Brothers
[2p! America x reader x 1p! America] 5
Wordcount: 4, 669 Chapter synopsis: Alfred, Allen, and Matt start off their investigation by questioning the owner of the bar opposite your store. After getting a lead, Allen offers to check it out himself, letting his brothers head home to prepare for work. He confirms that the suspects were indeed who he thought them to be, and he feels so guilty, he reaches a state of clarity like never before. He goes home to look for you while everyone else is out, then pours his heart out to you. Naturally, it ends with you two doing something that the others can't find out about. Content warning: R18+ for NSFW content.
Brothers 5 - The path of least resistance
Looking for the perpetrators was the easy part.
Lying to you wasn’t.
Just as the sun peaked over the city for a dim orange haze, he, Allen, and Matt swung by the bar opposite your store to question Donny, the owner. It was a stupid move, doing a shootout right in front of one of the only establishments that made a point to oppose gang activity. At least now, they had a lead. A silver Chevy Impala, which sped off just before their license plate could be caught.
But they had a friend down at the gas station with CCTV cameras that could’ve.
Allen offered to go there himself to ask for some footage. Alfred thought that made enough sense to not question him. He didn’t have work here, and you probably wouldn’t have given a damn what he was doing in the day. But him?
He had work, and so did Matt.
So he drove his brother and himself home straight after. He’d also have some major explaining to do if you noticed him missing from bed every other day before the sun even rose. He knew he couldn’t keep it up forever, but it had to do for now. The sooner he caught these bastards, the sooner you could be let off the hook for whatever reason they decided to target you.
He just hoped you were still asleep.
He could barely keep his eyes open as he steered, but he refused to slow down. It was already seven-thirty, which was later than he’d planned, but Donny slept in that morning. Once he pulled into the driveway, he shut off the engine, got out of the car and darted to the front door. He didn’t even bother closing the car door.
When Matt saw that he’d left it wide open, he shook his head slowly.
“You’re being ridiculous right now.” He muttered, getting out of the car and moving to the other side to close it.
Only Alfred never processed what he even said; he was too focused on getting the key into the keyhole to pay attention. Jamming it in, he gave it a hard twist before swinging the door open.
He stepped inside, then dashed upstairs as fast and quietly as he could. His heart was pounding by the time he got to his bedroom. He creaked the door open, and lo and behold, you were still there, sleeping soundly and wrapped up in his blankets.
He visibly relaxed and sighed. Crisis averted.
What more was that you looked so good in his shirt, in his bed, in his room. If he could forget about the circumstances for a second, you were all his right now.
Alfred didn’t even hesitate then.
He was so relieved to see you, he didn’t care how it looked in retrospect. He brisked over and leaned down, his mouth lowering to your forehead. He didn’t have the balls to do it to you while you were awake, and he’d probably never grow them. But before his lips could even get near your skin, he caught you staring tiredly at him, or more accurately put, caught him in the act.
His eyes went wide for a split second.
He pulled back immediately, but not fast enough to make it seem suspicious.
“Morning, sleepyhead. I’m off to work now, so don’t miss me too much.” He hummed.
“Maybe a little.” You muttered, opening your arms with a floaty smile. Alfred furrowed his brows and pursed his lips into a hard frown to hide how much he liked that. But it did nothing to hide how red he turned. You were so cute when you were sleepy.
He leaned down to embrace you, hiding his face in the crooked of your neck.
“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.” He murmured in your ear.
“Okay.”
Alfred pulled away at that, but with great reluctance. When he straightened up, your eyes were already closed again. He lingered his gaze on you, frowning as the heat return to his cheeks. Ever since you started staying with him, sharing his bed, leaving for work had never been so hard.
If he didn't have a house to pay for, he would've just taken the day off and laid here with you. There was no telling what would happen then. Or was there? He saw the way you looked at him the other night. And he knew how he felt when he saw you cry like that. You needed him just as much as he needed you, so if he had even a single thought between his ears, he'd know that you two were one inconvenience away from turning to each other for comfort.
The comforting in question, involving things he wouldn't say out loud.
Alfred forced himself to leave his bedroom to stop thinking about it. Closing the door behind him with a soft click, he dug a hand through his hair as he made his way to the stairs. That was close. If he'd had left any later, he probably would've popped a small boner from where his mind was going.
