My Friend, For Eternity

Rating:T

Summary: Children!AU He didn't know he had made friends with the very son of the Devil. All he knew was that he finally had a friend. Finally, a friend that wouldn't leave him, no matter what he did…He finally had someone. RusAme

BrooklynBabbii

A/N: No excuse for lateness, not gonna lie – Tumblr played a huge role in it. *Sigh*I need to get a hold of my life.

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Thank you all for waiting oh-so patiently~

So, as my only real way of thanking you all for your patience —

I present to you: Chapter Nine of "My Friend, for Eternity"!

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.:Chapter Nine:.

Play Date

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Ivan had known for a while that Alfred had a tendency to flinch at the mere thought of being alone, while Mathew would often cry if he was left in a dark room for any period of time. It didn't take a genius or, even demon intelligence – let alone supernatural senses – to see that something bothered the children as to not like being alone in the dark. It was especially bad, these fears, when their father would return home late or when said parent would talk to their mother in barely hushed and firm tones in the kitchen or on the back patio. Something about time and money, he said, it was almost always about money. Somebody keeping him out, she would say back, it was always why he would come back home late.

Some nights their hushed tones would fall apart and the couple could be heard yelling at each other. This was when Mathew would start to cry, asking if it was really all of his fault and Alfred would say it wasn't – until their father would bring up hospital bills or something else about how their finances were being crippled by Mathew's constant doctor visits for his sensitive health.

Alfred would glare at the patio door, or if he thought he could get away with it, he would call his father a "selfish tin head". It was something his mother said often, albeit with a different choice of words, but their meaning remaining along the same lines. When the arguments were over, and her saying this was becoming more frequent as time wore on. Weeks passed, and Mathew would catch another cold to put him in bed for another couple of days. Alfred would avoid playing in the living room, unless he was told by his mother that he could turn up the volume as loud as he wanted. Only then – would he stay in the same level of the house when his parents argued.

Even as a child, the boy could take charge. He could grab a hold of his crying brother, ignoring his own mother's hybrid mix of crying and yelling back at his father, and then he would ask Ivan to bring up the toys to his room. There, he would get tissue from the hall bathroom and wipe his brother's face, being careful about his nose like his mother always was, and then pecking his brother on the forehead, just his mother would have done. It always seemed to do the trick in calming Mathew down, and then came the matter of keeping him that way. Alfred would feign ignorance of earlier events and distract his little brother by letting him play with his action figures and other toys. Ivan would join in, whether he actually wanted to play or not, because Alfred looked so much happier that his little brother was no longer crying. Ivan had tried to get that same happiness out of him, but it seldom worked – he only got the lower grade substitute, but he was even more proud of himself when he got it right. Alfred's smile was worth being proud of, if he was the reason it was there.

His smile could brighten any darkness, or so Ivan thought. For there were times even when Ivan slept over, and that annoying night light made an unheard whirring noise that seemed that humans couldn't pick up with their hearing range, Alfred still refused to sleep in the dark. But that was what the night light was for, he would say, only for Alfred to disagree. Alfred would always ask that Ivan waited until after he had fallen asleep before doing so himself.

Ivan had always obliged, not really knowing why, until the summer of their next second grade year.

Mathew had gotten up out of bed, after a whole week of having horrid nightmares and a high fever, but nothing else wrong; he had gone on his own to get a drink of water. However, he had realized on the way down the stairs, that he was still too small to even get up on the counter to get a cup. But he was still thirsty, so he sought out the superhero plastered door of his older brother.

Alfred had already been asleep, but Ivan was still awake. Or at least he was, by the time Mathew had come down the hall. The Russian child had kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep, as Mathew knocked softly and peeked inside. His eyes had changed color over the past few months, something his mother had fretted about; but the doctor had proclaimed it nothing serious. But it was the beginning of something serious, just something out of the control.

