Bad Guy: 2p!America x Reader

Chapter 4

You woke up the next morning, bundled in Alfred's coat. Inhaling deeply, you smiled, believing for a second that you had spent the night with him. You blushed at how happy the thought made you.
Grumpily, you rolled out of your warm bed and made your way to the bathroom for your morning rituals, like showing and such. You grabbed a chocolate Poptart from the kitchen and went out the door. Once you walked into the chilly morning air, you stopped.
'Al wouldn't mind me wearing his jacket to school,' you thought. 'Right?'
Either way, you threw the jacket over you and went merrily along your way. You reached school in about fifteen minutes, seated your self in first period with a lot of stares. Which was usual for you when you hung around Alfred, but today felt different.
As you left first period, you felt a bit sad knowing Al would want his bomber jacket back. It came as a surprise to you when he didn't show up. Not the whole period. That's when you began to worry.
'Maybe he just skipped? Hmm, no, he always tells you when he skips...maybe he slept in or something? That sounds likely...or he probably got sick...without his jacket.... God, why didn't I just give it to him last night! Probably because I'm an idiot....'
You sat alone at lunch that day, trying to work out scenarios. It's not like he had perfect attendance or anything, but he always made it a point to tell you. The rest of the day dragged on and on until the bell rang, signaling your release.
You figured you'd drop by his place to make sure everything was okay. If he was sick, you wanted to help. It was half your fault anyways if he was.
You stopped when you came to his street. Never had you been down it alone. You hated that it scared you, but with your last encounter with sidestreets ending in one man dead, you didn't want to take a chance. But there was Alfred, in your mind, sick as a dog. You tried your hardest to push away fear and walked down the street.
By some pure luck, you made it inside his apartment building without complications. Giving a relieved sigh, you climbed two flights up the half-assed stairs and walked to room 50C. You knocked loudly, and waited.
A few moments later the door creaked open a few inches and a barely audible whisper came through.
"What the hell do you want?"
"Al, it's ______!" you said.
The door flung open and a rough hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you into him as he slammed and locked the door shut.
"Are you okay?" he said, gruffly.
"Huh? What are you-?" you began.
"Dammit! Are you okay?!" he yelled.
"Yes! Why wouldn't I be?"
Al pushed himself away from you, letting you see him fully.
To say he looked bad would be putting it gently.
His lip was busted and was bleeding down the corners of his mouth; cuts and bruises covered his whole body; he had a black eye and, if your eyes weren't lying to you, his right arm was bleeding badly.
"Wh- what happened?" you asked.
"Oh, ya know. The girls and I got in a pillow fight," he said, sarcastically. "What the fuck do you think happened?"
"But...how- I mean who would-?" you stuttered out. "O-or when...."
"Last night after walking you home. I stopped cause I remembered my jacket. It just so happened to stop at the worst time. Because two of Francis's friends, Gilbert and Antonio, saw me, and they were pissed to say the least. And how-well, that's pretty self explained."
"Gilbert? The quiet one from school?"
Al nodded.
"But he's so-"
"The quiet ones seem to have the darkest minds," he shrugged. "Plus, Francis was really close to him."
A thought suddenly occurred to you.
"My God, Al! What if they go to the police!"
"They won't," he said nonchalantly. "They're just as wanted in this town as me."
"How haven't they-or you, for that matter- gotten caught by the police yet?" you questioned.
"We have a shitty police system. If anything, they're probably just letting us kill off each other till were all gone."
"So, you can just kill whoever you want in this town?" you wondered.
"As long as it's no one important," he grinned. "You can get away with murder."
"That's disturbing to think about."
You noticed his arm again, and winced. It looked worse than you had first thought. Al caught your stare.
"Pretty bad, huh?" he said, like it was an accomplishment.
"Yeah, maybe we should take you to a hospital?" you suggested.
He cringed. "No damn way."
"Well, you're going to have to do something about it," you told him sternly.
"Correction. You're going to do something about it," he smiled slyly.
"That," you pointed to the gash on his arm. "Needs professional medical attention. It needs to be sewn up."
"Okay, do it then."
"I can't do it!" you exclaimed. "I'm no doctor."
"But you can sew or whatever," he defended.
"I can sew clothing, people are another matter."
"Fine, I'll just bleed to death," she sighed, laying on the couch and closing his eyes.
"Alright," you agree. "But I'm not accountable for the pain you'll feel."
"I'll just take some NyQuil and I'll be out," he said, wandering into the kitchen and searching through his cabinets.
