipped out of his pocket and onto his seat. Standing up, he moved to the other side of the table to give Ivan a kiss (and a damned good one at that, for putting up with all this).
“нет, do not worry about it. I will see you tomorrow afternoon,” Ivan said once his lips were unoccupied.
“Yeah, tomorrow,” Alfred said, and gave Ivan one more short kiss before he left.
Sighing and feeling a little annoyed but mostly content, Ivan called over their waiter in order to pay off their bill. It wasn’t until that waiter pointed it out that Ivan noticed Alfred’s wallet, sitting innocently on the seat he’s just left. Pocketing it, he decided to wait until tomorrow to give it to Alfred at work.
It was just a shame that Alfred wouldn’t actually be at work tomorrow.
<-Last Chapter / Next Chapter->
Author/Artist: Sayasama
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Russia/US, and an "It's complicated" UK->US. Minor pairings include: LietPol, Netherlands/Canada, and GerIta. France and Prussia also make some appearances later.
Rating: PG-13 (maybe M) for sexual themes, some swearing, and later allusions to violence.
Warnings: Prostitution and the psychology thereof, psychological abuse, Dub-con and/or non-con depending on how you define the terms, swearing, and OOC.
Summary: "'Tis the strumpet's plague/To beguile many and be beguiled by one"-Iago; Othello, Act 4, Scene 1
A/N: Did I say it would take a week to update this? 'Cause I really meant a few days. Really. In any case, to the next chapter!
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“You are a very sleepy fellow,” Ivan said in lieu of a greeting. Alfred, who had been dozing off under the tree closest to their usual bench, jumped upon hearing the new voice. It was late Saturday morning and Ivan had learned that Alfred was always tired on Saturday morning.
“Wha-Oh geez, gimme a heart attack will you?” Alfred stammered out, clutching at his chest. Ivan made a curious face as he took a seat next to Alfred. It was a bit late in the season to be meeting outside in the park, but they weathered the cold by sitting as close together as possible. Ivan tried to ignore the fact that despite how Alfred seemed to be okay enough with hand-holding and innocent kisses, he was very hesitant to be especially close to him in terms of physical proximity for very long and it took near-freezing weather to get him to stay close to his side. Ivan wondered if he was just that intimidating or if there was a deeper reason.
“If you are tired you may lean on me. I do not mind,” Ivan said in a way he sincerely hoped was non-threatening. Their bodies were lined up at their sides, from their knees to their shoulders they were touching, but Alfred’s body had a strange rigidity to it, as though he was desperately trying to keep some invisible distance between them. Ivan wouldn’t say anything, but it sort of hurt. Perhaps Alfred did not trust him enough to relax? A few months had passed since they started this thing (they had yet to talk about just what it was; Alfred seemed to avoid the topic and Ivan was too unsure of what the answer would be to ask), but maybe Alfred way just a particularly wary fellow?
“Are you sure?” Alfred asked seeming tempted by the offer.
“да. You are cold and tired. I do not see a problem with you using me as a pillow. Though if you are perhaps too uncomfortable with me fo--”
“No, it’s not you!” Alfred nearly shouted, making Ivan wince; they were a bit too close for loud conversation. Registering the wince and adjusting his volume accordingly Alfred continued.
“It’s not you, I’m just unused to being… close to people like this,” he admitted, gently bumping Ivan’s shoulder with his own. “It’s a bit weird, yeah, but it’s… nice.” Nice and warm and safe, safer than he’d felt in so long. Not since before the bordello, before the orphanages, not since his days with his grandfather, his little ranch house seeming like an island in the midst of the sprawling acres of grassy fields. The more he thought about it, the more Alfred realized it was true and slowly he relaxed against Ivan’s side.
Then the chilly wind pierced him through and he was tense and shivering again. Beside him, Ivan only hummed.
“Damnit, how can you not be cold?” Alfred asked accusingly, as though the Russian was hiding the secret to warmth from him.
“In Russia, this is swimming weather,” Ivan said with a grin. Alfred stared at him for a moment before giving into the need to laugh.
“No way, you serious?”
