A Friendly Affair - Orestiad (2024)

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Arthur Kirkland wasn't known for many things, but one of the things people did associate him with, was patience. It was a quality he had to learn once he realized he wanted to pursue a career as a teacher, though it helped that it was easier to be patient with children than it was to be patient with adults. Because even though he was patient, Arthur could also have a temper, but it usually only showed up around people his own age.

Which brings him to the present. It was hot and crowded int he subway, and he resisted snapping at the man that bumped into him for what feels like the tenth time already. But he was too tired to chance the risk of a verbal fight, and instead he tugged at his collar harshly.He already had a long day of working on a group project no one seemed to be willing to participate in. Refusing to let it leave a negative mark on his college career, he had begrudgingly taken on the brunt of it and was regretting it by the time it was almost done.

The fact that he was running late to what he considered a fairly important get-together only fueled his current ire. Francis, his best friend of many years and the one person he could stand enough to live with in this god-forsaken country called the United States of America, invited him to for drinks to meet his new boyfriend.

Arthur had already seen him around campus and once when he picked Francis up from their apartment, but he hadn't properly met Matthew yet. Today was finally the day they would say more than 'hi' and 'bye'.

Arthur checked his watch for the third time in ten minutes; willing the subway to go faster. If only stepping into a car didn't give him an almost immediate panic attack: maybe then he would actually get to places on time. As it is, he preferred public transport, even when crowded and uncomfortable.

Once at his destination Arthur agilely pushed himself past the mass of travelers and rushed out, crossing the street towards the bar. It was quite busy for a Thursday night, and he halted to scan the place for a moment. Quickly he spotted Francis in one of the booths, Matthew sitting next to him. There was another person opposite of them, surprisingly enough.

"Took you long enough!" Francis greeted when he made his way over, but his smile betrayed he wasn't actually pissed.

Arthur rolled his eyes."Sod off, I almost committed a murder trying to get out of that horrid project."

"I think you're joking, but I'm not sure. Anyway," Arthur watched as Francis turned with a flourish, putting his arm around Matthew again. "This is Matthew."

Matthew smiled politely, holding out a hand that Arthur quickly shook.

"And that's his chaperone slash guard dog."

Arthur turned to look at the other person in the booth, opposite of the couple. He looked a lot like Matthew, actually. Matthew laughed as his lookalike scowled at Francis.

"He means that I'm the one that's going to kick his ass if he hurts Mattie's feelings. I'm Alfred, his brother." Alfred then said, smiling when he nodded at Arthur.

"It's nice to meet you both." He said as he slid onto the same bench as Alfred then.

"I ordered a gin tonic for you already." Francis said, pushing the glass over to him. Arthur pushed it back.

"Not tonight, I need to get up at an ungodly hour tomorrow to submit a paper."

Francis shrugged and took the glass back. As the Frenchman sipped on it, a somewhat awkward silence followed. Arthur was too interested to see how this would progress to make an attempt at dissolving it and Francis rolled his eyes at him, taking matters in his own hands.

"So as I was explaining before, Arthur and I went to the same boarding school together in France. We're practically brothers as well!"

"Man, a boarding school though. I can't imagine what that's like." It was Alfred who replied first.

Arthur turned a little to get another look at him; he looked a lot like Matthew, but there were a few notable differences. He was a dark blonde, Matthew's hair color was lighter. He couldn't see very well with this light, but their eyes also seemed different colors.Furthermore, Matthew's face was a little rounder than his brother's, and his shoulders were narrow compared to Alfred's broad set. But he could definitely tell they were twins. He thinks he's seen Alfred around campus before as well, but he knows for sure that Alfred doesn't attend the same faculty as him.

Alfred turned to look at him as well and the sudden eye contact snapped Arthur out of it, realizing it was a bit weird of him to stare. He offered a small smile, flagging down a waitress to order a drink.

Francis continued on about the things they got up to at the school, Arthur only interrupting every now and then when the Frenchman was clearly spinning stories in his favor. And what kind of a friend was he, if he did not take some opportunities to embarrass him in front of his new paramour? Matthew seemed to be a sweet boy, though. He wasn't bothered at all by Francis' constant touching and had that in-love look in his eyes. One Arthur saw mirrored in Francis' eyes when they inevitably got caught up in each other.

Deciding he might as well get more comfortable with his best friend's boyfriend's brother (he was probably going to see more of him, anyway), Arthur turned to him again. Alfred was already looking at him, grinning. Arthur had to admit he was very handsome, platonically speaking. Him and Matthew must have been quite the set, growing up. He could imagine them being very popular in high school: Matthew with his soft features and shyness, Alfred with his fit physique and boyish smiles.

"So what do you do?" He asked politely, knowing it's the easiest way to start a conversation.

"Aerospace engineering!"

He wasn't sure why he expected otherwise, but he blamed the fact that he had never met someone in that field before.

"Impressive." He admitted. "I can't imagine it being much fun."

Alfred laughed, shrugging. "Sometimes neither can I. But it'll be worth it in the end, when I'm working for NASA."

"That's very ambitious." He said, not unkindly. He liked people that were ambitious; liked it when they had a purpose and actively pursued a goal.

"How about you?"

"Education." Arthur said, taking a sip of his drink. "Though I haven't entirely made up my mind yet whether I want to focus on secondary or special education. But I imagine that must sound horribly dull compared to what you do."

"No way. Teaching is like one of the most important jobs out there. They're the ones that shape the next generation. For example, without my teachers I would've never gotten into engineering."

Huh, that was refreshing to hear. Arthur was only a bit surprised; usually his career choice was met with kind interest, sometimes it was met with a bit off a superior attitude. But Alfred seemed genuinely enthusiastic.

"Yes, you could look at it like that." He agreed contemplatively.

"So you must be good with children right?"

"Well, yes. It's kind of a requirement."

Alfred laughed again. "Yeah, bet. We always got lots of kids on our ranch during breaks. I could never figure out how to interact with them though, they're so easy to lose or break."

Just like that, he launched into a story about the ranch he grew up on. It prompted Matthew to participate, to correct Alfred when necessary just like Arthur had done with Francis before.Arthur took the opportunity to observe once more, pleased to see he seemed to be exactly like Francis described (many times, in explicit detail).

It was a nice night, all things considered. When Francis and Matthew got distracted by each other again, Alfred and Arthur lapsed back into a somewhat shallow conversation about horses, as they both grew up with them. A little before midnight they decided to call it quits.Francis was a bit tipsy, but not tipsy enough to agree for them to carpool back with Alfred and Matthew. Still, Arthur watched Francis anxiously as he kissed his boyfriend goodbye and promised that taking the subway with Arthur was no problem at all.It wasn't until they said their goodbyes and walked over to the subway station that he managed to let go of the feeling. Francis never mentioned it, as usual.

"So," he said, once they sat down. It was much quieter now, the only travelers being tired people wanting to go to bed. "What did you think?"

"He seems nice." Arthur said, wrapping his coat around himself a little tighter. It was starting to get a little chilly. "A bit quiet maybe, but you more than make up for that."

"You're such a rude little caterpillar." Arthur shoved him with his shoulder.

"And he's probably out of your league too; he has that innocent and intelligent thing going for him." Francis groaned and tried to pinch his side. Arthur shoved him again, good naturedly."He seems nice, Francis. And perfectly your type. I think you're a good match. But you know you don't need my approval."

"Ha! You say that, but whenever you don't approve, they mysteriously leave."

All right, that was true. He's known Francis for almost a decade and even though they could bicker endlessly, they were also best friends. Perhaps their closeness was a bit strange for two men their age, but it had never felt forced or overwhelming to either of them.Arthur blamed it on growing up together at the boarding school. His attitude and independency made him a perfect target for a lonely and charismatic Francis. Within a year they were inseparable and once they both got out of the hellish place, they moved to the States together.

For Arthur, Francis was indeed much like a brother. He had actual brothers, an older and a younger one. But Allistor moved out shortly after his father's death and Peter had been little when Arthur was sent off to France. He kept up to date with his family by calling every other month, but was part of Francis' family-chat. That probably said enough.

"Well, I'm glad you approve, anyway." Francis continued. "I don't think his brother does."

Arthur frowned; Alfred had seemed perfectly polite. He didn't get the impression that he disliked Francis at all."I think you're imagining things."

"Oh no, they're definitely protective of each other. Typical twins. Sometimes they say words to each other that I don't think are English at all." Arthur snorted. He knows that twins are able to develop a language only they can understand, but most times that language is forgotten by the time they actually start participating in society.

"You gossip to me in French all the time." He reminded the other. He had even done it that evening, even if it was to just comment on how cute he thought Matthew was being. But Arthur had spotted the confused look on Matthew, knowing the boy felt a bit left out then.

"That's a different; French is a language. A very beautiful language."

"Ugh."

"Don't ugh me!" Francis poked him in the ribs again. They reached their destination so Arthur pushed him back down when he tried to stand and quickly exited the subway, Francis grumbling behind him. "You're just jealous. You need one of your own."

"I absolutely do not need 'one of my own'."He wasn't lying. He'd started to date a bit once they moved to the States and even had a boyfriend at one time, but after that ended he had just... forgotten to try again. He could blame classes and his social life, but other than the occasional hook-up, he just never cared to try again.

"It might get the stick out of your ass."

"The one you put there, mind you." Francis gasped, scandalized. Arthur couldn't resist a smirk. "You having Matthew will finally give me some peace and quiet. I'm not giving that up for anyone."

"Hermit."

"Frog."

They continued bickering on their way to their apartment, other loitering inhabitants of the building not even giving them any time of the day anymore. Bickering was common; they were more often looked at when they walked silently.Once inside, Arthur almost went to bed immediately, ignoring several notifications on his phone from his horrible group members.

And slept right through the alarm for the damned deadline of the damned paper.

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Arthur winced as he heard Francis bang into an object rather loudly. The Frenchman cursed, hopping past the kitchen doorway on one foot and pulling his jacket on at the same time.

"I told you to set your alarm."

"Very helpful, you ass!"

He smirked as Francis stumbled through the hallway again. After Francis came back from his classes, he decided to take a nap, completely disregarding Arthur when he told him to set an alarm. He was supposed to be at Matthew's at three. And it was now a quarter past three.

What they were planning to do all day, he didn't know.Even though he tried so hard to not imagine anything, he could hardly believe they would just sit around and do nothing all day. Nor could he believe they would simply do the dirty all day, especially since Matthew's brother lived in the same apartment. An apartment which, Francis had said once, was much smaller than their own.He had told him he wouldn't mind if Matthew came over to their place instead, but he rarely did. Arthur wasn't sure if it had a reason or not, but he knew he had nothing to do with it so he didn't mind it.

Francis bolted back, shouting at him to not wait up and then slammed the door shut behind him. Instantly the apartment was silent once more.

Arthur sighed, leaning back to stretch. He's been at the kitchen island for a few hours now, working on his pedagogy coursework. It was relatively easy, but it was just a lot. He'd put if off for so long that he had to do most of it now just to make sure he didn't fall behind.And even though the call of his couch and telly lured him, he remained disciplined enough to stay put. Even if the couch would be infinitely more comfortable than the bar stool he was sitting on.

He managed to work undisturbed for another hour when suddenly there was a knock at his door.Which was odd, because everyone he could think should be busy. Francis was with Matthew, Antonio and Gilbert were off causing mischief in town. And Elizaveta and Roderich hardly ever dropped by and wouldn't do so unannounced.

For a moment he toyed with the idea to ignore it, but curiosity got the best of him. As he opened the door, he was flabbergasted to be met with the tall stature of Francis' boyfriend's brother.Alfred smiled sheepishly. He was clutching a cased laptop in his arms and was carrying a backpack.

"Can I help you?" Arthur meant it in a confused way, aware it perhaps sounded a bit rude. He idly wondered if something was wrong with Francis. The idiot did have a way of withholding he was allergic to some foods and he made a mental note to ask if he'd told Matthew yet. But even though Alfred appeared stressed, he didn't seem that stressed.

"So this is totally random, but Francis is with my brother and the walls of our apartment? Paper thin. How am I supposed to focus when they're- ugh. Anyway, so I checked out my other usual spots. But they're crowded with people either studying for their exams or working on group projects. And I really need to focus on this assignment for Engineering Analysis. There's like a weekly project and they all suck and I kinda botched the last one, so I gotta ace this one."

He came to a halt to take a breath and honestly, Arthur had only understood half of what he said.

"And the internet at the nearest Starbucks is too sh*tty so my MATLAB won't run properly, and so I thought, 'hey, Francis is over at my apartment sucking faces with my brother, so maybe his own apartment would be quiet' and... here I am." Arthur raised his eyebrows."This is weird, I agree. I'm so sorry to disturb you, I'll find another spot."

He sighed and held the door open, stepping aside. "All right, come in then. You can have the living room. I am studying in the kitchen myself."

"What? Really?" Before Arthur could say anything, the tall American had already walked through the doorway. "Thanks so much dude! You have no idea how much you're saving my ass here."

"No problem." Arthur muttered, ignoring how very odd this situation was.

He didn't even know Alfred; the only thing they had in common was that the people they cared about were dating each other. And this was only the second time ever they traded words. But he had to admit he was curious. It took balls to drop by, unannounced, on a stranger's doorstep. And Alfred probably wasn't dangerous.

He followed Alfred, tilting his head to watch him pour the contents of his bag out on the table and setting up his laptop in record speed. Probably a deadline then, Arthur thought with amusem*nt.Arthur watched the old looking bomber jacket that Alfred hung over the chair (perhaps 1940's?), ignoring the way Alfred whistled as he looked around.

"This place is huge!"

"It's okay."

"No, really! Compared to our place, this is a freaking mansion. It must be three times the size of ours."

Arthur hummed, a bit uncomfortable even though the American was right.Whilst most of Arthur's wealth was gathering interest on his savings account, he had not wanted to hold back when it came to a living space. College was stressful enough as it was and he and Francis both loved their privacy. Fortunately there were multiple apartment blocks on campus, all differing in size and price.

"Do you want something to drink?" He asked instead, steering the subject elsewhere.

"Yeah? That would be great. Again, this is kind of weird, and I don't want to be a bother. You can just ignore me."

"It is kind of weird." Arthur agreed. "But I suppose I too have had assignments I absolutely could not fail."

"Right? College sucks so much ass sometimes."

"...Right. So, tea, coffee, a soda?"

"A co*ke would be great!"

Arthur nodded, turning around to go and grab it for him. Fortunately they had some left from a party, because Arthur was more of a tea-drinker and Francis seemed to live on coffee and wine only. After a pause he also grabbed the pot of cookies, absolutely sure Alfred was the kind of person to stress-eat. He just seemed to be. And judging by the enthusiastic expression he wore when Arthur returned, he was correct.

"All right then. Toilet is to the left over there. I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything."

"You won't here a peep from me! Thank you again!"

Still feeling a bit out of place in his own apartment, Arthur simply nodded and returned to the kitchen. He sat down at the kitchen island again and looking over his own papers, continuing where he left off.Alfred kept his promise; he almost forgot the other was present most of the time. Occasionally he heard a sound of annoyance or a dramatic sigh, and he went to use the toilet once, but that was it.

At least two hours passed when Arthur's stomach grumbled. He looked at the clock; it was time for dinner, and Francis did tell him not to wait up, so he would have to order take-out.He progressed far enough that he felt satisfied with packing up and continuing tomorrow. Then he wandered back into the living room. Alfred wore a pinched expression as he squinted at his computer screen and typed.

It took a few seconds for him to notice Arthur, and he offered him a tired smile when he did. He pushed his glasses up a bit to rub at his eyes, the spectacles sliding back askew before they were fixed. Arthur had always been glad he never had to wear glasses: they seemed such a bother. Also, he looked terrible with them on, as they drew attention to his already unflattering eyebrows. But they looked nice on Alfred, they made him appear a bit mature, maybe.

"Man, how long has it been? I might not actually f*ck this assignment up. Thanks to you!"

"Really, it's no problem." The excessive thanking was kind of making him feel awkward. Then, after a moment of hesitation. "Do you... Are you staying for dinner, too?"

Alfred's eyebrows raised, and Arthur supposed it was an odd thing to ask. Not as odd as the entire situation itself, of course. But Arthur supposed he wouldn't mind getting to know the other.He was probably going to see more of him anyway, whether he wanted it or not. Especially if Matthew and Francis would last all the way up to the holiday season. Arthur and Francis had no family in the States and apart from a visit here and there to France, they were likely to remain here for the next few months.

"Uh.. sure, why not? I mean. Mattie will probably not want me back yet anyway, haha."

"Chinese take-out sound good?"

"Yeah, absolutely! I'm not picky, everything's fine."

