One Man's Trash [Alfred F. Jones]

[Feliciano Vargas]

Living life "free" of the Underground was incredibly different in real life than it had been in Feliciano's dreams. In his dreams, life was generally carefree. He was able to visit his friends and family whenever he wished, eat whatever foods he liked, and wander wherever he pleased. The greatest part of those dreams were the kindness of people around him; of strangers treating one another with acceptance and civility, regardless of their circumstances. With his first meeting of a human outside his prison, Feliciano had his hopes risen once again that there was a hidden kindness in the population that he simply hadn't been able to see before. Even if it took minutes of pleading, body trembling with bone-crippling fear, the blonde had eventually let Feliciano go. Told him to turn and run and not look back. Certainly the young man's luck couldn't have been so strong that he'd come across a rarity, right?

Life wasn't near as kind as he'd hoped. It was only due to dumb luck that Feliciano had stumbled across a flea market further in the shopping district. With the hour as early as it had been, it had been easy to break in. (Not that it was particularly difficult to jimmy the back door open when the frame was so warped--the door was practically open) Normally, he'd feel more guilty for his actions--he was stealing. Someone else owned these items and he had no right to take them. Feliciano had only basic understanding of how things worked, but as a mutant the concept of ownership was definitely not lost on him. The way the government treated its mutants, the Italian could only imagine how harshly people would respond to people having their good stolen from them. However, Feliciano only had ONE chance for freedom. He wasn't going to ruin that by running around like an idiot still wearing his uniform. Only after donning a pair of too-large boots, thick jeans, three shirts haphazardly tugged on over each other, and an awkwardly frumpy coat did the boy vanish into the night with stars in his eyes and a smile on his face. He was free, now. Really free.

How wrong he was.

An outfit change did little to actually ease Feliciano's nerves. With the entire city on the look-out for the escaped mutants he had freed, nowhere was truly safe. The clothes helped buy just enough time to vanish into the crowds should anyone eye him too suspiciously. The problem, however, is that the population was always suspicious. Three times already had Feliciano nearly been caught, misjudging the kindness of people around him. He had no time to rest, no time to take a break; it was keep moving, always moving. Feliciano might blend in with the unfortunate humans without homes of their own, but they were just as suspicious of one another as the well-off people were suspicious of them.

The only reason the Italian survived his first week on his own was due to the harsh lifestyle his body was already conditioned to. Finding food was difficult--Feliciano never knew he'd miss the Underground's disgusting meals until he found himself eating out of dumpsters just to keep himself going. Hiding in nooks and crannies from suspicious humans and the harsh weather alike was just as painfully cold as it was to live in the Underground, only with the added emotional pain of knowing there was warmth on the other side of the wall he had no access to. People shunned him at best, attacked him with words and fists at worst. False arrests were being made left and right, and the Italian was caught in a maelstrom he had almost no hope to navigate. Not when he had such a basic understanding of how the world worked.

Only by observing did Feliciano learn, but he learned quickly. While humans were not inherently kind creatures, in the right circumstances, they could be...easily guilted. While he had no partner to work alongside him--it still wasn't safe to hunt down his brother, or his best friend, with the strong police presence swarming the city--or a skill to better "entertain" the population, Feliciano managed just fine. So long as he was careful, he could earn enough money for not one but two warm meals a day by simply asking people for their spare change! Sometimes, he didn't even have to be awake to earn money. The world truly was a strange place.

It'd been nearly a month since his escape, and only now was the Italian creating a decent rhythm. Tucked in a little alcove near a popular coffee shop, Feliciano sat with his ridiculously large hat resting on the concrete next to him. (he'd stolen it a week before after spying it resting on the back of a bench near the bus stop) All the stress he'd been putting himself under was visibly affecting the Italian by this point. His hair was much dirtier than usual, matted to his face and the back of his neck. His collar was turned up to hide his face as well as the flair of red lumps spread across the expanse of his throat. He'd broken out in hives a week ago, and without the privacy or the materials to properly clean up, they only grew worse. The harsh red there only sallowed his skin further, making the dark circles under his eyes all the more prominent. Body aching for sleep, amber eyes were squeezed closed, curled up in a little ball as he tried to catch at least a little rest.

Alfred F. Jones

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 1256

Tags: Feliciano Vargas

Notes: Here you go!