“нет, but where I lived was colder than this very often, so I am used to it. Plus, my coat is thicker than yours.”
“Hey, no pickin’ on the jacket, ‘kay? It’s what I’ve got an’ I like it,” Alfred said through chattering teeth. He considered just leaning against Ivan’s side again for warmth, but then had a better idea. He would probably feel nervous and a bit uncomfortable at first, but Ivan felt like safety so surely those negative things would die off quickly.
“Ivan, d’ya mind if I use you as something of a human space-heater?” Alfred asked trying his best to look like a very cold puppy. It seemed to work as Ivan gave his consent and didn’t complain or question it as Alfred moved in front of him and sat between his legs. Leaning back against Ivan’s chest, Alfred was very aware of every wrinkle in the fabric of his coat, of every contour of the body lying beneath it, of the warmth radiating from it. He was aware but this safe touch didn’t feel bad at all, nor did it alarm him when Ivan took the hint and wrapped his arms around Alfred’s shoulder’s.
“I think I am being more of a blanket than a space-heater,” Ivan said, speaking quietly next to Alfred’s ear.
“How ‘bout we compromise and say you’re an electric blanket?” Alfred asked, tilting his head so that he could see Ivan’s face.
“That sounds good,” Ivan murmured into his ear before leaving a gentle kiss on his cheek. The heat from that one touch flared and spread all the way down to the tips of his toes, and Alfred knew he would never need more than this, if only he could have it.
000
“You have been exceptionally chipper lately.”
Alfred nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of his neighbor Francis’ voice coming from his doorway. As it was, he didn’t quite make it out of his skin, though he did fall out of the windowsill. “Mary mother of-Would it kill you to knock first?” He grumbled, rolling himself into an upright position.
“Sorry, but I brought a token of apology with me?” Francis held up a case of beer as a peace offering. Alfred took a minute to consider whether or not the beer would make up for his bruising arm and the invasion of his personal space that always came with allowing Francis in his room. Deciding that he’d need the booze because Francis probably wouldn’t leave even if he asked, he waved the older man in, snatching up a bottle the minute it was within reach.
“Planning to get off the floor, mon ami?” Francis asked, looking down at him with a quirked eyebrow. Alfred shook his head in response, beckoning the other man down with his hand.
“Nope, so you’re gonna have to come down here.”
“It’s the floor, Alfred.”
“That it is, Franny.” Francis’ eye twitched in response to the nickname, but he finally deigned to sit down nonetheless. His distaste for the location was obvious, but that was just how Francis was. He was just as much of a whore as Alfred and had certainly been in the business longer, but he carried himself with all the confidence and snootiness of a celebrity.
“It is not an appropriate place to talk,” Francis sniffed, shifting around to both make himself comfortable and to get an arm around the younger blond. Alfred just rolled his eyes and opened his beer bottle on the windowsill.
“Wouldn’t be the first time you did something inappropriate on the floor.”
Francis snorted, as if to say “I could say the same to you,” but didn’t pursue that line of conversation. Instead he backtracked to his original line of thought. “So, why have you been so much happier lately?”
A beat then, “Don’t be silly, I’m the same as always.”
“Not so! You leave earlier than ever on many mornings, and stay out until Arthur has to call you back! And I have never seen you so excited so early in the morning. What is it that is keeping you from home for so many hours? I miss you!” Francis proclaimed dramatically, draping himself over Alfred. A hand drifted down to his hip, which Alfred tried to shift away from. Francis was simply a touchy-feely sort of person; he liked to get a good feel on people whenever the opportunity presented itself. Alfred tried to keep these opportunities few and far between. He got enough of that touching on the job, thank you very much.
“Nothing,” Alfred mumbled, squirming around in hopes that he’d crush Francis’ hand before it reached his butt. “I’m just enjoying the weather before it turns bad.”
Sighing, Francis brought his hand up to Alfred’s shoulder. “If you were just enjoying the weather, you’d do it without cutting into your precious few hours of sleep. Surely you have a real purpose for all this?” Francis prodded; it seemed he had given up on being physically intrusive in favor of being generally nosy.