Yet he had the body of someone who only ate healthy and spent all his free time in the gym. Well, some people were just lucky like that. Arthur nodded and left him to it again as he called to order the food and disappeared into his own room to put away his stuff.He loitered a bit longer, unsure if he was up to just hanging around until the food arrived, but eventually he sucked it up and went back out. Alfred was still focusing on the screen, so Arthur sat down opposite of him and unlocked his phone to quietly entertain himself.Apparently Alfred was baited though, because soon after he shut his laptop with a dramatic sigh, rolling his shoulders.

"Man, remind me again why I'm doing this stupid class."

"Because you want to work for NASA."

"Hey! You remembered."Why wouldn't he remember? He was told this less than a week ago, after all. And it had stuck, mainly because Arthur had been a bit surprised about Alfred's career choice.

"You never told me why you want to go for NASA specifically." Arthur asked, anxious to fill the weird silence that was bound to follow if he didn't.

And just like that, Alfred lapsed into a lengthy story of a middle school excursion to a NASA visitor center, where learned all about programs called Apollo and Gemini (Arthur never heard of them). He had been so impressed by everything that he had decided at that moment that he was going to work for NASA too. At first he even wanted to be an actual astronaut, but that changed to engineering when he grew up and realized that a lot of the required skills came naturally to him.

They ended up at the kitchen island again, boxes of take-out between them. Arthur appreciated that Alfred often took the time to ask about Arthur's life, even if Arthur kept his answers vague on purpose. Usually when he went into detail about his wealthy upbringing, people would eventually start acting a bit differently. And so he mostly stuck to tales about his brothers and his time at the boarding school in France.It was nice, all things considered. Conversation flowed quite fluently, and Arthur found he didn't have to fear for any awkward silences. Alfred seemed to be sincerely interested in everything he had to say, even when their opinions on subjects such as movies and literature clashed. The banter remained perfectly friendly and Arthur hesitantly admitted to himself that he felt put off when his phone dinged, signalling Francis' imminent return.

"Seems the coast is clear." He said to Alfred whilst replying to the text.

"Oh thank god. Having to flee my own place is not what I had in mind when deciding to room with my brother."

"Surely you took the possibility of either of you getting a significant other into account." Arthur leaned his head on his hands as he watched Alfred getting ready to leave.

"Well, yes... But I don't know. Maybe not so soon? And especially not Mattie before me." At Arthur's raised eyebrows, he laughed. "No, really, he's so much more shy than me. Usually it takes him ages to ask someone out."

"I suppose Francis had a hand in that."

Alfred agreed non-verbally, shrugging. "Well, I should be going. Uh, thanks again, you really helped me out by doing this. And it was really fun getting to know you! Even if uh, this was kind of weird at the beginning."

"It wasn't a problem." Arthur repeated politely. "I hope you pass your assignment."

"Ha! Thanks. I hope so too. Venmo me for dinner, okay?"

Arthur smiled and nodded; he wouldn't. He was pretty sure he didn't even have the app installed on his phone. Nor did he actually have Alfred's number. He watched the other leave his kitchen and eventually heard the door open and shut. He got up and cleaned the kitchen a bit, storing whatever was left in the fridge for later use.

Not much later the door opened again. "Honey, I'm home!" Francis sang happily, strolling into the kitchen. His smile was quickly replaced with confusion when he saw Arthur cleaning up what, to him, seemed like an absurd amount of take-out boxes.

"Are you hibernating? What was all this food for?"

"Well, whilst you were feeling up your boyfriend, I had his brother over."

Francis' expression turned scandalous. "Arthur! You whor*!"

Arthur threw a take-out box at his face, satisfied that even when Francis dodged, it still made contact with his shoulder.

"Not like that, you wanker. The poor lad was here because he couldn't find a quiet place to study. Thanks to you."

"Huh," Francis picked up the box from the ground, passing it back to Arthur. "So he came here? That's... kind of weird."

"It was, yes." Arthur nodded and leaned back against the kitchen counter. "I suppose he was desperate."

Francis then dropped the subject in order to start gushing about Matthew, something Arthur only listened to with half an ear. He kind of hoped Francis wouldn't rush things: the last time he was head over heels in love, the girl in question got overwhelmed and eventually ghosted him. Francis had been heartbroken for months and it had worn heavily on Arthur's already crumbling sanity and patience.

As they settled in front of the telly and bickered about what to watch, Arthur eventually managed to forget about the strange day.

Only it happened again. And again, and again and eventually it happened so often that Arthur was kind of expecting Alfred to come knocking on his door the moment Francis left to spend time with Matthew.At first he was a bit irritated, but the hopeful look in Alfred's eyes swayed him every time. By now he was used to it and Alfred didn't even look embarrassed anymore.

He supposed it wasn't so bad. Alfred really never was a bother, always so focused on his coursework that he would forget to stay hydrated if Arthur didn't bring him a beverage every now and then. He usually did it out of curiosity, when for example Alfred would curse at something and Arthur wanted to know what he was struggling with.Not that he would ever understand what Alfred was working on, or actually assist him, but he supposed it was spurred by whatever motivated him to become a teacher.

Alfred often stayed for dinner too, even offering to cook a few times as compensation for Arthur always paying their take-out. Arthur wanted to be honest and tell him that he could order take-out for the rest of his college days and it would hardly matter, but he was also curious about Alfred's cooking.It wasn't something to write home about per say, but it was good. Besides, Arthur wasn't one to talk. Every time he so much looked at a stove, a fire would break out. He had never learned to cook past warming up soup or toasting a slice of bread.

He also learned Alfred was a talker when not studying. He always had something to say, whether it be an actual story, something he saw on the way there, the weather, an object in Arthur's apartment. Arthur, not being much of a talker himself, was used to this from others so he didn't mind.

Of course Francis found out about the arrangement Alfred has made for them, and he found it hilarious. Arthur mostly ignored his teasing comments and Francis usually detoured to Arthur's eyebrows or whatever when the Brit would snap.

One time, Francis invited Matthew over to their apartment. As they locked themselves in Francis' room, Arthur had half a mind to go to Alfred's place and give him a taste of his own medicine. But then again, he also had errands to run so he didn't actually need a hiding spot. And their walls were sound-proofed, anyway.

It wasn't until Arthur ran into him on campus grounds, a month since their arrangement started, when the word 'friend' was used. Or rather, Alfred enthusiastically introduced him as a friend to the handful of people he was with.

It kind of surprised him, more so because it had been a while since he made an actual new friend. But Alfred was nice, if a little overzealous sometimes. But even though it had started out strange, Arthur was quite satisfied with how it turned out.

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Chapter Text

At the end of October, Alfred had become somewhat of a permanent fixture in Arthur's day-to-day, even though they've only actively been speaking for two months. Arthur had to admit that he was growing fond of Alfred and his presence.

When he and Francis moved to the States four years ago, they almost immediately befriended some other foreign students: namely Gilbert, Antonio, Elizaveta and Roderich. Sure, he was friendly with some others, but he never felt the need to make new friends afterwards.But Alfred had simply just shown up and that was that: Arthur had gained a new friend.

Or well, he hadn't simply shown up. Arthur wasn't sure that he would've ever met him if Francis had not been dating his brother.

Anyhow; it was also kind of convenient. Francis being serious with Matthew meant Francis was gone a lot, and whilst Arthur would normally fill that void with Antonio or Elizaveta, he now had Alfred to take his place.The conclusion: Arthur was glad to have a new friend. But he still managed to get on Arthur's nerves.

They were currently in a Halloween store, one that was decorated so over-the-top that it gave Arthur a headache. Alfred was humming a tune whilst browsing the racks in front of him.

"I don't see why this is necessary." Arthur complained for what was probably the third time already.

Alfred wasn't bothered though, smile as bright as ever. It was that damn smile combined with his powerful puppy eyes that managed to convince Arthur to come in the first place. Francis had been very insulted.

"You need a costume if you're going to a costume party."

"I never needed one before." He'd always gotten away with not wearing a costume to the annual Halloween party at the night club a few ways out of town. It never stopped him from having fun, either.

"A-ha!" Alfred cheered suddenly, pulling what seemed to be a pirate coat from the rack. "I think we have a winner."

Arthur scrutinized the garment. It was indeed a pirate coat, already complete with a ruffled blouse and pleather belts. It was an obnoxious shade of red, one that proved the thing came out of a costume shop and wasn't an actual historical garment.Alfred held it out to him with a wide grin, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

"Ugh, fine." Arthur snatched the red monstrosity out of his hands and walked over to the dressing rooms. Alfred followed and chuckled when Arthur sent him a last glare before closing the curtains.

He'd been dragged to the mall when Alfred had found out that Arthur usually spent Halloween costume-less. But to be fair, he had hardly celebrated the day when he lived in Europe. It only became a big thing when he moved to the States, and he only went to the parties at all because his friends were going. But he never dressed up the way the others did.

Which was for the better, because Francis, Gilbert and Antonio usually teamed up for some kind of ridiculous group costume. Their first year here they went as air dancers, the year after that as a hot dog (with Francis being the sausage). Arthur usually managed to drink most of his second-hand embarrassment away.

"What will you be, then?" He asked, taking off his sweater vest and shirt.

"A cowboy, of course!"

Reasoning a regular dark jeans would be okay with the outfit, Arthur got into the get-up fairly quickly. It felt stiff and uncomfortable, but he had to admit it didn't look all that bad.At least it wasn't something sexual or a food condiment.

"Not an astronaut? Or one of those spandex superheroes?" He asked as he fixed the belts over his shirt before pulling the coat on.

"Funny. I already did the astronaut thing last year. Mattie went as an alien. It was awesome."

Arthur sighed, opening the curtains. "I'm sure it was."

"O Captain, my captain!" Alfred cheered, grinning widely as Arthur came out to look at himself in the mirror.

"I look ridiculous."

"Y'know, you're kind of supposed to look ridiculous. But you just look cool. Maybe we should've gone for the sexy nurse outfit." Arthur glared at him in the mirror and Alfred laughed. He sauntered up to him, hands behind his back. When Arthur motioned for him to get on with it, he produced a pirate hat, placing it on top of Arthur's head."You even got the angry look down to a T, Artie!"

"It's Arthur."

There was no use arguing so eventually Arthur ended up buying the get-up. Alfred tried to convince him to get a whole lot of extras - all kinds of plastic jewelry, fake blood, contact lenses and a parrot for on his shoulder, but there was a limit to what Arthur was willing to agree with.

They both had a bit more time to spare and so they wandered around the mall aimlessly, occasionally entering and browsing a shop that piqued their interest. Even though they were never interested in the same store, it didn't seem to bother either of them.He drew the line at the third Halloween store though. There was only so much American nonsense he could handle.Alfred wasn't too bothered, instead opting to tell him about his favorite Halloween movies. Arthur didn't know a good half of them, but humored the other by nodding occasionally.

Early on they'd already established the kind of friendship where Alfred did most of the talking and Arthur did most of the listening. It suited Arthur perfectly well, especially because Alfred would always immediately shut up if Arthur seemed to want to talk.Sure, they occasionally bickered, but Alfred was an American and Arthur a Brit - it is bound to happen every now and then.

As he entered his apartment, he was met with a bit of a chaos. Antonio was in the kitchen loudly making dinner whilst Francis was in the bathroom with the door open, dramatically singing along to a playlist of Charles Aznavour. Clothing and props were scattered across the living room. Arthur sighed and decided he couldn't be bothered: someone would clean it up sooner or later. He lowered the volume of the music a bit, telling Francis he sounded like a frog when he complained.

Francis stuck his head out to glare but then noticed the bag in Arthur's hands. His eyes with wide with mischief and he raced over, trying to yank the bag out of his hands to peek at its contents."I cannot believe you went shopping with that buffoon," He accused when Arthur didn't budge. "and not me! Your best friend! I am hurt."

"You'll live."

"Hi Arthur. What's in the bag?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Antonio. He was wearing what seemed to be only half of his costume and a 'kiss-the-cook' apron over his bare chest. He sighed and turned to the table to empty the bag, watching as Francis immediately began to paw through it. He looked thoughtful as he shook out the pirate coat, looking between it and Arthur himself.

"Not as daring as I had hoped, but it will do."

"That's exactly why I didn't do this with you."

"That's fair. But now you'll somewhat match us!"

A quick glance at the rest of the garments on the table and Arthur was able to guess: "The Three Musketeers?"

"Oui!"

"Where's number three?"

"He's coming with Elizaveta." Antonio replied as Francis darted back into the bathroom. Arthur followed him into the kitchen, where Antonio started to fill three plates with lasagna. "Roderich's not coming though."

"Great, so nobody is there to keep them in check." Arthur scowled, accepting the plate Antonio handed to him.

After Francis, Antonio was probably the one he got along with best. Like Arthur, Antonio wanted to be a teacher too and thus attended the same faculty as him, though he focused on early childhood education. He'd known fairly early he wanted to do so, having grown up with a dozen siblings, nephews and nieces. During their first year they had a few of their classes together, and as they had gotten closer they had both briefly entertained the idea of them in a romantic sense too, but the thought had already bled out before either of them had acted on it.Whilst Antonio could match Arthur's temperament and be laid-back at the same time, they just weren't each other's type.

They sat down at the kitchen island as Francis reappeared, talking amicably as they ate. Afterwards Antonio offered to clean up as well, something both Arthur and Francis weren't going to refuse.Francis pushed him into the bathroom, perching on the edge of the bathtub to offer commentary every now and then as Arthur hurriedly changed into his outfit.

He had to admit the Three Musketeer-outfit didn't look too bad on the other. It was certainly an improvement, considering the outfits the years before. And with Francis' long and curly hair, he definitely managed to pull it off.

They argued over how many buttons Arthur had to do up and how tight the belts had to be, and when Francis was finally satisfied, Antonio was done himself and waiting for them at the door.

As they left the apartment and headed towards the parking lot, Antonio and Francis bickered over which car to use. Eventually they decided on Antonio's car, as it was bigger and would therefore be more comfortable if they ended up with stowaways on the way back.Arthur made his way over to the car with only a mild anxiety, watching Antonio toss his keys towards Francis. At least it was already an unwritten rule that Francis would drive whenever Arthur was in the car with them.

At first he'd felt a bit guilty for practically forcing Francis to always remain sober and for keeping his other friends in the dark. Usually they just used public transport: one of the benefits of living in a big city. But the particular club they were going to was outside of the town and the last bus on site left a little before midnight. By now he'd suspected Antonio and Gilbert either knew from Francis or were able to imagine why Arthur and Francis had their arrangement.

It didn't take too long to arrive at their location. The place was already bustling with people when they parked their car and got into the line outside. Idly Arthur realized this was only his second year he hadn't had to show a fake ID, what with him being 22. It was odd, because when they left Europe, they were allowed to drink and what not. But then they arrived here, they were suddenly minors again. Fortunately getting a fake ID had been fairly easy.

"Arschgeigen!" Gilbert yelled as he barreled into them, ignoring the people behind them complaining about him cutting in line. "Fancy meeting y'all here- Arthur? Are you wearing a costume? Holy hell, I never thought I would see the day!"

"Yes, yes." Arthur grumbled, crossing his arms.

"It looks great." Elizaveta said with a smile. Arthur smiled back, pleased to see her. She wore a dark green dirndl and Arthur wondered that if Roderich had come as well, if he'd had something to match.

"I got to admit Artie, the pirate thing is kinda doing things to me." Gilbert quipped, slapping the Brit on his arse harsh enough for Arthur to actually yelp.

"You bloody wanker!" He sneered, raising his arm threateningly when Gilbert cackled and hurriedly hid behind Antonio.

"I wonder what Matthew is wearing." Francis said, a bit dreamily.

Gilbert gagged and Elizaveta giggled, linking her arms with Arthur when it was their turn to enter.The night club had been stripped of its usual decor and had turned into something like the Halloween stores Arthur had visited on his impromptu shopping trip with Alfred earlier that day. It was also very crowded, but it was still relatively easy to find a good spot; a half-open booth with a circular couch. It was nearby the bar too. It had been occupied by one but Gilbert made short work of it, and Arthur watched the poor lad scramble off.

Antonio sped of to the bar to get them the first round and Elizaveta tugged Arthur down on the couch with her. Gilbert jumped in via the back of the booth, nearly kneeing Francis in the face. He patted the Frenchman's hair and slung his arm around Elizaveta, pointing two accusatory fingers at Arthur. Arthur wiggled his eyebrows with a smirk as he reached back for her, making Elizaveta laugh. She was attractive, yes, but girls didn't do anything for him and everyone knew it. And even then Elizaveta was more than capable of handling herself, already putting up with both Gilbert and Roderich on a daily basis.

A tray with shots was placed before them and since it was a Saturday, Arthur gladly took one. The alcohol burned pleasantly down his throat and he reached for a second, knowing he was going to need the liquid courage before he would be comfortable enough to actually party.

