A/N: So I'm not actually dead. This is the M version. You know where the E version is. Honestly some of the emotional weight is lost because I rarely do sex for the sake of sex but I would rather not get kicked off the site, thanks.

In the week since the masquerade, Matthew had learned a few of things.

One: people did remember what they did under the influence of what he, Lovino, Alicia, and Ric started referring to as the truth serum, but only if they hadn't drunk enough to lose their memories naturally. As such, that meant that Matthew had ample opportunity to gage the reaction of his world in Italy to news/rumors of what happened in Monaco.

The general consensus was to maintain relations, even "repairing" them if the Families thought that Lovino had been angry about any momentary indiscretions on the part of their heirs at the party. It also meant that the Cartinelli Family seemed to be unaware of Marcello's loose tongue. Sure, they formally apologized, publicly recognizing Lovino as the Vargas heir even before his grandfather had done so as a political but major concession. But they made no other signs of tightening their operations beyond a few extra security guards as babysitters/protectors for Marcello.

No one said anything to Matthew about his lovers. If anything, people gave him wider berth and only looked at him with morbid curiosity at odd moments. Rumors varied, but the narrative was that Matthew had been in some way involved with not one but two Horsemen and managed to walk away, either unscathed or with them wanting more. The people who thought it was a one-time thing cast the most frequent and least subtle glances his way, clearly wondering if there was a way to exploit his newly discovered interest in men. Those who thought the latter stayed the fuck away from him, because the last thing anyone wanted to do was piss off Ghost and War and Death. Oh, people had lost some respect for him because he liked men and/or they assumed (correctly) that he had submitted to them, but no one was stupid enough to say it to his face or in front of anyone they knew reported to him.

(Matthew, of course, had planted spies in every branch of the Vargas Family's operations, as well as those of several other Families. People's true feelings eventually made it back to him, and by extension Lovino, one way or another.)

In any case, there was some talk about how close Matthew and Lovino had reportedly been with the majority of the Horsemen suggested they also had business ties with them. But as time passed and Lovino (and to some extent Matthew) kept up the veneer of normality, that died away and people were more than willing to believe it was just sex. The fact that Matthew had put Marcello on the floor just for touching him lightly supported the story.

Two: Leo could be very careful when he put his mind to it. It took Matthew four days of extremely frustrating searching to find any pattern connecting Leo's business to the Cartinelli family and even that connection was tangential at best.

Every Sunday afternoon, one of the women who worked for Leo met up with the same high ranking member of the Cartinelli's enforcement, a man who was Alicia's equivalent in their hierarchy named Ignacio Valencia. He met with different women in different locations, but why would he look consistently to the Vargas Family to scratch that particular itch? And why every Sunday? It was a stretch but one worth looking into.

In the meantime, Matthew was going over Leo's finances with a fine tooth comb, looking for anything out of place. There was one major problem with this line of investigation: literally all the family's money was laundered through multiple false accounts since all their business was illegal. Sure, they had accountants to keep track of the money to ensure no internal embezzlement was happening, but it wouldn't be hard to miss a few hundred here, a couple thousand there. Leo grew up within the Family; of anyone, he, Lovino and Feliciano would know how to game the system.

He also looked over the actions of the Cartinelli Family of the past year or so, though Alicia was most familiar with the minutia of the files on other Families. They, with Lovino and Ric, had spent one long afternoon collectively examining and talking through any change in the organization's behavior. The result of it was that they had a collection of small details that added up to them preparing to expand their operations into Vargas territory, but none of it was enough to take the accusation against Leo to Lovino's grandfather and current head of the Family, Romulus "Roma" Vargas.

(Matthew despised the man for how he had pit his grandsons against each other in competitions that always disadvantaged Lovino. He didn't know why the old asshole hated his best friend so much and neither did Lovino, but he did and he was the only one who openly voiced his dislike of Matthew having such a position within the organization. The fact that he had yet to acknowledge Lovino as heir to the Family was insulting at this point as he had the most stability in expanding his power base. If they were going to accuse his second favorite grandson of betraying the Family, they would need as airtight a case as possible.)

With few other options, Matthew had put one of his best tails on Ignacio, just to observe for the first week; no need to alert either Leo or the Cartinellis that they were on to them.

Three: If organizations didn't have a spine of titanium, the Horsemen would walk all over them.

Yes, they kept up their side of the deal, providing access to files they had on other Families, highlighting particular pressure points of which only some were new information to Matthew and Lovino. In return, Matthew and Alicia identified a short list of possible bases for War's people within a week of being provided the specifications. Additionally, they began making subtle inquiries into the ins and outs of the drug trade, though through intermediaries that were most associated with rival Families; no need to draw attention to Lovino.

The problem was they were extremely exacting in their requests for information and the timelines they had set. Matthew understood and respected being deliberate in your planning and having attention to detail, but they were acting like they didn't have regular jobs to do. Alicia ended up being the primary contact point for the Horsemen's staff, but it had gotten to the point that Matthew had to physically pick up the phone to explain in no uncertain terms that their expectations were ridiculous and needed to be adjusted. The partnership seemed like it was going to be profitable for both of them, but not if they didn't ground their plans in reality.

Perhaps it had been a test, because the person Matthew had been speaking to seemed surprised at the pushback, but still pivoted to an alternate timeline with relative ease. It was clear that, without them putting their collective foot down, the Vargas Family had the potential to become just another offshoot of the Horsemen's operations and that just wasn't on.

Research had shown that the Horsemen's partners in other parts of the world had a general skew towards a rising generation of crime bosses. It seemed like the Horsemen were separating their partners from their puppets.

Four: Matthew…liked being in a relationship. He liked it a lot.

He messaged both of Gilbert and Alistair at least once a day, either separately or together. It was surprisingly easy for him to keep work and pleasure internally separate, referring to them by their title internally for anything business related. It was a false separation and he knew it, but it worked well enough for the moment.

The process of getting to know them was engrossing. It fascinated him to see the layers of who Gilbert and Alistair were emerge from what he had gleaned from them those two days. More than once he had gotten a message from one of them and had to concentrate on not bursting out laughing around people who would find that extremely out of character. Lovino had commented in passing that he was alarming people by looking vaguely pleased now and again, but he knew it more than a light tease; people had noticed that he was in a better mood. At least, the temper that he had been barely keeping in check had drastically cooled.

In any case, after the comment Matthew stopped checking his special phone in front of people who weren't Lovino and Alicia. Gilbert and Alistair understood that he couldn't always talk just as Matthew expected them to go silent sometimes, but they made up for it by leaving fun little messages behind, sometimes just to him.

For all that Alistair worked with computers, Gilbert was the one to send hilarious gifs and memes, introducing Matthew to a world of confusing but entertaining internet culture. It took Matthew only the week to figure out how to properly respond to these and was gratified by Gilbert's apparent joy at him playing along. He was a huge dork underneath the intimidating exterior and day job and Matthew found it painfully endearing.

Alistair preferred to avoid internet rabbit holes since he spent so much of his time staring at a screen anyway, but he loved music. He was happy to introduce Matthew to new artists from a variety of genres, giving him something other than the same music he had been listening to for the past 3 years. The music, in the background when he was working or cooking, filled the silences he had grown to expect and tolerate, but not enjoy.

By the end of the first week, Matthew realized that he had become friends with his boyfriends. Yeah, that was kind of a prerequisite for any successful romantic relationship, but the realization left him with a warm fuzzy feeling. He loved that he could say that Gilbert was a huge dork and Alistair liked some fucking weird music. He reveled in the fact they both lamented his lack of understanding pop culture references and were openly plotting ways to get him to have more fun.

He was happy to know not just what each of them did, but was starting to understand which parts of their jobs they enjoyed the most. Gilbert was an arms dealer who could fight and strategize his way out of any situation, yes, but his passion was for designing and building weapons. Alistair oversaw a large business and information apparatus, but he preferred spending his time coding viruses and figuring out how to crack a cybersecurity system like it was a puzzle game. Alistair enjoyed traditional Scottish food and Gilbert, for all that military training conditioned his digestive system for awful food, actually couldn't stomach it.

They had taken the time to understand Matthew's interests outside of work, as meager a list as that was. Gilbert bought the book he described as his favorite and began reading it the next day. Alistair found out he had a reluctant sweet tooth and sent a small box of cupcakes to his office the next day (he had protested the temptation…but ate them anyway). Little things like that.

There was one major drawback to the fact that he was with them…or rather had been with them.

Matthew was horny. Incredibly, distractingly horny.

It was like having sex with them had poked a hornets' nest of hormones that were now flying around, absolutely enraged. He did his best to try to not let it affect his behavior because he was a grown man, dammit. The truth of it was that, after only that short time apart, he had wanted little more than to ride at least one of his boyfriends into the sunset.

Matthew hadn't told Gilbert or Alistair this, but Lovino knew since Matthew told him in an off moment. His best friend found this fact absolutely hilarious.

("Congrats, buddy. You've been dick-notized."

"What is—"

"Hypnotized by their dicks. They've got you ready to do just about anything after two nights!"

"…I hate you. Why are we even friends?"

"I'm the light of your life. Welcome back to the realm of sex-havers, Ghost. You now get to suffer with the rest of us.")

He had reluctantly but necessarily made more time to get himself off since his quick, impersonal orgasms in hurried showers left him more irritated than satisfied. Taking the few extra minutes to craft an actual fantasy involving his boyfriends rather than the faceless lovers that had done well enough for the past few years went a long way to helping with this problem, while creating a whole new one.

He, uh. Matthew was getting a little uncomfortable with the level of depravity his mind delved in to when he let it off its leash. The ultimate destination of these thoughts were the kinds of things that he would never want to bring up to anyone, ever. It was like letting himself give into one set of interests with Gilbert and Alistair opened up a whole new realm of possibilities that his mind was running with. He had never seriously thought of being with two men at once before that first night! And now…

Now he had to worry about making sure these thoughts never saw the light of day.

Still, being with Alistair and Gilbert was amazing and, even after a week, Matthew wouldn't trade what he had with them for the whole world.

It had taken only nine days for Matthew to reach a breaking point.

"We can't keep referring to them like this," Matthew said, feeling foolish every time he said their titles out loud here, away from the almost dream like memories he had of Monaco. That, and it never stopped being surreal when he thought to himself, I'm dating War and Death. It was worse when Lovino said it.

"Agreed," Alicia said, a glint in her eye and visible dimple on her right cheek that all but told him that she knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Well what do you suggest?" Lovino asked, similarly looking amused. "Those are their names."

No, no they weren't, but Alicia didn't know them and Lovino only knew because Matthew had told him before he realized it was going to be a big secret.

