RED RUM

SUMMARY: He chuckles darkly, lapping up the remaining blood adhering Matthew's raw wrists, "Little Red, Little Red—you shouldn't have played with the Big Bad."

PART I

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Sealed with Red

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Ivan licked his lips, his tongue adoring the way the water, ethanol, and flavored impurities aroused his taste buds. Lackluster violet irises scrutinize the hectic streets below, chapped lips forming a tiny, childish smile. He leans against the rusted rail of the metal stairway attached to an abandoned high-rise apartment building, enjoying the weak groan it released. A chilling draft, tickled the tip of nose; his short ashen hair ruffling with the bitter gust.

The Russian held a metal flask—an enigmatic embalm, shaped as a paw with four vivid jewel-incrusted claws, engraved into it—in one large leather gloved hand, rolling his wrist as his ears picked up the rhythmic swishing of the vodka inside. His tiny smile spread athwart his face, fascination stirring within his eyes.

Ivan jolted, the fire escape moaning in protest. His ears twitched, nose screwing up in bewilderment. Violet eyes search aimlessly, lurking from every blurry stature dipped in color, his hazy vision deciphering the faces his acute pupils locked on to. His free hand found the rail, giving it a firm squeeze.

For a split second, a twisted expression overtook his face.

Hoisting himself over the rail, Ivan plummeted down toward the sidewalk. He couldn't help but giggle. Clutching the engraved flask against his clad chest, he inwardly scolded himself, despite his distorted state of mind.

He wasn't drunk enough.

A troupe of teenage girls, babbling about their trivial high school drama, stepped in sync down the walkway. Each one broke out into hysterical shrieking as the Russian landed before them, his boots thudding against the pavement. They watched with startled eyes as the ashen haired male rose from his crouching position in favor of standing at his full height, smoothing out his beige coat with gloved hands. He glanced over his shoulder, beaming at them with a faux naiveté. His right arm shot out into the air, whilst he held his flask between his chest and bicep.

A pasty scarf fluttered from the sky, coming to rest upon his outstretched arm. In one fluid motion, he had it securely placed around his neck, the mouth of flask pressed against his own. The girls watched in awe, whispering future rumors that would float around their industrious city as the towering Russian strolled away.

Gulping down the last of his vodka, Ivan hummed under his breath. Violet eyes dilated; his conscious struggling through his foggy mind. Cars rushed around, the honking of horns and screeching of breaks rubbing against tar. Images faded in and out before his clouded vision. He giggled, his cheeks warm with a rosy tinge; his face brightening with each passing second.

He just wasn't drunk enough.

Amber orbs with a tint of gold, lifted from the page they were previously reading, directing their attention to where the soft jiggle of bells emitted from. They landed on the shaking bespectacled blond, who was trying to catch his breath at the threshold of the exotic shop.

Closing the book and placing it down, Gupta straightened up at the counter, half-lidded eyes followed his delivery boy's every move. Adeptly, the copper skinned male raised his palm, hindering Matthew from crashing into the counter that stood between them. Gupta cupped the Canadian's chin, yanking him down to his eye level. Their noses brushed for a brief moment, Matthew's heavy pants fanning over Gupta's lips, which were pressed in a thin line.

Although the Egyptian appeared unfazed by their intimate, Matthew's cheeks indefinitely heated up. Matthew tried with great effort to not break the intense eye contact with his Boss, panicking at the way those somber amber irises bore into his own, nervous glaze. He was going to be fired; fired from his first stable job. Fired from the only occupation he had applied for with no complications, or being mistaken for some aggravating guy they had banned from ever setting foot in their establishment again. Crap, how was he going to support—

"—sleeping?"

Matthew blinked, mildly startled by the smaller man's voice, "H-huh?"

"Have you been sleeping?" Gupta repeated softly, bronze digits tracing the faint bags underneath Matthew's weary indigo eyes to empathize his question. The blond forced a smile.

"O-of course."

Furrowing his brows, Gupta frowned, narrowing his eyes at the other.

"Matthew."

"M-maybe."

Gupta let his hand fall away from his employee's face, resting atop of glass surface of his counter. Matthew inwardly groaned. He really couldn't lie to his boss. Especially when the man apparently had bullshit radar built in him.