Right then, Mathew's eyes were a warm shade of violet-blue, the mix giving off a mysterious aura of allure to the young child barely out of his training underwear and still struggling to put his own clothes correctly. "Alfie?" He whispered, and then tried a little louder. "Are you awake?"

"Nyet," Ivan said, making the effort to feign a small yawn, as it was late according to his inner biological clock. Possibly around midnight or so. "What is it, little Matvey?" Ivan used the pet name purposely, as the younger boy looked horribly scared at being in the unlit portion of the hallway; at the sound of Ivan's voice, he was racing almost blindly in the dark, in his little footie pajamas, and trying to climb onto Alfred's bed.

He grabbed onto Alfred's foot, however, despite Ivan's outreached hand, and that set off the usually heavy sleeper American. Alfred sprang up, eyes wide and every word for terror filled his face. His eyes grappled with the dark for any sight, as he fumbled to find sight of what had grabbed him. However, when he saw his little brother, he would have a miniature moment of even more panic, before he blinked a couple of times and finally asked, "Mattie? Why are you out of bed? Ma said you aren't supposed to be getting up after you took your medicine..."

Mathew would look down at his little padded feet, mumbling an apology, before Alfred said it was okay, and then asking why the other was up in the first place. "Water," Mathew said simply, "I just wanted some water...I can't get it on my own."

The youngest of the three looked sad at the mention of his height, he had caught word of the doctors saying - on more than one occasion – that he might not grow to his fullest potential if he couldn't stay healthy. How his mother would always say she fed him well and gave him the medicine prescribed, and had no idea of how he still got sick, and how the doctor would look as if he didn't believe her. Especially, when he compared Alfred's healthy and prime physique to Mathew's often pale and sickly complexion, and further still to how underweight the younger boy was to the average child.

But Alfred knew it wasn't his mother's fault; Mathew was just still a little sick. And the doctors were getting sad, because they didn't know what was wrong. That was all. When Mattie got better, then everything would be awesome again! His parents would stop yelling out in the patio and kitchen, Mathew would have to take so many different pills and medicines to be okay, and then they could laugh and be a good family again...

"It's okay, Mattie," Alfred started, making his way on getting out of bed. He pulled Ivan's hand to follow him out, as the American boy tried to help his little brother out of the bed too. When it looked like Alfred was standing a bit too far to the left to fully catch the other boy, Ivan took the blind spot, easily helping to maneuver the other child down to the floor.

"Now," Alfred said, grinning, as he put Mattie to his right, and made Ivan take the younger boy's hand. "Let's go get your water, now." When Alfred grinned, Mathew smiled and Ivan couldn't help but to return the action. Walking down the hall, in tandem, giggling and shushing each other – well, Alfred and Ivan shushed each other, Mathew sounded like he was pushing wet air through his mouth. The youngest boy kept having difficulty in making the simple sound.

They tried to keep their laughter down to a minimum, going down the stairs, although a couple of steps into their journey to the kitchen – a small noise was heard from Alfred and Mathew's shared parents' room. The boys paused, the human boys holding their breath and Ivan pretending to do so, as to not feel left out.

But the noise turned out to be nothing, most likely one of the adults rustling in their bedsheets.

Alfred let out a sigh of relief, and Mathew clung tighter to each of the boys' hands. Ivan asked if they were still going to get the water, to which Alfred said, "Yeah, what kind of big brother would I be, if I let Mattie die of thirst?"

Although Mathew had seemed touched at the sentiment, Ivan had rolled his eyes. The older American boy had often forgot that he was one in charge of making sure that his little brother made it to the bathroom before be. Mathew was still getting in the hang of using the toilet, and not his own underwear – something, which one would expect Alfred to help his younger brother out on.

Although sometimes, Alfred had a time with remembering himself; the American boy would sometimes have an accident in his bed after a horrible nightmare always involving a pair of alluring and vibrant violet eyes and the sound of an evil laugh echoing off of the dark walls of his dream.

