Motorcycles and Matrimony

[waitforsuperman]

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.

Comments

[amar_dulce_vin]

To be honest, he was slightly disappointed. He'd expected a far more explosive entry. It just seemed more American, somehow. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd done to warrant this second verbal assault (a similar scenario from not too long ago regarding cousins and the assumption of incest came to mind).

He eyed the keyring that dangled from a carabiner that hung from one of the American's belt-loops.

Ah.
The motorcycle.

"Alo, Alfred." Ion greeted him, customary smile in place but grey eyes cold.

I DID IT KELSEY~! I SPELT IT RIGHT!

[waitforsuperman]

"Don't 'Alo, Alfred' me," The American snapped, not giving him any room to move away, the idea of personal space thrown right out the window. It was one of those times where, despite behind shorter than Ion by a good few inches, the pure rage radiating from him didn't make him seem as small. In his eyes at least. That stupid smile, Christ, what he wouldn't give to punch it right off of his face.

Maybe later.

When the Moldovan had turned to him, the finger that had jabbed into his back was now stabbing itself into the taller man's chest with every single one of Alfred's words. "You. Touched. My. Bike. And don't even pretend you didn't, I saw the fucking security tapes and I saw you kick the stand down like a little bitch-" His voice was a hiss, blue eyes narrowed and, unlike Ion's cold ones, were blazing with unadulterated loathing. "That means we have a problem Ion; a big problem

YOU DID!! I'M SO PROUD OF YOU~!♥

[amar_dulce_vin]

Regardless of Alfred's delusions of grandeur, he still looked small. Small and pathetic like a small dog that barked twice as loud to make up for its lack of stature. Alfred certainly not as intimidating as Eftemie in one of his particularly black moods, and certainly nowhere near the potential for cruelty that Mikhail and Radu possessed. (And Alfred could certainly not hit as hard as Andrei could.)So he really felt no fear as he gazed down at the shorter American, who had now folded his arms like a sulking child.

...how quaint.

"Americanii nu au maniere..." Ion sighed, "Nu poate fi chiar deranjat să spun salut. Don't swear at me; is impolite."

Ion straightened out of his usual slouch into his full towering height, reasserting himself over the situation. He stared expressionlessly down at Alfred for a moment or two before his lips spread into a slow, sarcastic smirk that most had not seen before.

"I wasn't pretending anything."

These subject titles are much more happy than the actual messages :\

[waitforsuperman]

It only took a moment for the words to sink in.

Well that settled it.

Taking fistfuls of the Moldovan's shirt, Alfred slammed him against the wall, pressing close to get their faces as close as their heights would permit. He was already breathing hard. While Ion may have never shown anyone that sarcastic smirk, the fury in the blue eyes had been seen by a few select people. Those usually about to receive a few scars and a bloodied lip.

"Listen here," he breathed, one hand letting go of the shirt to grip Ion's jaw, dragging his head a few inches down, barely making them eye-level, "I can talk to you however the fuck I want because I ain't gonna be told around by some girly-boy like you."

He grinned slightly. "And don't think that being related to Ivan gets you a free-get-outta-jail card. You're in my bad books and you're gonna stay there."