Bad Guy: 2p!America x Reader

Chapter 2

"I'm the bad guy."
You cocked an eyebrow at his comment. It was an odd way to refer to ones self. Then again he did just knock a guy out with a baseball bat. A thought suddenly crossed your mind.
"Alfred, did you...kill Francis?" you asked carefully, as to not upset him.
"Hmpf, hope so," he huffed. "Guy was a creep. I didn't like him much."
He turned down a side street and you stopped. It looked kind of sketchy and you weren't in the mood to be harassed again.
When Alfred realized you weren't following, he turned and called to you.
"What's wrong, Shortstop?"
You hesitated. "That's not the way I go home."
"It's a shortcut, besides I need to stop by my place real quick," he explained harshly. "You scared?"
"Of course not," you said, stubbornly. You would not look weak in front of Alfred again.
You walked along with him before stopping in front of an apartment building covered in kudzu. It was about five stories high and some of the windows were broken. You followed him inside, which wasn't much better. The man at the desk was asleep, pictures hung crooked on the cracked plaster walls, the two flights of stairs you walked up with him were rickety and the carpeted hallways were stained.
He unlocked the door to room 50C and showed you inside. It was fairly simple; one bedroom, one bath. A beat up leather couch sat in front of a ancient looking TV.
"Make yourself at home," he said in a mock friendly tone. It was like he was impersonating Mr. Kirkland.
You took a seat on the couch as he disappeared into his room. He returned after a moment with a roll of white bandages, a rag, rubbing alcohol and his bat.
"What are you doing, exactly?" you asked when he sat beside you.
"Well, if I did kill that creeper, I can't have his blood on my bat, now can I?" he answered like it was obvious, unwrapping the blood stained bandages from his bat and discarding them to the floor. "Need to keep myself outta trouble."
"Then maybe you shouldn't hit people with nail-ridden baseball bats."
"If I hadn't where would you be now?" he muttered, crossly. "Hand me the alcohol."
You did as told, watched him pour the fluid on the rag and clean off his bat. You were beginning to wonder why on Earth they would let him carry this to school. Maybe, they were to scared to confront him. You sure wouldn't want a bat to hit you in the back of the head and end up like Francis. Lying in a dark alley in a pool of your own blood. And while you hated that fool with your whole heart, soul and mind, part of you couldn't help but feel bad for--
"Son of a bitch!" Alfred yelled, interupting yor thoughts.
"What?! What happened?!" you jumped up.
"This happened!" he hissed, holding up the back of his hand, revealing a gash spanning from the knuckle of his pointer finger diagonally down to the start of his wrist. "Fucking hell, it hurts!"
"Hold on," you told him, grabbing another rag from his room.
You poured rubbing alcohol on the new rag and took his hand.
"This will sting a little," you warned. You wrapped his wound in the cloth and he made a low growling sound. "Does it hurt too much?"
"No...not at all," he rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth.
"Sorry, here let me see," you slowly undid the cloth. "Well, the bleeding has slowed up a bit. It's not too deep, so I doubt you'll need stitches. What do you want to do?"
"Just wrap some bandages around it and leave it alone," he said, wincing slightly at the sting.
"Alright," you said, and began wrapping the bandages around it easily and finishing it off with tape.
"Not bad," he said exaimining your work. "You should be a nurse, you know?"
You shrugged at the comment, in shock that he was actually kind of complimenting you.
"I'll walk you back home if your ready," he offered, grabbing his bat.
"Er...that won't be necessary, I can make it from here. Thank you, though. For everything...." you trailed off.
"Anytime, Shortstop. Maybe tomorrow you won't look as dejected to sit in front of me," he grinned slyly.

The Next Day

You reached English IV early, and sat down in front of Alfred's seat. You tapped a pen against your chin as you waited for class to start. Everything about yesterday afternoon ran through your mind like a movie and you could hardly believe any of it.
"Excuse me," someone said. "You're in my seat."
It was a girl with brown hair and a green head band. Her purple eyes glared at you and her arms were crossed over her huge chest.
"No, this is my seat," you replied coolly.
She leaned down to your face. "Not anymore."
You were beyond pissed off and half ready to punch her when another voice cut through the tension.
"Yo! Yekaterina, get your boobs outta ______'s face!" Alfred snarled.
The girl, Yekaterina, stood up straight and shot him a fierce look, but backed down when she saw his bat.
"Whatever."
Al took his seat behind you. "She didn't bother you too much did she? 'Cause you know I can deal with her."
"Yes, I know I can," you chuckled as Mr. Kirkland started class.
It wasn't long until you realized how long Mr. Kirkland could babble on about nothing. You quietly ripped out a sheet of notebook, wrote a quick message on it and handed it to Alfred.
After a moment Al wrote back.
'What's up with that Yekaterina girl? Why'd she want my seat?' you had written.
'It's who's in front of you.' he scrawled back. You looked up to see a tall boy that you knew as Ivan.
'Ivan? What about him?'
'He's Yekaterina's little brother. She's likes to be near him all the time. I think it has something to do with her little sister, who is too damn nice. To a point where it's creepy....' you read with confusion. After a minute of processing, you wrote back.
'Okay then...'
You faintly heard the scratching of pencil on paper and you could tell he was writing a longer note. Finally, he handed it back to you.
Right as you began to read it, the bell rang piercing your ears. You gathered your thing together and tried to shuffle out of class, but Mr. Kirkland caught you by the shoulder. He held you there until you were the only two left.
"Ms. ______, I know that you are new here but, dearie," he snatched up the paper you and Al were writing on. "Passing notes is not tolerated in my class."
"Yes, sir," you mumbled.
As you turned to leave the room you heard the crunching and ripping of paper. It was a small relief that he hadn't read it. Not that it said anything bad, unless Al's note had. What did he even write?
You walked down the hallway thinking of what keywords you remembered seeing. There wasn't much that came to mind; the bell had surprised you for a minute and you couldn't remember anything it said.
"What'd Kirkland say to you?" Al's voice called. He stepped out of an old, dark classroom, twirling his bat.
"That 'passing notes is not tolerated in my class'," you mocked. "Nothing else."
Alfred put away his bat and started to awkwardly shift on his feet.
"What'd he, uh, do with the note?" he tried to ask casually.
"He ripped it up. Why?"
"Just making sure," he answered, but it didn't sound truthful.
"What did it say, Al?" you inquired as you walked along, already late for your next class.
He stopped and ran a hand through his mahogany hair. "I thought we could, you know, walk home again. Maybe stop by my place again?"
You giggled.
"Ah, forget it!" he stormed off.
"Alfred, wait!" you grabbed his hand. "I'd love to go."
His eyes widened for a moment in awe of your answer. Trying to keep his cool, he put his tinted glasses over his eyes, but you still saw that glint of excitement.