While Ivan made work of getting the water pitcher, Alfred made use of a chair to get on the counters to get three sets of glasses. He chose an Avengers themed cup for himself, a sippy cup for his little brother, and a sunflower themed one for Ivan. The Russian had said on more than one occasion that he liked the bright yellow flowers, and Alfred was in the process of convincing his mother to give him a little money to buy the seeds. That and the American boy was saving up his money.

They all set at the table, trying to act like good and innocent children, whilst they talked quietly over trivial things. Alfred ran his mouth about how he was going to spend his summer, all of his big plans and how he was going to get a sunburn for having so much fun in the sun. Mathew asked if his older brother or Ivan would teach him to swim. Alfred said he would, and Ivan promised to help him if the other forgot. Then, the Russian brought up the mention of Arthur and Francis, and Alfred got really excited.

And a tad too loud.

Ivan and Mathew had tried to shush him, but to no avail – noises began upstairs, and every boy held his breath. This time, Ivan really did. Their luck turned even worse, when it was not Alfred and Mathew's gentle and easy-going mother, but their father. Their father was not only grumpy for being woken up, but woken up early in the morning. "Do you kids have any idea of what time it is? Why aren't you in bed?" He started, as he came in, face disapproving. He snatched the water pitcher from the table, and put it back in the fridge. "Back to bed. All of you, especially you - Al, I thought you knew better at least, you're supposed to be a good big brother!"

"Sorry, sir..." Alfred said, keeping his head down, as he got out of his chair. Mathew was starting to cry, and their father was not having any of it. He took Mathew out of his little booster seat, sighing a bit too angrily to just be grumpy at finding his kids and their friend having water at two in the morning. Something else was bothering him. Mathew was really crying now, as their father put the dishes by the sink to be taken care of later and ushered the boys back to bed.

It was when they were being led back up the stairs, that Alfred's father made one last comment, "And Ivan goes home tomorrow, Al, I'm not kidding. He's been over for the past week, let him spend time with his own family."

"But-" Alfred started, turning to Ivan who stood as wide-eyed as the American. Mathew was still crying, and it would seem even harder now. The noise was going to wake their mother sooner rather than later.

Alfred's father didn't allow for an argument, "Unless you want to get your tail beat in front of your little friend, you better keep your mouth shut. Now, go to bed." With that said, he left – taking Mathew with him to put back to sleep, as Alfred sniffled. But the American boy was angry too.

Nonetheless, so that he would get in further trouble, he resolved to bring it up with his mother to see if she could do something about the situation, as he trudged himself back to bed. Ivan was quick to follow him, after practically snatching his shadow from going after Alfred's father. No, the Russian had told himself, as his teeth made a small ache and his eyes glowed. He wouldn't take Alfred's father here in the home. He couldn't.

Yet.

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Play Date

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Alfred's mother had somewhat resolved the situation, feeling some form of anger with her husband for being so mean to their son; but she arranged a little play date for all of Alfred's friends in the afternoon, and had even managed to get Mathew at least some partial enjoyment of the afternoon with Natalya and Katyusha, since Alfred had complained about wanting to only play with his friends. His mother had tried to convince him, but Alfred had been stubborn on having his way. His father had almost canceled the entire thing, because of how he viewed Alfred's attitude, a few strings pulled on his mother's part had kept the play date alive.

"Look at us, Madame Jones!" Francis began, flipping his hair and striking a pose beside Alfred in their bathing suits in the little inflatable pool. "We are fabulous!"

Alfred was grinning, his superhero-themed trunks a bit tighter on his hips than his mother had thought they should be, but the maternal parent had put the thought aside – calling it Alfred's pudgy tummy, and nothing more, her eldest son was perfectly healthy.

She looked up, pushing back her curls of pale gold behind her ear. Her shades hid the amusement in her violet eyes, but nonetheless, she still giggled and said, "Yes, mon petite Francis, I see you and Alfie being 'fabulous'."

