Alfred hadn't expected his coming out to be such a big deal. It was just a chance he saw at dinner one night and he took it. However, his father hadn't approved. It wasn't like he was secretive about it. He'd had men over before; Mattie knew about it. Maybe if his dad was home for more than an hour he'd notice it. But things couldn't ever be easy. Did he think that because he liked guys that Matt would get infected or something? Like his brother cared. He didn't care what Alfred did, as long as he knew that he was happy. Which Alfred and Matthew knew each other were perfectly content with each of their lives.

He hadn't expected his father to do something so drastic. He ignored the knock on the door, knowing that the butler would get to it. Probably wasn't him for anyways. If it was one of his friends, they would have just come in. He stuffed more chips into his mouth and continued his game.

"No no no, go and take your break." He choked as he head his father say this. He never answered the door. Interest peaked, he paused the game and got up to watch from the door way.

"Jones?" asked a heavily accented man. From what Alfred could see, he had a long beard, curly hairs of differing shades merging with one another. A worn wooden box was dropped onto the floor the second my father nodded.

There was a muffled scream that made his eyes widen. What was that? The bearded man said something in a different language and kicked the box.

"Dad?" he asked, walking over to the now closed door. Alfred didn't notice the other man until he got closer. I watched him put the box down carefully, as if whatever was in it was made of the most fragile glass. "What's this?"

"A solution." His father said, signing a check and folding it away in his pocket. "You'll get this after you take one of them downstairs. Doesn't matter which one, I will lead you down to the room. The other will need to go upstairs. My son will lead you to the room. Alfred lead one of these men to Matthew's room."

Alfred swallowed and nodded, heading up the stairs. He heard one of the men behind him pick up a box and hurry after him. He opened the door and let the other walk into the room. He couldn't be too much older than Alfred was. Not a chance. Sure, his hair was so blonde that it was almost white but his eyes held a childishness to them. How absolutely stunning those eyes were. Just absolutely breath-taking.

He looked away awkwardly as the man looked up at him, not wanting him to know that he was staring.

"I…" he swallowed, "Box… open or keep close?"

Alfred looked at the crate, desperately wanting to know what was inside. "I think its Matt's. We should just leave it…" he shook his head, leaning against the open door, a signal for them to leave.

The larger of the two seemed hesitant to leave it, as if he was giving up something well loved. Maybe it was, Alfred didn't know. But he was determined to find out somehow.

"What's in it?" he asked, almost scared to know. As well as he should have been. The man's response sent shivers down his spine, his blood turn to ice.

"Is my sister."

He swallowed and looked at the box. Matt wouldn't mind if it was opened… would he? No. Alfred needed to get her out of there. How uncomfortable that must be. How long was she in there for?

"Help me get her out." Alfred said, hurrying over and pulling at the lid.

It didn't even take a second to rush over and start to pull the lid off as well. The wood creaked as the nails ripped from it, the lid thrown into the room. The sight in front of him disgusted him. The poor girl was bruised and forced into the tiny box. She shook horribly, eyes dazed over as if she wasn't even there. As the man pulled her out of the box, she let out a half scream in fright before realizing who it was. Alfred watched as he comforted his sister, holding her close and whispering words in a language that he didn't understand.

"Can you tell her that Matt's going to take care of her?"

The man looked at him, the woman trying to pretend that he wasn't there.

"My brother's a good guy. He's not going to hurt her." He insisted.

This time, the man spoke, saying something in the other language. Alfred caught what sounded like his brother's name but he couldn't be too sure. It wasn't exactly his name. Close sounding though.

After a while, Alfred heard his name being called from downstairs. His father… how could he do this?

"We should go back down stairs." He sighed, not really knowing what else to say.

The way the man looked at him made Alfred regret that he had said anything. He could have just waited until his father came up to get them.

"Keep me?" he asked softly, "I translate. I… I… clean? I help. Please."

Alfred sighed. "How? I can't, can I? Did father buy you? Cause if he didn't I don't know if I can keep you here. Could I… buy you?"

The Slavic man nodded. "If enough. Please."

"I'll try." Alfred said, "Even if you can't stay, I'll promise you that she'll be safe. What's your name?"

"Both?" the Russian asked, still holding onto his sister protectively.

Alfred nodded, though his breath hitched as he had forgotten about the other box. "Yes, both of them."

He paused, seeming to think about something. "Ivan Braginski." He said softly. It sounded odd in English but he supposed that it would have to do.

"Ivan." He repeated, "It's nice to meet you, I'm-"

"ALFRED!"

"-yeah, that. We should get going before either of us get into too much trouble."

Ivan kissed his sister and set her on the bed, hurrying after Alfred to find two very unhappy looking fathers standing by the door.

"Что, черт возьми, вы думаете, что вы делали?" Ivan's father shouted, arms crossed over his chest

Ivan moved over to him quickly, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. "К сожалению, отец, у него были вопросы."

"Что вы думаете, что вы делали?" Alfred watched as Ivan's collar was grabbed by his father. The man shook him, face nearly red with anger. "Сколько ты ему сказал?" He threw him to the floor and kicked him in the stomach. "Ты жалкое подобие сына!" he spat.

"Sir," Alfred moved forward, ignoring the glare from his father. "I would like to buy your son, if I possibly could. What's your price?"

Что, черт возьми, вы думаете, что вы делали? - What the hell do you think you've been doing?

К сожалению, отец, у него были вопросы. - Sorry, father, he had questions.

Что вы думаете, что вы делали? – What did you think you were doing?

Сколько ты ему сказал? – How much did you tell him?

Ты жалкое подобие сына! - You're a pathetic excuse for a son!

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