He headed to the kitchen for a snack before leaving.
Matt was sitting at the table and sipping a cup of a tea when he got there. The man didn't spare him so little as a glance, but the atmosphere turned heavier nonetheless--heavy with his own guilt. And yet, he couldn't say he did anything wrong.
He opened the fridge and leaned over it, scanning the shelves for anything he wanted to eat.
“Did you tell her?” Matt asked, still not turning to look at him.
Alfred closed his eyes and sighed. So that was what this was all about. However, he wasn't in the mood to revisit this again. Not when he'd had such a good run. And he definitely wasn't going to ruin it for his bother who just wanted to take the moral high ground.
“It’s seven AM,” He muttered, pulling out some leftovers from last night’s dinner. “Get off my back.”
“I’m just saying. You wouldn’t have to rush around if she just knew,” Matt murmured, taking a drawn out sip of his tea. Alfred's eye twitched, but he kept eating, Seeing as though the man was in no mood to engage with him, he would hit him where it hurt. "You'd catch them a lot faster if you weren't sneaking around."
Alfred whipped his head to him, eyes wide and wounded. It did hurt. To even entertain that he wasn't doing enough, to think that he could put you on the line just to keep this a secret. It forced him to confront the question, was it you he was protecting, or was it himself?
And it made him feel terrible.
"Shut up," He murmured with a full-mouth, his words muffled by all the food he was chewing. But that did nothing to hide how upset he was. So he averted his gaze, now narrowed with contempt. "You think this is easy for me? What am I supposed to say to her without complicating things?"
"It's already complicated. But telling the truth now will make things easier in the long run. Trust me."
"That what? I got her ex-boyfriend back to Detroit and fucked things up for her so we could team up in some bullshit vigilante investigation?" He grumbled.
"So you were the one who called Allen," Matt raised his brows, but he didn't look surprised. Not by that fact, nor by him referring to this whole job as bullshit. "Do you think she'd be more hurt by you doing that to protect her, or by seeing Allen again for as long as this takes, and without ever finding out that he actually came back for her?"
"She doesn't like him like that anymore!" Alfred raised his voice, now caught between a laugh and a cry. But his outburst only seemed to get his brother thinking, and not in the way he would've wanted--Matt licked his bottom lip, darting his sharp eyes over his racing expression. "She doesn't care why he's here."
"And yet, you 'fucked things up' for her."
"You know what I mean," He huffed. "She shouldn't think about why he's here because it's not good for her."
"That's not up to you to decide," Matt glared. "Even if she did decide to get back with him, that's up to her. Not you."
"Fuck, Matt." Alfred hissed, eyes wide and burning. "I'm just trying to protect her!"
"No, you're just trying to keep her to yourself." His brother snapped, getting him to falter. His eyes were now wide for an entirely different reason--he was cornered. He had nowhere to run, no more theoreticals to fall back on. And with the way Matt looked at him, with so much fury, so much certainty, he knew he couldn't keep lying anymore. To him, and to himself. "You think you love her, but you're just being a selfish piece of shit right now. You don't care about what she wants. Because if she really wanted you, she'd pick you over Allen."
Alfred gritted his teeth and went so red, he could feel it.
"You're just afraid that if she found out Allen came back for her sake, she'd forgive him."
Allen managed to get access to the security footage without a hassle. Word spread fast about the shooting in the neighborhood, and he didn't need to elaborate before he was let into the back room. But now that he had his eyes fixed on the screen, waiting for the car to drive by, waiting for it to happen, he'd never been such a nervous wreck.
After what Donny said about the make and model of the car, he knew he was fucked.
He just had to see it for himself for him to believe it. That was when he saw it on the screen--a Chevy Impala speeding throught he street, and the occupants firing a hail of bullets on your store. He paled like he just witnessed his own death, and his mouth fell open in a look of horror.
The car belonged to one of Victor's boys.
He knew it. He knew it right from the start, and ever since Alfred called him. That it was Victor's boys who shot up your store, not a random group of thugs. What he'd feared ended up being real. He'd lived with this fear for as long as he could remember, and it'd finally caught up to him. His debts that had gone unsettled for so long were finally demanding their payment--and with interest.