Alfred started drinking his beer, trying to buy himself some time before he had to answer. He was bad at lying outright, so he had to give an answer that was technically true, and yet didn’t mention Ivan at all. He knew that if he told Francis about his dates, then soon everyone would know. This was something he couldn’t risk Arthur knowing; he had no idea how the other man would react. He had to think quickly-he was running out of both beer and air.
By the time he reached the bottom of his bottle, Alfred knew what he could say, something undeniably true, yet having nothing to do with Ivan.
“I just need to be out of here, that’s all.”
Francis looked unimpressed. “Really? You take a whole bottle to think and that’s all you come up with? I could’ve sworn you were more creative than that.”
“It’s true!” Alfred defended. Because it was, it just wasn’t Ivan true. “I feel like if I don’t take every chance I have to be out of this house, even if it’s only for work or just to walk around, then I’m going to lose those chances altogether.”
Francis inspected Alfred for a moment, taking in his hunched form, the unfocused way he stared at his empty beer bottle, his scrunched up eyebrows. Clearly, Alfred wouldn’t be talking about this right now if Francis wasn’t making him. Of course, it was precisely because it was Francis who was asking that he was answering at all. The Frenchman, for all his perverse ways, was a good sympathizer and exceptionally perceptive.
“Arthur has been putting pressure on you again, hasn’t he?” Francis asked at last, ending a tense few moments of silence. Alfred gave a barely perceptible nod.
“You know,” Francis continued when it seemed that Alfred didn’t want to speak. “If I were like you, a good boy who’s just gotten in way over his head, I would take that offer. He wants you to be his exclusively, non? To live permanently in his apartment like you did before you were brought into this mess? You are more suited to such a comparatively normal lifestyle, rather than this business. Why do you refuse?”
Alfred took a minute to try and think of how to word his reasoning. It wasn’t that he preferred having a hundred partners rather than just one, because he certainly didn’t and would hate to make it seem that way. That was just the price he had to pay for what he did want-a bit of room to spread his wings. He just wanted the ability to move around, to make some decisions on his own, to see people who lived outside of the boarding house, to see more than just the inside of Arthur’s apartment.
“It’s…It’s like there’s a rubber band around the world that’s slowly constricting,” Alfred said finally. “First it confined me to this city-I can’t leave without giving notice ‘cause if I do Arthur’ll think I’m running away and he’ll stop paying Matt’s tuition and then I’ll have messed up both our lives. Now it’s trying to keep me in this house and I feel like if I don’t keep pushing back on it, it’ll push me in here and I won’t be able to get out.”
Noticing how the younger man seemed to droop more and more with every word, Francis wrapped his arm more tightly around the boy’s shoulders and pulled him closer to his side, until Alfred was leaning his weight on Francis. It surprised the older blond some just how easy it was to pull the usually reserved boy to him; Alfred had never before been able to relax when being held this way.
“For someone who acts so oblivious,” Francis said dryly, “you sure do have a great understanding of Arthur. Surely, if you gave him the chance to keep you in, he would never let you out.”
“It-it’s not even that he’s that bad of a guy-I mean, i-if you take away the whole human exploitation and possessiveness thing-it’s just, I can’t, I can’t do it Francis. I can’t just stay trapped with him on the second floor for the rest of my life or until he gets bored of me. Not-not even for Mattie. I can’t.” Alfred bit his quivering lower lip. Damn it-this was true, it was all true, but he wasn’t supposed to say anything this true. Now he was getting emotional but he couldn’t, because if he did that meant he was being self-pitying and weak and he didn’t want to be. He wouldn’t be.
“Ssh, it’s alright,” Francis murmured, gently rocking Alfred. It was times like these that made Alfred really appreciate Francis, time where he felt like the younger brother for once, like he didn’t have to be so strong because “Big Brother” Francis was.
“Don’t worry, as long as you insist on keeping things the way they are, they will stay this way. Just, just hold on for a while longer, and you’ll make your way out.”
“I don’t wanna be here Francis.” His voice was thick and muffled against his knees now.
“I know, just be patient.”
“I hate this all so much.”
“I know, just be strong.”