Alfred's mother had taken French in high school, and though she had never gotten to really use it – she had found use of it now, with Alfred's little friend Francis. The boy's entire family was actually full-blooded French – actually from France as Francis had said multiple times, and the boy's mother, Joan, had been delighted in talking to the other and helping her catch back up with the language. Unfortunately, Alfred's mother's French had gone rusty since high school, as predicted, and Joan talked far too fast for the other mother to catch much of anything at all.

Francis blushed at the slight endearment, giggling, and then ducking down into the water and then smiling through the water to watch Alfred's mother through the plastic covering of the pool. She was giving Natayla her pacifier, and the little girl was crawling around on the blanket in circles, while Mathew sang along to something on the radio, with her.

"Do you still have that crush on my mom?" Alfred began to ask, his voice a bit too loud, he looked over to where his mother sat, and he frowned. Francis hurriedly shushed him, blushing deeply, as he muttered, "No."

Arthur was quick to input his own argument against it, "You better not leave me for Alfred's mom." He already sounded jealous. "If I find out you're sharing your toys with anyone but me, I'm gonna be really mad, Francis. Really mad."

Alfred rolled his eyes, as the two boys immediately began to bicker over something or another, and he went to where Ivan was sitting pleasantly by himself on the other end of the little pool. The Russian was humming to himself, and nodding his head as he went, seemingly enjoying himself. He waved at Alfred, as the other sat beside him. "Hi Fredka, what's wrong?" He asked, as he noticed his friend's frown.

"My Dad's not here," Alfred explained, looking around and not finding said person. "He said he'd take the day off, like Mom..." The little American seemed about to frown again, when Ivan took his hand and pulled him back from the edge of the pool.

"Maybe he's had to go get ice cream or something," Ivan said, "You did say that you guys were running low on it. Maybe your mother told him to get it before he came home." Alfred thought about the idea and smiled, that made sense. It made total sense! Of course, his father was still coming to the little pool party! He still had to teach Alfred how to do that one swimming trick. Alfred's father had used to like to boast that he had been on the swimming team in college – whatever college was.

"Yeah!" Alfred said, "He's getting the ice cream!" He pounded his fist into his palm, physically displaying that he liked the idea. He grinned, his prior sadness and worry forgotten. At the mention of ice cream, Francis and Arthur stopped bickering and turned around. Arthur had been in the mid-process of trying to dunk the French boy in the water; Francis had been about to pull off Arthur's swimming trunks.

"Who's bringing ice cream?" Arthur began to ask, taking his hands from Francis' hair and coming over to Ivan and Alfred. Francis shook the water from his hair, as the British boy fixed his shorts. "Can we ring them and ask if they can bring strawberry for me? I think strawberry ice cream is the best, especially the one with the little strawberry bits in it." He smiled, as he thought of the frozen treat.

Francis scoffed, flipping his ponytail to his other shoulder to be more dramatic, "As if! It is rocky road that is the best!"

"Strawberry," Arthur defended, his hands already clenching into fists. He was already looking ready for another water fight or argument, whichever happened first. Or more likely, whichever happened to let him be the winner. He and the other boy had been keeping score with each other on who had won what argument or battle.

So far, it was 3-4.

Arthur was behind in a point, because he had said that the French made the worst chips in the world, which led to Francis going on Google and looking up French-brand chips and finding them better than most others. This led to Arthur meaning to say that he had meant the chips like 'french fries', to which Francis had blinked and said that those weren't even French at all – they were American, but the French could still make them better. Arthur had simply told him to shut up and take the "stupid point, already."

He hating losing so much.

"I like plain vanilla," Ivan butted in, trying to diffuse the argument before it had begun. He didn't want to get splashed again, that was why he had moved to the other side of the pool in the first place. He didn't so much like how the water would get in his eyes and make them hurt without stinging. It felt weird.

