Hey guys! Sorry I've been inactive, I went off to Italy for two weeks, then came back and had to prepare my cosplay for Comic Con. But now I'm free, and I'm going to try to catch up on posting.

Anyway, this is a fic I wrote awhile back, but I'm still rather fond of it. It involves a middle aged Ivan suffering from renal disease, and a younger (late teenaged) Alfred deciding to donate his own kidney to save him, despite the risks it might entail.

Enjoy!

From the moment the doctor tells the both of them the cause of Ivan's recent pain and lack of appetite, Alfred knows what he has to do. If nothing is done, Ivan with undoubtedly lapse into renal failure, and eventually he'll—

Alfred doesn't even want to think about that-and prays he doesn't have to, that he will be able to help his boyfriend and return him to the way he was before. Because he hates to see Ivan looking exhausted and worn instead of calm and composed—hates the tiny flickers of pain in a face that seems more lined with age than before.

He mentally keeps his fingers crossed-because his hands are too busy holding Ivan's—as the doctor tests him for a blood and tissue match, hoping that he'll be able to save Ivan's life.

The joy that he feels when the doctor calls them in and tells Alfred that he is a match is palpable, but it is curbed by fear when the physician launches into the risks that saving his boyfriend entail.

The doctor tells him all and spares no sugarcoated detail, telling him that such an operation is dangerous and there may be a chance of complications that—given his family history—will shorten his life expectancy, but Alfred doesn't care, because a healthy and long life without Ivan would still be utter misery. And Alfred knows that he will regret it later if he does not do it.

His parents tell him no, don't throw your life away like this and try to convince him against it, telling him that he and Ivan are just a thing, that in a year they'll split and Ivan will perhaps come away with part of Alfred's lifespan inside of him, but Alfred doesn't listen because they don't understand, they could never understand what it felt like to be with Ivan-to have the comfort and security that the older man gave.

Alfred is barely above the age of consent—but still above—so his parents have no standing to control his decision, anyway.

But his parents aren't the only one to try to convince him out of it-Ivan, too, tries. He insists that he will be able to live for awhile yet—five, ten years, perhaps even longer, as he is still in Stage Four and it will be awhile until the disease takes a firm hold—

But Alfred has never felt so sure of anything in his entire life—except, perhaps, on that night when Ivan had held him close and whispered I love you and Alfred had returned those words with a confidence and fervor he had never known.

Still, even though Alfred hides it well behind smiles and reassurance, the young teen is scared of the prospects that might happen to him or Ivan. Periodically he works himself into a terror over reading information provided to him by their doctor, or by hysteria-inducing half truths found on the Internet. It is these times when the need for reassurance is switched and Alfred finds himself clinging to Ivan and crying his eyes out because Ivan could always reject the transplant, or become septic, or die on the operating table—

And Ivan is scared as well, terrified that Alfred will be unable to carry on without one of his kidneys, that in a few years it will instead be him who has to watch as his precious boy dies. The doctor had assured him that there was a very slim chance of the donation having an adverse affect on Alfred's life, but Alfred had told Ivan once that his family history carried a high risk of diabetes and hypertension—and he worries that the lack of a kidney won't help Alfred later on in his life should either of those risks come to pass, and then Ivan will be able to do nothing to help.

Their respective fears only grow as the night before the operation comes around. They don't talk about the surgery or its possible fallout, at least not directly—but Ivan takes the time to home cook Alfred's favorite hamburgers, and Alfred brings out a stack of Ivan's favorite classic films to take a quiet movie night in. They both sit on their couch, snuggled up close, Alfred chewing thoughtfully on his burger as he bears through Eisenstein and Bergman for the sake of the enthralled and starry look in Ivan's eyes.

The older man, for once, goes to sleep first, and Alfred is left lying awake with his head resting on Ivan's shoulder, fingers threading through the graying blonde locks, his eyes drawn away from the black and white images on the screen—really, Ivan could've picked a less morbid movie—to his older boyfriend's sleeping face, relaxed and unstressed in the bliss of rest, the bags under his eyes less prominent in the darkened living room. Alfred leans up to press a gentle kiss on the older's man's cheekbones, before settling back against Ivan's collar and falling to sleep cuddled possessively on him.

They are both prepped for surgery in the early morning, sitting in the pre op room while orderlies fluster about them. Ivan looks tired and sick and Alfred's normally youthful face is lined with worry for himself but mostly for Ivan, who looks whiter beyond the healthy pale pallor typical of him. The gurneys are placed besides each other so the two can stretch their arms across the gap, Ivan's big hands for once firmly clenched in Alfred's instead of the other way around.

Alfred's eyes are still bright and lucid despite the situation, despite the needles being inserted into his arms and the disinfecting salve being rubbed on the side of his stomach.

Alfred gently strokes Ivan's knuckles, trying his best to ease away the apprehension tensing his boyfriend's face.

"It'll be okay," Alfred whispers, "You big bear, I don't know why you're so worried."

Of course Alfred knows why, but waxing over the risks and dangers at this point won't do either of them good. He wishes he could tell a joke, perhaps lighten the mood and put Ivan at ease—but for the life of him, he can't think of anything, so he settles to continue gently touching Ivan's hand, to remind him that regardless of what happens Alfred is here now.

Ivan knows he should try to calm himself, but the touches of Alfred's hand make him more nervous and hyper-aware of everything that he could lose. He almost considers asking the orderlies to push the gurneys closer together, as he wants nothing more than to give Alfred one last kiss—and hope that it's not their kiss goodbye.

Instead, he settles for simply gripping the part of Alfred's hand he can, eyes roving over every part of his boyfriend visible through the sheets and medical scrubs.

"I only—I do not want anything to happen to you, lapushka."

"Dummy. I don't want anything to happen to you either," He squeezes Ivan's hand, laughter like a tiny chime, "That's why I'm doing this, remember?"

Ivan runs his thumb over Alfred's hand, trying to stop his eyes welling up with fear—fear that Alfred won't make it out of the operation alive, despite the doctor's constant assurance. He wets his dry lips, trying to force the words out of his clenching throat.

"I—I love you."

Alfred smiles, gripping Ivan's hand firmly, as if sealing a pact.

"I know. And—" Alfred swallows, the first physical sign of nervousness he had shown as the reality of the operation further sinks in, "I love you too, Vanya."

Behind him, Ivan can see the doctor administer what he can only assume to be anesthetics to his young boyfriend's IV. He feels a twinge in his arm and presumes that the doctors out of his line of vision are doing the same to him.

Alfred squeezes his hand lightly, one more time, his smile growing dreamier and dimmer as he whispers a last thing to Ivan.

"See you on the other side, Vanya."

Alfred is put down first, and Ivan watches as the young man's eyes slide close and he is terrified to think that perhaps he will never see those beautiful eyes open again, that perhaps the surgery and the transplant will be the death of his gorgeous sun and Ivan will live the rest of his days with Alfred's tissue inside him—but without Alfred with him.

His worries are gradually flushed away as the anesthesia takes hold, hoping any of the drugged dreams he might have during the surgery will be of him and Alfred many years into the future, healthy and happy and living out the rest of their lives together.

He closes his eyes, the hint of a soothing smile still on Alfred's face the last thing he sees before the sedative overtakes him.