"I would rather not say the titles of some of the most notorious crime lords in the world on a regular basis, particularly when you never know who could be listening in an off moment," Matthew said carefully, not wanting them to push on his motivations for doing this outside of the purely practical.

"Fair enough. What do you have in mind?"

...Matthew hadn't thought that far. "I'm open to suggestions."

"What do you think, Ghost? You're the one who knows them the best out of us."

"I don't want to pick a name that is associated with either of them in any way," he said, thinking that the entire point of this exercise was to not only decrease his discomfort in every day conversation but to also protect their identities. Ghost was an internationally wanted criminal like they were, but the Horsemen were on a different metric all together.

"Okay, that still has me looking at you. You would know the best what isn't associated with them."

Fine. That was fair. "If that's the case then you both can think through for Pestilence and Famine since you're working with them, A, you may or may not be still seeing him, Boss." The boss was sarcastic but Lovino didn't bat an eye at it.

Matthew stopped and thought about Gilbert and Alistair and what he could stand to call them that wouldn't feel too alien internally but had no actual connection to them. Gilbert was...a lot. He was dorky and fun and so fucking dangerous. He had a lot of weapons and...oh. Okay, he was Canadian-Matthew, not Gilbert, obviously-and since Gilbert had a mercenary...

"Wade." He murmured below his breath only to immediately discard it. No, that felt like a little too much, even to him. What was a name, a good strong name for what Gilbert was, a name that was (if he was being completely honest) more fitting to his boyfriend's personality and physique? What if he wasn't a Horseman but a god? No, no, too on the nose. An emperor, and one less known?

"Max." He said this with more confidence, let it ring in the air and tested its durability. Max. "For War."

Neither of them questioned him on it and Matthew turned his mind to his ginger lover. Alistair was just as complex as Gilbert, but in such a different way. He felt almost…aloof, separate from it all and vaguely amused in a dignified manner. He was Scottish. How had Matthew known that again?

"James for Death." It seemed more formal than Jim or Jamie.

"Alex for Famine," Alicia replied, contemplative look on her face. "It's gender neutral."

Matthew and Alicia turned as one to look at Lovino expectantly, and Matthew was surprised to find his friend blushing. They both waited, patient as their line of work demanded they be, and Lovino eventually cleared his throat and said, "Gabriel, Gabe for Pestilence."

Matthew took it in stride but Alicia's eyebrows raised slowly. "Like the archangel, sir?"

Lovino turned tomato red and tried to throw them out of his office until Matthew reminded him of the fact they were only halfway through a meeting.

Matthew appreciated uneventful routine, changed only by his own intention, for his own ends. He didn't rely on it, but it was comforting, even for someone like him, to have things happen as expected. Too much excitement often got people killed, after all.

One such predictable thing was the stupidity of human beings in general, and the arrogance of men in particular.

Ignacio kept up his routine, meeting with Rosita, a 19-but-looked-disturbingly-younger escort that had been in Leo's corps for a little over a year who was using a significant portion of her earnings to support her ailing parents and younger sister. Alicia had checked in on her on more than one occasion, a habit that she picked up with the younger prostitutes with particularly tragic stories, and reported that she had a sour disposition but loved her family. A survivor, she had said, and a shrewd one at that. Intelligent, reasonable…and with no fondness for Leo.

It only made sense for Matthew to have her brought to them the following night.

He arranged the meeting at one of the more upscale hotels in the neighborhood of Lovino's main headquarters, Matthew's people in Leo's branch making sure that his request for a woman was both anonymous and well-aimed. A knock at the hotel door at the appointed time had Alicia peering through the peephole and opening the door, staying out of sight so as to not alarm their guest. Rosita had only taken two steps into the room when she spied Matthew and froze, eyes widening in terrified recognition.

Matthew didn't bother trying to smile, knowing that the show of emotion would likely alarm her more. "Please, come in, Rosita," he tried, voice respectful and even. He was a monster; didn't mean he had to be rude.

She jumped and turned around almost frantically when Alicia closed the door behind her. His second didn't quite smile at her, but something about Alicia made Rosita relax just a fraction, allowed her to breathe.

She took a deep breath but then composed her face and turned back to him. "Has there been a problem, sir?"

Smart, she was smart. "Yes and one I think you can help solve." The answer clearly troubled her under her graceful mask, the whites of her mahogany eyes showing just a little more.

Alicia added, coming around her, "You will of course be granted protection until the matter is resolved if you cooperate, as well as a small gift of appreciation." This is why Matthew had asked her to come with him: assurances from him would be contrary to the persona he had constructed and people often found comfort in a woman's presence, no matter how dangerous that woman was. He wanted her willing cooperation, not false assurances that would get her out of the room faster. In situations like this, the comfort of the potential accomplice was key.

Rosita's eyes narrowed at that and then glanced back to him. Matthew suppressed a satisfied smile as she seemed to settle into herself. "How may I be of service?"

By the time she left to meet her other night's appointments, 2000 euros richer, Matthew knew that not only was their tip that Leo was passing information to the Cartinellis correct, but that he was passing it to Marcello exclusively. Apparently the wayward heir was trying to get himself back in his parent's good graces and prove himself to the rest of the organization as more than a spoiled, lecherous drunkard by pulling off a massive power play.

And he had almost succeeded. Matthew was still searching for a more conclusive paper trail, growing more concerned with every passing day. Marcello had said it would be done in a month. If that was true, they were fast running out of time.

Lovino stared at Ric, utterly frozen. "You're serious.

"Yes, sir."

"How bad is it?"

"Uncertain at the moment, but he was alive when they took him to the hospital."

Matthew hadn't moved a muscle, staring at Ric with what passed as his "in shock" expression. This was…inconvenient? Too convenient?

An interesting development at least. If one could call five car pile-up a development.

It was a good thing that Matthew wasn't expected to say anything because his mind was racing. He didn't know the exact circumstances, but he could imagine the narrative that would emerge. Marcello had gotten picked up for the Italian version of DUIs multiple times before, though not recently. His parents had assigned extra security to him, a fact that he could very well have resented. The car accident was an unfortunate but inevitable outcome for an irresponsible heir who had wanted to escape for a while.

But Matthew and Lovino knew that Marcello had the perfect motivation for cleaning up his act and maintaining a low profile.

Lovino stared at Ric before flicking his eyes around the room, looking at everyone but Matthew. He satisfied himself with something and said, "We need to evaluate how this changes things. Thank you, Ric. Everyone but Ghost, out."

They went, Ric the only one bold enough to throw Matthew a curious look. He didn't return it, gazing into the middle distance as he started thinking through what might happen next. Considering Monaco, suspicion might fall on them, but they were far from the only ones with an ax to grind when it came to Marcello. Factor in the unpredictability of grieving parents…they would need to add more security and…this could go wrong in so many ways…

Lovino was looking at him steadily. At length, he asked, "Did you tell them?"

Matthew's racing thoughts stopped. "What are you talking about?"

"Did you tell James and Max about what Marcello called you that night?"

Matthew stared at him, seeing where his thought process was going and finding it ridiculous. "What does that matter?"

His leaned back in his desk chair and rolled his eyes upward, letting loose a puff of air that felt long suffering. "Ghost, don't you remember what Gabe said? They did this. They damn near killed him because of what he said to you."

"Like they would have time for that. And they weren't even upset about anything that he said. Max..." Matthew trailed off, remembering Antonio's words and looked back at that post-coital conversation once more. Gilbert had been massaging him, his voice even, as he and Alistair asked him about what happened. The only time his voice got really quiet wasn't when Matthew explained what Marcello had said but rather...

He tried to touch you, baby?

"Max, what?"

"I need to make a phone call."

Matthew turned to leave the room but Lovino stopped him with, "Thank them for me." Matthew shot him a look like what he said was absolutely insane and Lovino met his gaze steadily, the mob boss peering from his delicate features. "No one disrespects you the way he did. I'm only jealous they could do it before I could. I would prefer they not interfere in business in my country, but this was personal and I approve."

Matthew gaped at him, working his way up to angry. "Are you hoping for a war with the Cartinellis? Because that's what going to happen if they think his accident had anything to do with what happened in Monaco. Fuck, Lovi, if they make the connection between Marcello and Leo, they would have all the more reason to put the blame on us. I defended myself just fine; this creates an unnecessary risk not just to my life or yours but to the lives of everyone around us. How could you possibly approve of that?"

Instead of backing down, Lovino crossed his arms and glared at him. "Your reputation protects more than you realize, Ghost. Even if people think that his accident was orchestrated by us rather than the result of a petulant man-child with a drinking problem wanting to get away from his security for a night, there's nothing to point to us specifically. Marcello pissed off a lot of people but what happened in Monaco will leave the right people wondering if you were behind this and managed to pull it off without leaving a trace, over something as small as a touch. It will add to your story in a way that will help us all."

"No, it will make people go from respecting me to outright fearing me. Respect is good, fear makes people do stupid shit. And I'm supposed to only act at your command. You really want people to think that you green lit me arranging Marcello's death because he touched me?"

"Do I want them to think that? Not really. But not enough to not still be happy that your boyfriends might have taken him down.

"Besides," Lovino said with a slow smile, "this might just be a happy coincidence. Remember our little meeting with all of them? What if this was just step one?"

Make rivals collapse from the inside.

The argument took some of the wind out of Matthew's sails. Having an alternative explanation for why Gilbert and Alistair may have played a role in Marcello's accident left him calmer but also…dejected.

He should probably dissect that last later, but for now he needed to stop getting worked up over something that he wasn't even sure Gilbert and Alistair knew about, let alone caused.

Matthew cleared his throat and shook some of the tension from his shoulders. "If that's the case, we should have been informed. I'll talk to Ric, let him know to be on the lookout for trouble," he said stiffly, upset and not quite understanding why. He turned once more to leave.

"Ghost?" He paused, turned back halfway in silent answer. Lovino's smile had faded and his expression became troubled. "You okay?"

"Yes."

Matthew left the room before Lovino could call him on the lie. He should be fine, calm and investigative. He knew the dangers of jumping to conclusions. He couldn't change what had happened, could only focus on the present and future; if Gilbert and Alistair had done something to Marcello, what did it matter if it wasn't for him?

The more he thought about that possibility, the emptier he felt. For all that he knew they had a line of succession, taking out Marcello in this way would sow chaos in the Cartinelli Family, not only for suddenly losing its heir but rising suspicions that someone in the Family had orchestrated the car accident. Everyone now would think that the Family was unstable internally, vulnerable to losing territory. Their blood was in the water—the sharks would come to feed.

Famine had said the Horsemen's plans started that night of the ball; it would be reasonable that this really was the visible start of their influence in Italy. If that was the case, his only complaint was that he and Lovino should have been warned beforehand. Then again, there was something to be said for plausible deniability, for having people see their surprise when they were told of the accident.

