This is a de-anon from the kink meme and will henceforth be updated on my LJ and
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Alfred Jones came back to the station the same way he usually did after working the beat with one Ivan Braginsky: covered in bruises and cuts. To be fair to the Russian man, the lacerations and contusions weren't completely his fault this time. They'd gotten a call near the end of their shift about a domestic disturbance on Maple Street, a surprisingly bad area given the cheery sounding name. Apparently the neighbors had heard yelling, followed by screaming, and then an eerie silence that had worried the old gal enough for her to call them out. They'd rushed over, both silently praying that one or both of the participants wasn't dead or severely injured.
They'd arrived on the scene to see the door ajar, the apartment trashed, and a young woman lying limp on the floor. They feared the worst, and why shouldn't they? It seemed as if they'd been too late. But suddenly the girl stirred slightly. Ivan checked her breathing and other vitals and found, thankfully, that she was merely unconscious and not dead as they'd feared.
While Ivan called for backup and an ambulance, Alfred had searched the apartment, gun drawn and eyes blazing with righteous fury. He despised wife-beaters more than any other criminals, except for maybe pedophiles. Both types of bad guys preyed on those weaker than them. They were cowardly and it was about time they picked on someone their own size. Namely him.
He'd arrived at the window over the fire escape just in time to see the perp, a young man about the girl's age, scaling down the fire escape into an alley. He'd immediately chased after him, practically tearing down the ladder and taking off after the man. He swung like an ape down the fire escape, nimble and seemingly at home in this urban jungle.
It hadn't been a long chase. The man was wounded from the fight, apparently the girl had a knife tucked away somewhere on her person in case he decided to do exactly what he did. She'd stabbed him in the leg before he knocked her unconscious and escaped. Alfred took him down, tackling him to the ground and attempting to subdue him.
But, though his foe was wounded, he was not going to go down without a fight. A scuffle broke out. The perp threw a punch, catching Alfred square in the jaw. A swift knee to the man's stomach winded him, but he got in another punch to Alfred's chest. By the time the backup cars arrived, he'd managed to cuff the still struggling man and get him into the back of the squad car as the girl was being loaded into the ambulance.
Ivan had merely taken in his battered appearance and smirked, remarking, "You could not even take down a wounded man? You must be letting yourself go, Jones." It had been progress, at least, from their usual routine of beating the crap out of each other when no one was around to get onto them about it or ask questions later. In fact, it was about as close to a compliment as he was likely to get from him. Not that he particularly wanted the asshole's compliments.
"Jones, what the hell happened to you?" Came a voice from across the locker room. It was the squad commander, Arthur Kirkland. He'd known the commander for a long time, they had a lot of history together. But it wasn't as if the older of the two men had any problem with taking Alfred down a peg. In fact, as his half-brother it was kind of his job.
"It'll all in my report, commander." He said cheerfully, loosening his tie and opening the door to his locker. Arthur merely huffed and glared at him. As much as he loved the little wanker, Alfred could be quite infuriating at times. But family was family, and there was nothing to be done.
"So it wasn't Braginsky this time?" He asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously. If he'd been lying, Alfred might have been nervous. Arthur was probably the best at telling when a person was lying in the whole department. He could pick out a tell from a hundred meters off. It made him quite the formidable opponent in poker. He was especially adept at reading Alfred and their two other brothers, Francis and Matthew. (Their dad got around.) He was like a human lie detector.
"Nope, this was all legit. The fucking commie didn't even get a punch in." He said proudly. His chest puffed up and for a moment, Arthur was reminded of a young boy bragging to his friends on the playground.
"So I am to assume that you got one in on him?" He asked, eyes narrowing further and tone icy. He was in no mood to put up with his little brother's shenanigans. It had been a long day and it promised to drag on even further.
"Nope, but I landed a few on the perp. But that'll be in my report too, sir." He teased, grinning like a school boy, a motif that reoccurred often when one was talking about Detective Jones. Arthur sighed and shook his head, wondering (not for the first or last time) why his brother had to be such an idiot.