One month.

One whole damn month.

What exactly was Alfred doing?

A whole lot of nothing, it seemed.

Matthew hadn't escaped from the Underground. He wasn't on the list of escaped mutants, which Alfred checked every day. Though, now that Alfred thought of it, how could he be? Matthew...Matthew was probably dead, after all. Hadn't it been years? Alfred had never seen him, had never had any evidence to prove that his brother might still be alive. He was probably gone.

Perhaps Alfred was simply clinging onto that little hope that his brother was still alive, still breathing, still fighting on. Alfred wished desperately that Matthew had somehow evaded detection, that his brother had, like a superhero of some sort, managed to escape unharmed, that Matthew would find his way to Alfred's apartment and that Alfred would be able to whisk him away far far from Archadia, where he could be safe and happy.

Whatever it was, Alfred found himself on the streets every day, trying to find the few remaining mutants that had not been caught. He hoped Berwald was alright. Tino...hopefully...but then again...there were no promises and Tino was still a guard. Still, Alfred had yet to be arrested, yet to be beaten to a pulp and...

No, best not to think about it. But at any rate, Alfred was fine for the time being.

Fine. Which was better than the majority of mutants that had fled to the streets. The ones that had been captured early had gotten off with beatings for the most part. But the ones that were caught these days...well the Underground was hardly a kind place.

There were hardly any mutants left. Most had been returned already, made examples of and broadcast to the world. A few voices protested, but they were the minority. Mutants on the streets...the majority of the world viewed it like having a criminal wandering in their backyard. Any punishment to keep them in their place was acceptable.

Alfred felt useless. He couldn't do anything. Alfred had resources, sure. But not the kind that could combat the police force of Archadia. The arrest of a few Freedom Fighters had complicated matters as well as Alfred and Greg worked to save the few mutants that could be saved while keeping the Freedom Fighters as safe as possible.

Greg had pulled Alfred aside a little while ago and told him solemnly: "This isn't working." Which of course it wasn't, Alfred knew it wasn't. The only way to combat a place like Archadia was to uproot it completely. You had to change everything. Saving a few mutants did nothing. The public was afraid, uneducated. The government controlled all. It was a dictatorship, a slave system. To change that...well, peaceful demonstrations and protests weren't going to help all that much. You had to change how people thought, had to change the entire structure of the system...and the truth was, the Freedom Fighters did not have that capability right now.

Alfred had never missed the U.S. as much as he did right now. At least there, he'd thought he could do something. Sure, it might be dangerous. Might get him killed. But it was harder than in Russia. In Russia, anyone could disappear and it wouldn't be questioned.

Still, Alfred combed the streets. He had to do something. He couldn't just sit by and let the world keep going the way it was. If only...if only Alfred could infiltrate the government somehow. If only he could get people in there...if only he had information and people and resources and...

Alfred didn't see an end to this without some degree of violence. They might succeed in convincing the people, but the government? There were definitely people whose livelihoods depended on the trade of mutants and those people were in control. There was simply no possibility that this would end well.

Alfred kicked a stone in his path angrily. He needed to do something. Robbing people and screwing the government over wasn't quite enough anymore. He needed information. Information was key. With enough information, with the right people...it could be possible. But overthrowing a government regime was simply impossible at this stage for the FF. If only there were more people like...well, like Gilbert, but Gilbert and Alfred weren't exactly on the best terms right now. Alfred hadn't spoken to him in some time and he had little desire to speak with the man at all. He'd screwed up, that was the truth, and Alfred was quite content with never seeing Gilbert again.

He hoped Ludwig was okay. He hoped all of them were. Matthew, Arthur, Ludwig, Berwald...

Alfred ran his fingers through his hair. He'd wandered back into town after a fruitless (and really, rather pointless search). What was Alfred even doing with his life anymore?

He needed to clear his head.

There was a nice coffee shop nearby. It was a fairly popular place, which meant it sometimes had really long lines, but it was worth the wait. Alfred was tired and he wanted coffee. Good coffee. He didn't know if he wanted to sit in the shop though. Alfred felt a bit like a recluse, going home like this, but he felt genuinely discouraged today and that was no mood to be in.

Alfred rounded the corner towards the coffee shop, groaning a little as he saw the line. Perhaps he should just head home and spare himself.