You searched around his house before finding a needle and thread in his bedroom. Your hands shook so bad from the thought of sewing Al up you could hardly thread the needle on your own. You doubted this would even work, but if it could help him, you were willing.
Alfred laid down on the couch and you sat in a nearby chair, waiting for him to drift off. After ten minutes of awkward silence, you called to him.
"Can you not sleep?"
"Not when people are watching," he snapped, then sighed. "Will you come lay with me?"
"S-sure," you stuttered out, the innocence of his request getting the best of you.
You laid beside him, letting your head rest on his shoulder as one arm draped around you. It felt weird, but you disregarded it. It took a few minutes, but you finally untensed and melted into his grip. You had half a mind to fall asleep as well.
After about fifteen minutes, Alfred's breathing steadied and you carefully worked your way out of his grip. You took a wash cloth and wiped away any blood, then grabbed a bottle of alcohol and gently poured it over the wound. You saw him wince and felt a wave of pity wash over you.
Drying the gash, you picked up the needle and bit your lip. Hands shaking, you lead the needle through a peice of skin. Al stirred a bit, but you had to continue. You repeated the procedure slowly, stopping whenever he threatened to wake up. It felt like forever, but you eventually tied the knot at the other end. You wrapped cloth around it, and let out a sigh of relief.
You let him sleep for about two hours, while you did various things around his apartment. Mainly dishes that seemed to pile up to the ceiling. Even though you were disgusted by his blatant disregard for hygiene in the kitchen, you chuckled at the way he could beat someone down with no problem, but not wash plates.
After that was all done you shook Al by the shoulder, making sure he didn't pass out from over medicating. His eyes barely opened, but when he saw you, he smiled.
"______?" he asked.
"What, Alfred?" you responded.
"That hurt like hell," he said.
You blinked, stunned for a second. "Wait, you were awake?!"
He sat up.
"Yeah, I just didn't open my eyes. Figured that would've freaked you out."
"How did you not scream?" you yelled.
"Three words, Shortstop: High Pain Tolerance," he winked.
You facepalmed. "I just hope you gave those guys a good beating too."
"You bet your ass I did!" Al yelled confidently.
You zoned out after staring into his eyes as they glinted with excitement while he rambled on about how he 'beat the shit' out of Antonio and Gilbert. You couldn't take Alfred that threatening anymore, not that you'd tell him that. Honestly, when you came down to it, he is just a tough looking, vegetarian guy with a baseball bat that could kill you for looking at him wrong. You wondered if he had a consciense, like in Pinocchio. If he did, he probably would just kill it off too.
'How do I even handle this guy?' you thought, with a small smile.
"Hey!" Al yelled beside your ear, causing you to stop your mental tangent. "Why do you always go in La-La Land when I tell you my epic stories?"
"Sorry," you apologize. "I don't mean to."
He huffed like a child. "I think you need to make it up to me."
"With what exactly?" your mind exploring the things he might tell up to do.
"Make me dinner."
Oh.
You rolled your eyes, but got up and stretched before entering the kitchen once more.
"What do you want?"
"A salad with water would be great, Shortstop," Al called, remaining stationary on the couch.
You were irked with his laziness and the fact you were making him dinner to 'make it up to him'. Your mind wandered to the things he could've asked you to do. You blushed at a couple of them. You fixed his salad and water, taking them to him in theliving room.
"Where's your food?" he asked, munching on lettuce leaves.
"Oh, I'm not hungry and I know organic food is expensive anyways..." you trailed off.
"I keep normal food too..." Alfred whispered. You almost hadn't heard him.
"Why would you keep normal food if you're a vegetarian?"
"...for you..."
You barely heard him admit it, he seemed embarrassed. His dark mahogany hair fell over his eyes and he stabbed his salad with his fork absently. You couldn't help but grin a little. You stood up and ruffled his hair, walking to the kitchen. You rummaged through his cabinets before finding some candy and chips. You grab some and sit back with him.
"You're sweet for having this stuff, Al..."
He scoffed. "Don't think I've ever heard that word to describe me..."
"I think that's because people don't get to know you like I do," you said, lightly touching his arm. He shook a little, not looking away from his food. Suddenly, he stood, his back facing you.
"_____, I think you'd better go. Thanks for....everything. Stop by tomorrow," he said, then fled into his room.
You stood in shock for a minute before leaving like he asked. As you walked home, you wondered what had triggered him. You replayed the whole scene for the rest of the night, unable to concentrate on anything. There was something you had seen that was odd. It was discreet and quick yet it was there.
There was no denying the tear you saw glistening down his cheek.