"For Christ's sake, Alfred. Do try to be more careful. You've already been on probation twice for fighting with Braginsky. And for the last time, he's not a communist." At this point Arthur was mentally cursing his family all to hell. A bunch of idiots, the lot of them! Sometimes he wondered if his life would have been better if he was an only child, or if the other boys had just stayed with their mothers.
Their father, the Chief of Police, had been a notorious play boy back when he was a detective. In the span of only 7 years he'd fathered four sons by four different women. It had been quite the scandal at the time, what with none of the boys being born in wedlock but Alfred (who was their Dad's favorite, but no one really minded because it was more of a curse than a blessing.)
First there had been Marguerite, a wannabe French actress who had a fling with their father and become pregnant. She had been furious, insisting that Sam had ruined her career with this child. The young detective had wanted her to stay at least long enough to have the baby and leave it in his care, knowing that she didn't want it. But Marguerite had been young and rash and had fled back to France while still pregnant.
Two years later Sam met a beautiful, unhappily married novelist from England and they'd begun a whirlwind romance while she was staying in the city trying to come up with ideas for her novels. She had been stuck in a dead end marriage with a man she didn't love, but Sam made her feel young and alive again. That is, until she became pregnant. Her marriage had been destroyed, but she couldn't bring herself to be overly mournful. The pair had agreed mutually that it was for the best that they part ways and Emily go back to England with the child.
Three years passed by and Sam met another wonderful young woman, a comic book artist named Patience. This time it wasn't just a fling. Sam fell completely head over heels for her and this time he was determined to make it work out. So Sam proposed and they were married on a crisp, clear fall day. Their son Alfred, who Patience called their little blessing, was born the following July. But the birth had been hard and Patience had been very sick through the last trimester. Before the young family even had a chance to grow together, she was taken away.
Sam never thought he'd love again, and in a way he was right. He never felt for another woman the way he had for Patience. But there was a Canadian diplomat, a quiet woman by the name of Mary who was kind and gentle and didn't ask too much of Sam, who managed to stumble into his life. She moved in with him and helped him take care of his now one year old son.
It wasn't long until the stork visited again, this time bringing a healthy baby boy who the couple named Matthew. But something seemed off about Mary in the days after the birth. Sam was afraid she would go the way his wife had. But it had turned out to be even worse. For three days after Matthew was born, his mother abandoned him, his father, and his brother.
Alfred and Matthew didn't even know that they had older brothers until they were 5 and 3. Sam had never really considered telling them about brothers they might never even meet. But fate is a fickle mistress and one by one the boys came inevitably back to their father.
First Francis' mother had dumped him on their father, telling him in no uncertain terms that she didn't want to raise his brat anymore. The 10 year old had begged his mother not to leave him with the strange man in a country where he didn't speak the language, but she'd just left without a backwards glance. Despite the traumatizing nature of his abandonment, Francis took to his father. More importantly, he turned out to be the perfect babysitter for his younger brothers while Sam occupied himself with his job to keep his own pain at bay and food on the table for his boys.
Arthur's mother had been a bit more kind. She truly loved her son, but was very poor and couldn't support him. She brought him to his father so that he could have everything he needed and a better chance in America. Arthur took the separation hard and became sarcastic and shut off from his emotions.
But he adored his brothers, even Francis; though he'd never admit it. Still, he missed his mother. They all did. But at least Emily would come to visit when she could manage it. To this day she still sometimes visited when she could and was the closest thing to a mother the other boys had.
They had their differences and their fights, but they were quite a very close-knit famiy when it came down to it. Being the children of a detective, they were sometimes left alone most of the day and into the night. They went through various babysitters and Arthur's mother would watch them when she was in the city, but mostly Francis took care of them. When Sam Jones got promoted to Chief of Police when the boys were 14, 12, 9, and 7 they saw even less of him. But they didn't complain much, they were used to it.
And when they were each, in turn, old enough to go to college and pick a career choice, they all invariably followed their father into the world of law enforcement. Francis had started out as a lawyer, and a pretty good one to boot. But after losing his license because of a sexual harassment suit, he turned to police dispatching. Something he loved doing (mostly because he loved the sound of his own voice). Arthur and Alfred both became cops, with Arthur making squad commander and Alfred becoming a detective. Mattie was a legal aid working his way through law school and learning the trade through watching those he worked for.