So hesitant...what had happened to spontaneity and spur of the moment decisions? Oh, right. Nothing good.

He should probably just head home, shouldn't he... At least he had a home. Unlike the man who Alfred was now noticing. With his head bowed Alfred couldn't get a good look at his face. Instead, he focused on the man's reddish-brown hair, the upturned collar, the floppy hat that lay beside him. Alfred felt guilty once again. This man had it a hell lot worse. He'd lived on the streets once for a while, not knowing where his next meal would come from. His coffee money was better spent on this guy, who could probably use it to take a shower or buy something to eat. Alfred could make his own coffee at home.

Alfred made his way over to the man, pulling out his wallet to drop some money into the man's hat. When he crouched down though, Alfred caught a glimpse of what lay under his collar. Bright, angry red hives covered his neck. Christ... It looked bad. Alfred began picking up other things as well: the dark circles under the man's eyes, the sickly color of his skin. He looked young, certainly too young to be on the streets. Perhaps he was older than Alfred, but if so, not by much. And there was a certain familiarity to him too that Alfred could not pin down.

Alfred knew he couldn't just take in some homeless guy. He needed to help mutants...and though there was a chance that this man was a mutant, it seemed to be a rather idiotic decision to sit in such a well-populated area if he was on the run. But Alfred felt shitty and useless at the moment, and at least he could do this. Get the guy some medical attention, some food. He could at least do that.

Hives weren't contagious, Alfred knew, so he moved closer to the man and squeezed his shoulder. "Hey man," Alfred said gently, hoping not to startle the man. "Are you okay? You look like you might need some help."

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Feliciano Vargas]

Feliciano greatly appreciated people dropping bills into his hat, versus their regular spare change. A small part of that appreciation was due to a bill representing more money for him to spend; more food in his stomach, maybe even a chance to shower for the first time in over a week. That was not his primary reason to hope someone doesn't drop a handful of coins into his cap. Rustling bills is much easier on one's ears than the sharp jangle of coins striking one another, after all.

The droning of the lines of people around him grated against Feliciano's eardrums like steel wool on a metallic surface. Individual words and voices had mostly faded into the background, leaving sounds to squirm like agitated static inside his mind. In a city this large, there was always some sort of noise to be heard--the open nature of the Underground may have ruined the concrete's noise-blocking capabilities, but compared to the plethora of life in the city above, it was silent as a graveyard (a saying that's actually untrue, the mutant has learned from experience. Graveyards are hardly silent places when your ears are open as wide as his own). He hadn't had a proper night's sleep in days, because he cannot continue blocking an individual sense whilst asleep.

Unfortunately, people didn't seem very keen on being more generous than they have to. The pseudo-silence of people walking by with a click-clack stomp-thump, not even pausing to spare him a glance, was less relieving than it should be if only because it better highlighted the occasional sharp jangle of coins bouncing against one another atop stone sidewalks. (thankfully the leather of his cap dulled a little of the sound, even if it's not by much). Sleep was very unlikely to meet with him today. Feliciano refused to uncurl from his spot, body tense and face resolutely hidden behind his upturned collar. Giving the appearance of sleep will hopefully keep people away, at least until enough of these cafe customers complained to the management about his presence. (He could only hope the manager or whatever unfortunate employee just shooed him away, rather than call the police. He certainly didn't want a scare like last time)

The monotonous scribble-scratch of sounds was broken by another stream of coins softly jingling against one another. Rather than the harsh sounds of them dropping against one another, it seemed like this "kind" stranger was legitimately kind enough to stoop down and gently set his offering into the hat. ...Either that, or Feliciano was being robbed. But that seemed unlikely, since a thief would've simply snagged his money, cap and all, and bolted. The mutant sighed quietly through his nose, attempting to bury himself deeper into the frumpy, itchy coat he'd stolen for himself. Initially, he had paid little attention to anyone who stopped by, because he saw that people were less likely to respond badly when they didn't have to look him in the eye.