He fucked you--he fucked up your life, almost getting you killed in the process.
He took off after that, bursting out of the back room while gritting his teeth. What had he done? He'd never burst into tears like this before, but it just happened. They streamed down his face as a sob wracked his body. What he'd been running from found him, found you, and he had nobody to blame but himself. What was he supposed to do now? Where could he go? What would he even say if his brothers saw him crying like this, knowing that he didn't have it in him to stop?
Allen cried so hard, he started taking quick, involuntary breaths.
While he did, he found himself pacing on the empty lot around the fuel pumps.
Alfred would be expecting information, likely about the car's escape route. That, he knew, but that wasn't even the limit of his knowledge. He knew exactly where the car went, where it was parked. At this point, it wasn't fixing this that he was scared of--he was prepared to offer himself in your place just to let you off the hook, even if it meant offering his life.
He was deathly afraid of Alfred finding out.
Of you finding out.
He could only imagine how you'd look at him when you learned that the only reason you lost everything and almost died was because of him. You'd hate him more than you already did, a fate worse than death. Worse than what Victor had in store for him.
But what choice did he have?
He had to protect you. He had to save you from his mistakes. And if it meant taking the fall, he would jump without a shred of hesitation. Besides, if something did happen to him, maybe you'd hate him a little less. As he came to this conclusion, he stopped crying. The change was so abrupt, from manic distress to total silence, one had to wonder if he'd lost it right then and there.
Ironically enough, things had never been clearer to him than they were now.
He knew what to do now. He would settle this debt, and he'd probably die. But you would be safe, and he wouldn't have to agonize over you not giving a fuck about him anymore.
There couldn't have been a better outcome.
Allen went home after that. He couldn't put it into words what came over him when he stepped inside the house. These emotions that came from knowing he was in his last moments. From knowing everything was about to end. He could finally put an end to his pain, and he'd never been so calm--even if he was no longer in his right mind.
He wasn't afraid of dying anymore.
The only thing he was afraid of, was not seeing you one last time before everything fell apart.
Allen headed upstairs. What was once something he wouldn't have even dared to consider, he did without a shred of hesitation. He ambled down the hall towards your door, his eyes half-lidded and expression unreadable. It was now or never.
He gave your door a few knocks before opening it.
He didn't even bother waiting for an answer.
You sat up from the bed to see who it was--had Alfred forgotten something? When you saw who it was, your eyes went wide, and your heart began to pound. What was Allen doing here? There was no reason for him to be here, except for the inappropriate ones, because everything involving him was inappropriate.
"Allen?" You pulled the blanket over your chest like you were exposed--even though you weren't. "What are you doing here?"
“What I should’ve done a long time ago,” He muttered, walking up to you. The closer he got, the more his expression changed, his gaze softening until it looked like he was about to cry. “I’m sorry. For everything. I’m sorry for leaving you all those years ago and never giving you a proper explanation. I was young, and stupid, and, and, I was scared. I made some bad decisions and got in with the wrong crowd. And I hate myself for it.”
You darted your eyes over him, your mouth falling agape. He’d caught you off guard by spilling his heart out to you. They were all the words you've wanted to hear, only he was a few years too late. You'd tried so hard to pick up the pieces of yourself after he left, and you managed to heal, even if only enough to be happy. You were actually happy without him, and you didn't have to worry about falling apart again now that he was gone for good.
But now that he was back, he could leave all over again.
And truth be told, you were afraid. Afraid that if he said the right things, that if he looked at you the right way, you’d actually forgive him. Then what? He would move back to Los Angeles where he made a life for himself, breaking your heart all over again.
You got out of bed with your gaze averted, and your face contorted with hurt.
“I appreciate you telling me these things," You muttered, wrapping your arms around yourself. "But Allen, it’s been too long.”
“I know, but just hear me out. Please.” He begged, moving so close to you that you expected him to take your arm or your shoulder--only he never did. He was respectful enough to not touch you, not that it made this any easier. His voice was breathy and marred with desperation, like he was on the verge of breaking down. “You don’t have to forgive me, and I don’t expect you to. But can you just forgive me for today?”
“What do you mean?” You uttered, looking back at him out of genuine confusion.