After a while of simply enjoying each other's company and conversing with one another, Antonio groaned and dropped his fists on the table. "Dios mio, I love tomatoes."

Arthur snorted at the sudden, random confession and followed Antonio's line of sight towards the bar. The infamous Italian twins were standing nearby it, the angrier one of the duo dressed as a tomato.

"He's so cute." Antonio whined, banging his fist to the table again for emphasis. "Look at him! A tomato? Que carajo. I want to take a bite out of him."There wasn't anything remotely sexy about the Italian's tomato costume, but Antonio had been harboring a crush on the angrier Italian twin for a while now.

"Isn't he like 16?" Gilbert taunted. Whilst the twins certainly looked young, they were actually only a year younger than them."Go buy him a drink then."

Antonio frantically shook his head, but Francis was already shoving him out of the booth to manhandle him towards the bar.Somehow he was terrified of admitting his crush to the angrier Italian twin. Arthur hadn't the faintest idea why. The Vargas kid seemed more like a house-cat: constantly hissing but never actually biting.They all watched with rapt attention as Francis finally shoved Antonio towards the twins. He stumbled a bit and crashed into the bar clumsily, effectively spooking both the twins. Well, at least he had their attention.

Elizaveta laughed delightedly. "They would be so cute together. Romano is a sweetheart."

"Wait," Gilbert frowned. "You know him?"

"Of course, Ludwig dated his brother? Or maybe he still does, I don't know. It could be a long distance thing."

Huh, Arthur hadn't known about that. But to be fair, he hardly ever saw or talked to Ludwig: he was in the military and therefore not around much. Gilbert, being Ludwig's older brother, apparently hadn't known either.

"That asswipe! He never tells me anything."

"I wouldn't tell you anything either." Arthur agreed, smirking when Gilbert flipped him off.

When Francis returned, it was with two other people in tow: a cowboy and a Mountie. Arthur was actually kind of impressed with their costumes. They didn't look at all as if they got them from a cheap costume shop.

"Captain!" Alfred greeted enthusiastically as he crammed himself next to Arthur. "I was wondering where you were." Arthur prodded his side before realizing he couldn't feel the texture of Alfred's vest because he was wearing gloves. Perhaps he had taken that third shot a bit too soon.

"Why do you two look this good?" Arthur accused. Francis seemed to think so too, not beating around the bush about how sexy he thought Matthew's costume was.

Alfred laughed. "I told you we were pro's! And we had to hitch a ride with Feliks so that's why we're late."

Arthur had no idea who this Feliks was. What he did know was that he felt a bit crowded and that the ventilation in the club was less than optimal. "Ugh, I'm hot as hell."

"You sure are!" Gilbert crooned from behind Elizaveta, wolf whistling at him. Arthur scowled and elbowed around to shed his coat, leaving it somewhere behind him before leaning down to grab two shots from a new tray.He offered it to Alfred, who shook his head. For a moment Arthur wondered if it had been a wrong thing to do - Alfred was only 19 after all. But he refused, so he shrugged and downed both himself.

"Easy there, partner." Alfred drawled with amusem*nt, tipping his ridiculous cowboy hat as Arthur stuck out his tongue.

Okay, so he was a bit of a light weight. But he also knew the others knew this, and they would look out for him if necessary. So what was the harm? Eventually Alfred was fetched by a blonde guy in a dress and a Japanese guy Arthur remembered being introduced to a few weeks earlier. As he left he spotted Antonio was still at the bar, talking and trying to impress the Italian twin that had captivated his eye. The other one had left so at least that was going well, too.

"Come on rapscallion," Elizaveta eventually said, untangling herself from Gilbert. "I want to dance."

"Who am I to refuse a lady?" He slid out and held out his hand. Elizaveta intertwined their fingers and dragged him towards the dance floor, elbowing her way around until she found a spot she liked.

Time went pretty fast from there on. Occasionally they were joined by someone else they knew and occasionally Antonio would bring them drinks like the mother-hen he was (though Arthur supposed an actual mom wouldn't try to poison them with copious amounts of alcohol).Francis and Matthew had disappeared off to who-knows-where and Gilbert was roughhousing with Mathias, an unimpressed Lukas watching from the bar with some of their friends.

Eventually Elizaveta broke them up, just in case, luring Gilbert into dancing with her instead. Arthur wondered for a moment if he should continue alone or if he should go get another drink, but as he turned around he bumped into Alfred. He'd lost his cowboy hat and his vest was open, but he looked much more alert than Arthur felt.

"You have to dance with me." Alfred pleaded, and Arthur shrugged and did just that, only half hearing Alfred's explanation. "I'm avoiding this cow-girl but she keeps finding me."

Arthur snorted and looked around wildly, hoping to find said girl. But his vision was kind of fuzzy and apart from the people he actually knew, he couldn't focus on others.After a few minutes (or hours or days, Arthur couldn't rightly tell), he got shoved from behind by some wanker and stumbled into Alfred. The American laughed, tugging at his elbows when Arthur wanted to turn around and cuss at whoever pushed him.Arthur let himself be led towards the bar, frowning when Alfred asked for a glass of water, which he then pushed towards Arthur.

"Water?" He slurred, but he drank it anyway. He frowned when he saw Alfred had gotten himself a soda. "Why aren't you drinking?"

"I don't like the feeling." Alfred answered sincerely. "Besides, I don't need it to have fun. No offense."

"I do, so none taken." Alfred laughed and Arthur smiled in return. He flagged down the bartender for another drink, pointing at the first thing on the board behind him. He was far past caring about taste after all.

He didn't actually mind sitting at the bar for a while, as he admittedly felt a bit tired from dancing and drinking all night. So he put his elbow on the bar and leaned his face into his hand, slumped forward as he tried to focus on what Alfred was saying.

At one point the same blonde guy from before approached them again, letting Alfred know that he wanted to go home but that he couldn't find Matthew. Arthur pitched in that they were welcome to drive back with them and so the blonde left again, leaving Arthur to get distracted by Alfred's glasses. He wondered if the American would look younger without them. Did he ever try contact lenses? Arthur thought he looked rather smart with the spectacles, though.

He was chewing on his lip, debating whether or not he wanted to take the other's glasses off to quell his curiosity. It seemed like such a distance though and his arm felt heavy.The thought was still spooking in his head when they eventually decided to call it a night. Arthur had no idea what time it is, but it was probably far past midnight. He shivered as they left the club and he wondered where his coat was.

Alfred caught him by the elbow when he stumbled on their way to the car. He tugged him a bit closer so he could help him stay upward and Arthur patted the hand on his elbow appreciatively.

"You're a good friend." Alfred laughed. "A very good friend. I'm legally not allowed to say best friend, though." He continued, wagging his finger at Alfred.

"Is that so?"

"It is so. Blood pact and all that. Very unhy.. unhy- not clean, but we was kids, you know?"

"Haha, seriously? How old were you?"

"Uhhh," Arthur couldn't right remember. "Kids."

He was about to turn to ask Francis how old they had been, but Francis had his hands full with manhandling a tipsy Matthew into the front seat. That was supposed to be Arthur's place, he thought with a pout, but didn't fuss and instead crammed himself into the back seat with Alfred and Antonio.It was a bit crowded, what with the other two guys being both taller and broader than him. He pressed his head against the car window, finding the cold pleasant against his warm face.

Everything was going fine. Matthew and Alfred were bickering about something, Francis was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and Antonio was on his phone. Apparently he had gotten the Italian's number and had been over the moon the rest of the night.

And then Francis switched lanes, to overtake a car in front of them. It went fine, but the driver of said car apparently didn't seem to like being overtaken. So he swerved to the left, almost scraping them before hitting the gas and speeding off. Francis cursed and in turn swerved to the left as well, as a reflex.

Matthew, uncharacteristically, cursed at the other driver whilst Antonio grumbled and leaned over to grab the phone he had dropped. Arthur had his eyes shut tight, body locked into place and one hand clenched tightly into the fabric of Alfred's shirt.

"Arthur," Francis called once they were back on the right lane.

"I'm fine." He bit out, trying to ignore the sick feeling of sudden anxiety combined with the alcohol in his stomach. Francis knew better than to push and instead just slowed to a speed well below the limit.

He felt Alfred's eyes on him and was instantly more sober than he wanted to. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek harshly, keeping his eyes closed to fight his sudden nausea. He forced his hand to release its death grip on Alfred's shirt, embarrassed he had grabbed it in the first place. Alfred never said anything though, bless his heart. But he also kept quiet for the remainder of the ride, and Arthur just knew that he was studying him. Francis occasionally checked up on him via the rear view mirror, but otherwise kept his eyes firmly on the road to prevent anything else from happening.

Once at campus, Arthur exited the car and moved on autopilot, happy to keep the pretense of being drunk and unfocused up in favor of not having to talk to the others. Francis said his goodbyes to the rest and apologized to Matthew, who apparently wanted the other to come home with him.

"You can go with him." Arthur murmured when Francis caught up with him. "I'm fine."

"I know." Francis soothed. "But I'm tired anyway."

Arthur can't say he was unhappy about not having to be alone that night.

Arthur was 6 when his younger brother Peter was born. He had been delighted with the prospect of a younger brother he could play with. He wanted to be the best big brother to Peter, especially since Allistor had never bothered to be one for him.

Like the other Kirkland boys, Peter was born on a rainy day. But unlike his older brothers, Peter suffered a lot of complications from the start. He was sick a lot, one infection after the other grabbing hold of him. Logically their mother and father spent most of their time looking after their youngest.It hadn't mattered much to the already stand-offish Allistor, who was 15 at that time and fancied himself quite the independent adult.

But Arthur had been 6. He didn't understood why his mother so often told him to get out of Peter's room; or why more often than not, their live-in nanny would tuck him into bed.Being 6 and having an active fantasy fed by all the fairy-tale books money could buy, it didn't take long for him to think up all kinds of magical, invisible friends. It gave Allistor and some other children his own age new ammunition to bully him with, but that was okay.

Because Arthur was just glad that 2 years later things finally turned around for the youngest Kirkland. The now 2-year-old was still a bit smaller than other children his age, and he either didn't want or couldn't talk yet. But he was healthy and laughed a lot.

However, at 8, Arthur still couldn't quite understand why his mother was so obsessed with her youngest. He couldn't fathom why he wasn't allowed to come play outside with Arthur, wasn't allowed to search for fairies in the forest with him or wasn't allowed inside their tree-house.

Being a kid that felt more or less neglected by his parents, it wasn't a big surprise that Arthur started acting out. Allistor was his first target, mainly because Allistor always targeted him too. Their nanny, their cook, their staff: easy targets, though they seemed to pity him and that only made Arthur angrier.

He never took it out on Peter though. The youngest was unaware that, indirectly, he was the source of Arthur's misery. Arthur was never cross with him; not even when Peter would drool on his books, destroy his handmade fairy-houses in the gardens or when he would crawl into his bed during thunderstorms where he'd then wet it.

Eventually he started acting out towards his parents. His mother wouldn't have it and threatened him with chores and sometimes even with a spanking. His father often tried to reason with him instead, but didn't know how to deal with Arthur's temper. Allistor had always been so laid back, after all.

When he was 10, Arthur got into a physical fight with a classmate. Arthur can't even remember what it was about. But his father deemed it fit to pick him up himself. He was allowed to sit in front, but the fact that his father didn't look angry or disappointed; that he simply looked sad, only soured Arthur's already bad mood.

So he started acting out, a skill he had perfected by then. As usual, his father tried to reason with him, tried to calm him down.

.......

And thus his father didn't notice the approaching truck on his left, that went through a red light at a much too high speed.

Arthur remembers freezing, feeling his father's arm across his chest as parents are wont to do in traffic. He remembers a sickening sound, metal crashing against metal. Remembers being flung around within the confines of his seat-belt as their car was rammed into with such a force it eventually flipped until it landed on its side.

He isn't sure if he lost consciousness or if he just had his eyes closed for a long time. But after the thundering in his ears passed, he heard screaming and shouting. He heard glass splintering underneath frantic footsteps and can vividly remember it started to rain softly. He heard pained, rough breathing and realized he was the one that made the whistling sound that seemed to ring in the air.

When he managed to open his eyes, he became aware of something wet dripping alongside his face. His skull felt a bit as if it was split open, his back hurt and he couldn't feel his left shoulder or arm.

His father's arm was no longer across his chest but aimlessly swinging between them and when Arthur turned his head, he stared right into the lifeless eyes of his father.

..........

"Arthur, wake up!"

Arthur woke with a sob, shooting up straight and only not colliding with Francis because said person moved back in time. His head felt like it was going to split and his fingers hurt from clenching the sheets too tightly. He was drenched in a cold sweat, a sick feeling boiling in his stomach.

"Breathe." He heard Francis say and he sobbed again, feeling something wet drip down his face again. Even though this time it was tears and not blood, it still felt horrifying. He felt Francis's hands on his, fingers gently loosening the hold Arthur had on his sheets. His chest felt constricted, shallow breaths coming in fast and short.

"You're safe." Francis continued. "Focus on your breathing. You're in the present."

It hurt to relax his hands and to compensate Arthur grabbed hold of Francis' over-sized shirt instead. He wrenched his eyes shut and focused on taking dramatic, deep breaths. Bile rose up his throat and he forced it back down. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, trying to get his sobbing under control with breathing in deep every now and then. Francis kept a solid hand on his shoulder and another on his arm, thumb rubbing circles into the skin below his shirt.

Eventually he managed to open his eyes again, releasing a shuddering breath. It was dark in his room and it was raining softly on the window; Arthur figured that it managed to trigger his uncomfortable dream into a nightmare.

"Are you okay? Tell me what you need."

"I-" Arthur's voice broke and he cleared his throat, willing his eyes to stop leaking already. "My head."

Francis nodded and leaned over to grab a bottle of water and the aspirin from Arthur's nightstand. He handed it over and Arthur took a few, swallowing them down with water before putting it back down.When the Frenchman smiled, it was without pity, disappointment or sadness. It was sincere and exactly what Arthur needed when he had a panic attack. Francis had always been good at dealing with Arthur's nightmares and panic attacks; he hadn't been surprised when his friend told him he was going to pursue a career as a therapist.

"It's been a while."

"Not long enough." Arthur grimaced.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

Arthur knew Francis felt guilty for earlier, but Arthur wasn't even sure if that had been the cause. It happened randomly: sometimes he would be fine for weeks or months, but he knew it would always come back sooner or later. He'd suffered through a lot of counselling after the accident - both in England and in France - but somehow he never managed to process the events entirely.

A quick glance to the clock told him it was only six in the morning, which was way too early considering they got home at approximately three or four. Arthur knew he wasn't going to be able to go back to bed.

The curtains in the living room were still open, the morning light still soft enough to not add to Arthur's hungover headache. He still felt a bit loose and dizzy, the alcohol not yet out of his system completely. Francis handed him a mug of peppermint tea and fortunately the scent didn't make his stomach roll. Instead of going back to bed, Francis curled up on the other end of the couch with a coverlet.

He fortunately ended up falling asleep again to a documentary on Netflix a few hours later.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Arthur winced as two kids nearby crashed into each other noisily, tumbling to the ground. Miraculously they didn't slice each other to shreds with their ice skates. But his imagination has always been colorful, so he shivered anyway. That, and it's also cold as hell. It might not snow, but it's still December. He could've stayed at home and read a book with a cup of tea, he thinks bitterly.

"I don't think I want to do this." He grumbled, loud enough for his companion to hear. Alfred laughed and skated back to him, perfectly at ease on those slippery blades of death.

"You haven't even tried it yet!"

True, Arthur had grabbed the railing the moment he stepped onto the ice and felt his feet move without his consent."I'm on the ice, aren't I? Which is already more than I wanted to do in the first place."

Damn Alfred with his puppy eyes. He had looked so excited, and Arthur hadn't had the heart to tell him no. He doesn't think anyone would be able to do so.

"I can get you one of those chairs."

"I do not need to humiliate myself any more, thank you." Despite Arthur's sour mood, Alfred laughed again.

"Okay, so hold on to my hands instead." He offered, leaning over to pry Arthur's gloved hands off the railing with his own. Arthur was tempted to push him away, see if Alfred would finally slip, but decided that was maybe a bit too cruel.Alfred gently tugged him away, compensating for Arthur's wobbling by grabbing his elbow.

"I swear to everything above and below, if you let me fall, I will make your life a living hell."

"Yeah, yeah." He was relieved to realize Alfred kept them close to the railings, instead of parading him to the middle of the chaos.

"I'm not sure this looks any better." He eventually said, acutely aware of how slow they were going compared to other people passing them. "But it probably does look very romantic."