Gnawing on his bottom lip, Matthew toyed with the edge of his pull-over, searching for the right words in his scattered brain. He bit down harshly, when he saw Gupta cross his arms. Oh crap, that meant he was starting to get a bit impatient. Which was odd considering his boss was one of the most patient men he had ever met.

"Y-yeah, I mean, it's just been kind of noisy at night lately." He lied, rubbing the back of his tensely, flashing the somber male a weak smile.

Gupta quirked a brow, inquiring Matthew in a monotone, "Are your neighbors being…" he halted in his sentence, blinking in thought before opening his mouth to speak again, "too frisky?"

Matthew choked, the color draining from his face, his mind processing what Gupta was implying. Seconds later, the blood rushed back as he wildly waved his arms in embarrassment.

"N-no, no, no, no, no!" he sputtered out, glasses sliding down his nose from all the movement. "They're not keeping me up! At least, not like that!"

The Egyptian's mouth twitched, eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched the flustered blond attempt to worm out of this. He shouldn't have fibbed.

Gupta reached out to his employee's face one more, gently grasping the falling glasses. Matthew ceased his frantic actions, stiffening as Gupta's fingers brushed his skin. He adjusted them on the brim of Matthew's nose, skilled fingers instantly moving to flatten the disheveled golden curls. With a playful tug at the single curl that separated itself from the rest of Matthew's mane, Gupta nodded with satisfaction.

Matthew turned away, his face burning in humiliation. A smile flickered upon Gupta's lips, as said male propped his head idly onto his palm. A moment of peace passed over the shop.

"So," he began slowly, vigilantly keeping an eye on blond, "what is keeping you up?"

The corners of his mouth tugged downward; it seemed Gupta wasn't going to ignore the subject. Apprehension crept deep within his mind.

A Dream—a very bad dream, haunting him every night since last week. It was realistically painful, always leaving him breathless and terrified whenever he awoke. He could never recall what happened during the dream, only lingering ache pulsing in his feet, and a throbbing from the back of his skull. His throat would be strangely sore—so sore in fact; he wouldn't be able to utter a simple word without having gulped down ,no less than ten cups of water.

"Was it by chance," Gupta spoke again, slightly disgruntled by the disturbing look in Matthew's eyes when the blond finally turned his attention to him, "a nightmare?"

Gupta was farther put off by Matthew's undaunted smile, indigo eyes shining with a similar optimism.

"Nightmares are for children," the Canadian chirped uncharacteristically, awkwardly messing with the edge of his pull-over, "Now, is there anything I have to deliver today?"

Gupta closed his eyes, nodding. He heard Matthew shuffle off behind the counter, probably to his locker. Letting his eyes flutter open, Gupta leisurely ambled to the back, a frown present on his features. He didn't like this one bit—but if Matthew wasn't going to tell him what was wrong… he shouldn't pry. But he was definitely going to get to the bottom of this when his delivery boy returned from his trip.

Seizing several boxes from Matthew's assigned stack, Gupta grimaced, his brows knitting together. That was yet another irksome problem. A certain package had arrived to his shop from frightened man who seemed absolutely delighted to drop the package off in Gupta's hands. However, before the fidgeting male left his shop, he sniveled, straining to say, "A-A Mr. W-W-Williams must d-deliver this package, the m-mast—sender has requested it, a-and will p-pay greatly for this a-arrangement to e-ensue."

It did not help in the slightest that parcel itself was quite sketchy. With thick and gooey red stamp pressed right under the desired destination, which Gupta knew was located just pass the woods. It would have bothered him greatly, if Matthew had to actually go through that horrid forest; but he also knew there was bus his dear employee could take.

Nevertheless, the one thing that truly perturbed the Egyptian man—was who the packet was addressed to.

Why did Arthur Kirkland sound so… familiar?

Canada/Egypt hints for my papa.

I'm going to have a vast amount of hints for every Canada pairing known to date (even the ones I don't really like), until I decide on what pairing it will end with (thought, considering the way this is going, I'm having an extremely tough time picking who should end up with him… 8C) But your reviews have delighted me so much, I hope I can gather much more with this chapter. 8U TELL YOUR FRIENDS. SPREAD THE LOVE. BUY A BROWNIE. I want a brownie... XD

!! A quest has appeared! Matthew accepts!!

Oh, and Ivan is actually the least of Mattie's problems in the plot as of right now—not that he won't be a major threat to our little red. ;D