“Let’s put the past behind us and just talk. Even for just an hour. Then you’ll never have to see my face again,” Allen gave a strained grimace. It killed him just to say it, but he was out of options. "I’ll leave this house and book a room in a motel then fuck off forever."
It sounded so good in theory, not seeing him again.
All you had to do was catch up with him, but turns out, even that proved too big of an ask.
Because the truth was, he'd swept you off your feet the second you saw him again. You just refused to see it. But now that he was giving you an ultimatum, you just crumbled. Blood rushed up your face, and a sob got caught in the back of your throat.
"Why did you have to go?" You uttered, tears welling in your eyes. "I waited for you."
His eyes went wide, and he just lost it right then and there.
Allen pulled your face in for a kiss, moving his mouth furiously against yours, as if every hard brush, lick, and suckle would make up for all the time that he’d been away from you. But it wouldn’t. And yet, he kept trying, pressing his lips so hard against yours, it hurt.
But it still wasn’t enough.
Not until he’d crossed every last line with you.
Allen had sex with you for hours. The morning went by in a haze of kissing, touching, panting, and moaning. He was still feverish as he went downstairs, his cheeks flushed from the memory of it all. The way you cried for him, telling him how much you missed him as you took him all the way down to the hilt. You never said it, but the way you sucked him in was like you still loved him.
The feeling of your soft skin in his hands, the way you squeezed around his cock so hard that he just came instantly like a rocket.
He gritted his teeth and went red. He came so much the first time, it was embarrassing. He filled you up so good, it came spilling out onto his stomach. And how he moaned, his face contorted with so much pleasure, it looked like he was in pain. But he didn’t care back then. He just kept going and going. And in so many positions, he may as well have skipped the gym that day. And to think that he’d get pissed when people said that to him after doing anything remotely physical.
He pinned you down by your hands and pounded you into the bed, held you up and bounced you on his cock, then you’d get him back by riding him so hard, he’d throw his head back and tear up.
It was so good, he thought he’d died.
But you didn’t stop, not until you came and he was shooting blanks. It was so hot.
You were so hot.
His sweatpants tightened around his crotch. He glanced down. There was a huge tent in his pants, and he could see dick peeking through the gap in his hem.
Shit. He got hard again.
He adjusted himself as he arrived downstairs, moving his dick in his pants so it’d look a little less obvious. He arrived in the kitchen, finding a cup in the pantry before going to the sink to fill it up. While he did, he glanced mindlessly at the clock on the microwave. Damn. Had he been going at it with you for that long?
Not that it concerned him--he’d never been so satisfied with himself.
He wouldn’t have complained if he just dropped dead right then and there.
You didn’t hate him. It might’ve taken hours of you fucking him and milking him dry for him to come to that conclusion, but he was comfortable in it. And that was all that mattered to him. You didn’t even have to love him anymore. He could jump the gun and entertain it if he was feeling particularly confident, but he didn’t have to.
He was content with just that.
He headed back upstairs, holding a tall glass of water in one hand. He opened your door, letting himself in before closing it behind him with a soft click. You were still in his bed, your neck and shoulders covered with hickeys. He didn’t exactly get off scotch free either—even if he couldn’t see them, he knew he had hickeys and bites.
“I got your water,” Allen began, sauntering over.
“Thanks.” You smiled a little when he gave it to you.
“You okay?” He murmured, watching you drink the whole thing with his gaze softened.
“I don’t know,” You wiped your mouth and looked away from him. It had to be now and only now that it occurred to you what you’d done; you had sex with Allen. You actually caved and did it with your ex. But even then, you weren't ashamed of yourself. Conflicted? Yes. Concerned? Even more so. Because when all was said and done, one question remained.
What now?
How would you two go forward from here? Would you two get back together like nothing? That didn't sound right. But pushing him away forever didn't sound right either. So you breathed out a sigh, and mustered the courage to admit that you had no idea what to do with him--because you didn't. “I just… I just need to think things over.”
Allen was already prepared for everything you were about to say. Nothing that came out of your mouth could hurt him, not after what you had done for the last two hours. Your hesitation, you still wanting to keep a distance with him.
Because when all was said and done, you still cared about him in one way or another.
