James hefted the bloodied hockey stick up the front steps of the house, and, upon entering, placed the bloody end in the bucket Oliver kept by the door for such bloodied weapons. James shut the door as he lazily took his shoes off, uneasiness settling over the strong Canadian. The house was quiet, yes, but that was normal when Oliver was at his bakery. He listened closely as he walked cautiously through the house, on guard and looking for something unusual that showed signs of aggression. If he can wrestle bull moose (and win), he could take down just about anyone.

He paused at the stairwell, hearing the sound of the shower. An odd thing for someone to do at... He checked his phone for the time. 9:37 pm. Okay, not so odd. He headed up the stairs, and at the top, nothing out of place, but something wasn't right. He looked over the top of his sunglasses as he looked for anything that would ease this feeling.

"Vegan! You here?" James shouted to his brother.

But there never came a reply.

James went to the bathroom door, not bothering to knock, "Vegan? You in he..." He stopped dead as he say the trembling form at the end of the bathtub, shower water hitting the American with its icy drops, the heat having long left it. The Canadian waisted no time in shutting off the water and forcing the unclothed male up, drying him swiftly, and wrapping him in a towel. James stood straight, looking down at the other male, who stared at his feet.

"Vegan." Allen recognized that tone. It meant he wanted an explanation, but he couldn't muster up the courage to speak. Deciding doing something was better then nothing, he wrapped his arms around the Canadian nation, and his face in James shoulder. Surprised, James took a second to hug him back, feeling the other tremble. It sickened him that the other was like this. James eventually broke it, sending the other to dress, and James went about cleaning the bathroom.

-0-0-

James entered Allen's room, where said male sat on the bed, dressed, and purposely wearing one of James plaid button up over his own shirt, and his hands gripping the sleeves firmly, it was obvious fear still clung to the others heart. James came and sat next to the other, waiting for him to explain. The brunettes crimson eyes stared at the floor, his grip tightening on the fabric.

"I wanted to get rid of the feeling of him touching me. So I scorched it off. It was disgusting." James heard him trying to be tough guy about it, and acting like it didn't hurt as much as James could see it did. He wrapped an arm around the other, and pulled him close, into a one arm hug. When the American looked up at him with surprised, inquiring eyes, James rubbed his arm.

" You will never have to worry about him doing it again," James stated, looking at the other from the corner of his eye behind those dark sunglasses, "I took care of it."

Allen accepted this answer, knowing the other wouldn't elaborate. That just wasn't the blonde's way of doing things. It was always this way, if a problem or such came up, James "took care of it" and it never happened again. Who wold be stupid enough to mess with the scariest and most powerful alternate nation? And then do it again after he "took care of you"?

Allen's eyes shut, and he held on to his brother tightly, the Russian's face surfacing to the front of his mind.

"Have you eaten since I left?"

Allen shook his head.

"I'll go make you something," the Canadian detached the other, hand lingering on his shoulder, and Allen know it was his way of comforting him. Allen was thankful for it.

-0-0-

It was passed midnight, according to the sky. James lay in his own bed, Allen curled into him, having come in when horrid memories of the unspeakable happened. James held him, keeping the other safe from the nightmares and physical dangers. James had swore he would keep the other safe, and damn it, he would. Soon sleep stole upon him, like a thief in the night as it stole away his consciousness.