Strong. Strong-
000
From:
Matthew Williams-Jones
To:
Alfred Williams-Jones
It’s good to hear that you’re doing something non-work-related. It worries me to always hear about work from you, so I hope that whoever this guy is, he can help you relax. Still, be sure to warn him that if he ever makes you cry, I’ll come down there with a hockey stick and teach him some manners.
I really do hope you can make it to our last game, at least. It’ll be so great to see you again, and you’ll be really impressed by this year’s team. I know you don’t like hockey as much as I do, but I think you’ll be able to appreciate how awesome we are.
Other than a few papers and tests coming up, there’s nothing big going on over here. Though, someone has been leaving tulips in my locker. I don’t know if there’s been a mix-up or they’re actually for me but it’s a nice thing to see after practice.
Have fun on your dates but don’t forget to write (er, email),
Matt
000
Arthur had warned him to be extra careful with this one, and Alfred could understand why from the minute she walked into the door.
She. Girls were sort of a rarity in his room.
Whoever she was, she was pretty and looked like she was from a good family-not the kind of person who had any idea what she was doing when she went out to buy a whore. Maybe her boyfriend had broken up with her and she was feeling low, or she was rebelling against her too-controlling parents, or she’d been dared to. Whatever her reasons were, he could tell from the way her hands shook and her shoulders tensed that she really didn’t want to do this.
“Hey,” he said gently when she crawled into his lap, just as eager to get this done and over with as he usually was. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Wh-who are you to tell-to tell me what to do!” She said, looking near tears. Well damn, if she was going to cry on him then they wouldn’t be able to do this even if she really did want to. There was no way he could get it up when she looked so sad.
“No, I’m not telling you what to do. I can just tell that you really, really don’t want to at all, do you?”
She looked at him from under her bangs (her hair was so long and inky black, so pretty), her face red with embarrassment and unshed tears. “I-I… I don’t. Oh God, I don’t know what I’m doing here and-“ And tears were starting to slip past her eyes and down her face and Alfred just had to wipe them away.
“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay, okay? I’ve got some mugs and cocoa up here, we’ll make that and talk, alright?” He said in a soothing tone, pulling a blanket around her. “I know I’m not the ideal therapist, but I can promise I’ll listen, alright?” She nodded and allowed herself to be led to the chair beside his nightstand. Alfred heaved a sigh, both unnerved by her tears and thankful that he’d have the night off. He’d listen to her problems and try his best to comfort her and hopefully, when she left this place she’d realize this isn’t where good girls like her ought to be and if he never sees her again, well, that would be for the best.
000
“Lucky bastard, taking the afternoon off for a date. We should like, totally do that sometime Tor, see how he likes us rubbing it in his face!” Feliks huffed from the door of the break room as Alfred shrugged on a nice blazer over his usual slacks and button-down shirt. He decided that he wanted to have a nice dinner date with Ivan at a reasonable time for once, and had bartered with Ludwig to get some time off in exchange for working the Sunday afternoon shift.
Ivan was taking him to one of the classier restaurants in town. It wasn’t so swanky that he’d feel particularly uncomfortable there, but it was the sort of place one dressed nicely to go to, hence the blazer which made his typical uniform look much more formal.
“Hey, it’s not like I’m not gonna pick up the hours later. I just really wanted to go on a date at some time that isn’t the middle of the night or the morning, you know?” Alfred said, taking the time to pout over his shoulder while he adjusted the blazer around him.
“It seems perfectly reasonable to want to go on a normal dinner date, I think,” Toris said, walking over to Alfred with the lint brush. Feliks stuck his tongue out at the brunette and muttered, “Traitor.”
“Ah, don’t get too blue Feliks,” Alfred said as he picked up his things, “I’ll be sure to fill you in on all the juicy details tomorrow.”
At that, the shorter blond scoffed. “Yeah right. The most you do on a date is like, hold hands!”
“Not true,” Alfred scowled at him halfheartedly, his face flushed. “We kiss.”
“Dude, I can count the times you’ve kissed him on like, one hand. You’re gonna like, be a virgin forever at this rate.”