With each realization of possible motives, Matthew felt more and more presumptuous. He felt…hollow and he didn't understand why. It wasn't like he wanted them to kill someone just for touching him, talking to him like that. That would be crazy, unhealthy, and Matthew didn't want a relationship like that.

Right?

It was ridiculous for him to think even for a moment that they would do that for him. Of course he wasn't enough for them to—no! It wasn't about being enough, he couldn't think like that.

Matthew spend the next couple of hours cold, trying to figure out why the hell he was upset before asking for Gilbert and Alistair to talk to him about this. He tried not to let it affect his work, but he knew that his usual neutral expression had turned frigid as he struggled with understanding. He ignored an innocuous text from Gilbert, not sure how to respond to him.

People around him had noticed something was off, had started avoiding him. He knew something had to give when Alicia texted him, checking in after hearing from around that he was in a murderous mood. He sent them a text around 1300, alone in his office and comforted by the privacy.

G: Did you have anything to do with this?

Matthew forced himself to look away from his phone, knowing that one or both of them may not be available for a while. Still, it didn't take long for someone to answer.

W: ? With what?

G: Cartinelli.

W: Yep

Matthew gaped at his phone.

G: Excuse me?

G: Do you have any idea what you might have just done?

W: …you're not happy

What gave you that idea!?

G: I don't want to know what exactly you did, but I do want to know why I have to worry about grieving parents breathing down my neck since they know I threatened him in Monaco.

W: …a lot of reasons

G: I suggest you start listing them

W: are you really in more danger? F said this would be fine

W: that's the last thing we wanted

He blinked at the phone, something in his chest tightening at Gilbert's immediate concern. God, he was a mess. Why was this affecting him so much?

G: Nothing I can't handle but I don't understand what's happening here.

G: Things are complicated on my end and it's a lot to explain over text. Could we talk today? All of us?

W: …yeah. D gets out of a meeting in 25 minutes. That okay for you?

G: ok thanks

G: just one thing

G: did you do it for me?

Matthew held his breath as he watched Gilbert start and stop typing. He didn't know what answer he wanted, but he couldn't stop himself from asking the question.

W: mostly

He sighed and felt unsatisfied with the answer, but didn't respond. He has 25 minutes to sort himself out and arrange his thoughts into something more coherent than a tangle of emotions. He had a meeting scheduled with one of the lieutenants under Alicia's command, his second busy today gathering information on a drug kingpin—queenpin this case. He moved the meeting with him to later that afternoon, thinking he would need to give the conversation with them time.

Meanwhile, he thought as he physically triple checked his office for listening devices. With a call this sensitive, it was good to be sure.

Had he really wanted them to do this for him? No, but he couldn't deny that he had felt better about it when Gilbert had sent that text. How could he both want them to have seriously injured someone over something so small but also not? It made no sense and was hardly fair to them.

He still hadn't figured it out by the time his phone rang close to 30 minutes later.

"Hey. Thanks for calling on short notice," he opened with, not sure where he needed to go, but knowing at least of couple of points he wanted to get across.

"Of course; seemed important. We have ta make this quick, though. Gilly has ta catch a plane." Alistair's voice was careful.

"And Scottie has another meeting in 20 minutes," Gilbert added, tone wry.

"I'll try to be quick then. What was your interest in the Cartinelli accident last night?"

"You. Most wasn't our division but we named the target and method."

Okay, that answered who was mostly to blame for the lack of notice and he'd raise the issue with Famine's people. "Let me see if I'm understanding the situation from your end fully, then. You made arrangements to take out someone I had a somewhat personal vendetta against, even knowing I wouldn't want you to?"

"…We didn't know tha' fer sure. And isn't this helpful ta yer Cartinelli problem?"

Kinda but that wasn't the point.

"We were going to go after him regardless and this served a lot of agendas in the process."

"It would have been more helpful for us if we had been warned beforehand. And you can't just do something professionally to make up for something you did because we're sleeping together."

"Why not?"

It was such a simple question full of genuine curiosity that it made Matthew pause for a moment. Why was this a line he was drawing? "I'm trying to keep my personal and professional life separate." He didn't realize it was true until he said it.

"…Mattie, I hear you but I'm also going to tell you that I have no plans of treating you like I treat our other foreign partners. Professional integrity aside, you're the only person we've been with that we also work with in any capacity. You're different, in a lot of ways, and I've never claimed to be unbiased. And neither has Scottie."

"It's not just that, Gilbert. You both knew that you reacting to what I told you would upset me and you're acting like doing something professionally advantageous for me will no longer give me the right to be pissed at you."

"Of course you have the right to feel whatever you feel. And sure, we knew that but we made no promises not to act on it at a later date when you told us."

Matthew paused and realized that Gilbert was right. He should have seen through the statement, but the post-sex/mid-massage haze really had put him out of it. He reconsidered his thought process and why he was upset. What else had he expected?

The answer was nothing. He had been so in the moment, drunk on the high of sex and sudden access to a relationship he had always wanted, to think that they were independent agents who would do as they liked. It was nothing but pure naïveté and that startled him, as always.

Matthew silently sighed. It horrified him to think back on as little as a year ago and realize all the things he had yet to learn, the pieces of his soul that he had yet to lose. What would the next month bring?

Antonio had warned him and he failed to listen. Gilbert was War, Alistair was Death. Matthew was Ghost, even in his most submissive state. He shouldn't expect them to be anything but what they were: apex predators.

(What did it say about him that sometimes he wished he could just be a man?)

The acknowledgement that his anger was irrational didn't make him feel any less upset. He asked quietly after a long moment, "Why did you do it? Marcello's—" Marcello's family wasn't aware of what he was fully planning, so they likely wouldn't have killed him if they found out he had told Matthew about it. "—he would have been largely neutralized as an immediate threat without him being taken out of the picture entirely. Why go so far as to almost kill him?"

Neither of them came back with a quick answer, but Alistair's tone when he began to speak told him they had thought their reasons obvious. "He disrespected ye, Matthew. He touched ye, when ye notoriously do not like ta be touched, after we made it clear ye were ours. Tha's not acceptable an' should be discouraged. Violence is one of tha few languages tha' everyone in our world speaks."

"That, and we knew that the Cartinelli thing was weighing on you. We didn't want anything to keep you from our date next week or for you to take any unnecessary risks. We're business partners, yes, but we mostly want you to be safe, Liebling."

Oh. That was…oh.

Matthew understood then, rather belatedly, that deciding to be with them was possibly, probably, definitely a mistake. Yes, there was the increased physical danger of people knowing he was connected to them in any way, but he had just opened himself up to be emotionally and romantically involved with two already married people. Half the time he spoke to both of them at once, they unthinkingly used we as a pronoun, were a whole unit unto themselves. At the same time, their well-intentioned responses and the corresponding warmth that filled him proved to Matthew that he would need to be careful with more than just his words if he didn't want to find himself at a complete disadvantage with these two.

Matthew cleared his throat and tried to shake off the foreboding that had shrouded him. "I appreciate that, I really do, but could you at least talk to me before doing something like this for personal reasons? It feels like you went over my head, like you thought me incapable of taking care of myself."

"Mattie—"

"I'm not done," he said, cutting off Gilbert and his voice was colder for it. Matthew needed to take a stand now on this at least, because he had a sickening feeling that their desire to care for him and his need to be cared for could make this conversation more difficult in the future. "I am happily submissive to you in bed, but not out of it. I'm your equal or I'm not your anything."

There was a long moment of silence as they waited for him to continue, but Matthew thought he'd said all he needed to. In those seconds, Matthew came to a decision: he would give his body to them, but would carefully guard his heart. He couldn't trust them with it and shouldn't; throwing himself into this relationship without considering the practical costs had already been too reckless. Besides, what he had from them now—fun intimacy—was more than enough, more than he had ever expected.

The absolute last thing he needed was to fall in love with both or, God forbid, one of them. He shuddered at the thought of them having that much control over him, at giving up that sort of freedom to these men. No. Love was a cage was he not about to lock himself in, not when he was already so vulnerable in this relationship.

In any case, neither Gilbert nor Alistair had mentioned anything about feelings or emotional commitment. Matthew didn't know how many other people had been in his position before now, had no clue what they gained from this when they already had each other.

Gilbert spoke first.

"You're right. We should have talked to you and I'm sorry we didn't and that our lapse made you feel that way. This isn't an excuse, but you should know that Alistair and I had an…unconventional courtship."

"He means we would arrange ta have each other's enemies killed ta impress each other. We don't see ye as inferior ta us and I'm sorry we made ye feel like tha'."

Matthew was gaping as something clicked. "Are you telling me that you almost killed him as an outright gift to me?"

"…It seemed normal?" Alistair added sheepishly and he could almost feel their embarrassment through the phone.

"…I'm not going to lie; this just became a lot more adorable." Matthew said, fighting a smile. No wonder they were so confused at his reaction. "Apology accepted."

Someone sighed and Gilbert said, "Thanks. One more thing? That 'I'm your equal' line? Pretty hot."

Matthew face-palmed. "Okay, we've got to go back to work now. Video call for tomorrow still on?"

"Aye."

"Yeah."

"Great. Thanks again for talking. I'm happy we got this cleared up."

"Of course. Oh, an' Mattie?"

"Yes?"

"Ye may want ta consider not wearin' somethin' difficult ta take off tomorrow."

Matthew sucked in an audible breath before saying, slightly appalled, "I'm at work."

"And?" Gilbert added, amusement in his voice.

"Goodbye, you fiends." He hung up on their laughter, smile on his lips quickly fading. He stared at the phone, reflected on his decisions, and reminded himself not to get too invested. The contentment he felt from talking to them, the fact that he did find them incredibly cute for acting like a cat bringing home a dead mouse to its owner, was too easy, the kind of instant gratification he knew from experience came for a price.

He just had to make sure that price didn't include a pound of his flesh or a broken heart.

Two days later, Matthew received a short, private message from Alistair while he was working in his office, awaiting Alicia's arrival with her daily report.

D: Sent you something to try to make up for the other thing. Do with it what you will.

He immediately checked his email. Sure enough, there was something from an anonymous account. There was no text, only two attachments: a spreadsheet and a bank statement.

The account was under a pseudonym, but Matthew had been staring at enough records to vaguely recall seeing it before. He quickly double checked his files then sat back in his chair.

They belonged to Leo, under a false name so obscure that Matthew wouldn't have known it only a week ago, receiving money for an account associated with Cartinelli.

The spreadsheets was just a series of numbers, but the different sheets had highlighted cells with internal bookkeeping from Leo. The numbers shifted, decreasing steadily until the date of a bank transfer.

It was the equivalent of a smoking gun, and his boyfriend had just handed it to him on a platter.