And that was why it was so hard to see his little brother struggling to get along with his partner. They were a good team, when they weren't at each other's throats. They were probably the best cops in his squad, not that he'd tell either of them that. But the group dynamic was just plain awful. To make matters worse, he'd just received a request from the gang crime unit to borrow the two of them for something. That could only turn out badly, as far as he was concerned. Once the other unit saw how horrible the two were about fighting, they would report it. And, invariably, news would reach their Father. And that was not something Arthur wanted him to find out. He would completely blow a gasket and probably fire Braginsky for messing with his son.
"Whatever, forget I said anything. Just..." He sighed and shook his head again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just get dressed, get Braginsky, and get in my office. I have an assignment for you." He said, waving over his shoulder as he exited the locker room. "And don't get into any trouble between here and my office, alright!"
Alfred nodded enthusiastically, even though Arthur couldn't see the gesture. A new assignment! He and Braginsky hadn't had a new assignment since they'd managed to almost botch the last one fighting! And now they were getting another chance after months of working the beat! He wondered what it was! Their department mostly handled domestic abuse and sex crimes, so what could it possibly be that Arthur wouldn't have told him right then or over their weekly family dinners? It must be something fucking epic!
He hurried to dress, practically tearing at his clothes in giddy excitement before bolting out of the locker room to find Braginsky and tell him the great news.
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Ivan Braginsky crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and waiting for their commander to speak while his partner fidgeted excitedly beside him. The boy was so infuriatingly hyper all the time and sometimes it was all he could do not to reach over and grab him by his hair until he stopped his restless movement. But now was not the time, especially not considering the rather interesting coincidence of the two being both brothers and the sons of his boss.
So he waited semi-patently while watching the commander pace back and forth as if he had a hard decision to make within the next few minutes. If he was this worried then it must be something potentially dangerous. He would not delude himself into thinking the worry was for him, but there were definitely advantages to being partnered with the man's brother.
At long length the British man turned to them, eyes hard and resolute. Whatever decision he had to make, he'd finally come to it and it was evident by his entire body language that he would stand by it no matter what the consequences or how much they protested. Which means that it was something to protest. So the assignment was both potentially dangerous and something they would not want to do. This only piqued his interest, and he leaned in to better hear what he was about to say.
"You two are familiar with the recent gang activity in the downtown area by a street gang that calls themselves The Rising Sun?" He asked, leafing non-chalantly through a file of papers, presumably related to the case they were being assigned.
"Yeah, they're the new Asian gang, right? The ones who are selling weapons and heroin?" Alfred answered first.
"Yes. But they also dabble in kidnapping, fraud, and sex slave trafficking. Their leader, Kiku Honda, has recently hired an elusive duo if mercenaries to take out his main competition, Yao Wang of the Red Dragon gang. However, before they could go to meet their employer, they made a rookie mistake and were caught with illegal arms coming through the airport. They assure us that Honda has never seen them or their pictures and has no clue what they look like or how they act." Arthru explained, still thumbing through the papers. Ivan nodded and thought for a moment.
"So this is where we come in? We are to go undercover as these mercenaries and infiltrate the gang to gather information?" He asked, for clarification.
"Yes. You are to collect information over a period of months that has yet to be determined, sompletely immersing yourself in this world. You are to wait for any orders to do anything and you are to act the parts perfectly. Anything we say, you do. And you will report back as soon as it is safe after finding out anything of import. Do I make myself clear?" He paused and pinned them with a stern look until they both nodded. "Good. Also, if you happen to find yourself in a situation where taking out Yao Wang of the Red Dragon is unavoidable, the government will deem your actions necessary and will not take action." He said with a meaningful look at the both of them. You are to take him out as soon as you get the chance.
"Sounds easy enough." Alfred quipped. But he knew Arthur was hiding something that he didn't want to tell them, it was obvious in the tense way he stood. "So what's the catch?"