Both Alfred and Toris choked on their own breath at that statement. Toris sputtered, “Fe-Feliks! That’s not appropriate at all! Don’t, ah, don’t worry Alfred, it’s totally respectable to take your time and wait and-Uh, Alfred?”
“Pft…”
“Are you, um, are you okay?”
“Ah, ye-yeah, it-it’s-hehe, nothing…”
“Holy shit Tor, I broke him!”
Alfred’s shoulders were quivering with suppressed laughter at the sheer irony of the statement. It was a disparaging, self-depreciating kind of laughter, but he just couldn’t stop himself. A whore being accused of being a virgin, what a laugh! Then again, wasn’t this entire thing he had with Ivan a farce in and of itself? It was all a part of one very long joke, only he wasn’t sure what the punch line was.
Toris, perceptive as ever, seemed to catch the dark undertone of his laughter and made him meet the other’s forest green eyes. “Alfred, are you feeling alright?” Toris asked, his expression communicating an intense worry.
Feeling a bit sobered by the pure concern his friend was showing him, Alfred straightened himself up and tried to remember who he was supposed to be. Turning himself away from his friend’s gaze and toward the door he replied, “Yeah, Toris, I’m fine. I’ve gotta go now though. And I’ll ah, keep your words in mind tonight Feliks.”
“Oh, Alfred-“ Toris tried to reach forward and stop Alfred from leaving, but he was already half-way out the door.
“See ya guys!”
000
It was such a nice feeling when Ivan wove their fingers together. Ivan’s hands were bigger than Alfred’s, and a little cool but Alfred’s were warm enough for the both of them.
“It is not far from here, don’t worry,” Ivan said, motioning just up the street from where they were.
“I’m not,” Alfred leaned on the taller man, enjoying the feeling of the other’s body alongside his own. He knew what the warmth in him was, that silly thing that made him happy to just be walking hand-in-hand with the Russian. He knew what it was but let it float around in the air, nameless. If he named it, then he’d have to abandon Ivan, because he couldn’t be in-he couldn’t do that thing. He just couldn’t, it had to be against some sort of rule, or maybe it was in the fine print of his contract.
Shaking his head to rid himself of any and all particularly weighty thoughts, Alfred smiled and gave a little cheer when they reached the entrance to the restaurant. As they were shown to a little window-side table, Alfred couldn’t help but think that he rather enjoyed being waited on for once, instead of the other way around.
“Heh, think there are any good burgers on the menu?” Alfred asked with a grin once the waiter had left. Ivan’s hand stopped on its way to the menu in front of him and quirked an eyebrow.
“If you wanted a burger, I would have taken you to a McDonald’s,” he said, resuming he previous action and taking up the menu. Alfred mimicked the action before answering.
“If we were going to McDonald’s, then I’d be the one paying for dinner,” Alfred said, feeling a small smirk of triumph grow on his face as he found that the restaurant did in fact have burgers. Fancy burgers. He was half-tempted to order one, but went with one of the steak dinners instead. It would be a waste to come to a restaurant like this and order something so common-place, after all.
“…You were very hesitant to say yes to this restaurant though. Would you have perhaps preferred that?” Ivan asked, his expression mostly curious except for the small nervous light in his eyes.
“No! It-it’s not the place at all!” Alfred denied quickly, gesturing perhaps a bit more frantically than necessary. “It’s… ah…” Alfred could feel his face heating up, embarrassed by his reasoning.
“It’s the price,” Ivan inferred correctly. Sighing he said, “Alfred, you work very hard and selflessly for your brother. There is no shame in letting someone treat you to dinner.”
Alfred was about to object and say that yeah, being treated to dinner in a place that he would otherwise never be able to afford was actually pretty embarrassing, but that wasn’t the main reason that he was particularly hesitant to agree to this restaurant.
“It’s not… it’s not just that. Though, I’ve gotta tell you that being taken to a place that’s sorta beyond your means is a bit embarrassing. It’s just that, well, I don’t like that you’re not letting me pay for my bit this time. I don’t like feeling like I owe people.”
Ivan’s expression became a mix of confusion and something like offense, or maybe even hurt. “You do not owe me for this. I would not hold this over your head.”