He literally jumped to attention, however, when a warm hand settled upon his shoulder. Amber eyes shot open and the speed his head jerked around to face this stranger touching him legitimately hurt the muscles in his neck. It didn't occur to him, at first, to keep his face hidden despite the sharp bolt of fear chilling his bones, giving the other a full view of his face even as he took in the other's. The stranger was blonde and blue-eyed and tall and broad-shouldered, but all in different shades than his best friend. (The reminder was enough to pain his heart, even though the mutant was well-aware that the two had very little in common appearance-wise besides similar color pallets) His skin crawled, but honestly, the sensation had little to do with the fact Mr. Big-Blue-Eyes had touched him. That warm hand rumpled up his layers a bit, rubbing the fabric across his hive-irritated skin. It sent up a new flare of sheer itchiness, and it was impossible to ignore.

Feliciano immediately shrugged the other's hand from his shoulder, reaching up with his own fingers to earnestly scratch that irritation. So much for not itching, huh? The Italian frowned, swallowing thickly as he turned away from the stranger, hurrying to snatch up his hat--only to spill half the change to the ground due to the distinct tremble of his fingers. He couldn't tell if they were from the cold or fear; perhaps a bit of both. "I-I'm f-f-fine, ve," he stuttered, visibly wincing at the discordant chings of the coins striking stone. Feliciano crawled over to start gathering them up, eyes glued to the gold and silver coins littering the concrete. Now that he'd been approached, well-wishing stranger or not, he had to leave. More people would take notice, after all, and he couldn't have too much attention on himself, not somewhere as crowded as here. "I-I don't need anyt-thing, but t-thank you."

Hopefully the blonde would take that at face-value and leave to reward himself for "attempting to help someone less off".

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 761

Tags: Feli

Notes: Hope this works!

Alfred's hand had barely touched onto the man's shoulder when it was being hastily shrugged off. It was unsurprising. Most people didn't like being touched by strangers. That included Alfred. Yet that thought was quickly pushed to the side as Alfred concentrated on the man's face.

The man's face...an odd sense of deja vu sprung up in Alfred. He seemed so familiar. Where had Alfred seen that face before? He had certainly never passed this man on the streets, never seen him stooped here in front of the coffee shop. Somehow though, this man looked so hauntingly familiar.

Alfred frowned.

He had seen this face before, he was certain. It hadn't looked the same, no, but Alfred knew he had seen him somewhere. Between the matted hair and the olive green eyes, between that fearful expression and the red lumps dotting his skin, Alfred knew him. Or had at least seen him, somewhere, several times...

It struck Alfred like a bolt of lightning.

He straightened and gave the man a little distance as the stranger (or perhaps, not so stranger) hastily tried to gather his things only to scatter his coins on the ground. The man stuttered out a reply, grabbing at the discs of nickel and copper.

Alfred leaned down and picked out a few coins, slowly putting them in the man's hat. "Hey, I'm sorry for startling you," Alfred started, giving the man a smile in an effort to appear friendly. "I just...you don't look all that fine. Really." His eyes traced over the man's blemished skin.

Alfred hoped that the man wouldn't bolt off immediately. “Look, I can help you out...give you some cream for that. It'll feel a lot better and I don't have much use for it.”

He shifted from foot to foot. "I mean, you don't have to, I understand. But seriously. You look like you could use a hand and I can grab it for you."

Now Alfred was rambling, grabbing onto any excuse he could use to convince this man to go with him. The truth was, Alfred knew that he shouldn't. All logic dictated that this man shouldn't. Alfred wished...if only he could get someone into the Underground. A guard. He had pretended to be one for a con once. Mutants didn't know where they needed to go once they escaped, if Alfred could get an informant in...if only.

Perhaps Alfred just needed something to believe in right now. He knew he wasn't entirely selfless. After everything, after Matthew and the feeling that he was just digging his grave deeper by the day, maybe Alfred just needed something to convince him he could do something. After all, this man was a mutant. Of that, Alfred was certain. He had seen the man's face every day as he'd searched tirelessly for his brother, hoping beyond hope that Matthew had ended up somewhere where Alfred could snatch him up and take him far beyond this hellhole. He'd memorized every face on that page, skimmed over their bios and ages, trying so desperately to unearth just something to hold onto.

This was his chance, wasn't it? To just...prove to himself. That it wasn't all for nothing. Because right now, now that Berwald had gone on to hopefully better things, it all felt like a shit ton of nothing. He had to be able to protect somebody. And if Alfred recalled correctly, this man wasn't just any mutant. He was in trouble, a lot of it. His face had always flashed at the top of the page. Urgent. Highly dangerous and unstable. He was the mutant that the officials believed had released the rest.