Matthew spent a long time staring at his computer screen, trying to figure out how he felt about this. Professionally, Lovino would be indebted to the Horsemen, and Death in particular, for the intel. There wasn't a question of them not using it: getting Leo off of the board would consolidate Lovino's power, putting him in nearly an untouchable position within the Family. The only problem was that it would be the Horsemen that put him there, for the most part.

Personally, Alistair had sent him something because he had been upset. It was atonement, but it also served to remind Matthew just how much power his boyfriends had. He appreciated it as a thoughtful gift, but goddamn, they really weren't going to keep their professional and personal lives separate, were they?

No one, except Lovino and perhaps Alicia, could know how he got this information. Before, if people found out they were definitively working with the Horsemen, then the discussion would be about Lovino's autonomy. Now, if people found out the extent of the special treatment they were extended because of Ghost… Things could get ugly, fast.

There was a knock at the door. He checked the security feed and found Alicia outside, folder in hand. "Enter," he called. He didn't immediately look up as he greeted her. "Hello, A. We have a situation."

G: Unnecessary but appreciated. Thank you.

Alicia, smartly dressed as usual, quickly closed the door behind her. "Sir?"

"We need Lovino, but I believe the Cartinelli situation is nearing an end." He looked at the computer and allowed a small smirk. "We have him."

Matthew only told her the bare bones (leaving out where he got the information), needing to make more concrete connections before meeting with Lovino later. She delivered her report of the day with her usual competence, mood lifted from his news.

When she left, he checked his phone once more and saw Alistair had responded.

D: happy to do it baby

Matthew's lips curled and he felt a little silly, but replied.

G: *kiss*

D: *happy blush*

(Gilbert, not to be outdone, sent his own apology gift: a custom handgun with corresponding ammunition. After practicing with it at the firing range, Matthew began wearing it as his back-up. The kickback was shockingly low for the power of the thing. There weren't any decorations on it, save the small stylized "G" carved into the lower left corner of the handle, invisible unless you were looking for it. It was almost anonymous and Matthew loved it.)

It only took three days for Romulus Vargas to organize a meeting between all the major power players within the organization. It was rare that Roma held this kind of court (as Matthew liked to think about it considering all the unspoken rituals and pageantry), so people managed to make last minute arraignments for any conflicting commitments throughout the country and hauled ass to Rome.

The meeting was held at the Vargas' family estate about a half-hour outside of the city limits. The appointed meeting place today was in what Matthew had dubbed the "war room." It was essentially a large, windowless dining room with a hand-carved hardwood table that seated 24 people and gleaming white marble floors that Matthew hated on principle. With the gilded accents to the cream walls and ivory chandelier, it all but screamed nouveau riche. So why call it the war room?

Let just say he had gotten accustomed to the sight of blood on that pristine marble floor.

Matthew did his best to blend into the background at these kind of formal gatherings, his presence required as Lovino's Right Hand but loathed for who he was. He would have his part to play in the spectacle that was likely to follow, but he wanted to disappear as much as possible for the rest of it. He toned down the silent menace that he usually projected, acting as if he truly was Lovino's protective shadow.

As people arrived and made their greetings to those powerful enough to require it, Matthew noted with some trepidation that people he had not seen in months would openly stare at him until his unyielding gaze met theirs. He had known that the rumors of his sexual activities in Monaco had spread throughout the organization, but the weight of the custom gun at the base of his spine reminded him of the physical risks of being seen as War and Death's man.

Of course, they could also be staring because they speculated that he was the one behind Marcello Cartinelli's now fatal car "accident." He hadn't exactly been subtle when he had threatened him for his insults at the very public masquerade, even if the Cartinelli Family had issued their backhanded apology. Thankfully he had a reputation of being more subtle than the crash suggested and Marcello had not been known for responsible behavior.

One of the gazes he met belonged to Leo, hazel eyes only betraying his concerned speculation in the briefest instant before he sneered cockily at Matthew. Matthew only stared back at him, expression unimpressed to the point of disrespectful, before he looked over to Feliciano and nodded in greeting. Lovino's younger brother was friendly and returned Matthew's customary action with a wide smile.

Roma stood from his seat at the head of a long table (the other end empty since his wife's passing fifteen years prior), silently and efficiently signaling it was time for the meeting to come to order. Everyone fell in line and came to the table if they had a seat. Matthew, unlike many of the other Right Hands and even lower ranking Family members, remained a good three meters away. He stood with his back to the wall behind Lovino who had taken his usual seat, three down from Romulus on his left side. He was acting as security, though every other bodyguard always gave him a wide berth out of respect and fear.

He had made enough of an impression the first six months he had been here to command that response. In fact, a good proportion of the scars on his body were from those early days. Matthew had earned his place through cold, efficient brutality and no one had forgotten it.

Roma sat, usual welcoming statement absent as he watched everyone else do the same, light brown eyes sharp and assessing. Matthew hated the man, but he couldn't say he wasn't handsome still. Laugh lines around his eyes and mouth were the biggest indicator of his true age, which wasn't as old as it really should have been: he and his late son (Lovino's father) had their children in their early 20s. As it was, his face had only softened a little with age and he rather obsessively kept in shape—meaning he likely wouldn't die of natural causes as soon as Matthew hoped he would. Once brown hair was streaked with silver, giving the Vargas patriarch an almost stately look.

When he spoke, Roma used a conversational tone, voice carrying through the otherwise silent space. "You know I have little use for hesitation in this space; We have been betrayed." Whether that was the royal "we" or he genuinely meant the entire family was up in the air. Roma fancied himself king of his kingdom and, to some extent, it was true. No one said a word, everyone but Matthew and Lovino physically reacting to the words. "I will give the person who is the cause of this meeting a chance to come forward now and admit to it before I start pulling out evidence and embarrassing you."

…Even Matthew was unnerved at his near frivolous air when speaking of an offense that carried an automatic death sentence. Despite this, it was clear Roma was pissed, caramel eyes flinty as he surveyed each member of the table.

Predictably, no one said a word. Matthew wasn't sure if a few of them were breathing. Roma sighed then he slouched back in his chair, the picture of someone secure in his power. "Very well. Lovino."

Some startled in surprise, misunderstanding and thinking Lovino had somehow been dumb enough to get himself into his situation. Lovino leaned forward casually and looked across the table to his cousin, who rather ironically was sitting one seat closer to Romulus than he was. "Leo, do you have anything to share with the Family? About Marcello Cartinelli, perhaps?"

Everyone turned to stare openly at Leo, a few jaws dropping on the way. Feliciano, who was seated next to Lovino and closer to Roma, physically jolted. Matthew couldn't see his expression with them facing away, but he could bet that Lovino's brother was hurt by the insinuation that he knew could only be true if it was being brought up in this setting.

To his credit, Leo kept his cool, didn't immediately start begging for his life which would have been the smart if disgraceful thing to do. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Lovi," he said, voice smooth and mocking. He knew, almost everyone knew, that the only person that Lovino didn't mind calling him that (in public) was his younger brother. Was he really so arrogant to think Lovino wouldn't have anything on him?

Lovino didn't answer immediately, only raised his right hand to the side as if he was expected to be handed something. Matthew moved forward silently and swiftly at the summons (like the pet everyone needed to believe he was) and handed a black flash drive to Lovino. He then melted back like he had never been there, a few people gazing at him disconcertedly before looking back at the drama unfolding.

"I don't have any glossy pictures, I'm afraid, and Marcello is rather conveniently dead. Still, the numbers are eloquent. Can you explain why you've been ceding territory to Marcello slowly over the past seven months?"

Leo shifted, head tilting a little and eyes narrowing as if in amusement. He seemed at ease to anyone who didn't know his nervous tick—tapping his fingers. Matthew could hear the subtle rhythm he was creating on the table from where he stood. "Where did you get that idea?"

Lovino didn't answer, though Matthew could almost hear him retort, If you're going to betray the Family, don't do it with a loose-lipped alcoholic.

No one said anything for a long moment, then Roma prompted, low and vicious, "Leonardo. Lovino asked you a question."

"I don't answer to him, grandfather. Only you."

"You answer to me and him. Or do you not respect this Family enough to defer to its heir?" Everyone looked at Roma then in utter shock. He didn't care to take his eyes off of Leo, like what he just said didn't have serious implications for everyone at the table. Lovino had gone absolutely rigid and Matthew had to resist the urge to go to his friend if only to lay a steadying hand on his shoulder. They both had half believed that they would have to fight for control once Roma finally did them all a favor and died, thinking the old man would rather leave things unsettled than do Lovino the courtesy.

Lovino shrugged off any surprise quickly, not wanting people to realize just how unplanned that little announcement had been. He hadn't turned his head and likely hadn't taken his eyes off of Leo, who had gone ghost (ha!) white at the statement. No one dared prompting him to speak and the silence stretched painfully. When Leo looked away from his grandfather to Lovino with such hatred on his face, Matthew instinctively glanced around the room. An animal was backed into a corner with nothing to lose, only people to take with him. Matthew didn't draw down on anyone, but his right hand twitched for his gun, his left discretely palming the knife sheathed at his wrist. He started adjusting his position slowly to keep as many targets in his field of vision as possible.

"I wouldn't," Roma said, suddenly breaking the silence, speaking to Leo. "You make one wrong move and someone, likely you, will die."

Unease rippled down the table, through the room. "You would order me killed at this table, grandfather?" Leo asked, astonishment in his voice. He kept invoking his familial relationship like it would save him. If anything, it only made the betrayal worse.

"I wouldn't have to. To move against Lovino is to seek death. Or did you forget his Right Hand so soon?" Every eye except Lovino's swiveled to Matthew's position and he froze, arms crossed in front of him, one hand obviously close to where he carried his gun and the position hiding the knife that he had ready to fly into Leo's second. He would prefer to have the gun naked in his hand and aimed at Leo, but to openly draw in this setting without provocation was just Not Done. Without taking his eyes off of Leo, Matthew nodded in acknowledgement and feigned deference to the Family's head. "Say what you like about him, but I could not have asked for a more loyal and deadly servant to my heir."

It was a compliment, one that nearly startled Matthew out of his coiled readiness. At that Lovino turned to gaze steadily at his grandfather. The old man was being talkative tonight which was in character about twenty-five years ago. Now, it was outright bizarre. That, combined with his sudden verbal approval of him, had Matthew thinking a pod person had taken over Roma.

Apparently he wasn't the only one caught wrong-footed and not a few glances was exchanged between other Family members. Roma was old guard. Most of the people at the table were from his children's or Lovino's generation. They were probably wondering if this was the first sign that Roma's sharp mind was starting to give way to age.

Typical that it would take a respectful word about Matthew to make them question that.

