crossed over (alver x og cale)

Part 4

Cale Henituse was having a very bad day.

Just so many layers of a bad day.

It wasn't supposed to be such a wretched day. It had, up until a few hours ago, been a very promising start to a very good weekend.

Of course a lot of things that had made a few hours ago so very pleasant made the present state of being just so much worse.

"I don't want to hear that from you–"

Alberu chuckled against his neck, hugging him closer and Cale considered another round but they'd only just gotten cleaned up. It felt nice to be clean and smell nice, Cale didn't have any reason to have those thoughts, he just knew it and appreciated it.

It felt good to fall asleep to the rhythm of Alberu's heartbeat.

Things like hickeys and wearing nothing but your boxers were just great when you were in the privacy of your home with your romantic partner.

They suddenly became extremely uncomfortable when you woke up in an alleyway surrounded by the smell of grime, piss, and alcohol.

"...what the ever loving fuck..."

Cale didn't have the time or opportunity to really appreciate his situation.

Shortly after he woke up, he was approached by a trio of unsavory individuals who apparently had a score to settle with him. They all thought that Cale's state of undress and sexed out appearance was fucking hilarious.

Cale showed them just how funny he thought it was with a broken bottle.

He might not be a violent person but his family did have a background in martial arts and his parents had ensured that he at least knew enough to defend himself. Not to mention, it wasn't Cale's first bar fight. His late teens and early twenties were marred with all sorts of unfortunate events that he now lived to regret.

It came in handy now though. The trio were already fairly beat up and completely wasted, Cale really didn't need to do that much.

But now he was mostly naked, covered in hickeys, and covered in bruises and minor cuts. Just because Cale was good enough to come out on top didn't mean he'd come out unscathed.

One would think that would be the worst of Cale's evening. One would be wrong.

After he'd stolen clothes from one of the goons and made his way out of the alleyway, Cale was made acutely aware that he definitely wasn't anywhere near home.

The clothes, the architecture, the people–everything was too different to be anywhere Cale had ever heard of. He was pretty sure he'd seen someone who didn't even look human.

"...well fuck me..."

Unfortunately the world took that as an invitation. A rather harassed looking city guard found Cale and called over a few people who all just about swarmed around Cale with so many different intentions that his head started to pound.

He was about ready to introduce the world to the sequel to Cale With a Broken Bottle Vs Every Fucker That Talks To Him when a familiar face in the throng caused him an innate feeling of unease.

"...Hans...?"

The butler looked at Cale and gave the usual entirely fake smile for the young master who he didn't actually like but was forced to deal with and Cale felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.

Whoever these fuckers were or whatever they wanted, they were with his parents. Maybe his parents would know what the hell happened.

More than anything, he could grab the first ticket home. So with a feeling of faint reluctance, Cale allowed himself to be shuttled into a carriage and through the unfamiliar scenery.