How you felt about him otherwise was none of his business. He couldn't force you to love him, no matter how much he wanted you to. He refused to. The only thing he could do now, was make this easier for you.
“I can give you space if you want.” He grinned tiredly.
“…”
“… Unless you wanna sleep with me tonight.”
You whipped your head to him, staring at him like he just spat on an altar. You went red, half out of anger, half out of embarrassment. No, you couldn’t sleep with him tonight. If you shared a bed with him, you’d only want to get closer, and that would only complicate things even further. And by complicate, you meant that he would push you toward a decision you weren't sure was entirely yours.
Because chances were, sharing a bed with him would end up the same way ‘talking’ to him just did.
It looked like he had the exact thought process, because he rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish look.
“Actually, forget I said it. Probably not a good idea.”
“Yeah.” You forced a smile.
“Listen, I’m sorry.” He sighed.
“It’s not your fault.” You frowned, turning to the side.
“Yeah, but I came onto you.” Allen mumbled.
“And I let you.”
“But still, I’m sorry.”
“Listen,” It was your turn to sigh, facing him with a defeated look. You may not have known what to do with Allen now, but what you did know, was that you didn't want anybody to find out what you two did. It wasn't so much out of shame--it was more because you already knew what everybody would say. Once again, you'd just be letting other people determine your choices when they should've been up to you. Not him, not Matt, and definitely not Alfred. “I don’t want anybody to know we had sex.”
Allen thought he'd be hurt by that, but he understood the implications perfectly.
“We can keep it a secret if that would make you more comfortable.” He suggested.
“Please.” You smiled weakly.
“Alright, I promise.”
After finding Amy's foundation and concealer somewhere in her room, you took Allen to the bathroom to cover up his neck. Then, you would cover up your neck with your own makeup. However, you only managed to get halfway through doing him before he started getting hot and bothered. Turns out, being alone somewhere private, and standing so close to each other that your bodies brushed against each other at every movement, was more than sufficient to set him off.
Before you knew it, he had his mouth on yours again.
He cupped your face as he caught you in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. The taste of Allen's mouth was intoxicating; you didn't realize how much you missed it until you experienced it again. And now that he gave it to you so willingly, you couldn't resist him.
You wanted to push him away. Your hands were on his chest, and yet, you just couldn't.
He moved his lips against yours for a slow and deep kiss, making out with you against the door. It wasn't until he slipped his tongue into your mouth, and you felt him get hard on you did you realize the weight of what you two you were doing.
You pushed him off you, but only just enough to get his mouth off of yours.
“Allen.” You fumed. “How are we supposed to keep this a secret if we keep doing this?”
“My bad.” He murmured over you, his face flushed a deep red. Only he didn't seem embarrassed at all, and was only apologizing to ice things over with you. Not even when there was an obvious tent in his pants, something he'd gotten just from kissing you.
It was almost endearing how obedient he was despite being so turned on.
The work day couldn’t have ended any faster.
You never thought this would see the day, but you dreaded the moment Alfred would come home. Someone you called your best friend, someone you’d come to rely upon for just about everything in your life. You wouldn’t have dreamed of keeping anything from him, just as he wouldn’t have dreamed of keeping anything from you.
But this was the one thing you couldn’t let him find out about. Knowing him, he’d move mountains just to keep you away from Allen.
You and Allen agreed to be in separate rooms for the evening, which should’ve made this ordeal easier to deal with. But that could only get you so far. You two would have to be seen together eventually, like at dinner. You just hoped that he wouldn’t look at you funny.
Only your ex just couldn’t wait until then before being a problem.
“(F/N)?” Allen called for you from the bathroom.
“What?” You called back.
“I think some of my makeup rubbed off!”
“Okay, I’ll touch it up for you.” You got off the couch, about to scurry off into the hall where he was. It was still fine, then. You were still calm then. You could just fix up his make up without it being much of a hassle. But the timing couldn’t possibly have been worse, because that was when you heard a car pulling in on the driveway.
You whipped your head to the window, eyes wide and racing like a deer in the headlights. Lo and behold, it was the rest of the family, arriving home after a long day of everything that could’ve concerned them.
Alfred had come home from work, along with Matt, Gilbert, and Amy, who they picked up from a day in the city.
