Motorcycles and Matrimony
Who: Alfred and Ion (with special guest appearance by Ivan)
When: December 7th
Where: Ivan's apartment.
What: After an email, a dented bike and a few ill-placed hearts, Alfred's day is in no shape of improvement.
( and the day just gets worse and worse )
When: December 7th
Where: Ivan's apartment.
What: After an email, a dented bike and a few ill-placed hearts, Alfred's day is in no shape of improvement.
( and the day just gets worse and worse )
All that rage seemed to float away and he straightened, staring at the Moldovan. His lip twitched into a smile and the blue eyes, instead of being hot with anger turned cold, drained of any feeling. He ran a hand through his hair, fingers tangling before loosening and falling to his side where they curled into a fist.
"I guess I'll just have to try again."
He launched himself at the boy, no other goal in his mind besides destroying that tiny little smirk. He wanted to leave bruises on that pale skin, to leave marks, to just imprints, to leave wounds, to leave an impression. Ion wasn't going to forget this, and Alfred was going to make sure. The fight melted into a blur of fists, grunts of pain and the dark-fire of Ion's hair as the American pulled at it.
(it was not as soft as he expected.)
And then hands were pulling him away from the other man and he fought harder before he was pulled against a chest and his arms were pinned to his sides by an embrace. Hissed into his ear -What the hell is going on!?- the words blurred and he slumped, nails digging into the cold palms.
"He said I hit like a girl- broke my bike- my finger, he broke it, he broke my fucking finger Ivan- asshole-" Alfred panted, noticing for the first time that blood was dripping from a cut in his lip. He was trembling in the Russian's embrace and was blinking harder.
Was that Ion? The boy was curled up on the group, shielding himself with an arm- cowering? No, no, don't fall for it- this kid broke Al's finger, gotta focus.
The American glared at Ion, struggling against Ivan. "Get up and fight!" He shouted, trying to get at him again- trying to get him up and not cowering, not acting like the innocent one because he knew that under those grey eyes was a monster, "Ivan- lemmie go! He's just pretending, LEMMIE GO! I said-" This continued, getting more frantic and loud until the American was red in the face, his teeth bared.
"I am not the monster!"
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