"The look on your faces…" Roma continued, a hint of a smile coming to his face before dropping completely. "Enough. Michael."

"Yes, sir." Michael was Roma's head enforcer, a man of around fifty who wore every year like it was a hard one. A former boxer, he was a large man who still bloodied his own hands on occasion rather than ordering someone else to do it, despite his seniority.

Today was not one of those days, however, and a gesture from Michael was enough for Roma's guards to move and grab hold of Leo's most loyal supporters, only his second being outright restrained. Michael's younger and bigger counterpart—his son Donny—dragged Leo from his chair, gun naked in his free hand. Matthew relaxed his position infinitesimally as Donny could handle Leo easily, but Leo remained armed and Roma's orders remained unclear.

Leo protested but Roma spoke over him, voice strong with conviction and a fine rage. "I have grown weary of much these past few years, not the least of which the short-sightedness of many of you. I have given my long life in the service of strengthening this Family, seeing it prosper and thrive. I have also watched as my relatives and decedents threatened my life's work. No more." He looked at Leo then. "How dare you. Did you think my love for you outweighed my love of everyone else in our Family? What did you hope to accomplish in weakening our powerbase by giving it to that Cartinelli brat?"

Leo was pale but forced himself to stand tall and proud in the moment of his downfall. "Lovino never should have been given the position he has. It was me, me who had worked towards managing our information. He was gone and everything was falling into place for me to be the keeper of our secrets and be named—"

"You know exactly what you did and did not do to lose that opportunity, Leonardo. Do not lay the blame for your failures and bad decisions at the feet of your cousin." Leo tensed further at the chiding and Matthew wondered at that for a moment. "When you realized you could never be heir, you decided to ensure he had nothing left to inherit, then?"

The silence that followed was answer enough, though the defiant tilt of Leo's head served to hammer another nail in his coffin. "You foolish child. You disgrace your mother, that her only son would be such a coward when she was loyal to the end."

"Loyalty to you brought my mother only misery and death, grandfather." The familial title now was little more than a curse.

Speaking of Roma's beloved but deceased daughter—who was killed in the same tragic afternoon as Lovino and Feliciano's parents—in such a manner finally evoked an emotional response from the man. His body went still and his face went white with rage, but he did not raise his voice as he said carefully, "You are no kin of mine. Dispose of him."

Leo didn't try to make a break for it, but did make an attempt to draw a weapon. Matthew's knife flew before he was truly aware of it, before Donny could even turn his gun to further discourage movement. It struck him solidly in the stomach, the pain enough to double him and make his gun clatter to the floor in shock. The wound wouldn't kill him immediately, but that wasn't Matthew had hoped for anyway.

All it took was a lucky second for a bullet to land in someone. By failing to disarm him, by still treating Leo as if he deserved special accommodation, Donny had endangered a number of people, including himself. Leo cursed him loudly. "You missed," he spat, hand wrapping around the hilt against his skin as if to pull the blade out and fling it back at him.

"No," Lovino answered as Donny proceeded to drag him, newly weakened, towards the exit. "He didn't."

Hatred once more flared in Leo's face, distorting his otherwise handsome features, and it was as he looked at Lovino that he managed to pull that knife halfway out. Matthew's gun was drawn and aimed, but it was unnecessary. Donny fired at Leo's obvious effort to arm himself, the right half of the once powerful man's cranium suddenly missing, red spraying against the bone white wall.

Someone at the table swallowed a scream, but Lovino, Feliciano, and Roma did not so much as flinch.

To Donny's credit, he just seemed annoyed as he holstered his gun and continued dragging the dead weight out of the room, leaving a ruby smear on the pale marble floor in his wake. Matthew was back in his usual neutral stance, gun away and posture relaxed before anyone thought to look at him again.

The meeting adjourned quickly after that, Roma giving a mundane update as to the general state of the Family and commenting briefly to Lovino about some extra responsibilities he was to take on as their world's version of a crown prince. One of these was to come up with a short list of replacements for Leo's position quickly.

Lovino's only response to these missives was, "Yes, sir."

When they left, Matthew's cleaned knife returned to him, Lovino was pensive. There would be much to talk of in the coming days; neither of them had expected Roma to name him heir or for Leo to be executed in front of them. But Matthew knew something else gnawed at his friend as he stared out of his window silently. They were alone, in the back of a limo sent from Roma for the occasion, and Matthew was very aware they were likely being listened to. His voice was cautious as he offered, voice empty of emotion, "Sir?"

Lovino looked at him and Matthew was surprised to see hatred on his face. He said in English, "Do you know what test Leo failed when I returned to Italy?"

It was a non-sequitur, but Lovino had a reason for saying that here, now. Matthew shook his head.

Lovino nodded to him once, pointedly, and Matthew understood.

The test that would have given Leo all he had wanted was to kill Matthew.

Anyone who knew that at the table was just told that the only way to gain power themselves was to take him out, too.

Most loyal and deadly servant indeed. Roma had not paid him a compliment; he had put a target on his and Lovino's back. Roma hadn't let go of his bias against him and Lovino, only masked it in approval in the face of betrayal.

Who would understand? Matthew asked silently, mouthing the words.

Lovino made dismissive gesture. A few; not enough to make a difference.

"Yes, sir," Matthew said, tone heavy with meaning. Roma had quietly declared war on them, perhaps for putting him in a position where he had to have one of his favored grandson's killed despite Leo's foolish decisions. With this new information, Matthew knew it was time to lay the groundwork for yet another contingency plan. In any case, they at least knew who they could rely on, had been slowly preparing for the moment of Lovino's ascendency to head of the Family for years.

And now, they had an unseen advantage. The corner of Matthew's mouth twitched and he held up four fingers.

Lovino grinned grimly. They had a hint of the chaos that was to come to Italy, with everyone else utterly unaware. "When the time is right, my friend. For now, though, I believe you are overdue for employment benefits."

Matthew rolled his eyes and Lovino laughed. He would see his boyfriends and now would not only have to guard his heart against them, but the fact that things had taken a turn towards the dangerous in Italy.

Should be easy, right?

Only a few days later Matthew found himself landing in London on a private plane. The aircraft had been waiting when he had arrived at a designated hanger at the Ciampino Airport, sent to him by Alistair. Gilbert was on the ground, recently arrived himself, and waiting for him. He was excited to see them, sure, but all too aware of the promise he had made himself when it came to being careful around them. It certainly didn't help that he was nervous. Matthew knew the day's basic itinerary: meeting Gilbert at the airport, them going to a restaurant where they would meet Alistair for dinner before ending up in his primary residence in the city. Still, he wasn't sure what to expect.

What if Monaco had been a fluke and they came to their senses after being around him a bit more? How was he supposed to greet them and treat them in public? Could he give in to his desires and just launch himself at them, seeking the easy affection he had come to miss over the three weeks (and especially the most recent days) they had been apart? Would his other physical needs be obvious?

Soon enough he was out of time to worry. It was hard to resist defaulting to familiar, distant formality as he murmured his thanks to the flight attendant and captain as he exited the plane and emerged from the aircraft. He paused at the top of the stairs down to the tarmac, watching a black car pull up parallel to the plane. Matthew descended the stairs carefully, torn between natural wariness and the rising excitement that had returned to him. When the car stopped and Gilbert emerged from the back seat, dressed in a black button-up and sunglasses, Matthew wasn't quick enough to stop the smile that immediately split his face. When Gilbert returned it, it was all Matthew could do to keep himself from running over to the man.

Matthew had to look away to get his face under control as he quickly walked over, the sounds of planes taking off and landing near-by saving him from attempting any yelled greeting. He blushed a little, still unsure of what he was allowed or expected to do here.

He slowed as he crossed the last two meters to him, figuring the best thing to do was ask. He felt silly for it, but looked back at Gilbert shyly and began, "Can I—"

Gilbert cut him off by stepping forward and pulling him into a hug. Matthew returned it immediately, briefcase still awkwardly held in one hand as he melted into the man, relieved.

"Hey, Mattie," he said against his ear, the sound of his name in person doing more than he thought possible to strip him effectively of the layers of personal shielding and caution he maintained to be Ghost. "Good to see you."

Matthew wanted to kiss him, say he missed him, but both felt unwise. "Gil," he managed, pulling back from the hug but not going far. "Is it okay to kiss you here?"

Gilbert stiffened and pursed his lips. "Not really." He glanced over to where other hangers were and the main complex beyond. "I shouldn't even be out of the car."

With that he stepped back and slid into the vehicle. Matthew shot a worried glance the way Gilbert had looked, but couldn't spot anything out of the usual. Of course, since the usual involved a shit ton of security and cameras, it was best that he get out of easy sight as well.

Matthew had barely sat in the car and closed the door behind him when Gilbert turned his head and kissed him. Matthew had glimpsed a closed partition, so he felt no qualms in kissing back as hard as he wanted or releasing a relieved sound at the contact. The car was moving by the time Matthew went to straddle his lap unthinkingly and hit his head on the roof with a curse.

Gilbert was laughing softly into his mouth and Matthew couldn't help smiling. "Shut up," he grumbled before he resumed kissing him. Gilbert placed possessive, splayed hands on him and tried to pull him closer. It didn't work well since Matthew sitting up any straighter would have his head on the ceiling again, but he tried.

When Gilbert made a frustrated noise and settled for groping him, Matthew pulled back with a gasp and put his hands over Gilbert's to stop him. They both froze for a moment before the car's movement made Matthew rest more of his weight against him to stay balanced. Matthew smiled from a short distance and said, "Hi."

He huffed out a laugh, arms going around his lower back as if to hug him now. "Hello."

"Not that I'm not really happy to see you…"

"So it's not just a knife in your pocket?"

Dork, he thought affectionately. "…but aren't we going to dinner now?"

Gilbert sighed, a hand coming up to gently push Matthew's hair from his face. "Yeah. It's not too far either. You're making me forget myself."

"Should I apologize for that?" Matthew asked softly, hands resting flat on Gilbert's chest.

"Never. Though you should probably get off my lap," he said with a smirk, eyes lighting up with amusement. "Brings back too many memories."

An image from the last time they had been together flashed through his mind: Gilbert smirking up at him after he had said something absolutely filthy as Matthew rode him; his hand in his hair to keep Matthew's eyes on him; both of them panting and flushed from ongoing sex; Alistair's encouraging voice in his ear and hands on his hips to help him when his legs started seriously protesting the strain…

"That look on your face is not exactly helping, Liebling,"

He blinked his eyes back into focus and saw that Gilbert's expression was edging into the one he had tentatively labeled his I'm going to wreck you and you're going to like it face. Though, considering who he was on top of, perhaps it was more apropos to call it his Daddy face, at least when it came to him.