“I-I know! I didn’t mean it like that. Gosh, I’m sorry-I’m being dumb, I know!” Alfred apologized quickly, desperately wanting to bang his head against the table. “I know you wouldn’t, because you’re-“ The best thing in my life “-a good man. You wouldn’t, but you could. And if you were anyone else you might. It’s just… not a comfortable position for me to be in. I’ve gotta get used to it.” Closing his eyes and sighing, Alfred leaned back and took the chance to covertly hit his head on the backrest of his seat. He was such an idiot, he should’ve just kept his mouth shut. Ivan probably felt insulted and he’d never want to go anywhere with Alfred again, no matter who was paying.
Alfred did not expect to feel a rough, cool hand meet his own on the table. Peaking from under one eyelid and fearing the worst, he was surprised to see not an aggravated look, but another one of Ivan’s complicated expressions. It seemed a bit more positive than his earlier one, the offense having been replaced by something far more pleased.
“You know, I love how you have all these really interesting and complex expressions, but you’re gonna have to explain this one to me,” Alfred said after a moment of trying to figure it out himself. What was he supposed to make of the upturned lips and the dancing light in the other’s eyes, when it was coupled with the concerned knitting of his eyebrows and the bit of sadness he hid at the corners of his eyes?
“You trust me enough to let me pay for your dinner,” Ivan stated, perhaps more happily than was entirely necessary. To say Alfred was confused would be an understatement.
“Yes…”
“You worry other people will take advantage of such things, but you trust me to because even if I could I wouldn’t.”
“I’m pretty sure I just said that, big guy. Am I missing something here?” Mattie used to tell him he tended to miss the point, so maybe he was doing that again.
“You trust me. I was never sure of this.”
“Oh.” Oh indeed. Alfred’s face heated up as he realized that, indeed, he did trust the older man. It surprised him to realize this; after Matthew went away and everything that happened with Arthur, he had stopped trusting people easily. Even before leaving the orphanage he’d been unusually paranoid. To realize so belatedly that he had very easily slipped into trusting Ivan hit him hard and even made him feel a bit choked up, like he was finding something dear and important that he’d lost long ago.
“Yeah, I do Ivan. I trust you.” With a pang of guilt, Alfred thought that might just be the closest he ever came to telling the truth about his feelings.
For a moment, Ivan simply shined with joy over the statement, perhaps understanding the gravity of it on a more instinctual level than intellectual one. However, a moment later it was once again tinged by confusion and that strange little sadness around his eyes.
“You trust me, but not others, not even for something as simple as a meal. This is very sad thing. You should not feel that people will only take care of you to get something in return.”
It was like Ivan’s words were a pin and he was a butterfly, stabbed through the center and stuck to a board for inspection. He tried to scramble for words, for a response that would make Ivan dismiss the topic but found none. Luckily though, the universe seemed to be on his side at the moment for just then their waiter came back for their orders. Heaving a sigh of relief, Alfred ordered and Ivan allowed him to change the subject to their meal choices without too much difficulty.
From there, they moved on to more normal topics of conversation. Ivan talked and Alfred listened with rapt attention (which was a rarity as his attention span was the size of a rodent’s). Alfred joked and Ivan would give his somewhat strange but endearing laugh in response. They took turns picking away at their meals while the other talked, and Alfred managed to astound even himself with his ability to eat at a normal pace.
They were in the middle of a fairly silly conversation about his brother (“And I don’t know much about hockey, but I do know when my bro is kicking ass”) when his phone started vibrating in his pocket. It startled him to realize it was even on; he had become very good at turning it off before he met up with Ivan. Every press of that off button felt like the cutting of a string, one that held Alfred to the part of his life he always tried to hide. He usually never forgot to give himself the pleasure of doing that.
“Ah, sorry, I guess I forgot to turn it off during the mad dash to get outta the café,” Alfred said as he fished the phone out of his pocket with the intent to turn it off. “I’ll just do that now-“
“Who is it, calling at this time?” Ivan asked, looking simultaneously curious and annoyed by the little device in Alfred’s hand.
“It’s uh... Arthur, my landlord,” Alfred read off the missed call screen before moving his thumb to once again go through with his plan to shut the damnable thing off.