Alfred saw none of that in this man, one who seemed so fragile that he might break at any second. Alfred wondered if he would have done the same. His instinct was yes, of course. He wasn't a coward...not any more...he hoped.

If this man was who Alfred suspected him to be (his name had slipped Alfred's mind, but that was probably for the best), then he was unlikely to come with Alfred. Think, Alfred. He has to come with you...it's unbelievable that he's even made it a month.

"I have food," Alfred blurted out. "You look like you could use a meal. I haven't had lunch yet, so you might as well join me. I'd appreciate the company."

He knew he was just throwing things at the mutant, trying to see if anything would stick. He hoped to God that something would.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Feliciano Vargas]

Despite the itch crawling across his skin, Feliciano's hair stood on end as he felt the blonde's gaze upon him. Disconcerted, he hunched further into his collar, attempting to hide from view. Staring was never a good sign. He had to leave, and soon. If only his fingers would stop trembling so badly! They failed to properly grasp his fallen change, so he changed tactics; used his hands as shovels to scoop the coins up and deposit them into his cap. Thankfully, the stranger had shifted back, giving him space, busy with something else. The distance helped calm the nervous shaking in his hands. Without the warmth of the other so close, the strange weight of his gaze became easier to bear; easier to ignore. Just a few more coins and he could leave. Beyond the general hubbub of the crowd, silence reigned as Feliciano gathered up the last bits of change he could see, minutely relaxing with each second the other did not speak.

However, what little peace the mutant thought he had quickly shattered as warm fingers brushed his own. That touch jolted through Feliciano like a shock. The stranger was simply adding what bits of changed the mutant had missed. He could barely register the jingle of metal over the rapid thumping of his heart in his ears. Chilled fingers quickly snatched up is hat, clutching it closed against his chest. Normally, he'd move the money he'd earned to his pockets and tug the newsboy cap upon his head, but-- "Hey, I'm sorry for startling you," the blond said, and Feliciano's tense shoulders dropped a few centimeters from his ears at the honesty in his voice. "I just... you don't look all that fine. Really."

A faint grimace twisted up the brunette's features for a moment, shuffling a step back to give himself just a bit more distance. Other than the patchy stubble (a gift for five days without a mirror, let alone proper bathing facilities) gracing his jaw, that goddamn rash, and extra stains upon rumpled clothing and pale skin alike, Feliciano didn't think he looked much worse than when he was Underground. A chuckle nearly escaped him; he probably looked much better than when he was Underground, if only for being out and free from that shitty place. Lack of a proper mirror in either location meant he couldn't check his theory, though. With his money in hand and no negative attention from the crowds around them (yet), the mutant lugged himself to his feet. He only swayed a moment or two before his legs managed to support his weight properly.

Before he could even shift into a proper, upright position, let along twitch in the direction of leaving, the other's voice reached his ears. "Look, I can help you out...give you some cream for that." Feliciano couldn't help the hand creeping up to curl over the inflamed skin marring his throat; hide the discoloration from searching blue eyes. "It'll feel a lot better and I don't have much use for it." The stranger couldn't seem to wait for Feliciano to even think on his words as he continued on. As if he knew Feliciano wanted to flee. "I mean, you don't have to, I understand," --a little shiver, with nothing to do with the cold, shook the mutant's frame-- "But seriously. You look like you could use a hand and I can grab it for you."

Only by the honesty and...something more in the blonde's words did Feliciano's feet remain glued to the concrete. He could tell that this strange man (boy, his mind supplied as he remembered the other's features, too anxious to risk a glance just yet. Puberty had long begun its transformations on the other, but wasn't quite finished with him yet, he could tell) genuinely wished to help. However, the mutant could sense a strange distress darkening his offers of assistance, and that gave him pause. What bothered the other so much about this situation? Sure, he was a homeless "kid" with an obvious condition that could use some medical attention. Usually that drove other people away from him, scared of catching whatever "disease" he had; earning him a few extra bits of change from sympathetic but otherwise anxious and uncomfortable businessmen and women who wanted to help but not get too close. The stranger was so insistent, though. ...Had Feliciano's mutant-status been discovered so quickly? That thought nearly had him bolt then and there, and the tension in his muscles probably gave that away. He'd never been very good at hiding his emotions, and Feliciano hoped that not facing the blonde and having his face half-hidden in his jacket kept the other from seeing his indecision and worry so blatant in his expressions.