"Ha!" Alfred grinned. "At least it looks like I'm the one leading."

"You're on thin ice, yankee."

Arthur smirked when Alfred snorted, catching on to his joke. He stuck out his tongue and then abruptly released Arthur, causing the Brit to freeze on the spot. But his feet were still moving on the ice and so he stumbled backwards. Fortunately the railing was close enough to grab onto, and he dragged himself against it.

"Wanker."

"Limey."

Eventually he allowed Alfred to tug him across the rink again, though he kept a death grip on him now, not trusting the other to pull another stunt. He never understood what it was about winter sports that people loved so much. As a kid he'd never gone skiing or snowboarding with his family, always opting to explore the towns with his grandparents instead. The same went for ice skating (or regular skating). He'd much rather spend his winters inside with a good book than on the ice or in the snow.

But he supposed he did love Christmas markets. There was something cozy about them, something that made him feel nostalgic. When he had mentioned it to Alfred, the American had gone starry-eyed and Arthur had already resigned himself to his fate.Though Alfred had put up with him browsing through every tacky stand he could find - so Arthur knew that joining him on the ice rink was only fair.

But not for long though. After about half an hour he called it quits, using his hands to drag himself back to the exit. It was easier to walk on the skates when he was off the ice and he quickly found a bench to sit on to remove the hellish things from his feet.

Alfred skated for a while longer, waving at him enthusiastically whenever he passed by. Arthur shook his head and decided to film him, knowing the other would love to post it on his socials. Arthur hardly ever posted anything, using it mostly to keep up to date with other people, but Alfred did so almost daily.

When Alfred eventually joined him and saw the footage, he slid closer to him."It's no fun if you're not in it." He said seriously, whipping out his own phone and unlocking the front camera.Arthur frowned at his reflection on the screen; the cold had turned his face an unattractive shade of red and his hair was a mess.

"At least try to look as if you're having fun."

"Ha ha." He smiled nonetheless.

"Mattie will be so jealous." Alfred explained as he tapped in a caption and posted it, putting his phone away once he was done. "He used to skate a lot when we were young."

"He was welcome to join." Arthur said as he changed into his own shoes again.

"No, he wants to spend the entire weekend with lover-boy." Arthur rolled his eyes as Alfred clasped his hands together and sighed dramatically. "You'd think we're leaving forever with the way he's acting. It's two weeks."

"Two weeks can be a long time if he's spending it with you." He was rewarded with a shove to his shoulder. Alfred dodged when he wanted to retaliate, darting up to return their skates to the counter.

Arthur had never been so in love that the thought of being apart for two weeks seemed like a disaster, and it wasn't as if either party was going to sit around doing nothing. Matthew and Alfred were going back home to their ranch for the holidays; Francis and Arthur were going back to France.But then again, Francis had always thought Christmas was very romantic. And Americans sure seemed to share that thought.

They went out to find a food-truck, sitting down at an empty picnic table with hot drinks and a bag of churros. His mug of hot chocolate burned pleasantly through his gloves and Arthur withdrew further into his scarf and jacket.

"You cold? Need mine too?" Alfred asked whilst chewing on a churro, pointing at his own scarf.

"Don't speak with your mouth full." He chastised, though he had to admit that Alfred somehow mastered the art of speaking and eating at the same time without it looking disgusting. He wasn't sure if it was a quality one was meant to be proud of, but it was a feat nonetheless.

"Yes, mom. Also I withdraw my offer." Alfred said with a childish pout after he had swallowed.

"I'm fine, but thank you."

They talked a bit about the upcoming holidays, presents they got for families and friends and classes they still had to finish up. Eventually they ended up making up stories about the people around them. It was actually one of Arthur's favorite games, but he usually only did it within the confines of his mind. Then Alfred had once initiated one such conversation and Arthur had accepted the challenge with such a vivid story that it had become a thing.

"So what about them? Mother and son, or lovers?"

Arthur grimaced, trying not to stare at the two people in question too obviously. Judging by only their age, he would say mother and son. But they were a tad too intimate - then again, he'd seen worse on television.

"I'm not sure I want to find out. Let's try those over there, the girl with the blue hat, smiling at her phone."

Alfred pursed his lips, thinking it over. "It could be something cheesy. But she looks a bit uncomfortable. I think she's waiting for a friend or date that's late, and is now trying to not look out of place. Probably scrolling through TikTok or Instagram."

Sure enough, after five seconds the girl looked up with a nervous expression, looking around as if searching for someone. Then she returned to her phone.

"What about the dude over there? The one standing at that stall with the cat toys."

"He just broke up with his partner and they got the cat. He doesn't look sad so the cat probably isn't dead. Right now he's wondering if he should get a new one, but judging by his suit, he probably has an office job and isn't home enough to take care of it."

"Makes sense; but a cat is like, one of the easiest pets to have if you work an office job."

"Cats aren't as low-maintenance as people like to think." Arthur countered.

"You would say that, you're a total cat person."

"What on earth gave you that idea?"Arthur wasn't against the idea of having a cat, but he'd never had a pet of his own. Sure, he grew up with horses, and he faintly remembers a dog when he was still little. Perhaps he would take a cat one day, after settling down and finding a job, but to be called a cat person was another thing entirely.

"I just think so." Alfred said, shrugging. "I can picture you curled up on the couch with a book in one hand and a cat on your lap."

Huh, well, it wasn't a bad image per say.

"See!" Alfred smirked, when Arthur shrugged agreeably. "I'm good at reading people. I bet I know more about you than you want me to."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, admittedly very curious. "Challenge accepted. Pray tell me what you know about me, that I did not want you to know."

Alfred eyed him for a moment, teasing expression growing more serious. For a second Arthur wondered if he had made a mistake, but some part of him would be glad if Alfred already knew things that Arthur didn't necessarily want to tell.

"I'll start easy." Alfred then decided, leaning forward on his elbows. "You're rich. And not just fun rich, but rich rich."

Well, he supposed it wasn't an easy thing to hide. And it wasn't that Arthur didn't want Alfred to know at all; he just didn't want Alfred to treat him differently. Which he hadn't done apparently, despite already having the information.

"How so?"

"Easy. There's your apartment, the company you keep, the first edition books in your closets and the brands you wear. Then there's Francis, who told Matthew, who told me."

Francis, that bastard."All right. That's one." Arthur admitted, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

"But you're not spoiled. You were spoiled as a kid though, because I don't think you ever had to learn how to cook. That's the third: you can't cook. Someone does it for you and if no one's around, you order take-out."

Again, relatively easy things to recognize when hanging out with Arthur. But true nonetheless. And it wasn't that he couldn't cook... He was just really bad at it."So I'm spoiled, but I'm not spoiled?"

"No, you were spoiled as a kid, but you don't act it now." Alfred apparently got a bit confused there himself and he shook his head. "What I mean is, you're down-to-earth, you know? Down here with us little people."

"You're hardly one of the little people." Arthur countered; he knew Alfred and Matthew weren't too bad off either, considering they don't actually need a part time job to help pay for their reasonably expensive educations. "What's next?"

Alfred worried at his lip for a moment, seeming to think over his next words."You're not close with your family." He waited for Arthur to react, and Arthur nodded at him. "You talk about your brothers when asked, but not in length. You hardly ever talk about England, but you'll talk about France. And there's only one family picture in your apartment."

The picture they had taken when Peter turned three. It was the only one Arthur could bear to look at more than once a year.

"I was the middle child," Arthur offered as explanation, hoping Alfred wouldn't pry. "in a family where the nanny did most of the raising. I'm sure you've watched enough drama's to imagine how that must've felt like." Alfred smiled sincerely. No pity, no sadness. Arthur relaxed. "We can't all be the wonder twins."

"Ha!" Alfred laughed. "Well, Matthew is definitely the favorite. At least he wants to be a veterinarian... but an engineer? What use does a ranch have for an engineer?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You're not going to convince me that your parents don't brag about you - the both of you - at every family gathering."

The American winked, finishing his cup of coffee. Arthur took another sip of his own drink, mind drifting. When he had announced that he was moving to the United States and that he wanted to be a teacher, his mother hadn't been disappointed. But she hadn't been exactly proud either. She just seemed to be glad he had some kind of purpose.

He idly watched a group of children nearby a cotton candy stand, dueling each other with the sticks. If they weren't going to be careful, they were going to poke an eye out.

"So, any other secrets I've given away involuntarily?"

"You've been in a car accident."

Arthur choked on the sip of his drink he had unfortunately just taken and flinched back, coughing roughly.

"Sorry." Alfred sheepishly said when Arthur was done.

Arthur did his best to school his face into something neutral, but inside he felt as if a cold hand had wrapped itself around his lungs."No, tell me."

Alfred looked a bit taken aback by Arthur's request. But Arthur realized that he wanted Alfred to know. He didn't want to tell him. But he wanted him to know - wanted to not have to worry about confused glances or questions anymore.

"You... never drive. At first I thought you just didn't have a license. But you- you never take the car at all, unless Francis drives. And... on Halloween. You, uh." he paused, apparently feeling uncomfortable. Somewhere Arthur felt Alfred should feel uncomfortable: this was actually highly inappropriate of him to do, especially out in public. But Arthur had challenged him to continue, so he was at fault too."One of my cousins had an accident on horseback when she was little. The horse slipped, they fell and she got trapped underneath it and broke her leg. It never healed right and she still has trouble walking. When she's around horses now... she gets this- this expression. Like you did on Halloween. And there's the scar."

Arthur distractedly raised his hand to rub at the scar above his temple. It was mostly hidden by his bangs and had faded quite nicely over the years, but if you were close enough you could still see it. He was probably quiet for a bit too long, because he was snapped out of it when Alfred began to fidget.

"Well." Arthur said, gulping down the rest of his drink. "that certainly killed the mood, didn't it?"

"I'm sorry." Alfred replied nervously. "That was such an asshole thing of me to do. I had no right and I-"

"No, it's okay." He interrupted quietly, and as always, Alfred immediately shut up to let him talk. "It's... good that you know, but I don't want to talk about it."

"Totally okay with me. But you, uh, totally can talk to me about it if you ever wanted to. Just saying. Shutting up now."

Arthur watched Alfred fidget for a bit; he was so obviously trying not to keep on talking that it was making even Arthur feel uncomfortable. So he decided to help him out and changed the subject to something less serious.

Traveling back to France had been exhausting. First, there was Francis who took too long to dramatically say goodbye to Matthew, leading to them almost missing their flight. At least Alfred had been there with him, equally unimpressed at the theatrics.Then Alfred had enthusiastically hugged him goodbye, something Francis teased him over for at least an hour during the flight. Arthur wasn't a hugger, and so he hadn't reacted in time to... return the brief hug? He didn't know what he had wanted to do, anyway.

Then Francis had gone on about Matthew for an hour. When Arthur threatened to have him thrown out, claiming he could pay the bail if he needed too, Francis had simply flipped his hair and continued. Eventually he managed to distract him with Christmas movies and wine, thankful for the benefits of travelling first class. But when they finally stepped out after a 10 hour long flight, all Arthur wanted to do was sleep.

As they waited for their bags, Arthur felt his phone vibrate. There were a few unanswered messages in their group chat with Antonio, Gilbert, Roderich and Elizaveta. He was too tired to calculate the time there now and decided to skip them for now, opening his chat with Alfred instead.

Alfred: You regret turning down my offer yet?

He smirked. Alfred had suggested trading traveling partners, so that Francis could be disgusting with Matthew in France and Alfred could chill with Arthur at his family's farm.

Arthur: A bit, but Mrs. Bonnefoy would have my head if I cancelled last-minute.

Alfred: Hey! You landed! How's France?

Francis shoved his bag towards him and he put his phone away again, yearning to just get out of here and into a bed. Being outside was odd: his brains told him it should be a bit after midnight, but due to time zones, it was early in the morning.

"Mes chéris!"

Oh, and he had to rewire himself to speak French for the next ten days, too.

He smiled when Francis' mother hurried over to them to envelop him in a big hug. He heard Francis complain about not being hugged first. His mother simply shushed him and then went to hug him too. Arthur bumped fists with Francis' oldest younger sister, Michelle, wondering if he was imagining her being taller than she was last summer.

"Did you bring me a present?" She immediately questions in rapid French.

"Why, is it your birthday?"

"You know it's not! It's almost Christmas. I got you a present. Want to guess?"

"Maybe after I've slept for 24 hours."

"Too bad, Mama said we're going to Le Mans for dinner tonight. So you can't sleep all day."

Not minding Arthur's short and tired replies, she went off on what they had planned for the holidays. Fortunately nothing extreme, but trips to Le Mans and Paris were always on the agenda. By the time they finally got into the car, she had directed her attention to her brother. Mrs. Bonnefoy kindly asked him if it would be okay if she drove them home, but he was tired enough to simply agree without worrying. Besides, he felt reasonably comfortable with her driving anyway due to not having a choice as a kid.

He was about to doze off against the window when his phone vibrated again.

Alfred: Is this you ghosting me because you're in Europe now? That's very je ne sais quoi of you.

He snorted; he doubted Alfred knew what the phrase meant, exactly.

Alfred: Anyway, have fun.

Alfred: Oh! Bring me back a weird souvenir! :)

Arthur had already planned on doing that, though he wasn't sure what Alfred meant with weird. There were lots of souvenir stores catered to tourists in Paris though, so he'd come up with something.

Arthur: I need to sleep off my jet lag before I can be bothered to buy you anything.

Alfred: Boo :(

Arthur: Have fun at home and drive carefully.

If Arthur was correct, the twins would leave for their home in the morning (for them). It'd be a car drive of 8 hours - the horror.

Alfred: Always :)

Francis moved over when he put away his phone, leaning his head on Arthur's shoulder. "Is that Alfred? You two seem to be getting closer." He crooned in English, which was something Arthur was glad for. His mother would mostly understand, but Michelle's English was still too poor.

"I told you before that green is not a flattering color on you." Arthur teased.

"I would destroy the punk if he thought about replacing me." And wasn't that quite the image: Francis in a cat-fight with Alfred. "But you know what I meant."

"Oh, sod off." Arthur really hoped Francis wouldn't finish what he started in the plane. "It's not like that."

"Well I should think so, because he is not your type. But does he know that too?"

His type? Arthur didn't have a type. But he's not about to ask Francis what he thinks is Arthur's type."You're imagining things."

Michelle angrily turned around in her seat to demand they speak French, and thus, the subject was mercifully dropped.

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Spending the holidays with the Bonnefoy family always managed to make Arthur feel both happy and sad.

It wasn't that he disliked spending time with them - no, he loved them like they were his family. But that was just it: they weren't. Wasn't he supposed to spend the holidays with his actual family? Surely it was odd that he never did.

He hardly ever spoke to his own family anymore. Perhaps it was his own fault, but Arthur had been just a kid when his mother dumped him at a boarding school in a foreign country. He was right to be angry, sad and lonely; but he expressed those emotions by picking fights and saying cruel things to his mother whenever she called or visited.

Back when he was a teenager and when Francis invited him over for the first time, he hadn't hesitated at all. It seemed like his only option - apart from staying at the school all alone. And so he found himself at the Bonnefoy mansion at the end of that day, awkwardly introducing himself in poor French. The following years, Francis kept inviting him and he kept coming over. At first he felt a little bit like an impostor, but every holiday they welcomed him with their arms wide open. They helped him learn French properly, helped him go through therapy and treated him like some sort of long-lost son.

But as much as he felt like he belonged with them, he was also very aware of the fact that they weren't his actual family.

He was disappointed, but not surprised, when eventually his mother stopped reaching out as often as she did. He knew she was in contact with Francis' mom, to keep tabs on him. But it stung that their only contact these days was a short and impersonal call every other month. And even if it could be fixed, Arthur had no idea how. Thinking of England only brought him bad memories and he would save himself a lot of melancholy if he just avoided it altogether.

Fortunately Francis has a lot of little siblings and cousins to keep him distracted. There's hardly time to think about sad things between all the finger-painting, fort building and trips to Paris, a city he now knew better than he did London.The only time he's alone with his thoughts is at night, when everyone's gone to bed and he's waiting for sleep to catch up to him.

This year there's been one silver lining though.

Francis seemed glued to his phone, constantly calling or texting with Matthew. Arthur had been a bit annoyed at first, but apparently Alfred also found it annoying Matthew was on the phone a lot. He thought it fit to be on the phone himself as well: but with Arthur. It reminded him a bit of the first time Alfred ended up on his doorstep, looking for a quiet place to study.

Alfred often forgot about the 7-hour timezone difference between them and therefore often called when Arthur was tossing and turning in bed, spiraling into a series of bad thoughts. It was a welcome distraction, one that Arthur lunged at whenever Alfred's name appeared on the screen.