"Really?" Alfred said, turning to the taller boy sitting down in the water. "I always thought I was weird for just liking the plain flavors! Gee thanks, dude!" Alfred held up his hand for a high-five. Ivan' pause was short, and his response was quick as he high-fived the other back, smiling back. "Da," he said, "what are friends for?"

"We're friends, too, right?" Arthur began to ask, having forgotten about his disagreement with Francis – no wait, he hadn't, as he tripped the French boy in the water and laughed at him. Francis caught English boy's laughter short, by pulling him down with him. A great splash was made, and Arthur was soon nagging about how his shorts were soaking wet as he stood back up.

"That's the whole point of the bathing suit, Arthur!" Francis huffed, "To get them wet in the water!" He was in the process of getting up and putting his hands on his hips, head mused up in his little ponytail, "How could you not know that? It's even called a 'wet suit'! It's supposed to get wet, it's okay to get it wet!"

"Well, maybe I didn't want mine to get so wet!" Arthur countered. Alfred rolled his eyes again, and Ivan went back into his own mind, humming along to the song playing over on the radio. Alfred's mother had turned it, trying to find something, and had caught on a tune that she had liked.

"Ooh, here she comes – she's a man eater!"

"I know this song!" Ivan said, breaking his inner musing and disrupting Arthur and Francis' fight. "My father likes to sing this in the shower!" Alfred burst into laughter, his other friends not too far behind him, as Katyusha blushed horribly and Alfred's mother sputtered and turned it up, trying to pretend that she hadn't heard such a thing.

Ivan was getting up to dance to the song, pulling Alfred's hand and dragging the American boy up with him. Francis caught onto what Ivan was doing, as he tried to convince Alfred to dance with him. Francis beamed at Arthur, heard the small snarled retort of: "If you twirl me like some girl, I'll kick you in the shins," before he was swinging their arms together from side to side. As the tempo sped up, so did their movements.

Ivan sang aloud to the lyrics, remembering each and every word for where they were due. He twirled Alfred in a circle and went to swinging their arms. However, at the chorus, all the boys managed to join in. "Ooh, here she comes – she's a man eater!"

Katyusha giggled, twirling a lock of her hair, before she stood up from her lawn chair and she offered a hand to Mathew. He blushed but took it, and the large-breasted teen danced with the smaller child, both giggling along as Ivan sung the lyrics.

Mathew tried to roll his shoulders, like he saw his older brother doing, and only served to make himself look more adorable as the sun gleamed off of the sunscreen plopped on the tip of his nose. Alfred's mother danced in her seat, smiling and giggling at the fun the children were having, as she helped Natalya to find rhythm and clap along. The little babe grinned over her pacifier as she clapped, sometimes a little fast and sometimes a little too slow – but she was having fun, bouncing on Alfred's mother's lap and laughing.

"Ooh, here she comes – watch out, boy, she'll chew you up!" Alfred sang along with his friends, making to twirl Ivan like the other boy had done for him; it was all so much fun, he was having so much fun. He rolled his shoulders, stepping from side to side, trying to go along with the beat. When Ivan stepped out, but kept one hand on his, and then kicked his feet out, Alfred mimicked him and laughed, the smile traveling all the way to his eyes.

Francis and Arthur were having even more fun with each other, their personalities mixing just as well as the other two, as they were bumping hips with one another and side stepping along in the cool water, occasionally kicking out their feet. "Ooh, here she comes – she's a man eater!" Francis and Arthur sang along, shaking their finger in a tsking fashion and nodding their heads along with the beat. Arthur and Francis were smirking, and their grins were just as innocent as Alfred and Ivan's.

Alfred faked the trumpet solo, shaking his little hips, before the main verse came along, and the little group was back to singing along, Ivan as their lead. "Ooh, here she comes – watch out, boy, watch out!"

As the song ended, their group dancing and singing died down, and they were all smiles and giggles. Alfred turned to his mother, "Mom! Mom! Find another song! This is fun! We need to do it again!" Said parent nodded, having had fun herself, as her husband came through the gate door with two bags of ice cream.