He knew it wasn't safe to stay, intentions or not. One teenager's desire to help wasn't strong enough to smother his flight instincts, right? He couldn't endanger himself just to indulge someone else. ...right? (Feliciano knew he couldn't much older than the blonde, if he was older than him; it's always hard to tell at this age who's older than who just by looks alone. Kids his age are supposed to be more accepting, aren't they?) Why didn't he just run? Even in a city this size, Feliciano knew how to disappear; leave this encounter and this section of the city behind him.

That blue-eyed stare hadn't once left Feliciano since he'd first turned away.


"I have food!" the stranger near-shouted at him. The mutant and several other passerby flinched at the sudden increase in volume. How long had they been standing in silence, with Feliciano attempting to come to a decision and the other simply staring at him? Was the tension in him stretching out the minutes? Were they really standing here awkwardly for ages and ages, drawing more and attention from the crowd around them? Amber eyes peered at the other over one bony shoulder (it felt like something caved at the action). "You look like you could use a meal. I have't had lunch yet, so you might as well join me." Those bright blue eyes caught his stare and matched it earnestly, almost pleading; "I'd appreciate the company."

Feliciano's stomach rumbled. Even the rational part of his mind hesitated now. He should leave. He should leave now. People were thankfully looking away with that forced "I'm Ignoring This" air about them. Who knew how long that would last. If he ran, he might attract more attention but if he avoided this coffee shop for forever, he doubted much would come from the crowd. But this stranger... he was too insistent; too worried? Feliciano entertained the idea that the blonde giving chase if he ran. There's no way he could outrun the other, not exhausted and weakened as he was and as fit as the blonde was in comparison.

He knew what might happen if he ran. So, what was the harm if he took up the other's offer, instead..? Feliciano knew better than to be trapped in a situation he couldn't get out of; first sign of danger and he could run (and the signs of danger are much easier for him to recognize than most, if anyone else so he could bolt before the other knew what was happening). But if he was right about the other's honesty and good intentions, and his eyes and ears rarely lied to him, he could get a free meal, even medication for his hives. In his situation, a mutant sitting out in the open and begging for change from the people attempting to hunt him down, what was a little more risk for such a reward?

The mutant's stomach grumbled again, louder this time. Slowly, that hand dropped from his neck to hang uncomfortably at his side as he turned to face the other fully. "...What kind of food?" he asked, a hesitant question in the face of the other's barrage of words. "I... I don't want to put you out, ve." Which was the truth, but he also hoped he could...direct the other to simply getting fast food, or something to eat on the go from a different cafe. Feliciano swallowed thickly, still clutching anxiously at his coin-filled hat. "So..." That was all he could muster for now, hesitation hanging tense over his frame. However, a spark of an ember of hope lingered in his eyes, still watching the stranger but with less trepidation and more curosity. Hopefully this will end well, after all.

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 635

Tags: Feli

Notes: This is meh, I'm sorry.

Alfred couldn't help but feel surprised when the man didn't immediately run away. He even looked like he was considering Alfred's offer and Alfred stared at him, perhaps a little too intensely, hoping against hope that he would agree.

There was a tension to the man, certainly, but who wouldn't have that same kind of tension if a random stranger approached them on the street and pleaded with them to come home with him? ...Now that Alfred thought about it, he really was acting rather suspicious. But it was working, wasn't it? Alfred was okay looking odd if it worked. If it meant that he could just get the chance...

All Alfred had was his word, and though he had managed to do plenty with what he had before, he usually knew exactly what to do in those cases. It was easier to get someone to trust you if they weren't already suspicious, if they weren't already on guard and didn't think you belonged. Alfred didn't have any of that on his side right now. It was no easy task, getting a mutant to trust him. Alfred had tried many times. Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes he did not.

The crowd worked to his benefit in this case, and this man was smart enough not to run. Running would look suspicious, out of character. Though then again, it wouldn't be that difficult to accuse Alfred of trying to take advantage of some poor, homeless guy. Mutants tended to be skittish when being approached, and for good reason too.