At first, Alfred initiated almost all the calls. Arthur had always been more comfortable with texting, but Alfred kept conversation going as easily as he did in real life. Arthur half suspected Alfred knew about his trouble sleeping too, because after the third time, he stopped asking whether or not he was keeping Arthur up.

Then during a trip to Paris, somewhere between Christmas and New Year's Eve, Arthur was on top of the Eiffel Tower with Francis and Michelle and he wanted to share the view with someone.

Alfred had answered, glasses askew on his face and his hair a mess. But he hadn't complained about being woken up when Arthur showed him the view. Instead he complained about never having been to Europe before and about Arthur still having to buy him a souvenir.They bantered for a while more, and Francis and Michelle had spent the rest of the day teasing him about it, commenting that 'people usually confess their undying love here'.

Arthur ignored them: it was misguided anyways. They were friends, very good friends - but just friends. Besides, Francis was probably just jealous. After all, Arthur had never before spent some much time talking with someone other than him or their mutual friends.

He wondered if it would be weird, when they were both back on the same campus again. They would see each other again in real life, instead of on a phone screen. Arthur can be a creature of habit, and he suspects instead of simply walking over he's going to accidentally call the other.

"Am I boring you?"

Arthur blinked, eyes refocusing on the screen in front of him. Alfred was looking back at him with a pout, though his eyes betrayed his amusem*nt.

"It's nearly two in the morning, Alfred." Arthur instead said dryly.

"That's fair. It's so weird that it's already a new year where you are."

"That's usually how time-zones work."

Nearly everyone else had gone to bed, the New Year festivities dying out. Occasionally he could hear some fireworks in the distance, but the Bonnefoy mansion was located in a rather remote area and thus it was pretty quiet. In the living room he could hear Francis talking with his dad and uncle in quiet French.

He was sitting on a stool in the kitchen, sipping from the last of his champagne. He hadn't had too much, but there was still a pleasant buzz low in his stomach.

"Well, you should catch some z's. Won't be midnight for a while here after all, so no use waiting up, haha!"

To be honest, Arthur had thought about setting an alarm to wish the other a Happy New Year, knowing it'd make the other happy. But Alfred hadn't been able to get through either when it struck midnight in France. So instead they settled for this in-between moment.

"And let a good drink go to waste? Preposterous."

"You sound even more English when you're drinking, lol."

"I'm not doing the word-game with you again." Alfred laughed as Arthur scowled. It was one of the American's favorite things to do when Arthur was tipsy or drunk; get the Brit to say British things.

"We can play another game! I'll begin. What are you wearing?"

"A pretty princess dress with butterfly wings and a f*ck-you crown, stupid American." Arthur said in French. Alfred stuck out his tongue.

"I understood that last part, you show-off."

Arthur smirked and shrugged."What are your plans for tonight?"

"Me and Mattie are going into town, probably ring in the new year with some of our old buddies. My ma and pa don't want any fireworks or parties here. "

Understandable; such sudden and loud noises would probably scare the animals around. Which, Arthur guessed, were quite a lot: Alfred had showed him around a little during one of their calls, and he'd seen at least a dozen horses, some dogs and herds of sheep.

"All right, I should get going. And you should go to bed."

"Yes, yes. Have fun tonight." Arthur hesitated, a bit confused by the anxiety bubbling in his chest. "And be careful. Don't drink and drive."

Alfred, who had been in the process of walking down a flight of stairs, halted to look at the screen properly.

"You know I never do." He eventually said, accompanied by a sincere, soft smile. "I'll be careful."

True, Alfred hardly ever drank at all and he certainly never did so whilst driving. But other people would probably not be so responsible.

Arthur nodded, refusing to let his imagination get the better of him. He knew he got anxious when he was in a car himself, but he hadn't ever felt the same anxiety for someone else. Perhaps it was the long distance between them.

"Sweet dreams! See you tomorrow."

When the alarm on his phone started blaring, Arthur had half a mind to destroy the wretched thing and go back to sleep.With a grunt he managed to turn it off, before tossing it somewhere behind him. His head felt as if it was filled with cotton, and all he wanted was to go back to the dreamless sleep he was enjoying before.

And he almost managed it too, but then the television in the living room was turned on. He sat up on his elbows and glared at the door. In his haste to get to bed, he had neglected to shut it properly.

When they left France that morning, landing in the States was disorienting: it should've been evening, but it was early in the afternoon. Arthur had been so tired that he'd gone straight to bed, intent on getting a few hours of sleep before they'd head out again.

It had probably not been a good idea to accept the invitation for a last end-of-the-break party, but Gilbert was persuasive even over group chat. Besides, it would be the perfect opportunity to see everyone before classes started again on Monday.

He sighed and leaned out of bed a little to grab his phone again, unlocking it with his thumb. His eyes weren't adjusted to the brightness of his screen yet, but with some squinting he could make do.

There were a few unread messages from group chats and classmates, but Alfred was at the top, as was becoming usual. The last one he sent was from a few hours ago; he and his brother were on the road, driving back home.

He smiled and buried himself back into his pillows, content to doze off a little again.But then the door slammed fully open and his blanket was ripped from him.

"Wake up, rosbif! Time to face the masses." Francis said cheerfully, moving to his closet to pick his outfit for him. Arthur glared and buried his face underneath his pillow, regretting that he let Francis sleep in the plane peacefully.

He was weighing the cons and pros of skipping the party when Francis dumped what apparently was supposed to be his outfit on top of him, and then his friend skipped out of the room again with the promise of making tea.

With more effort than he'd like to admit, Arthur managed to get out of bed and into the bathroom to wash the sleep off of him.Francis thankfully left him to get ready in peace, and so they arrived at their destination without too much bickering an hour later.

Roderich and Elizaveta (and often Gilbert) didn't actually live on campus, despite also being students. Whereas Arthur and Frances modestly decided to rent a place on the college grounds, Roderich had no such reservations and had instead opted for a condo in the city.

Gilbert swung the door open with force when they knocked, looking as if he'd already started partying.

"My favorite Europeans!" He crooned. Arthur was about to sneer that he was one himself, but found himself with an armful of Gilbert as he enthusiastically hugged both him and Francis at the same time.

Past him, he could see there were already quite some people present. In fact, most of the attendees were Europeans: that had been the entire idea of their group chat - collect all the European students. And since their college was known for its international culture, that meant lots of them.

"You're just jealous you didn't go home yourself." Francis sneered as they removed their coats.

"Are you kidding me? You were stuck with your mommy whilst I was bumping uglies with-"

Both Francis and Arthur yelled to make him stop, not interested in hearing about his sex-life with the other two inhabitants. As Gilbert cackled, trying to pry Francis' hands from his ears to tell him anyway, and Arthur pushed past them to escape to the kitchen.

Roderich was inside, fixing himself a drink. The red tint on his face told Arthur that he had heard the exchange in the hallway and he chuckled: for someone so publicly involved in a poly-amorous relationship, Roderich was terribly prude.

"Good to see you, Arthur. How was France?" The brunette motioned for Arthur to go ahead, so the Brit opened the fridge and searched its contents. Eventually he settled on a fruity kind of beer he wouldn't admit to actually like.

"Lovely, but I'm glad to be speaking English again. What's been going on here?"

"Not much, we stayed at home this year. We did go to the opera."

Arthur snorted, coughing when his drink went down the wrong pipe. He can't imagine Gilbert sitting through a show at the opera.

"Gil told me to tell you Antonio arrived with that Vargas boy earlier."

"Damn it." So he lost that bet by a month. He was certain Antonio would make a move by Valentine's day, but Gilbert and Francis had bet on the Christmas holidays.

They chatted for a while, catching up on what they did for the holidays and what not. When Elizaveta came to fetch her significant other, Arthur left to see who else was around. Other than a few of Roderich's actual classmates, he recognized everyone. His closest friends were gathered on one of the three couches at the center of the living area, alongside with Mathias.

That meant Lukas was around as well: much like Francis and Arthur, Mathias and Lukas were childhood best friends that moved to the States together after graduating high school. If one of them was around, the other usually was as well.

And whilst Arthur didn't have much in common with Mathias, he got along with Lukas just fine. He eventually found the blonde browsing one of the bookcases at the other side of the room.

"Arthur," Lukas nodded when the Brit joined him. "How was your break?"

"A bit short, actually." He lamented, not looking forward to starting classes again on Monday. Mostly because he didn't want to get back in the rhythm of getting up at 8 in the morning. "How was yours? Did you spend it in Denmark again?"

Lukas rolled his eyes; a confirmation. Even though Lukas seemed to dislike going home with Mathias for the holiday, he did so every year. Arthur suspected his attitude was a farce; because if he didn't actually like Mathias, then there was no way in hell he could actually put up with him as much as he did.

A small eruption of chaos in the hallway meant new people had arrived. He finished off his beer and watched as Francis climbed from the couch and darted into the hallway: that probably meant Matthew (and subsequently, Alfred) arrived. Arthur did the math: the twins either just came home, or they skipped home altogether and went straight to the party.

He could hear Alfred talking enthusiastically as he went from the hallway to the kitchen, obviously greeting the owners of the apartment first. He frowned as he felt something akin to nervousness, though not the kind he was familiar with. No, he just felt impatient and wanted to fidget.

He was probably still a bit tired from his flight. Arthur rolled his shoulders and pushed himself away from the bookcase when Lukas left to join Mathias on the couch. Another drink sounded fantastic, and he supposed it would be polite to greet Alfred and Matthew.

Though maybe not Matthew, at least as long as he hasn't left the hallway yet. Who knows what Francis was doing to him.

He walked over to the kitchen entrance, pushing past a few people and having to dodge an enthusiastic party-goer with his arms full of glasses. He rolled his eyes and turned back around to enter the kitchen, only to bump into Alfred, who had decided to leave the kitchen at the same time.

Because he was still mid-turn, the minor collision threw him a bit and he stumbled sideways. Alfred's arm quickly raised, hand grabbing his upper arm to steady him.

"Whoa there!" Alfred exclaimed, surprise melting into something cheerful. "Hey there, didn't see you, sorry."

"No, no, I wasn't paying attention." Arthur scoffed, righting himself again.

Alfred's hand didn't leave his arm though and Arthur was suddenly acutely aware of their proximity. He had to crane his head up to get a proper look at Alfred, once again reminded that the other had quite some inches on him.

Alfred was grinning broadly, still wrapped up in his bomber jacket and scarf, his cheeks a bit red from the cold outside. The hand on his arm felt searing hot though as Alfred looked down at Arthur with eyes sparkling with boyish mischief.

"Already? Don't tell me I missed out on most of the fun."

Arthur didn't know why he didn't say something witty in return. He just stared, wondering why his brains decided to grind to a halt. All he could think of was how odd it was that Alfred was standing in front of him again. After nearly two weeks of only calling, he was suddenly in front of him again, as if nothing changed.

But that was silly, why would something be different?

They were still standing in the door opening, Alfred's hand still on his arm. Arthur's chest tightened; why was his face getting warm? Why was the wanker still standing so close to him?

"You okay?" Alfred asked, tilting his head. Arthur watched his expression morph from cheery to something - something else.

"Fine. I'm fine."

"Sure?" The hand on his arm squeezed lightly and Arthur felt air rush out of his lungs so quickly it made him feel a little dizzy.

"Yes, I've had a long flight." Arthur said, feeling rather lame. Alfred smiled nonetheless. "I'm getting another drink. Do you want something?"

Alfred let him go, turning a bit so that Arthur could move past him and into the kitchen. He followed though, unzipping his bomber jacket and unwrapping his scarf before dropping both items on a stool nearby. Arthur's eyes lingered on the way his shirt curved around his shoulders and arms, before he abruptly turned to open the refrigerator and so that he could take refugee behind the door.

What the hell was happening? Was he getting sick or something? Arthur shook his head and grabbed another beer and a co*ke, closing the door with maybe a bit too much force.

He turned again to hand Alfred his drink, entirely too focused on the way their fingers brushed when Alfred took it from him.

"Thanks!" It was kind of odd that Arthur had missed hearing his voice in real life so much. "It's good to see you again."

Alfred still wore that damn smile as he leaned forward against the kitchen island. Arthur nodded, wanting to voice his agreement but halting when their eyes met again.

His fingers clenched around the cold beer in his hands, watching as Alfred stayed still as well, eyes focused on him. In fact, they held each other's gaze a bit too long for it to be considered normal.

The realization hit him like a brick of walls. The funny, sinking feeling in his stomach, his brain short-circuiting when they bumped into each other, the warmth of Alfred's hand on his arm, the relief of hearing his voice in real life.

All of a sudden, Arthur knew: Alfred was most definitely not just a friend.

Because there was nothing friendly about the way Arthur wanted to scramble around the kitchen island to push the other against it, or the way he wanted to lick inside Alfred's mouth and wipe that damn smile off of his face.

Oh.

Oh sh*t.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

When Arthur was a kid, he had a very rich imagination. He spent most of his youth reading about faraway kingdoms and magical creatures. When the English weather allowed it, he would don a costume and disappear into the woods around his house, playing with invisible fairies he thought up himself.

He wrote random short stories about magical lands, pirates and dragons, and read them to his baby brother at night when he managed to sneak into his room unseen. He hand-sewed all kinds of mismatched, stuffed toys so that he could use them to represent the characters of his own stories.

As an adult, Arthur fortunately no longer talks to invisible fairies and he no longer traipsed around the woods in a costume. But he still loves to daydream, loves to lose himself in good story.And although he doesn't fancy himself a character in a Hallmark movie or an old-fashioned novel, he loves to daydream about romance, too. Which meant that the moment he realized his feelings for Alfred went beyond that of a friend...

Well, the proverbial floodgates opened, so to speak.

Suddenly it was all he could think about, whenever his mind had the opportunity to drift. If he wasn't thinking R-rated thoughts about someone that was supposed to be just a friend, then he was thinking about their past interactions, their constant texting and their calls.

Arthur supposes he should have seen it coming. But then again, he feels that he deserves to be cut some slack. His romantic experience was rather lackluster. Any romantic experience he has had while growing up at the boarding school only took place in janitor's closets and locker rooms.

He did meet someone after he moved to the States, someone who ended up being a semi-serious boyfriend. It ended after a few months. Arthur liked to think it was because he lost interest, but he knows that he caused a rift between himself and the poor lad by not trusting him enough.

Ever since then, he decided it would be better to stuck to occasional flings. He figured he needed to focus on his education anyway. The truth, Arthur loathed to admit, was more something along the lines of him having trouble catching feelings and not trusting people enough.

Which is why his sudden epiphany caught him off guard.

Alfred was his friend first and foremost - one of his best friends actually. Someone he already trusted, someone who already knew a lot of things that Arthur would normally hide from a potential love interest: such as his relationship with his family and maybe most importantly his fear of cars.

And Arthur already knew Alfred's faults and redeeming qualities as well. The fact that they had little secrets between them, and that he wouldn't have to pretend to be someone he's not, only fueled his attraction. He's still terrified of ruining their friendship though.

That night at the party, he'd frozen like a deer in the headlights and had made himself scarce the moment he saw a chance to escape. Surprisingly enough, Alfred (who had definitely noticed something was off) hadn't bothered him about it. Instead he had spent the rest of the night inconspicuously staring at Arthur with an unreadable expression.

At first he told himself it was just a fluke: he missed Alfred during the holidays, but missing a friend does not mean you have feelings for them. He probably confused the joyous feeling of seeing his friend again with something else.

He thought himself very clever and was thoroughly convinced it was a one-time thing, right until he crossed paths on campus with Alfred, later that week. Upon seeing that bright smile, sky blue eyes and memorable jacket: Arthur realized again that no, Alfred wasn't just a friend. Arthur still very much wanted to stick his tongue down Alfred's throat and his hand inside Alfred's jeans. Maybe even both at the same time.

He'd frozen again, before mumbling some terrible excuse and quickly rushing off. Alfred had looked confused but again hadn't made a fuss. Arthur knew he was being immature. Avoiding Alfred was not how he was going to fix this problem - and really, did he even consider it a problem? He quite liked to daydream about what could happen, should Alfred return his feelings. But he would never find out if he kept avoiding him.

The thing is, the daydreaming was safe. Arthur was never really good with expressing his feelings and usually didn't have a problem with that, mostly because his best friend could read him like an open book. However, this was not a problem that Francis was going to be able to fix. He was actually contributing to the problem a little, what with his incessant teasing. It hadn't taken him long to figure out something was wrong and what that something was, after all.

Arthur sighs and runs a hand over his face. He has to deal with this and actually talk to Alfred, sooner rather than later.

As if he'd conjured him up by thinking about him, Alfred suddenly sat down opposite of him, jolting him out of his musings. He held out one of the two takeaway cups he was carrying, a small smile on his face.

"Mind some company?"

The irony of it wasn't lost on Arthur, even though it's not odd for them to cross paths here. He'd gone to one of the campus' cafeterias to go over some of his notes, and he knows this particular cafeteria was close to Alfred's faculty. He'd probably spotted him sitting here, staring out of the window like a fool, before going to get drinks. Arthur regained his composure quickly, a skill he developed due to years of inappropriate comments flung at him by his best friend. Smiling back politely, he reached out to grab the mug, their fingers brushing for perhaps a second longer than necessary.

"Not if it's yours."

Alfred looked relieved and Arthur felt a little guilty. "It's your favorite. I asked them to spike it with a bit of rum but they were all out."

"Very funny." Arthur said, hoping to come across unimpressed. Still, he appreciated Alfred knowing what tea he drank. But then again, he knew how Alfred drinks his coffee from heart as well.

"I try." Alfred replied, grinning cheekily. He leaned back in the chair, his long legs accidentally bumping into Arthur's underneath the table. Arthur raised his eyes towards him, expecting an apology. But Alfred neither offered one nor moved his legs, eyes focused on his own cup as he fiddled with the lid on it.

The awkward look on Alfred's face was probably a figment of his imagination, but Arthur decided not to move, either. The fact that Alfred wasn't saying anything was a bit unnerving. The American loved to talk - something Arthur appreciated, since he's less of a talker himself. A little voice in the back of his mind screamed at him to apologize, to explain why he was being distant and why he had been subtly avoiding him. Arthur resolutely ignored it.

"So..." Alfred suddenly began, just as Arthur decided he might as well get back to the notes in front of him. "Long week?'

Arthur tried not to grimace - he knew exactly what Alfred's question implied. So he came up with a lame excuse instead. "Yes... it's as if they make the first few weeks extra hard on purpose. Though I suppose I have only myself to blame. I neglected to do any work during the holidays, after all."

He wasn't lying, per say. It's just that Arthur hasn't struggled all that much with catching up. He's sure Alfred knew it too, but as usual he didn't comment on it.

"Tell me about it," Alfred snorted. Apparently he too wants to avoid the proverbial elephant in the room for now. "I've had three surprise exams and I'm pretty sure I unconsciously made a deal with the devil, because somehow I didn't fail them."

"Says our very own Neil Armstrong." Arthur countered, rolling his eyes. Alfred might downplay it, but everyone knows he's intelligent, especially when it comes to his field of expertise. He would probably snatch up an actual job with NASA in no time, all things considered.

"Well, I don't know about that. I don't think they have good signal reception up on the moon, after all." Alfred tapped at his temple, obviously making a jab at their daily calling during the holidays.

"Fine; Robert Gilruth then." Alfred laughed genuinely then and Arthur felt a bit of the tension lift.

"Did your reading, huh?" He teased, smiling knowingly.

"Well, you persist on talking about the subject and I do hate feeling left out." Arthur said haughtily.

"If that's so, I have some books you can borrow." Arthur didn't doubt Alfred would actually borrow him his heavy, incomprehensible textbooks and pursed his lips.

"Thanks, but I learn faster with a more hands-on approach."

Alfred raised his eyebrows playfully and Arthur felt his face warming up, aware that the words had sounded flirtier than he had wanted them to. He quickly removed the lid of his cup and raised it to blow on the hot contents, taking a small sip. Alfred's watching him closely, with a sort of intense, sharpened focus that made Arthur's pulse quicken.

He felt anxiety build up in his stomach as his fight-or-flight instinct kicks in. However, he also knew Alfred would definitely be offended this time, if he suddenly booked it out of there. So he stayed put, pretending nothing is wrong.

"Cheers." Alfred tilted his own cup towards him before taking a sip. Arthur's a bit too focused on the movement of his Adam's Apple to properly reply and instead drummed his fingers on the side of his own cup.

Even before he realized his feelings, Arthur was aware of Alfred's attractiveness. But now - now he was suddenly ridiculously attractive. Arthur wasn't sure if he ever had a type before, but if he had one, Alfred probably embodied it.

He's tall, wore his boyish and cheeky attitude extremely well and was built like he exercises every day. Which was a miracle, because Arthur happened to know Alfred's favorite activity is stuffing himself with snacks while sitting on the couch and watching a movie. He worked out, sure, but not as much as his physique would suggest.

And to top it all off, he's also intelligent and witty. Arthur was head over heels for him.

He startled when he realized his mind had drifted away again, only this time he'd been dreamily staring right at Alfred. The other was quiet, staring back at him pensively. He felt blood rush to his cheeks and hastily looked away.

Alfred sighed and sat up so that he could lean forward on the table between them. To get in that position he had to pull back his legs and Arthur immediately missed the pressure against his own.

Dread filled him: Alfred wanted to talk. He wasn't sure what Alfred suspected or what he knew - but he wanted to talk about why Arthur was being weird. And then he'd find out, and then their friendship would be ruined.

"Look, Arthur, we should-"

"Arthur! Alfred!"

The interruption could not have come at a better (or worse) time. Matthew bounded over to their table, Francis in tow. The latter at least had the decency to look apologetic, and Arthur felt a bit comforted by the fact that Francis obviously hadn't shared his latest discovery with his boyfriend.

Alfred looked rather annoyed and though Arthur still felt embarrassed, it was also kind of refreshing to see an emotion so unusual for the other.

Matthew happily sat down next to his brother, completely oblivious. Francis hesitantly did the same next to Arthur, side-eyeing him so obviously Arthur felt it might as well be said out loud.

"Did we interrupt something?" His friend asked in quiet French when Matthew started talking to Alfred.

"No. I don't know. I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh rosbif, you have such a flair for the dramatic."

"Shut up."

"Just talk to him!"

Matthew cleared his throat then, looking a bit displeased. He usually did when Francis and Arthur would talk French with one another. And really, did Matthew actually think there was something to be jealous about? Good lord, if only the poor guy knew what Arthur wanted to do to his brother.

Francis whipped out one of his charming smiles and reached out to hold Matthew's hand. "I was simply telling Arthur how unflattering his eyebrows looked today."

Arthur scowled and punched him harshly in the arm, satisfied when Francis winced. Alfred laughed, annoyance seemingly ebbing away again.

"Somehow everything in French sounds way sexier than it does in English." Alfred joked, narrowing his eyes at Arthur as he said it.

Arthur raised his eyebrows - was he... no, he was just teasing him.

"They do call it the language of love!" Francis boasted.

"And yet all you use it for is gossiping." Arthur snarked in return.

"As our dear American claimed, even gossiping sounds romantic in French."

"No, I said sexy, not romantic." Alfred piped in. "If I had to pick a language that sounded romantic, I would probably go for English. The old timey English."

"British?" Francis helpfully supplied and Arthur, who just took a sip from his tea, choked on it instantly. Francis laughed and pat him on the back as he coughed harshly.

"I suppose every language sounds better than this country's butchered English." He grumbled as he managed to catch his breath. Alfred gasped, mock-offended, but Matthew shrugged agreeably.

It was easy to get back into familiar banter after that. He argued with Francis, exchanged polite conversation with Matthew and teased Alfred about his American heritage some more. He felt a bit more on ease, even though Alfred still had a certain look whenever their eyes met.

He hoped Alfred would just forget about whatever happened before they were interrupted, would just go back to normal after this. That hope shattered when Francis and Matthew started bickering about something and Alfred used the distraction to lean back again and to tangle his legs with Arthur again. When Alfred then sent a boyish smirk and a cheeky wink his way, he panicked.

Either Alfred is mocking him (unlikely, given the lad's nature) or he's trying to subtly flirt with him (...much less unlikely).

It was as if his mind short-circuited and he abruptly shoved his chair back.

"I, uh." He stood up and hastily pushed his notebooks together so he could grab them. "I forgot I need to. Finish. Something for a deadline. Bye!"

He ignored the surprised look on Alfred's face and Francis' exasperated exclamation of confusion in favor of hurrying out of the cafeteria, heading straight home.

In hindsight, Arthur knew that home would be the most predictable place to be, if someone had wanted to go after him. So when there was a knock on the door not ten minutes after he had shut it behind him, he wanted to go back in time and shake his former self.

It wouldn't be Francis, because his cohabitant had a key. And even if he hadn't, he had a hairpin hidden somewhere he could use to open the door; something the Frenchman has done many times when Arthur spitefully locked him out of their dorm at the boarding school.

No, there was most likely only one person it could be. He breathes in deeply and steels his nerves. He was an adult, for god's sake, and he was supposed to be the mature one if he wanted to pursue a career where he would constantly be surrounded by children. Nodding to himself, he resolutely marches over to the door and swings it open.

Upon coming face to face with Alfred, he almost threw it shut again. But that would be immature and not to mention terribly rude, so instead he blankly stared at the other. He's aware he looks a bit odd: he had kicked his shoes off, but was still wearing his coat, and his face had to be an unflattering shade of red from the combined hurrying and embarrassment.

Still, Alfred simply smiled at him awkwardly. Arthur has such a violent sense of déjà vu, that for a moment he thought he was dreaming or had been sent back in time. But Alfred wasn't clutching a laptop and wasn't carrying a backpack this time.

Apparently he was supposed to say something first, but after a handful seconds of silence Alfred gestured with his hands towards the door.

"Can I come in?"

"Right... of course." Arthur mumbled, moving back towards the living room so that Alfred could comfortably walk in. Alfred hesitated in the hallway for a moment before closing the door and joining him in the living room.

"So..." He started, stopping at a reasonable distance from Arthur, who busied himself with removing his coat now that he noticed he still had it on. "You okay?"

"I am."

"That's good." Good grief. This was unfair - Arthur couldn't very well hide from Alfred inside his own house. "Uh, we should talk."

He was right, of course, but Arthur couldn't help grimace. Alfred frowned a bit and Arthur realized he was probably getting the wrong idea, so he dumped his coat over the side of the couch and nodded.

"Probably, yes." Alfred hesitated again then, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket. Seeing as Arthur sure as hell isn't going to initiate anything, he instead tried to divert the subject. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Ye- no!" He exclaimed loudly and Arthur tilted his head, a bit surprised. "Sorry, I mean, no, thank you. I want to talk, but actually doing so feels a bit weird."

Something inside Arthur softened at those words, again struck with the memory of the first time Alfred knocked on his door. "We're quite good at weird."

Alfred laughed, though it sounded a bit nervous. "Yeah, we are. I mean, I am especially. You're not weird, is what I'm saying. f*ck, I'm rambling. Agh, what I wanted to say is I'm sorry."

Wait, what?

"Whatever for?"

"I obviously misread the situation back there. Or have been ever since - that doesn't matter. I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable. When I- well, back in the cafeteria. And before, I guess. I've been told I'm not very subtle. So, I'm sorry. I thought maybe you - anyway, I hope we can just stay friends, you know?"

...What?

"Alfred, I have no idea what you're talking about." Arthur declared, even though he's starting to suspect that he did.

Alfred started to look a bit desperate. "When I flirted with you, you freaked out and fled here? And I don't know, you were acting off ever since we saw each other again and I thought maybe - Maybe you felt the same? I don't know. But I completely misunderstood and I'm really sorry, I don't want to make things awkward."

Arthur tried to process what Alfred was saying as fast as he could, unaware that he's simply staring at the other incomprehensibly. So Alfred had been flirting with him, it hadn't been a figment of Arthur's lovesick imagination. And Arthur had simply booked it out of there and Alfred had ran after him almost immediately; with a wide enough time-frame that Arthur could imagine Alfred sulking at the friends he left behind at the cafeteria.

"Bloody hell." He exclaimed. Alfred's nervous look was replaced by something a bit more surprised and offended and so Arthur quickly shook his head. "You didn't misread anything."

"...Oh."

Arthur wanted to laugh. He'd been so busy with worrying about Alfred rejecting him or ruining their friendship, that he had failed to properly recognize Alfred's own behavior. He'd been too caught up in his own panic to notice Alfred had been - albeit subtly, even if the American himself didn't think so - flirting with him.

"So what now?" Alfred asked, seemingly at a loss.

Oh, to hell with it.

Arthur crossed the distance between them in a few strides, grabbed the lapels of Alfred's bomber jacket and stood on his tip-toes to mash their lips together.

Alfred's reaction was instantaneous; he wrapped an arm around Arthur's waist and pulled him flush against him, leaning down a bit so that Arthur could stand a bit more comfortably. He's not sure which one of them moaned but he didn't care and licked the seam of Alfred's lips insistently. He felt Alfred smile before his mouth opened and he wasted no time delving his tongue in.

He's met with little resistance and was very aware of Alfred's hands; one at his lower back and one at his side, fingers kneading into his flesh through the fabric. The pressure sent shivers down his spine and he released Alfred's jacket to run his hands through Alfred's hair - something he has kind of wanted to do since forever. He tugged at it and revelled in the groan it evoked.

Knowing the couch was somewhere behind him, he began pulling at Alfred, until he nearly tumbled over when the back of his knees finally hit the side of the couch and they part for a much needed breath. Alfred smiled down at him, eyes half lidded and lips swollen. Arthur's immensely distracted by their height difference and decided he's quite infatuated with the way he has to crane his neck to properly look at the other.

"Good talk." Alfred mumbled and Arthur can't help but snort, feeling a wave of affection coming over him.

"We could talk instead, if you want to." He teased, fluttering his eyelashes exaggeratedly and Alfred huffed with laughter.

Instead of waiting for a proper answer, he wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck and pulled the other back to him. When Alfred whispered his name against his lips, he shivered and kissed him again, heat pooling low in his belly. One of Alfred's hands briefly ran through the hair on the side of his head, before settling on his jaw. He wanted to get lost in this feeling: to bury himself in it, drown in it. Arthur learned that kissing Alfred is rather addictive and he didn't mind, because he's not planning on stopping anytime soon.

He pulled at Alfred's shoulders again as he moved to sit down on the couch and thankfully the message got across. Without breaking their kiss, Alfred moved down with him and Arthur was intent on getting Alfred to lie down with him (or maybe on top of him, Arthur isn't picky), when a sudden squeak startled them both.

They part, both of them confused as to what the source of the sound was. Arthur reached behind him and the second his hand touched the culprit, he's reminded of the wretched thing he had hoped would never see the light of day again. He'd tossed it onto the couch the night after he came back from France and had proceeded to forget all about it when it got lost between the cushions.

What a way to ruin the mood.

He's pretty sure his terror shows on his face because Alfred's heady expression instantly made place for a mischievous one and before he knew it, Alfred is pulling Arthur's hand from behind his back. He looked at the stuffed toy with a surprised frown, before it melted into recognition and amusem*nt. Arthur felt his face warming up and quickly shoved Alfred off of him, trying but failing to prevent Alfred from snatching the toy out of his grasp.

It was a stuffed astronaut figure holding a baguette. On the front of its uniform was a large French flag and on top of his helmet, like a hairpin, was a little Eiffel tower. Arthur had found the tacky souvenir in a back-alley souvenir shop. He thought it'd been funny then.

"This is amazing." Alfred said delightedly, as he sat down on the couch next to Arthur. He squeezed the thing between his hands, laughing when it squeaked again. "You know me so well!"

"Well, you did say you wanted something weird." Arthur mumbled, regretting the horny part of his brain that had told him it would be a good idea to make out horizontally on the couch.

"I hope you know that I'm going to sleep with this little fellow next to me for the rest of my life."

Arthur sighed and glared at Alfred sideways, but he's relieved to see that Alfred looked genuinely amused. He did mourn the loss of their proximity, but the sudden interruption did help to clear his mind. If they hadn't been interrupted, he might have gone a bit further than he initially wanted.

Alfred smiled softly and leaned in to press a chaste kiss against the corner of his lips. Arthur positively melted at the affectionate gesture.

"Sap." He said, feeling another rush of blood fill his cheeks. Alfred shrugged with his signature boyish smile.

"You know, it's surprisingly hard to flirt with you."

Arthur frowned. "Why's that?"

"We know each other too well already." Weird as it sounded, Arthur knew exactly what he meant. "I was sure you'd mistake me asking you out for just a friendly affair."

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle, imagining him brooding in front of his cellphone and typing and deleting all kinds of messages. "I doubt it, what with how long I've wanted to-" He abruptly halted, realizing that his thoughts had not just been thoughts.

Alfred leaned in a bit, grinning sharply in a way that made Arthur's skin crawl pleasantly. "Oh?"

"Bugger off."

Fortunately Alfred did drop the subject, instead squeezing the toy in his hands again so that it's obnoxious squeak reverberated through the apartment. Arthur groaned and tried to snatch it out of the other's grasp, but Alfred was quicker. He held it far out of his reach and distracted him by kissing him again. Arthur sighed as he felt Alfred's smile against his lips.