Truth be told, he wasn't feeling particularly helpful at the moment. And for all that he had been at Gilbert and Alistair's mercy sexually since they had met, he wanted to return just a little bit of the favor.

A small smile formed on his face and he ran one hand up Gilbert's chest, along his neck, and into his hair. Gilbert's hands moved to squeeze his hips as Matthew leaned forward slowly, missing his mouth as he aimed to speak right next to his ear. He whispered, "I'm sorry, daddy." Gilbert froze beneath him and Matthew slowly started drawing the hand that was resting on his chest down the center of it. He continued, "It's been a very long three weeks without you."

"I don't think you're sorry, Matthew," Gilbert growled, turning his face to bite at Matthew's neck. He shivered at the feeling as Gilbert said, "There's not nearly enough room in here for you to call me that."

"And if there was?" Matthew pulled back to look at him. Gilbert smiled at him, though it wasn't what he would call friendly. It sent a thrill of warning down his spine and he really needed to be careful if he didn't want to show up to dinner extremely late and looking like he'd been fucked hard in the back of a car. He did have lube and condoms in his briefcase, but Gilbert was right: there wasn't enough room for that.

"I'd make you scream it."

They stared at each other for what felt like a long time before Matthew nodded and said, "I'm going to get off of you now."

"Good choice." Matthew began slowly extricating himself from Gilbert's lap. "We can't be late for our date, after all."

"True." Now that sex was off the table, Matthew found himself awkward again. He tried not to let it show, but he couldn't help asking as he took Gilbert's hand and remained plastered to his side, "Is this okay?"

"Hmm?" Gilbert looked at him, obviously mellower now that Matthew wasn't on top of him. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not…" Crowding you? Being too clingy? Too starved for affection? None of those were any less embarrassing, so he looked down and squeezed Gilbert's hand lightly. "Is this okay?"

"What, holding my hand? Of course it is. Why do you ask?"

"We never talked about it, that's all. I don't want to be too…I don't know how these things work, remember?"

"Hey," Matthew looked back at him and Gilbert leaned forward to kiss his forehead. "The presumption is that we can be reasonably affectionate with each other in public unless it would draw a lot of attention or we're somewhere unsecure. When it's just us, it would be weird if you weren't."

"Okay, thanks," Matthew said, relaxing against him.

"Have you been worrying about it?" Gilbert asked, frowning.

"Yeah. It's just, I…" Matthew cleared his throat, trying to find a way to explain that didn't make him sound utterly pathetic. "…I never had the chance to learn how much I liked physical affection before you and Alistair. And wanting things has never really gone well for me."

Matthew snapped his mouth closed at that and looked away as he cursed his own stupidity again. Goddammit, wasn't he going to keep this light and fun? Make sure he didn't freely give every piece of himself to them when the power scales between them were already tipped in their favor? That he couldn't trust them with more than that?

He shifted away from him uncomfortably, but kept Gilbert's hand. He cleared his throat. "How was your flight?"

"Fine," Gilbert said slowly, like he was considering not letting the topic change slide. Then he sighed, lifted their hands to kiss the back of Matthew's briefly and continued. "Tried to get some work done but it's always so short I feel like the second I really get into something we start landing."

"What were you working on?" Matthew asked, eased by the shift in conversation.

"Weapons design. Working on a grenade prototype that can safely carry more volatile substances. The chemistry is tricky."

Matthew hummed and thought it was safe to look at Gilbert once more. He was frowning a little into the middle distance, like he was seeing formulas rather than the car itself. He was kind of cute like that, his mouth forming a small pout as he thought. "Thanks again. For the gun."

Gilbert brought himself back to the present and smiled at him. "You're welcome. I know you probably have a lot of guns, but I wanted to send you something."

Matthew returned the smile. "I love it. I actually started wearing it as my back-up, so rest assured it's not collecting dust somewhere."

Gilbert stared at him. "You're…wearing my gun?"

Matthew raised his eyebrows at that, thinking it was his gun now, but knew what he meant. "Yeah."

"Where?"

"Lower back. You actually touched it earlier." He kept his main gun in a shoulder holster under his left arm with extra ammo under his right. He often wore jackets and hated ankle holsters enough to get used to the mild discomfort of carrying a gun at the base of his spine. Gilbert was still staring at him and did so long enough for Matthew to prompt, "What?"

He didn't directly answer him. Instead, without looking away from him, Gilbert reached forward and pressed a discrete button. "Nick, how far away are we from the restaurant?"

"No more than 15 minutes out, sir," came a wry reply, as if he knew something Matthew didn't about why Gilbert would ask that question. "Would you like me to take a detour?"

Gilbert sighed, but a smirk came to his mouth. "I hate that you know me that well, but better not. Thanks."

"Of course, sir." A sudden lack of white noise signaled the end of the connection.

Matthew had caught on by this point and was biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Your second?"

"One of them and probably the best tactical driver I've ever met." He offered no explanation for the other things but Matthew wasn't going to let that go.

He turned to look more fully at Gilbert (as much as the seat allowed), eyebrows raised. "You like that I'm wearing your gun." His choice of words were deliberate and he saw the slight flush of Gilbert's face as he was confronted. "You liked it when I was wearing your shirt."

"And?" Matthew could see him starting to get defensive, so he shook his head and smiled coyly.

"I want to know what you like." He leaned forward and squeezed the hand that was still holding his. "How else will I know what to do?"

Gilbert closed the distance between them and kissed him briefly. It was a soft touch, gentle, and Matthew wanted more of it the second Gilbert moved away. He was mildly dazed by the kiss and Gilbert smiled as Matthew struggled to bring himself to full attention. He released Matthew's hand and brought it up to cup his cheek, needlessly, disarmingly, and alarmingly tender. "I want you to be mine, Matthew. We want you to be ours. Is it so wrong to like knowing you're wearing my things or gifts?"

Only if it's wrong that I want to be yours, he thought but thankfully didn't say. He shook his head and leaned forward to kiss him again, needing an excuse to ground this moment in the physical, to make it about sex and not a growing desire he didn't want to acknowledge. He could be theirs, but only to a certain extent, and he needed to remember that.

The car rolled to a stop and parked before the kiss could escalate. Gilbert pulled away and grinned. "Come on. There's someone waiting for us."

There was a knock on the partition and Gilbert opened his door. Dusk had fallen, giving the alley deep shadows. One of Gilbert's security was waiting to the side of an open door, facing away from Matthew as they kept watch. "Can I leave my briefcase here?" Matthew asked as he followed Gilbert out of the car, too much on his side anyway to bother opening the other door.

"Sure. If we don't end up taking this car back it will be at Scottie's place." Matthew nodded and closed the door behind him. Gilbert took his free hand and smiled at him. "This is about as private being in public can be, so you don't have to worry about anything, okay?"

Matthew not worrying about anything was a stretch, but he understood what he meant. "Thanks."

Gilbert led them into the back door of the restaurant, the corridors clear as they passed by the kitchen and restrooms but narrow enough that they couldn't walk side-by-side comfortably. Gilbert squeezed his hand reassuringly before releasing him and turning a corner. A server dressed in white and black acknowledged him. "Welcome back, sir."

"Thank you, Max." Matthew had to cough to cover his sudden urge to laugh. Gilbert shot him an incredulous look before entering the room with a grin. "Hey, Scottie."

"Took ye long enough. Where's—" Matthew followed Gilbert into the private dining room, it was romantically lit but empty except for a table dressed for a semi-formal dinner and Alistair. Rather than the all black that Mathew and Gilbert had gone with, Alistair wore a dark green shirt and black pants. He was standing by the table and his smile widened when he caught sight of Matthew. Matthew found himself grinning back easily as he heard the door shut behind him. They were alone.

"Rude," Gilbert said as he approached his husband, but it was good natured.

Alistair rolled his eyes and stepped forward to pull Gilbert into a short kiss. "Yes, hello, I saw ye last week."

Gilbert pulled him into a hug that Alistair easily returned. "Asshole," Gilbert said, affectionate.

"Sap. I missed ye, too; noo let me go."

Matthew had hung back to give them space, interested in seeing more of how their relationship worked since he was planning on spending more time with them. He felt…well, he didn't quite know how to describe it. Perhaps privileged? Gilbert and Alistair could probably count on both hands the number of people they would let see them like this that they weren't paying and they trusted Matthew with this. He found the way that they sniped at each other endearing and further understood that yes, they probably would see killing other people as a romantic gesture.

Alistair turned to him and Matthew only hesitated a heartbeat before moving forward to hug him tight. He fell into the embrace, something in him easing as they were now all together. The feeling instantly alarmed him and his body tensed in response. Being around both of them should have put him further on guard more than anything else. They had already proven that they could and would work together to take down his every defense, in public or private.

Since that was the case, why was it so hard to not melt into him?

"Mattie?" Alistair asked at Matthew's tensing, running a hand down his back.

Light and fun, remember? Matthew pulled back, eyes down, and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw in silent apology for his weirdness. "Hey, Alistair," he said quietly.

Alistair still held him close and he was frowning as he laid a gentle hand on Matthew's cheek. "Alright?"

Matthew silently nodded and then, in an effort to be consistent and distract from his inability to keep himself together, asked with a shyness he didn't have to fake, "Can I kiss you?"

"Mattie—" Gilbert started from further in the room but Alistair didn't bother speaking, simply kissed him in response. He thankfully didn't have to fight himself in yielding his body to them, so it was easy to relax into the kiss and moan quietly when Alistair gripped the back of his neck and licked into his mouth.

Matthew's stomach audibly growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten in a solid eight hours and making Alistair end the kiss with a smile. "I guess we should at least order."

"It is supposed to be a date," Gilbert said, amused. He came up beside them and pushed them gently towards the table. "Plan to do something other than sex and food when we need it remember?"

Dinner was…nice actually.

It was a simple three course meal of comfort food. Matthew lazily sipped at his scotch through the conversation that flowed as they talked about everything but their jobs. There were flirty barbs and loaded glances, but they never acknowledged them enough for the tension to overwhelm the conversation. The conversation mostly remained light, a fact Matthew was grateful for, but informative all the same.

Here's a bit what he learned:

1. Gilbert was a dog person, like Matthew, and Alistair was such a cat person. Matthew shared a glance with Gilbert, clearly saying you married someone who doesn't like dogs? Gilbert's response was to shrug and gesture to Alistair subtly. The rest of him makes up for it. That was high praise in Matthew's book.

2. Alistair found the debate he and Gilbert got into over the Star Wars franchise (one of the few Matthew followed since he grew up with the prequels) utterly ridiculous, threw a monkey wrench in by saying Star Trek is better. Gilbert knew not to argue the point with his husband, though he did shoot him a dirty look. Both of them were appalled when Matthew shrugged and said, Maybe. I only saw part of the original series and can't say ether way.