Which was why Alfred was surprised when the man agreed to go with him. His eyes widened briefly, more in shock than relief. Really? Alfred had been bracing himself for a no. Expected it, really, who would go out for a meal with a stranger? Especially one in as precarious of a situation as this... Alfred could barely believe it. The man looked uncertain, definitely somewhat wary and uncomfortable, but...he was really considering it. Really going to say yes.

Maybe Alfred could do something right after all.

Alfred realized that maybe his surprise had lingered a little too long on his face, so he straightened himself and cleared his throat. "Oh, uh, any kind you want! We could stop by McDonald's or Burger King or whatever. I've got some food in my apartment too, if you're gonna come up for the medicine. You won't be putting me out at all."

Alfred smiled at the man. He had a shot here, he really did. If he could get this man to safety...they'd already drawn a large scene, much larger than Alfred had wanted. That was in part his fault; he hadn't exactly been subtle. Perhaps he could have, if he was more prepared, if he had been less anxious to get this man away. But what was done was done. Alfred would just have to make do with his current situation and see how things went.

"Let's go somewhere else, shall we?" Alfred offered. That much, Alfred was certain, the man would agree to. Both of them would want to get away. If the man ran afterwards...well, there wasn't much that Alfred could do about that other than hope that wasn't the case. With some luck, Alfred could get this man to a safe location. Then...Alfred wasn't sure. He could try to smuggle this man out of the country. He'd forged his own passports before after all. Still, this man's image was sure to be plastered around this city, and possibly the rest of Russia. How he'd survived for this long was already a mystery, especially considering the fact that he was even willing to leave with Alfred. It had worked to Alfred's advantage this time. He'd just have to hope it didn't also work the other way around.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Feliciano Vargas]

A fresh wave of hesitation hit Feliciano as he watched the blonde stranger. He looked shocked by Feliciano's weak acceptance of his offer. Did... did he read the situation wrong? Was that offer really just the blonde's attempt at patting himself on the back? Should he have said no? Let the other on his way, congratulating himself on a well-meant attempt, and left himself to scrounge up his own food? The stranger seemed genuine, but maybe Feliciano was reading too much into the situation. Gosh, should he back out now? Get out of here before he's trapped in an increasingly uncomfortable, borderline dangerous encounter?

Before Feliciano could open his mouth, offer a polite refusal before getting the hell out of there, the blonde seemed to come to his senses. He looked sheepish, coughing almost self-consciously before he spoke. "Oh, uh, any kind you want! We could stop by McDonald's or Burger King or whatever." Feliciano wasn't particularly fond of either of those places, but he often dug through their trash for meals tossed at the end of the night. Maybe their food tasted better warm and fresh? The brunette visible blanched at the second offer. "I've got food at my apartment, too, if you're gonna come up for the medicine. You won't be putting me out at all."

Even that reassurance and the stranger's (admittedly very nice) smile failed to soothe Feliciano's strung-out nerves. "I-I don't need any medication, ve," he was quick to reply, shaking his head. He was anxious as it was; going into the stranger's apartment with no guarantee for his safety... Feliciano felt nauseous at the very idea. Maybe after eating, taking a bit more time to learn about the blonde first, the mutant might consider the offer. But as of right now, no thanks. The medication would be nice but the potential danger certainly made the effort not worth it. He could buy his own medication if he was that desperate for it. If he was getting a free meal, he could mentally accept that "splurge".

The blonde, for the moment, seemed unperturbed by Feliciano's refusal. Maybe he'll push the issue later; Feliciano wasn't sure. For now, he seemed at least half as unsettled as Feliciano himself with the crowds around them. The mutant was mildly perturbed by the way the other's request was phrased, though. "Let's go somewhere else, shall we?" The tone wasn't threatening, or really anything at all, and the stranger was relaxed, so Feliciano chalked his reaction up as his own worries getting the best of him. He did his best to push the discomfort down. Before doing anything, speak or follow or anything else, he quickly transferred his "hard-earned" money into his coat pockets. Rather than earlier's jerky movements, Feliciano's hands were smooth and steady as they worked.