"I still think we should talk." Alfred said when they parted again and even though Arthur's stomach twisted anxiously at those words, he knew he was right. Besides, it was irrational to be anxious; he knew there was nothing to actually be afraid of now that Alfred so obviously returned his feelings.

"I know. It's just... been so busy." It hasn't been, but Arthur still wasn't going to admit that he had tried to avoid Alfred out of panic. Besides, Alfred wasn't naive, he probably knows already.

"And I'm very glad to be allowed some of your time." Alfred said, amusem*nt clear in his voice.

"I almost forgot about your amazing sense of humor."

"I do my best to be missed when I'm not around."

Arthur felt his face warm up again. He wanted to say he did miss Alfred something terribly during the holidays, but found it easier to admit: "You succeeded."

"I missed you too." Alfred replied, probably knowing exactly what Arthur had meant to say instead. There was so much blatant affection in his eyes that Arthur felt his chest constrict almost painfully.

And so he kissed him again, less heated and urgent, but still firm. In it, he tried to convey what he couldn't bring himself to say out loud: that he didn't want to mess this up. Whether or not Alfred noticed it or not, Arthur didn't know, but he felt immensely soothed when Alfred gently cupped the back of his neck, his fingers playing with his hair lightly.

They simply traded kisses for a while, it all being very innocent until it slowly became something less innocent and Arthur resolutely leaned back, even if parting from the other was the last thing he wanted to do.

Alfred very much looked like he wants to continue too, but offered him a lopsided smile and instead said: "So, how about that drink?"

He nodded and they relocate to the kitchen, and he felt both relieved and annoyed when Alfred kept a somewhat respectable distance whilst he grabbed them both something to drink. He hesitatec for a moment before sitting opposite of Alfred, knowing that he would definitely be tempted to latch onto him again if he sat closer.

"So," Alfred began eventually. "now that I got the message across, I can take you out on a date, yeah?"

Arthur snorted, hiding his smile behind his glass. "I don't know, can you?"

"Damn, you're going to be one of those teachers."

The light hearted bickering that followed felt normal, even if at one point Alfred had reached out to absentmindedly play with the fabric of his sleeve, his fingers brushing against his hand. That was how Francis eventually found them a while later. The Frenchman didn't seem surprised to find both of them inside, but Arthur could absolutely tell that he was surprised at them simply sitting and chatting.

"Right." His housemate called, waving at the door and pointing at Alfred with an accusatory glare. "You! Learn proper courting etiquette. And you!" He points at Arthur then. "It's way past your curfew, young lady."

Arthur called him something nasty in French, to which Francis gasped.

"That's okay, I should be going. Books are not going to memorize themselves." Alfred said with a chuckle, circling around the kitchen island towards Arthur. He smirked at Francis before leaning down for a goodbye kiss and while Arthur would've normally scowled at such a public display of affection, this time he welcomed it wholeheartedly.

"Ah ah!" Francis exclaimed when Alfred doesn't pull away immediately. "There will be no frolicking in my kitchen. Be gone, American brute!"

"I am going to maim you." Arthur sneered at the same time Alfred said: "That's rich, coming from you."

After another kiss, some more bickering and some more French/British insults, Alfred went home. Francis strategically moved to the other side of the kitchen island, moving away every time Arthur threatened to advance. He wasn't really angry though and quickly gave up in favor of making himself a cup of tea. Francis deemed the coast clear and hops onto the counter, swinging his legs like a teenage girl ready to gossip.

"I thought I was going to find you brooding in here alone." He began. "But then I saw Alfred and now I'm surprised you two were in here brooding together."

"As opposed to?"

"Come now, I raised you better than that." Arthur tossed his used tea bag his way, satisfied when it hit Francis with a wet squelch. Francis made a disgusted noise but didn't retaliate. "So did it ruin anything, like you imagined?" Arthur thought back on their kiss just moments before. "A-ha!" Francis cheered gleefully, probably having read the expression on Arthur's face. "You remind me of my mirror a few months ago, rosbif."

"Oh, get bent."

"I would, but Matthew has an exam tomorrow..." Arthur flipped him off and abruptly left, not needing that particular mental image.

As he entered his bedroom and kicked the door shut, mindful of the hot tea in his hands, he felt his phone vibrate. Setting his tea down, he unlocked it quickly and smiles, a giddy feeling bubbling in his chest when he saw Alfred had sent him a new message.

Alfred: So: MAY I take you out on a date? :)

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Chapter Text

One of the first things Arthur learned about Alfred was that he had trouble with sitting still. He would constantly fidget, bounce his leg or pluck at his clothing or hair. He knows it's not intentional and that it happens anywhere at any given time - Arthur can even imagine it happens while Alfred is asleep.

It's never bothered him, though. If there's one thing Arthur is good at, it's tuning out distractions when necessary. However, if you combined Alfred's affectionate personality with his inability to sit still, you got a boyfriend who couldn't keep his hands to himself.

(Yes; boyfriend. While Arthur was still fretting over what to call their relationship, Alfred had taken every opportunity available to introduce Arthur as his boyfriend to whomever was interested, Thus the issue was solved quickly - as was the issue of going public, as Alfred passed Arthur on campus one day and had excitedly stopped to greet him with a kiss. In the distance someone had wolf-whistledloudly and the news then spread like wildfire.)

Arthur's not sure if Alfred was aware of how he's always touching him. He's constantly fiddling with the fabric of his shirt, his fingers brushing against slivers of Arthur's bare skin (driving him up the wall every time), or he's always reaching out to hold his hand and play with his fingers. Whenever they're sitting, Alfred wasted no time tangling their legs together snugly.

And while Arthur loved all the extra attention he was getting, he's also getting incredibly frustrated. If he has to endure one more dream about his boyfriend's bare chest pressed against his own, without having actually experienced it in real life, he's going to be very upset.

February comes and goes and they still haven't moved past the making-out stage yet. It's a stage Arthur loved very much of course, but he could do with a little extra (he's a healthy young man, after all).

So once his calendar signaled the beginning of March, Arthur decided to try and show his impatience in a non-verbal way.Although he's not very good at communicating about what he wants properly, he doesn't have any trouble with behaving a little promiscuous. He's best friends with Francis, after all. And it's also a lot easier to flirt with someone whom you already know likes you back.

It started with him reciprocating Alfred's many touches. He started leaning in when Alfred stood close to him, ducking under his arm so Alfred would wrap it around his shoulders or waist. He would pretend to fix Alfred's collar, giving him an excuse to trace his fingers up and down the other's chest. When sitting next to one another, he would trace patterns on Alfred's thigh with his fingers and hook his leg over Alfred's own.

Some nights, under the guise of having had a drink or two, he'd lean in close and press his lips on the skin below Alfred's ear, moving back nonchalantly every time Alfred would turn his head to reciprocate. He's even whipped out his best pair of skinny jeans, and while Alfred's eyes did linger on his ass every time he wore them, he has still not done anything about it.

It's a Friday night and he was piled into a booth in one of the pubs in town with his friends, ringing in the weekend. Arthur liked the pub better than the usual bars they frequent, because it's more relaxed and more suited to simply hanging out.

In the middle of the table was an abandoned Risk game. He's not even sure who won, because he'd been engaged in a heated, personal battle with Francis. Antonio had to tried to intervene once, but had gotten such a scathing glare from the both of them, that they were wisely left alone for the remainder of the game.

He's seated opposite of Alfred, something that would annoy him, were it not for the juvenile game of footsie Alfred has been trying to engage him in all night.

Alfred's face was the picture of innocence as he argued with Romano and Antonio about what toppings should and should not go on a pizza. Meanwhile Arthur was doing his best not to smile, dodging Alfred's attempts to hook a foot around his ankle.

"Both of you are idiots. Our family's four seasons pizza is the best and I won't take any criticism." Romano said haughtily and Alfred snorted, his face not betraying a thing when Arthur nudged his calf teasingly with his foot.

"It's got to have chorizo and peppers." Antonio countered, but he visibly gulped when Romano sent him a withering glare.

Arthur rather liked Romano. He wasn't as ditsy (and he meant that in the kindest of ways) as his twin brother. Instead he has the exact right temperament to deal with Antonio and subsequently, Antonio's rather crude friends (Arthur excluded, of course). He also seemed to have Antonio wrapped around his little finger completely.

"No, no, you're both wrong. It's gotta be dripping with cheese or it's no good at all." Alfred sounded a bit dreamy, as if he's imagining it. "Artie, tell 'em!"

Arthur frowned. He wasn't a very big fan of pizza altogether, but he suspects his opinion won't be appreciated. "It's Arthur, you twat."

"It's Artie until you agree on a nickname... pumpkin." Alfred laughed when he gets a glare in return. For a few days now, Alfred has been trying out a seemingly endless list of nicknames, but so far Arthur has rejected them all. If Alfred insisted on calling him by something other than his actual name, then Arthur better approve of said nickname after all. "How about darling?"

"Perhaps if we lived in the 1800s."

"Yeah, that's fair." Alfred said with a pensive expression. "You're not making this easy on me, babe."

Huh. Arthur pursed his lips a bit, realizing that 'babe' didn't sound as bad as he had thought it would. Alfred's eyes widened with surprise and he dreaded the witty comment he's about to hear, but then Antonio, who apparently succumbed to Romano's glare, reluctantly agreed with him on the pizza matter, and Alfred delved back into the discussion.

Arthur sighed and listened for about a minute more before getting annoyed. How could a topic as bland as this go this long anyway? Besides, Alfred abandoned their game of footsie in his renewed vigor to prove the other couple wrong. It might be immature, but he wanted Alfred's attention and he's going to get it, too.

He waited until Alfred stopped talking (because he's kind like that) and then hooked a foot around Alfred's. He nonchalantly leaned over to Francis, pretending to be listening to his conversation with Gilbert. Once he managed to discreetly toe his shoe off, he stretched a bit and rubbed at Alfred's inner thigh, only a hair's breadth away from what will be his next target if Alfred chose to ignore him.

Alfred knee jerked harshly against the table in response, rattling the abandoned Risk game between them noisily and consequently managing to grab everyone's attention.

Arthur resisted a triumphant smirk and looked over at him, forcing an innocent expression on his face. "Something the matter, dear?"

There's a certain look he perfected, a look that managed to tempt Alfred into kissing him almost every time he gave it. Alfred's lips purse and Arthur admits he's impressed with how Alfred managed to keep his facial expression neutral, given how he was currently under everyone's scrutiny.

"Just a random knee jerk reaction."

The excuse is accepted easily enough by the others, but Arthur pressed his heel into the skin of Alfred's inner thigh again. Alfred narrowed his eyes at him and inconspicuously reached down to grab his ankle, locking it into place.

His leg's starting to ache a bit from the weird strain he's put it in, but decided it was worth it when he felt Alfred's fingers dip beneath the fabric of his jeans. With his free hand, Alfred grabbed his soda to take a sip. While doing so, he gave Arthur a look over the rim of his glasses that made his skin crawl pleasantly.

So he retaliated by reaching for his own glass, swiping his thumb over the rim. Knowing the others are distracted, he stuck the digit into his mouth and slowly sucked the moisture off of it, flicking out a bit of tongue to emphasize his point. Alfred, predictably, followed the movement like a hawk and Arthur felt his skin buzz.

He knew Alfred wasn't as dense as other people like to assume and so, when his blue eyes briefly glinted with recognition and amusem*nt, Arthur felt hot excitement shoot down his spine. Then Alfred smiled boyishly and released his ankle. The thick tension between them remained and Arthur had to resist sticking out his tongue to taste it.

Their eye-contact is broken when Romano clambered out of the booth to use the toilet. Antonio stared after him like a lovesick puppy and Gilbert - who had been given a very thorough warning slash thrashing by Antonio beforehand - finally snapped and said something inappropriate about the Italian's ass.

Antonio smacked him on his head and a small shuffle ensued on their side of the table. Francis tutted disapprovingly and slid closer to Arthur, so that he wouldn't get caught in the crossfire. He held his wine glass close to his chest, as if it were a child that needed protecting.

It was entertaining to see how the tables turned for once. Arthur had offhandedly mentioned that if Francis wanted to drink, Alfred could drive them home. Francis had eyed him, obviously surprised, but he hadn't looked a gifted horse in the mouth.

(Almost immediately after they had started dating, Arthur had asked Alfred to take him for a ride. Instead of making a big deal about, Alfred had simply smiled and grabbed his keys. He'd been incredibly sincere and thoughtful the entire time, letting Arthur fiddle with the radio and the glove compartment to his heart's content. They ended up at a Starbucks where they drank a big cup of tea and if Arthur hadn't been besotted with him before, he had definitely been so from that moment on.)

Francis miscalculated the distance between himself and Arthur and bumped into him, but instead of moving away, he leaned his head on Arthur's shoulder and pressed into his side. Arthur chuckled and pat his best friend on the arm. They weren't usually very touchy or affectionate with one another, but those inhibitions disappeared when either of them was drunk.

"Should I booty-text Mathieu?" The Frenchman asked sadly then, fiddling with his phone. Matthew had wanted to come of course, but apparently a well-know veterinarian was giving a seminar that night and so he had decided to go attend it instead of joining them.

"No." Arthur expertly snatched Francis' phone out of his hand, pocketing it for safekeeping. Francis pouted and lifted his glass to empty it of its contents. Then he abandoned the glass on the table and made grabby hands for the wine bottle on Arthur's other side.

Arthur ignored him with a grimace, lest the evening be over too soon. He was aware that Francis was basically climbing into his lap and so he's holding him back halfheartedly, and he was also very aware of the slightly annoyed expression on Alfred's face.

It was something he shared with his brother; both of them would appear a little jealous when Arthur and Francis indulged a little too much in their camaraderie. Where Matthew clearly disliked it when Arthur and Francis would revert to speaking French, Alfred disliked it when Francis got touchy with Arthur.

He thought it's adorable, mostly because both him and Matthew should know that they have absolutely nothing to be jealous about. So he tilted his head to catch Alfred's eyes and smirked knowingly, enjoying the way Alfred's cheeks colored a bit at being caught.

"Rosbif, I'm bored." Francis said then, distracting him again. He followed it up with engaging Arthur in a game of speculating what lives other people in the bar lead. Only he was doing it a bit louder than Arthur felt was appropriate, and he hoped other people didn't really pay attention to them anyway and that it wasn't easy to hear them clearly over everyone else's chattering.

They got into an argument when they thought they recognized someone and so Arthur whipped his phone out to try and see if they could find the bloke on any social media. Turns out Francis was friends with a weirdly large amount of red-haired men.

They're both huddled over his phone when Antonio slipped out to get them some more drinks and someone else slid into the space next to Arthur. He smiled when Alfred wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him closer. Francis, who was leaning heavily against Arthur, got jostled in the process and nearly spilled his wine all over Arthur's phone.

"Ugh! You're not allowed to steal him from me." Francis complained and Arthur felt Alfred's chest rumble with laughter before he heard it.

"You've had him for long enough Frenchy." Alfred said teasingly and Francis wobbled his eyebrows, leaning in with puckered lips towards Arthur. Alfred raised an arm to stop Francis with a hand to his chest and Arthur rolled his eyes fondly.

"So possessive." Francis lamented. He dodged Alfred's arm and instead grabbed the wine bottle, shaking it in their direction. "But you can only dream of being as close to Arthur as I am. I even know the whereabouts of his tattoo!"

Arthur wrenched himself from Alfred's grasp, lunging at the Frenchman who, already aware of the danger, rapidly glided over to Gilbert for protection. "Snitches get stitches." He threatened as he pinched Francis' side harshly, smirking when Francis yelped. Gilbert dramatically threw his arms around his friend to pull him closer and away from Arthur's reach.

"What the f*ck is going on?" Romano said flatly when he returned with Antonio in tow, the latter carrying a new plate of drinks. It's a sufficient distraction and Arthur reluctantly shuffled back, pointing two accusatory fingers in Francis' direction before accepting his glass from Antonio.

"Tattoo, huh?" Alfred then commented, and Arthur eyed him warily. His boyfriend's turned towards him, leaning back in a manner that tempted Arthur's eyes to droop down towards his spread legs, but he refused and instead stuck up his nose.

"I can neither deny nor confirm what you have just heard."

"Oh, I'll find out sooner or later."

"That very much depends on how many clothes you'll be able to rid me off."

Alfred's raised his eyebrows at the bold statement, before they glided down over Arthur's form slowly. The intense scrutiny makes Arthur's pulse quicken and he inadvertently rearranges his legs a bit.

The movement caught Alfred's attention and he smirked, raising an arm to lean his elbow on the table. Arthur couldn't help but fixate on the way the fabric of Alfred's shirt tighten a bit around his bicep as he did so.