“Should you not call back? It might have been important.”
“Ivan,” Alfred said, looking directly into the older man’s amethyst eyes. “I took today off for you, because I want to spend time with you, not my landlord. So unless the boarding house is burning down, I don’t care why he’s calling. This is you time.” Alfred took a moment to revel in the fact that for once he was the one to make Ivan go pink.
“But what if it is burning down?”
“Then he’ll call twi-“ Just then the (still not turned off, damn it) phone started vibrating in his hand again. “Fuck.”
“Answer it,” Ivan said with a sigh. Alfred made a kicked puppy face, but answered the call anyway.
“What do you want?” He asked, perhaps a bit more rudely than he should’ve.
“What do I want?” The voice on the other end was familiar, but definitely not Arthur. “I wanna get this God forsaken lush outta my bar, that’s what!”
Alfred cringed; damn, Arthur was drunk already? Wasn’t it way too early for that? In any case, that explained why the voice was so familiar-Alfred was rather well-known in the local pubs for being a certain drunkard’s escort home.
“Um, I understand your problem, but is there someone else you could call to handle this? I’m in the middle of something important.” There was a moment of silence on the other end, which Alfred took to be the bartender talking to Arthur. He took the chance to quickly explain the situation to Ivan.
“The guy’s drunk at a bar somewhere. I think they want me to pick him up…”
“Ah.”
The bartender’s return to the conversation was announced by a rustling on the phone, “Nope, you’re shit outta luck kid. The guy’s throwin’ a fit, all ‘Get me Alfred, get me Alfred.’ Won’t leave without you coming to get him, I already tried calling a cab.”
Alfred let out a groan and resisted the urge to bang his head on the table. Of all the days to leave his damned phone on, it had to be the day that Arthur decided to get drunk early. It was like the man timed these things.
“I understand… give me a moment please.”
“Sure.”
Alfred took the phone away from his ear and gave Ivan an imploring look. “Please tell me I don’t have to go, or say you’ll be angry if I do, or something that would validate my not going to pick him up. Please.”
Ivan was making a complicated face again. It was pinched, he was clearly and rightfully annoyed, but there was also a hint of resignation that Alfred was not liking at all. “I… would certainly be upset if our date were to end early.”
“Yes!”
“But it would not be responsible of you to leave someone drunk at a bar.”
“Ivan, you’re not supposed to say that part!”
“Alfred,” Ivan said with a voice that would stand for no whining. “You are not the sort to leave people stranded at bars. If you do not go now you will feel distracted all evening, and tomorrow you will deal with an angry landlord. We can easily do this again, so do not worry about going now.”
Alfred sat, torn over what to do. Truthfully he didn’t like the idea of leaving Arthur alone to terrorize the town while drunk, but he hated Arthur when he was drunk more than anything. He just wanted to stay with Ivan; he wanted to be selfish and irresponsible and happy right where he was. Still, Ivan had a point: it would be on his mind the rest of the night if he didn’t go get Arthur now.
Giving a resigned sigh and putting the phone back to his ear, Alfred said, “Give me the address and I’ll be over in a few.” Rummaging through his pockets until he found a pen, he wrote the address down on a napkin, found he recognized it, and ended the call once he was done writing.
“I’m so sorry for this, I swear I’ll make it up to you somehow,” Alfred said, shrugging on his jacket. The movement was hurried and he didn’t notice when something slipped out of his pocket and onto his seat. Standing up, he moved to the other side of the table to give Ivan a kiss (and a damned good one at that, for putting up with all this).
“нет, do not worry about it. I will see you tomorrow afternoon,” Ivan said once his lips were unoccupied.
“Yeah, tomorrow,” Alfred said, and gave Ivan one more short kiss before he left.
Sighing and feeling a little annoyed but mostly content, Ivan called over their waiter in order to pay off their bill. It wasn’t until that waiter pointed it out that Ivan noticed Alfred’s wallet, sitting innocently on the seat he’s just left. Pocketing it, he decided to wait until tomorrow to give it to Alfred at work.
It was just a shame that Alfred wouldn’t actually be at work tomorrow.
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