Soon after, he was tugging his hat onto his head, covering greasy hair and shadowing his face as best he could without appearing overly suspicious or dangerous. People were on edge, and a stranger in the dark with obviously obscured facial features set them off. Feliciano didn't want to set anyone off. The crowds around them might be even more dangerous than the "kind" stranger offering him food. "Y-Yeah, let's go, ve," Feliciano hummed once he was ready, offering his own shaky smile in return. "Lead the way." Even with his heightened senses, like hell was Feliciano going to let this stranger at his back. He's taken advantage of that weakness in someone else already, there was no way the mutant would allow anyone else have that opportunity with him.

Once they started on their way, Feliciano spoke up again, a bit more hesitantly. (As if he hasn't been hesitant throughout this entire encounter so far) "You don't...mind if we go somewhere...besides McDonald's or anything, do you?" The mutant swallowed nervously. "I...eat from those places a lot, and... I think hot chocolate or coffee would be really nice right now, ve..." Despite his layers, Feliciano was freezing. So long as he got something warm in him, Feliciano didn't care too much where they ate (besides his usual fast-food rendezvous). Anything was better than the Underground's slop or the trash he still had to dig through on bad days.

---

Alfred F. Jones

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 722

Tags: Feli

Notes: Sorry this took forever and a year.

Alfred felt a little bad that he was making the other man so nervous. The brunette's gaze was wary and suspicious. Paranoid even. Then again, Alfred knew exactly how he felt. He had lived on the streets as a fugitive too. Had been terrified at every moment that the next person who walked down the street would be the police, coming to arrest him. It must be even worse as a mutant, and Alfred did believe this man was a mutant. He just seemed so familiar, and Alfred had been staring at the mutant list every day since the breakout had occurred.

From the way the man's face paled and how quickly and insistently he stuttered out his reply, Alfred knew that going back to his apartment was a no go. Which...made sense. Alfred would never have gone home with a stranger, even if offered medication and food. Which he had been, several times when he was homeless. It was just terribly easy to be taken advantage of, and who knew how sketchy people could be? You could easily disappear from the streets and no one would ever know. It had been a stupid suggestion at this point, with Alfred too overeager to do something to help him, but then again, Alfred had been removed from living on the streets for a few years now, and even though he had undergone that experience, he was no longer able to recall exactly the level of paranoia and fear he'd felt back then.

Alfred walked in the direction of McDonald's, keeping an even pace next to the man. It was clear that both of them wanted to get out and away from the café. It'd been a bit of a scene, something Alfred really should have handled better, but...it was difficult to get people to trust you, in such a small time, in such an open place. Alfred couldn't imagine what he should have done instead to gain this man's trust.

His thoughts were interrupted when the man spoke up, his voice hesitant and almost timid. "You don't...mind if we go somewhere...besides McDonald's or anything, do you? I...eat from those places a lot, and... I think hot chocolate or coffee would be really nice right now, ve..."

Alfred blinked, before his expression softened. Yeah, of course. D'you wanna sit down somewhere in a café or just pick something up from a food truck? I'm flexible either way...we could eat in the park with the latter. Unless you're cold? Russia's freezing, and I tend to get cold so I feel you..."

Alfred bit his tongue. Too much information. Alfred was too eager to impress, too eager to gain this mutant's trust. He needed to slow down, to stop before he got too far ahead of himself.

He gave the man a bright smile instead. "Listen...I'm uh...I'm sorry about how I just kind of approached you out of the blue. It just...really looked like you could use a hand, y'know? And I figured I could at least buy you a meal or something."

He sounded lame. Very lame. Alfred rarely felt awkward around people, but he did feel awkward right now. Who could blame him though? It wasn't like Alfred was accustomed to just picking up random guys on the street and treating them to lunch.

As they turned the corner, Alfred spotted a café. It seemed nice, a little out of the way with a patio on the outside, and not too overly crowded. Not too many eyes. Alfred still would've preferred to go to his apartment to make the man something, but of course that was pretty sketchy and Alfred was not at all surprised that this man wouldn't just follow him home. It did make him wary though...the man did stick out somewhat at a nicer place. But if he'd made it this long without being noticed, another hour wouldn't hurt. Maybe.

"How about this?" Alfred said easily, walking up to the café. "It's a nice place. I've had a couple of meals here, and their food is pretty good. Sound good to you?"

Alfred smiled at the shorter man, praying to god he hadn't scared him off yet. This might be Alfred's only shot to do some good in this mess of a situation, and he wasn't about to throw it away.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia