Bad Guy: 2p!America x Reader

Chapter 9

      For a moment, there was only a deafening silence after you left. Al stood staring at the door you slammed. His mind raced through the events and he mentally kicked himself for even drinking. He knows how he gets when he drinks. He felt sick, like vomiting. He wasn't sure if it was the fact that you left barefoot into the cold or because of the alcohol. He looked over at Matt, who was staring at the door too and shaking his head.
      "You shouldn't have said that," he said. "She's obviously pretty sensitive."
      "I shouldn't have said it because I didn't mean it. And she's not sensitive, I just really messed up."
      "Did she slap you sober? You're talking like you actually have some sense," Matt commented.
      Alfred just nodded. He wanted to think you hadn't just ran out and that this was just some daydream; a scenario in his head that had never-and never would-happened. He looked around the room. Everything seemed fuzzy. He leaned against the doorway, and slid his back down until he was sitting on the floor. He buried his face in his hands and sighed. "We need to go get her."
      "I know."
      Matthew grabbed his hockey stick, fighting the urge to hit his half brother with it. He knew Al was in hell right now, which he deserved. There was something in the way he acted around you that lead Matt to believe that Al felt something more for you than just acquaintances. That was odd for him, since he barely had friends. And yet...
      "C'mon, we have to go find ______!" Al shouted, twirling his bat in his hands. 
      "Coming," Matt said, following him out the door. "Which way do you think she went?"
      "Probably back to the road, she'll try to walk home," Al answered. He checked the ground for prints in the snow, but couldn't tell if they belonged to you or someone else. Sliding down the snowy banks, he searched for any sign that you had been through here. Something broke and crunched beneath Al's feet. A bottle. Picking up the remains of it, he saw it was the same one you'd ran out with. His heart picked up, knowing he was headed the right way.
      "How far could she have gone?" Matt asked from behind. "For God's sake, she's barefoot, it's -4°C out here and it's snowing. She can't be able to feel her feet now. ______'s around here somewhere."
      Al nodded seriously. "Yeah, around here somewhere..."

      You weren't sure how far you had gone, but you knew it wasn't far enough. The only warm thing you felt right now were the tears streaming down your face. Ice clung to any exposed part of you that it could. You felt numb aside from an unpleasant tingling sensation. The sensation grew into a pain that eventually caused you to stop, hoping the pain would go away. However, it only got worse. You doubled over, falling onto your knees, and you hurled. You figured getting the poison from your stomach would make the pain go away, but it barely subsided. You didn't get up. You couldn't. You lay there, on the side of the street watching snow fall. Things went in and out of focus. You didn't know what to believe. Sounds mixed together, images blended, and you mind tried to make sense of it. Your head hurt. You lifted your eyes up to a nearby noise. An engine. You squinted at the headlights. The car stopped. It was the taxi that brought you here. The man stepped out. He smiled wickedly, and his voice cooed.
      "Hõla, ______," he said in a thick accent. "I've been waiting for you.
      "Who...are you...?" You barely mustered in a whisper. Seeing him closer now, you noticed his dark red eyes and brown hair that was pulled into a side ponytail on his shoulder. The guy reminded you unsettlingly of the two brothers.
      He offered you a warm, tanned skin hand. "I'm an old friend of Al's..."

      Al checked his watch. "It's a little past midnight."
      "Thanks, Big Ben," his brother snapped. "But I doubt that you really care about the time. I know I don't."
      Al fought back the urge to hit him. He needed to find you. That was all that mattered to him at this point. He searched the snow ridden ground for any signs of you, losing his thoughts in the darkness of the dirty snow. He only looked up when he saw red light reflected in the snow. He looked up at Matt; he had seen it too. Brake lights from a car about 100 yards ahead. Two people were standing outside of the vehicle. Al took off running with Matthew quickly behind him. He stopped around ten feet before he got to the people.
      "______," he breathed out in a whisper.
      You turned to him. His ragged breathing made it hard to say words, but you could see him trying. You saw his eyes widen and he stood up straight. His eyes turned cold and his expression became a scowl.
      "Antonio..." he spat. "Let her go, she's not a part of this."
      "Oh, but she is," the Spaniard corrected. "Francis' letter should've made that clear."
      Even though you were partially delirious, you suddenly realized who you were with and what was going on. Antonio was with Francis' gang with Gilbert. He had been the one who had beaten up Al. And you had fallen right into his trap. You struggled against his grip. You watched as the two of them talked. You noticed that Matt was sneaking around the taxi. He signaled for you to remain quiet. You nodded.
      "I don't know how I got so lucky as to have found her laying out here defenseless," Antonio teased. "You must have pissed her off."
      Alfred clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on the bat. "I did, but it was a mistake. I never meant to."
      He turned his full attention to you. "I'm sorry, Shortstop."
      You were about to tell him that it was okay, but you hear Matthew whisper behind you, "Duck." You leaned down and held your head. Seconds later, you heard his hockey stick hit your capturer. He let go of you, but your weak legs gave out and you fell to the snowy ground. You felt two warm arms pick you up. You looked up and saw Alfred's face. He smiled at you crookedly. He leaned you against him and gave you his jacket.
      "Let Matthew take you home," he said. "I need to stay."
      Matthew picked you up and carried you away. You looked over his shoulder and saw the two of them ready to fight. You watched until they were out of sight.
      "Matt, will Al be okay?"
      "Probably not, but he'll come back alive."
      "How do you know that?"
      Matthew looked down at you briefly. Up close you could see his scruffy face, expressionless eyes, and smell his cigarette smoke. He rolled his eyes and looked back up. Ignoring your question, he said, "We're almost back."
      He turned up the long driveway that led to the cabin, and you thought about what went down when you left. You wanted to ask, but you were tired and freezing. Longing for comfort and warmth, you snuggled deeper into Matt's chest. Alfred's scent still lingered on his bomber jacket. You slowly fell into a lull, and you were tempted to sleep. You felt yourself being laid down and slightly opened your eyes.
      You were met with the gentle stare of Matt's violet ones. He grabbed some pillows and blankets and covered you with them.
      "I'm laying you in front of the fire place so you get warm," he said. "I'll stay here until Al gets back."
      You nodded and fell quickly asleep in the soft, warm surroundings. Matt gave you security about anything else bad happening tonight. The smell of cigarette smoke and burning wood wafted through the air. You slept soundly waking up at the occasional noise. You felt like you had barely slept a minute before a door awoke you. Voices filled the air and a familiar one made you stand up. Walking to the doorway, you watched as two tired, beaten brothers talked. Matthew was saying something sternly when Alfred finally saw you.
      "Shortstop...." he smiled weakly.
      "Al," you said back to him, walking between the boys. You felt like standing on your tip toes, and kissing the life out of him. You wanted to show him how much you appreaciated him risking his life for you. Instead, you punched him hard in the side. "You're a fucking idiot."
       Al winced and doubled over slightly. "Jesus, doll face, you pack a hell of a punch."
      "How are you doing?" you asked.
      He thought for a moment. "I'm not really okay, but I'm alive."
      You turned to Matt. "How did you know that?"
      "Know what?" Alfred asked.
      "I asked him if you'd be okay and he said no, but you'd come back alive," you answered. "How did you know?"
       Matt sighed and shook his head. "You two are dense as bricks. It's obvious why he'd come back alive. You can't tell me that you don't see it happening," he said.
      When you shook your head, confused he clarified.
      "He's falling in love with you."

Thank you all for reading and voting for this story and for those that have read and voted on my other ones. I'm very thankful for you all! Happy Thanksgiving!