3. Neither of them could cook well, but Alistair was an absolute disaster in a kitchen. Apparently he managed to burn water once (leaving a pot of water boiling on the stove so long that the water burned away and he messed up the pot). Matthew lightly squeezed Alistair's hand as he said, "I'll be making breakfast then."

4. They were both fascinated Matthew being Canadian and how that was counter to everyone's intel on him. Matthew shrugged as he gave a very abbreviated explanation of his childhood. "If it helps, my twin was American." That didn't but it did deflect the conversation, the past tense making them pause before pushing on, as he hoped it would.

5. Gilbert's only sibling was the one he had mentioned—a younger brother apparently. Alistair apparently had a number of siblings, his childhood a hell of a lot more complicated than Matthew's. "I'm tha dead brother in me family. Keeps them safer," Alistair said with a sardonic smile before he realized how stricken Matthew looked. "Oh, baby, no. They know I'm alive an' tha' I left them fer their safety. I let them know I'm alive every so often, an' they know if they're in a true bind I'll help them. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made light of it." (Alistair was near rambling, concerned, but Matthew easily forgave him, pleased to know he wouldn't inflict that kind of pain on his family. Plus, it was endearing to see the usually unflappable man out of sorts with just one look from Matthew.)

6. Gilbert was practiced at smoothing over the feathers Alistair ruffled, at once changing the subject to the book he was reading while subtly making sure everyone was okay.

It was only when dessert was brought that Alistair and Gilbert shared a meaningful glance and turned to Matthew as one.

"We have a proposition fer ye," Alistair said, looking at him steadily as he relaxed into his chair. That gave Matthew pause and he fork froze halfway through his cheesecake.

"What kind of proposition?" he asked, wariness clear in his tone as he shifted narrow eyes between them.

"The sexual kind. The kind that we want to talk about now when you have a clear head."

Matthew couldn't help smirking a little and went back to preparing his bite of dessert. "Aren't we a little late for being this coy about kink negotiation?" he asked dryly. They both blinked at him and exchanged a considering look. "…that's not what you had in mind. Well, I'm listening."

"We want to know more about you, how you work, and what you like, but you're…" Gilbert hesitated, obviously not wanting to say the wrong thing.

"I'm what?"

"Shy. Nervous when we don't want ye ta be," Alistair supplied.

Matthew narrowed his eyes at them. Yes, he was circumspect, but only when it came to more personal details, not sex. That ship had pretty much sailed the night he had met them. "Go on."

"We want ye ta trust us," Matthew tensed. They had avoided bringing up what had happened with Marcello, but it looks like he couldn't escape it completely.

"I do trust you. I'm here, alone, and your staff has my luggage. Do you think that would be true if I didn't? That's more than I've trusted anyone I've known for less than a month." That was a little bit of a lie. He didn't feel like they would hurt him physically because they had had every opportunity to do that before now, but more importantly it would make little sense for them to hurt him. They were playing far more dangerous and complex games on a larger scale than Matthew professionally and probably had more money and power than they knew what to do with. Hurting or betraying him in that way would not only lack a motive but be against everything they had shown him in the past few weeks and that was why he was here, like this. It wasn't trust so much as a calculated risk.

"We want ye ta trust us with more than yer physical safety, Matthew. We want ye ta trust us with ye."

Matthew stared at Alistair, then Gilbert for a long moment. He almost asked what made them think he didn't, but decided he'd rather not know, not with what he was hiding. He was so not trained for espionage. The silence stretched for an awkwardly long time, none of them moving, and Gilbert was the one who broke it.

"I don't know if it's just habit or something else, but you're afraid to tell and ask us stuff." Matthew flinched but contained it well. You noticed that, huh? "We don't want you to be afraid of us for any reason."

Can you blame me? Matthew braced himself and asked carefully. "What exactly do you want from me? What's the proposal?"

"Tonight, we'll ask ye things in bed, about ye an' wha' ye like."

Matthew stared at them. "…In bed " Where my filter is fucking non-existent. "About me."

"About what you like in bed," Gilbert clarified at Matthew's tone and look. "We'll limit the questions just to sex-related things."

Matthew didn't relax at that. With so many years with sex as his only opportunity to be himself, he was sure that his numerous kinks said things about himself he wasn't ready to face, let alone tell Gilbert and Alistair. Still, the limitation kept him from panicking outright. "You want to interrogate me while I won't be able to think straight enough to stop myself from being entirely truthful. Doesn't that strike you as unbalanced?"

Alistair leaned back and smiled at him in a way that had Matthew further on edge. "We thought of tha'. We want ta get ye out ye yer head, baby." More like out of my mind, Matthew thought. "In exchange, we'll answer tha same number of questions we ask of ye honestly, about anythin' tha' won't get our people killed."

Matthew's fork fell out of numb fingers and fell to his plate with a clatter before he could catch himself. "When?"

"Whenever you want." Matthew forced himself to blink. "We get that you're new at this, and that we've already given you a reason to be careful about what you say to us. We learned the hard way that trust is the only way a relationship can work and I think that in one as complicated as this one, it's essential. If we want you to trust us, we have to trust you."

Matthew looked away from Gilbert, finding his cheesecake fascinating as his cheeks heated. The offer was extraordinary and there were a number of things he wanted to know about them. And this meant they would probably limit their questions to him out of ingrained self-preservation.

He took in a lot of air and looked up at them from under his eyelashes. "What do you want to know?"

Alistair's eyes flashed and Gilbert smirked in ways that both turned Matthew on and utterly terrified him. "You'll see. Anything you want us to do tonight? Something related to how long the past three week have been?"

This was safer territory. A small smirk formed on Matthew's mouth in answer and he said, "Alistair, how well stocked is your pantry? If you're both going to fuck me as much as I want you to, I want to make sure you have the ingredients for pancakes before we wear ourselves out."

"He wouldn't know." Alistair turned narrow eyes on his husband. "Don't look at me like that; you don't cook enough to know the difference between flour and baking powder."

"Rude." Alistair flipped him off while rolling his eyes. He said to Matthew over Gilbert's laughter, "Text it ta one of us, Mattie, and we'll have tha supplies delivered ta tha house."

Alistair: Did ye think about us when ye got yerself off this week?

Matthew: Of course. Why would I think about anyone else?

Alistair: Wha' did we do ta ye?

Matthew: Fucked me like...like I'm yours.

Alistair: Yer ours, baby. No matter what we do in bed, yer ours an' we couldn't be happier about it.

(Matthew realizes then just how true that was, and it terrifies him.)

Gilbert: Don't, Matthew.

Matthew: Don't what?

Gilbert: Hide. Why are you afraid of us?

Matthew (whispering): Want you. Want you to want me. Never had that. Not like this.

(Matthew decides the only way he could get through this emotionally is to stop thinking.)

Gilbert: Why do you like it when we come i-inside you?

Matthew: Claims me. No one else has. Feels good.

Alistair: Tha' first night, ye asked us ta ruin ye. Have we succeeded?

Matthew: Y-yeah.

Gilbert: Good.

When it was over, Matthew's hands had started automatically running down Gilbert's back, soothing him instinctually as he calmed. When Gilbert rested heavily against him and nuzzled contentedly into his neck, Matthew couldn't help the small smile. He blinked his eyes open and grew more solemn as he caught sight of Alistair looking over them both with an unreadable expression. Matthew was still too blissed out to worry about what he had said and his mind actively shied away from thinking on it further. Instead, he lifted a hand from Gilbert's back and reached for Alistair.

His boyfriend met him halfway and came closer to them. He leaned over to kiss first Gilbert's shoulder then Matthew's forehead. Matthew watched him do both things silently then had to ask, voice scratchy, "Did you find out what you wanted to know?"

"Some. Enough fer noo," he said cryptically before smirking and shoving lightly at his husband. "Get off him, Gilly. I want ta clean up an' cuddle."

Gilbert muttered as he gently pulled out of Matthew and rolled to his side. He didn't go far, leaving half of his body draped over Matthew as he held him close. "Cuddle now."

That had Matthew's mouth curving without his permission, his arm coming around Gilbert's back to return the embrace. He was still looking up at Alistair, who had a matching smile on his face, but thoughtful eyes. With no further form of protest, Alistair settled down to mirror Gilbert's position, surrounding and covering Matthew.

To his surprise (though perhaps he should stop being surprised by these things with them), he felt Alistair's erection press against his thigh. Anticipation warred with exhaustion to pool in his stomach, and Matthew said, "Oh, I didn't realize…did you want—"

"—ta hold ye both, yes. Don't worry about it, Mattie," Alistair said with a kiss to his chest. Matthew tensed and before he even had time to fully form the thought he doesn't want me, Alistair lifted his head with a smirk and continued. "Yer with us all weekend, leannan. Be a shame if we wore ye out tha first night."

"Right," Matthew said with a blush. Gilbert lazily looked up at the word and grinned at him.

"You're cute."

Matthew blushed harder. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

Alistair tried to nod solemnly but his chin was still on his chest his eyes were sparling with amusement. "Yer adorable."

"Ugh." Matthew lifted his arms from them in an attempt to cover his face.

"Hey, are you ticklish?" Gilbert said, lifting himself from him to put light, dangerous fingers on his side.

Matthew froze and lowered his hands enough to reveal his eyes. He had accidentally left himself wide open and he couldn't escape, not with Alistair still putting most of his weight on him. "…No?"

Alistair's grin was showing a lot of teeth as he moved just in time for Gilbert to test the obvious lie. Matthew tried to not react, but he was too relaxed with them, for so many reasons, and couldn't help the swallowed shriek of laughter.

He slapped at their hands and tried to get away. It didn't work; his position had left him at a clear disadvantage and sex and the tickling made him weak. Alistair caught him when he tried to leave the bed and held him still against his front, defenseless to Gilbert's clever fingers.

"Wait, stop," he asked breathlessly between laughs, writhing against Alistair. "Thought you wanted to cuddle."

Gilbert stopped but leaned in to say against from a close distance. "Wanted to hear you laugh more."

Danger, danger, Will Robinson, his mind unhelpfully supplied as Gilbert kissed him. Alistair's arms tightened on him and Matthew felt his flagging erection revive against his lower back. Matthew hummed into Gilbert's mouth and wiggled a little as his hand caressed Alistair's thigh. He broke the kiss and leaned back to look at the man holding him, kiss his jaw. "You change your mind?"

"Ye tryin' not ta walk tomorrow?"

Maybe. How fucked I am by you might keep me from thinking how much I'm fucking myself over by being with you. Matthew didn't say anything, only held his gaze as he reached up, angled his face, and kissed his lips. Alistair kissed him back languidly, but pulled away after only a few moments. "I want ye ta walk in tha mornin'. Let's go shower, mo leannan bòidheach."

