Animal

2

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He laid, looking at the ceiling, stroking his lover's hair. This was something he'd experienced before, something he hoped he'd experience again. Ivan's breath was steady, but that didn't mean he was asleep.

"It's late," he was always the one to break the silence. Ivan nuzzled deeper into his chest. He already knew what he was going to say, but that didn't mean he wanted to hear it, "I need to go home soon, baby."

Ivan's arm, which had been lazily thrown over his body, tightened in an embrace.

"Why?" his voice was strained, "Because I'll break your neck?"

Alfred's body briefly tensed, before he felt the warm hand of his lover rubbing his neck, his calloused thumb rubbing love marks, a far off look in his eye. Alfred sighed. Oh, how he adored this man.

"No, baby," he replied, reaching out to touch his cheek, bringing them closer with the gentlest hand, "because my parents don't like it when I come home too late. It's already going on eleven."

Ivan kissed him, then, and it practically tore him in two. A part of him became completely on board with the idea of running away. The other made him so miserable he just wanted to curl into a ball. He kissed his nose, then the area between his eyebrows.

"I know," he said, "I know. I don't want to leave either."

Ivan was silent. He pressed a kiss to his throat, and Alfred's eyes fluttered shut.

They cleaned up their mess, occasionally sharing looks, or touches, or kisses, until they got to the car. Then it was only the same suffocating silence it always was, Ivan's hand firmly clasped around his own. Otherwise, they didn't touch, or look at each other, or say anything. What was there to say?

He kissed him, and whispered his good night before he ran into the house. Ivan only drove off when he opened the shade just enough to poke his head out.

In the morning, he went through his routine like he did every day. Take his heat-suppressants. Brush his teeth. Change his clothes. Get his computer from where it was charging. All in preparation for the fight that was about to happen.

It was quiet downstairs, besides the clinking of silverware on plates. Arthur glared at him. Francis only glanced, before pretending to be completely entranced by his meal. Alfred took in a deep breath.

"Where the hell were you, young man?" Arthur demanded, silverware scattering as he jumped up. Matthew flinched. Francis continued to eat, "No goddamn football game lasts until midnight!"

So he hadn't snuck in quietly enough. He bit his cheek.

"And you'll never guess what I saw on the camera," he pulled out his phone, frantically switching apps. Alfred blinked, watching as he walked over, backing up from the phone in his face, "Who the hell is that?"

"A guy from the team," Alfred said, "he dropped me off."

He turned the phone back, zooming in. From the outside camera you could barely see him leaning in to kiss him. Alfred paled, gulping.

"What the hell were you doing to come back at midnight?" Arthur yelled, and Alfred flinched, taking a step back, "with a missing bottle of wine and no game last night. In fact, I was informed by the delightful football coach that there hadn't been a team in two years! When were you planning on telling me that?"

"I- um," Alfred felt vomit welling up in this throat. The yelling had made the almost invisible headache come at him full speed. His stomach twisted.