He looked around, a bit confused, in his T-shirt and swimming trunks and sandals, "Did I miss something?" He joked, as he scratched his head. Alfred ran out to him, arms open for a hug as he started talking about it. His father's face started out amused, and then got more confused and then became sad, "You guys had a dance party without me? Not cool, Al! I thought you had my back! You should told the radio to wait for me!"

Alfred almost looked sad, not having thought about his dad while he had been having his fun, "But, I-I-"

"I was kidding, sport," His father said, grinning. He adjusted the ice cream in the bags, so that he could ruffle the boy's hair. His father wasn't mad about being left out? Really? Alfred blinked, and then laughed as he saw the joke in it, "Good one, dad!"

He followed after his parent, as he set the ice cream down on a side table brought out from the garage. "Sorry I took so long, everyone, traffic was being a very mean lady." Alfred's mother cast him a "Really?" look, and he shrugged, grinning sheepishly.

Alfred called his friends over to select their ice cream pieces, and everyone was holding their own flavor, when Natalya found the dial on the radio and just randomly turned the station, sucking on her pacifier.

"So light 'em up, up – I'm on fiiire!"

"Ooh, ooh, I know this song!" Arthur said aloud, already dancing along, "Can we keep it here? I like this song!" But already, he was halfway to his own world, as he danced along to the beat, whipping his hair and jumping around on his little feet. Everyone seemed a bit surprised, but then Natalya found the volume dial and tried to turn the radio on full blast. Arthur put his ice cream stick in the air as if it was the lighter, as he sang, "So light 'em up, up; so light 'em up, up – I'm on fire!"

Alfred soon decided to go along with it, finding the tune catchy, and danced with his British friend. Ivan joined them, Francis coming in last, as all of them tried to match Arthur's little punk-themed way of dancing, as they flipped their hair and rolled back their shoulders and seemed to hop from foot to foot and stomping at the guitar chords.

"My songs know what you did in the daark," Arthur sang, and the way that he sung could have been praised. He had heard this song more than once and he knew the lyrics. His friends took up on the chorus, "So light 'em up, up – so light 'em up, up, light 'em up, up - I'm on fiiire!"

Alfred's mother laughed at the scene, at how the children seemed to be enjoying themselves, and how Alfred's father was pretending to be playing an air guitar, making a 'metal sign' with his invisible chords, as he stuck out his tongue and rocked along with the kids.

Katyusha went back to dancing with Mathew, although he seemed to be leading her with the new tune. Natalya was trying to flip her baby hair like she saw Ivan and the other children doing, having put the radio aside, so that she could practice her new found clapping skills. She was throwing herself from side to side with the tune, her rhythm still wrong, but she was an infant and she was trying.

Taking her digital camera off of the side table, she sneaked multiple pictures – from Alfred and Ivan, to Arthur seemingly on his planet – rocking out to his favorite song, and then to Francis who was adding more faces and hand gestures as he danced to the rhythm.

The camera caught pictures of little Natalya having her own version of fun, bouncing on Alfred's mother's lap, and laughing. Pictures were captured of little Mathew dancing with the much bigger Katyusha who would occasionally swing off his feet, and then swoop him back down to the ground. All-in-all, it was a good afternoon.

They were all having fun.

Friends have fun with each other.

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-END CHAPTER-

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The little dance scene with the pool and "Man eater" by Daryl Hall/John Oates and "My Songs Know What You Did in The Dark (Light 'Em Up)" by Fall Out Boys are actually based on something my friends and I did in the early start of summer. I thought I was so cute in my bathing suit, dancing to this on the side of the road. But, ahem, this isn't about me and my stupid antics, it's about the story and its RusAme.

We're getting somewhere, and sorry, guys, I couldn't just end the cute little kiddos so hurriedly. I had to have this scene – I had to use their innocence for this.

Any questions? Comments? Leave it in a review and make me have a smile for my day~

~Bai-Marionette

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