Matthew went, following where Gilbert was already standing up at the side of the bed. He wondered what Alistair had just called him—wanted a translation for what Gilbert usually called him too now that he thought about it—but didn't want to use one of his hard earned questions on what they would probably tell him freely.

He could always qualify it.

He looked at Gilbert as he stood and said, "Can I ask you both something now without having it count towards my questions from…" He waved a hand over the bed, trying really hard not to think of what he just said or what else they would want to know. "I want to start those tomorrow."

"Go ahead, Liebling," Gilbert said pulling on his hand as he moved towards the bathroom. He heard Alistair hum in agreement behind him, coming closer.

"I don't speak German or…Gaelic? What does that mean, Gil?"

Gilbert looked over his shoulder and smiled at him. Matthew had to suppress a shiver as they stepped onto the cold bathroom tiles. "Darling, Matthew."

Matthew stared at him, surprise making his mouth form a small "o". Gilbert turned towards the shower and Alistair came up to hug him from behind. Matthew leaned back against him and closed his eyes, savoring the contact. "Leannan means sweetheart in Scots Gaelic. I just called ye my beautiful sweetheart." Alistair grinned against his shoulder. "He's blushing, isn't he."

"Of course. It's adorable," Gilbert answered and they both laughed as Matthew put his face in his hands and stupidly let himself be happy with this, if only for a few hours.

Matthew had failed to wake early enough to have breakfast waiting for them in the morning, but he did his best to make up for it by having the pancakes be the best that he had made in a long time. He had forgotten what it was like to cook for someone else and he reveled in the opportunity to do it again.

If the sounds they had made were anything to go by, they appreciated his efforts.

Alistair and Gilbert readily volunteered to clean up, though Matthew had a habit of cleaning as he went, so there wasn't much for them to do. Still, he decided that it was the right time to call in the answers he was owed.

It had not been an overly difficult decision as he thought on what to ask them. For all of the pleasure and laughter of the night, Matthew couldn't shake or ignore the gut wrenching feeling of being exposed. He knew he had revealed too much and he felt flayed in the aftermath. He did not just want to balance the scales between them, but he needed to, if only to calm the half-panicked feeling inside him.

"So…." he started awkwardly, feeling singularly out of place in his skin. He couldn't explain his natural response to his situation, but thankfully his boyfriends did not ask. Gilbert glanced up silently from where he wiped down the stove and Alistair made a noise of acknowledgement from the sink. He cleared his throat. "I thought of some things to ask. After last night."

They both tensed but Gilbert hid it better. "Go ahead, Liebling" he said, at once nonchalant and soothing.

He was grateful that something in him eased and disconcerted that it had taken three words from Gilbert to do it. The safest thing to do would to leave them, never look back and not accept the risk of being with them in any way since it was clear to him now (too late) that he was emotionally unable to do casual.

But he wouldn't.

"By my count, I get five questions?"

Gilbert and Alistair exchanged a look before Alistair nodded. "Aye."

"How'd you two meet?"

He had been insanely curious, but too timid to ask at dinner last night, not wanting to bring up their past as he had been reluctant to even touch on his. Opening the door during a reciprocal conversation was asking for trouble, but now he had the chance to just ask and be answered with no strings attached.

Gilbert's mouth twitched into a smile while Alistair tensed further. "I met him on a job, one of the quieter ones. He wasn't the target, but an obstacle. Color me surprised when I found myself doing more work than expected."

"Feck off," Alistair said, turning around long enough to flick Gilbert with water, expression marginally harassed. "What's he's not sayin', Mattie, is he was sent ta kill me uncle an' I didn't know enough ta stay out of his way."

"He was a piece of work," Gilbert said, unrepentant. "And treated you like shit. He didn't deserve the quick death I gave him."

What a way to meet your future husband. He wanted to know more of their story and he didn't regret using his second question to ask, "When did you start dating? I'm assuming it wasn't during that."

"Well…" Gilbert said and Alistair wet his hand to flick at him once more.

"It wasn't until years later. Six, maybe?" Alistair said, mouth tense but corners twitching upwards. He then met Matthew's gaze with a small shake of the head (What can ye do?) before turning back to the dishes. "We got ta be mates after tha', but it wasn't until we started workin' together tha' we stopped pretendin' we were just friends with benefits."

"But that was the start of convenient deaths between us. And we didn't actually start dating until after we said I love you, so…" Gilbert shrugged. "Timeline's a little fucked up, but it worked out."

Gilbert shot Matthew a charming smirk and he couldn't help but answer with a smile of his own. Pleased, Gilbert moved and took over drying the dishes as Alistair finished washing them.

"What's one thing you want that you know you'll never have?" Matthew asked. They could buy just about anything they wanted but it said a lot about a person when confronted with life's limitations.

They answered at the same time.

"Peace."

"Kids."

All movement ceased in the kitchen. Alistair recovered first, looking at Gilbert with wide eyes. "Ye still want children?"

Gilbert shrugged at Alistair's soft tone and said with convincing ease, "Never stopped. I just knew it was impossible the day I realized I wanted to marry you. I've let that go, accepted it, and don't regret a thing. What about you? I don't exactly invite safety."

"I can live without peace." I can't live without ye.

This…had gotten too deep. Matthew didn't know what he had hoped for, but it wasn't this. Klaxons were going off in his head as he watched Gilbert lean to kiss Alistair. An ache formed in his chest and Matthew beat it back with the single-mindedness of the damned.

He needed to change the subject. Quickly.

Matthew licked his lips and squeezed the counter behind him as he asked, "How many people have there been? Before me, I mean."

They froze in concert once more, snapping back into a world that went beyond each other, before staring at him. "Wha'?" Alistair asked, nonplussed.

"As your shared boyfriend. Or girlfriend…person-friend. Like I am." Matthew said disjointedly, cheeks heating but forcing himself to keep looking at them.

They exchanged a look and Gilbert came to him, throwing the dish towel over his shoulder and putting a hand softly on Matthew's face. He seemed confused and…concerned. "You're our first, Matthew, our only." He had not been expecting that. "Why did you think you weren't?"

Matthew didn't have a singular reason for it, but he had been certain before that moment. "I don't know. You're just so casual? Like me being here or having a third person in your bed when you wake up is completely normal."

"I can assure you, it's not." Gilbert kissed him briefly before moving back to the sink.

Matthew blinked after him and met Alistair's troubled eyes. "I told ye, ye were hard ta find. I wasn't kidding."

Oh no.

"Why," he whispered before he could stop himself. Shit, that was his last question! Matthew stumbled to finish the inquiry, make it worth a spot. "W-why take on a third person? You love each other, work well together. Why bother with me, or even looking for someone like me?"

"Are ye worried we're gonna change our minds about ye?"

Matthew's gaze had wandered to stare at the cabinets as he spoke but the question had him looking at Alistair. His eyes were too knowing and Matthew hated that he was so inexperienced and thus transparent in this situation. Matthew thankfully did not blush and wasn't under oath to answer so he only said in reply, "I'm just trying to understand what you want from me."

Alistair took the non-answer with pursed lips but Gilbert turned around and mirrored Matthew's posture against the counter. "We love each other and are good partners, yes, but we're too alike. We bicker, push each other, and every so often one of us pushes too far. We have no balance, which was fine for late 20s, our 30s, but later?" Gilbert shook his head. "We can't change who we are, don't want to change each other, but are smart enough to realize that for all that we love each other now, we would probably be separated by 45. We needed a counterpoint, someone who could handle us without being us, and that's you."

Oh no.

That…was the exact opposite of what I needed to hear.

"Noo, a question, if I may." Alistair said, dishes forgotten behind him as he watched Matthew carefully. He was still reeling from the explanation, something that was so simple yet extraordinary that it had to be the truth. He nodded. "We're Death an' War, but ye haven't mentioned it once since ye got here. Ye could have asked us anythin', Mattie, an' we would have told ye. Why didn't ye ask about wha' we do or are plannin'?"

Matthew frowned in confusion because he would have to be a certain kind of stupid to ask after anything related to their work. Sure, he was curious, but it would raise their suspicions of him unnecessarily. Also, the absolute last thing he needed was for them to question him about what was happening in Italy. They would need the Horsemen as allies, but that was not why Matthew was here. And he certainly didn't travel across a continent to see them only to work more! They were his escape, his chance to be free of expectations for a short while, and he appreciated them for that.

"I'm not with you because of what you do or what your titles are. You being Horsemen was actually one of the reasons I was planning on avoiding you at the ball. I'm here because you're Alistair and Gilbert. It's the same reason why I went back to your hotel room in the first place, why I stayed. I'm not going to ask you about it because I don't particularly care to know. As Ghost, sure, I would probably kill for the information in other circumstances, if only to better plan for the future. But I get to be Matthew with you, when I can't be with anyone else. Why would I give that up?"

They did nothing but stare at him for a moment so long that Matthew grew uncomfortable. "With that out of the way, what did you want to do today? Are we going out or—hey!"

Gilbert had come forward and scooped him into a fireman's carry with little warning. Matthew found himself staring at his ass and Gilbert quickly moved them out of the kitchen. He strained and twisted to move into a somewhat more dignified position and only earned a soft slap to his thigh in response. "Be still, would you? I don't want to drop you."

Gilbert smoothly began climbing the stairs and Matthew now had an idea of their destination. Heat curled in his belly as Alistair said, placing a hand on his back, "We're goin' out later. We want ta show ye London, after all. But I'm of a mind tha' ye need some reassurance about this an' we're more than happy ta give it ta ye."

You're going to give me something, alright. Matthew shook his head but couldn't help smiling. "You're both ridiculous. I could have walked up here. Oof." Gilbert dumped him on the bed, leaving him half sprawled on the bedspread. They were grinning at him like wolves, expressions full of hunger and teeth. Matthew, grateful for the physical distraction, returned the smile with one of his own, and deliberately ran his tongue along his top lip. "Did you want something?"

They didn't leave Alistair's apartment until after noon.

A/N: Matthew at his feelings (flinging holy water): Back, back you accursed things!

As for why Matthew knows about Deadpool, do you really think a young Matthew didn't look up every superhero/antihero he could that was Canadian, especially living with "America, fuck-yeah" in human form?

Before anyone asks: NO, Gilbert's daddy kink has nothing to do with the fact that he wants kids. He does not see Matthew as a child, let alone his child, and would be utterly repulsed by the insinuation. Also, as a rule, Alistair and Gilbert didn't pick up anyone who looked to be five years or more their junior in age. Let's not link pedophilia with kink, people, because only one of those is okay.

Song for this chapter is "Devil Like Me" by Rainbow Kitten Surprise.