"The catch, Detective Jones, is that the two mercenaries are infamous lovers." He said, staring straight at them and daring them to speak out.
They both sat there for long moments, shell shocked and slack-jawed. Lovers? They, the two cops most notorious for hating eachother, had to go undercover as lovers! It was just unreal! It literally couldn't be happening. And yet, looking at the completely serious face of their boss, they could see that it most certainly was and there was little to nothing they could do about it.
Alfred was the first to snap, jumping up out of the chair as if it had burned him. Ivan stayed seated, glowering at Arthur like he'd just told him he'd killed his entire family and was coming back for him.
"Fuck no! I am not pretending to be that Commie's lovebunny! He's probably a fucking pervet who'd molest me in my sleep!" He growled, turning his accusing glare on the Russian, who took the chance to infuriate the blonde more by letting his eyes rove up and down his form in a mockery of an approving leer.
"See what I mean! Ugh! Fucking pervert Russian!" He screeched, diving for Ivan. He was stopped short by Arthur's hand fisting into the back of his jactet and yanking him back.
"Detective Jones, you are going on this assignment and that is that. The Gang Crime unit specifically requested the two of you and you are not going to screw this up. Fo you really want the Chief to find out?" Alfred grew quiet and relaxed in Arthur's hold at the mention of their father. Fuck, that wasn't good. Dad was already on his case about the bruises and cuts he came home with every once in awhile to family dinners. If he found out that he was letting the fighting with his partner get in the way of him doing his job, son or not, he would be off the force.
"Fine, whatever. But only if Braginsky keeps his goddamned hands to himself!" He growled.
"He will do no such thing. You two are to act as if you're hopelessly in love with eachother until either your cover is blown or you are retrieved from your positions. Do I make myself clear?" He growled, fixing him with a glare. Alfred glared back a moment before giving a grudgling nod. Arthur turned his glare to Ivan who, as much as he hated the situation, nodded as well.
"You will spend the next few hours going over everything you need to know before we insert you into your positions. Then you will be sent home to pack and get a good night's rest before Being sent to the rendez-vous point with Honda's grunts. You will not wear wires, you will be issued non-police handguns, and you will act as you are required to. You are dismissed." He said, waving them out of the office with no room for any more discussion on the matter.
They backed out of the office, knowing not to mess with the Captain when he was in one of his moods. But this wasn't just something they could let slide! Not, at least, without a few barbed words exchanged.
"I know you're totally going to get off on making me uncomfortable. So, for the sake of me not ripping your dick off, don't fucking touch me you freak." Alfred snarled, lip curling up in a sneer.
"As if I would want to touch you, whore. Who knows what kinds of diseases you carry? I do not even know if you have had your rabies shot." Ivan replied back with an easy smirk that infuriated Alfred all the more.
"Hey, at least I get some every once in awhile. When's the last time you got laid?" Alfred sneered. "As uptight as you are, it's gotta have been awhile."
"Perhaps you should ask Matvey." Ivan sing-songed, knowing that even if it wasn't true that it would get under his partner's skin. There was nothing the blonde detective loved in this world more than his family.
"Mattie wouldn't touch your nasty commie ass with a ten foot pole and you know it." The other growled, his hands balling into fists. It took all he had not to deck his partner in the face right then and there.
"Perhaps you are right. But then again, it would be bad etiquette for him to pursue his brother's lover." The Russian man was more than slightly disgusted with himself for mentioning that particular part of their assignment, but it had to be done to get Alfred's goat.
"Let's get one thing straight, buster. You're nothing to me. You're hardly even my fucking partner and if I thought for a second the Chief would let me switch and pawn you off on someone else, I would in an instant." Alfred growled, turning on his heel and storming off to gather his things and go home.
Ivan watched him go with something between accomplishment and a vague disappointment. He chose to ignore the latter and set off himself. He had to deliver the bad news to his sisters.
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I edited the shit out of the first part of the chapter. It just felt so rushed and crappy to me. I saw this as a good opportunity to rehaul it. I added some dialogue at the end, too. It seemed like a bad place to end.