It wasn't fair, Arthur decided. Alfred's already an attractive man, what with his lean physique, his boyish smiles and his sky-blue eyes. But he also has a habit of dressing smartly whenever he had to attend classes or college-related events, and Arthur was absolutely infatuated with it.

The two top buttons of Alfred's light blue button-up shirt (which matched his eyes fantastically if Arthur did say so himself) were undone and Arthur was struck with the desire to see him with a tie. "Do you own a tie?" He asked, unaware that the thought slipped out of his mouth as a question. Alfred co*cked his head, a bit confused. "Never mind."

Suddenly he wished for summer; Alfred would probably wear less clothing in summer. Or at least he would wear short sleeves. He realized with great sadness that he hasn't properly seen Alfred in anything less than autumn and winter wear yet.

Feeling his thoughts becoming a little too cloudy with the way Alfred was staring back at him, Arthur abruptly turned, figuring that if he bothered Francis for a while he would cool down quickly enough.

"Found the bugger yet?" Arthur asked, seeing Francis is still looking at his phone. But when he leaned in he didn't see the Facebook list from before, but an open chat with Matthew instead. There were a lot of eggplant emojis and a lot of question marks. "Son of a- give that here, you delinquent."

He wrestled his phone back from Francis and checked to survey the damage. Matthew's last text was asking if this was actually Francis instead of Arthur and at least that meant one crisis was averted. He sighed and replied to his latest text and Matthew sent a few laughing emojis in return. Arthur pocketed the damned thing again and turned to properly explain to a highly amused Alfred what just happened.

"Oh, I've learned not to accidentally grab Mattie's phone." Alfred said when he's done. "His poor attempts at sexting will forever be burned on my retina."

Arthur snorted with laughter, before realizing it sounded rather unattractively and slapping a hand to his mouth. Alfred grinned and raised his bottle to take a sip, giving Arthur the perfect chance for an interception.

He reached out to grab Alfred's wrist, guiding the hand with the bottle towards himself. His eyes stayed fixed on Alfred's as he tilted the bottle and took a sip. Then he released it and pushed Alfred's hand back, licking his lips thoughtfully and briefly tugging his lower lip between his teeth.

It was a perfectly ordinary thing to do after taking a drink, but the way Alfred was eyeing him over the rim of his glasses was less so. Arthur wanted to rip the spectacles from his face and snog him senseless, but instead smiled innocently.

He's very aware that if he was going to continue down this path, either of them was going to snap sooner rather than later. And the idea thrilled him down to his bones. He wondered if he could get away with luring Alfred to the toilets unseen.

Then Alfred smiled, a bit cheekily, and he nonchalantly took a sip himself before asking: "Are you hungry? If you want you can come over later to eat what my mom made."

"What do you- oh," Arthur halted, hoping he comes across as horribly unimpressed. "That's positively awful. I think we need to break up, actually."

"Wait, I got more." Alfred continued, not fazed at all. The idea that Alfred memorized sh*tty one-liners was a hilarious one and Arthur allowed a smile to slip onto his face. "I just finished a book I know you'll love. You should come over to pick it up."

"I highly doubt you own a book I don't know already."

"All right, how about: Are you a singularity? The closer you are to me, the faster time seems to slip by."

"That one might've worked had I been your actual classmate."

"It did work on a classmate, once." Alfred teased, winking when Arthur frowned at him. "Wait, I got a teacher one: If you were my homework, I'd want to do you every night."

He rolled his eyes, having heard that one and every variation on it at least ten times already in the past year. "That all you got, then?"

Alfred smirked again and shrugged. "You're so beautiful that I forgot the rest."

"Where's your off-button?" Arthur groaned, knowing he's blushing. He had to admit that last one was smooth - mostly because he's not used to being called beautiful of all things.

"Right under my nose and above my chin." Arthur snorted, knowing Alfred probably thought he's very clever. So he leaned in for a kiss, resisting another laugh when Alfred wasted no time licking at his lips. He tauntingly refused to open them, placing a hand on Alfred's chest to push him away.

Alfred went willingly, but did reach out to wrap an arm around him again. Arthur relaxed against his side when Alfred's fingers automatically started playing with the edges of his jumper, rucking the fabric up a bit to brush against Arthur's bare skin.

He wasn't sure where the night's going to end, but Arthur knew Alfred was thinking about the same thing, and anticipation built in his chest so strongly that he decided to lay off the flirting for the rest of the night lest he does something indecent.

A little after midnight they decided to call it a night. Gilbert and Francis piled into the back of Alfred's car, both of them attempting to sing something Arthur couldn't even begin to recognize with how off-key it is. He sat himself on the passengers seat and took a few deep breaths to settle himself.

Alfred took a long while to get himself settled as well, and Arthur knew its for his benefit. Then Alfred started the engine and he was shaken from his thoughts, forcing himself to relax when Alfred reached over to squeeze his hand. He felt Alfred's thumb rubbing on the dorsal of his hand and had to admit it does help him calm down, even though Arthur never imagined himself to be the kind of person who could calm down through touch.

He staid silent for the entire ride, focusing on the inharmonious singing behind him. They stop briefly at Gilbert's apartment, the man thanking them for their service before hastily disappearing inside. At the campus, they're greeted by Matthew, who apparently had been texted again and Arthur wondered how and when Francis had managed to embezzle his phone back.

Matthew disappeared towards his apartment with his boyfriend in tow and suddenly Arthur was hyper-aware that he's been left alone with his own. And judging by how Alfred is staring at him, he's aware of it too.

It's perfect. They're alone, his own apartment will be empty all night and it's the weekend. Excitement buzzes underneath his skin so violently that he feels as if his knees are going to wobble.

"I think I want to go to bed." He said, because he's not about to outright proposition Alfred.

"Aw," Alfred replied, pouting. "Are you tired?"

Arthur swallowed down exasperated laughter, not expecting the obvious hint to fly over Alfred's head like that. "No, I don't want to sleep."

He held Alfred's eyes, delighted to see Alfred's expression morph from confusion to realization to something exciting (f*cking finally). Alfred donned a boyish grin and sauntered over to him. "Then I think it's only fair that I walk you home, yeah?"

"I should think so, yes."

Arthur felt giddy when they hurry towards his building and up to his floor, their silence very telling. They stop in front of the door and Arthur quickly located his keys, swinging the door open. Both of them remain outside, eyes locked on each other.

"So, uh," Alfred said, promptly looking a bit unsure. Arthur bit his lip, feeling his usually sturdy patience wither a bit. "need me to check for any monsters?"

"Oh, yes please." He said innocently. "You should check the bed and also the couch and table. Anything horizontal, really. You can never be too sure."

A short huff of air left Alfred, his brief insecurity dissipating as quickly as it appeared. "Sounds like I gotta be thorough."

"I've got all night." Arthur said, reaching out to trace a hand on Alfred's bicep. Alfred gave in first and their lips collided messily, heated in a way that made Arthur want to burst out of his skin.

They kissed like they don't have any more time to waste and Alfred nudged him over the threshold quickly, effortlessly kicking the door shut behind him. They hastily removed each others jackets and then Alfred's hands found the edges of Arthur's jumper, pushing the fabric up so he can run his cold hands over Arthur's bare skin. He moaned into Alfred's mouth, reaching up to delve a hand into Alfred's hair, using the other to grab Alfred's bicep so tightly he imagined he might leave bruises.

He gladly allowed Alfred to manhandle him through the apartment and when they briefly parted, he couldn't prevent the noise of complaints that slipped out of him. Alfred smirked and nudged Arthur backward until his back hit his bedroom door. "Better start in there, I reckon."

Arthur forcefully tugged him back down as he said it, using the advantage of Alfred's moving lips to slip his tongue back in. He reached behind him to open the door, stumbling backwards the moment it swung open.

Fortunately Alfred's hold on him was tight enough that he didn't actually trip and fall, but their kiss broke again in the process and Alfred trailed his lips down to his chin, his jaw and finally his neck. His hands lowered to grab his ass and Arthur will never admit to the embarrassing sound that left him when Alfred squeezed and pulled him flush against himself.

In retaliation he tugged at Alfred's hair rather harshly, pleased when Alfred hummed approvingly. He tugged again, forcing Alfred's head back up and continuing his earlier exploration of his mouth.

They bumped into a side-table and the contents on it rattled dangerously, but nothing fell. Arthur used the distraction to push himself away, feeling his head get cloudy with arousal. Alfred let him, eyes dark as they follow him like a hawk. Arthur breathed in deeply, and calmly reached out to unbutton Alfred's shirt. He quite liked the fit of this shirt, so he wasn't going to rip it off like some animal.

It's a miracle his fingers didn't shake, because Arthur felt as if he was on fire with the way Alfred's looking down at him. He finally undid all the buttons and then he was greeted with an eyeful of deliciously lean, tanned and most importantly, bare skin. He shoved the fabric of off Alfred's shoulders before running his hands back to his chest, fingers tracing the skin appreciatively.

Maybe he stared for a bit too long, because Alfred chuckled and flexed and Arthur abruptly snapped out of it to roll his eyes. "Show-off."

"Don't be jealous, babe."

"I'm way too horny to be self-conscious."

"Good, because I was about to wax poetic about how amazing your ass looks in those jeans."

Arthur smirked and removed his hands from Alfred to remove his own jumper, throwing it to the side carelessly. Then he started walking backwards, towards where he knew his bed is.

"And they're not even my best pair."

Alfred's still where he left him, eyeing him with a predatory leer that made Arthur's pulse quicken. "And I bet you look even better with them off."

He felt the back of his knees hit the bed and sat down it slowly. His eyes inadvertently glanced down Alfred's form and he couldn't help but bite his lip when he noticed the considerable bulge in his jeans. Not that he was any better. "Are you going to stay there and watch?"

Alfred's apparently been mesmerized by something too because he blinked and grinned wryly. "Maybe some other time."

The implication of that punched an appreciative sound out of him, and he grinned when Alfred stalked over to him, climbing on the bed as well and shoving him down on it. But he wasn't interested in being below him for the moment so Arthur pushed and shoved until Alfred's lying down on it and he's sitting on top of him.

Before doing anything else, he reached out to remove Alfred's glasses, dropping them on his night stand. He knew Alfred could still see him without them, though his sight might be a bit fuzzy. He sat back to map out that which he had dreamed about way too often for it to be normal, and ran his hands over Alfred's chest and abdomen while simultaneously imagining using a blindfold on Alfred someday to really impede his vision.

"You can take a picture."

"Narcissistic twat." Arthur said fondly. Alfred's not overly muscled, but he's lean and there's a hint of a six-pack. But there's a time and place to properly ogle his boyfriend and Arthur decided that right now isn't it.

Alfred's already tugged him down roughly too, claiming his lips again in a messy and open-mouthed kiss. Arthur's not interested in battling for dominance with him and instead shuffled to find a more optimal position, grinding down once he found it. The feeling of Alfred's obvious hard-on against his own had warmth pooling low in his belly and so he did it again.

He swallowed Alfred's groan, feeling the other's hands end up on his ass again. He slipped his own hand in between them to fiddle with Alfred's zipper and all of a sudden Alfred hesitated, causing Arthur to frown and abruptly sit back up. He looked down at him with concern and wondered if he had somehow misread something.

"Do you not want to-"

"No, no, that's not it." Thank god. Arthur would've had the worst case of blue balls in history.

"Then what is it?"

Alfred looked hesitant for a second, as if he was contemplating whether or not he should lie about what he was thinking. Fortunately Arthur knew his tells and he was glad when he didn't see them. "Okay, so, this is really lame, but I had a whole thing planned out, you know? I don't even know why."

Arthur frowned. He sat a bit straighter and Alfred's hand tighten on his hips, as if prohibiting him from leaving. At least that boded well, so he made himself comfortable and wriggled a bit on Alfred's lap again, smirking when it beat a breathy moan out of the other.

"We can stop and wait for your thing, if that's what you want." Arthur absolutely did not want to stop, but he also didn't want to make Alfred feel he had to do something he didn't want to do.

Alfred shook his head frantically. "No, no, no, we can definitely do it now. My thing can wait."

Arthur nodded and slowly started grinding his hips downwards again, making a little circle.

"What about between now and then? Unless you have a strip card with a limit I wasn't aware of."

His tease worked and Alfred's back to grinning again, determination shining in his eyes.

"I was actually thinking about getting a subscription." Alfred replied, and he laughed when Alfred tugged him down to slide their lips together again.

He used the distraction to slip his hand back towards Alfred's jeans, palming at the bulge straining the fabric there and nipping at Alfred's lower lip when he moaned. Suddenly he's struck with the overwhelming desire to taste, and so he abruptly sat up and shuffled backwards, entertained with how Alfred tried to pull him back. He managed to stay put, using his position on top in his favor, but Alfred managed to keep him from moving back any further.

"Come back." Alfred complained and Arthur swatted at his hands on his hips.

"No, and I promise you'll like what I'm going to do, so let me go."

"I already liked what you were doing, so you're going to have to be more specific." Alfred said then and Arthur rolled his eyes, forcing down the wave of affection washing over him as his dick reminded him that there's no time for mushy distractions.

"Trust me, I picked up plenty of skills at the all-boys boarding school."

The insinuation didn't fly over Alfred's head and Arthur watched with great amusem*nt as his mouth forms an 'o' before closing again. Arthur waited patiently, giving him time to collect himself.

"That's... Hmm. All right then."

"I'm glad you approve."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "I haven't approved of anything yet. How about you show me one of these skills first?"

And just like that, the amusem*nt that came with their bickering was again replaced with the almost unbearable excitement from seconds before. Alfred's eyes are dilated and dark with desire and Arthur shivered, goosebumps rising on his skin.

He leaned down to drag his tongue on the skin below Alfred's belly button, fingers undoing Alfred's zipper. Alfred eagerly lifted his hips when Arthur dragged his jeans down, maneuvering out of the way a bit so he can yank the entire thing off and toss it on the floor. There's a significant tent in his boxers and Arthur wasn't ashamed to admit the sight turned him on something awful.

The thing is: he's always liked sucking co*ck. He liked the feeling of power that comes with it, liked how he could unravel someone with just his mouth. He's not a huge fan of the actual taste, but that could easily be overlooked. He decided not to waste precious time and promptly rid Alfred of his boxers too, his co*ck jumping free with a little bounce. Arthur took a moment to appreciate the view; it might just be his lovesick mind talking, but in that moment he was sure that Alfred's dick had to be the nicest one he has ever seen. It could've also be the horny part of his brain that's talking.

Before his appreciation could be mistaken for scrutiny, he leaned back down to nuzzle Alfred's hip. He made sure Alfred is still watching him when he laved his tongue against the base of his co*ck. Alfred cursed loudly and threw his head back and Arthur moved up to suck at the head, tonguing at the slit before finally moving down to take as much as he can.

Alfred's hips jerked forward and he almost choked, but it only managed to turn him on more. Arousal clouded Arthur's thoughts then and he felt high as he finally got to live out a fantasy that's been plaguing him for a few weeks now - he felt even higher when he realized he's going to have plenty more opportunities to do so.

"Fuuuuuck- Arthur," Alfred moaned and Arthur shuffled a bit so he could trap one of Alfred's legs between his own, shamelessly rutting against it like some kind of animal.

Then he lowered a hand from Alfred's hip to cup his balls instead, squeezing just the tiniest bit, relishing in the way Alfred grunts and how his dick twitched inside his mouth. He drew back slowly, licking along Alfred's co*ck as he went, hollowing his cheeks.

His own jeans are getting unbearably tight, and he ground down harder against Alfred's leg, moaning appreciatively when Alfred pushed it back up against him. Alfred's alternating pants and moans with his name and he responded with just the tiniest scrape of his teeth.

"sh*t-" Alfred cursed and reached out towards Arthur's head, fingers finding a hold on his hair. His grip was tight enough to be a little uncomfortable, but Arthur felt arousal shoot through his spine again all the same.

Whether intentional or not, Alfred started pushing and pulling at his head and Arthur gladly let him, relaxing his throat to the best of his ability and blocking that what he couldn't actually take with a hand.

He wasn't sure how much time passed when Alfred finally managed to say something other than his name or a curse. "Arthur, I'm- ah, I'm going-"

As much as Arthur wanted him to fall apart and as much as Arthur wanted to have him come in his mouth; he wanted something else more.

So he reluctantly removed himself and tightened a hand around the base of Alfred's co*ck, watching how Alfred suddenly froze and groaned at being refused his release. He waited a few agonizingly long seconds for Alfred to get his bearings before releasing him and tracing his fingers up Alfred's abdomen.

"You're cruel." Alfred wheezed and Arthur laughed. He straightened and moved away from Alfred for a moment so that he could undo his own jeans, enjoying the appreciative noise Alfred made when he finally shoved them down and tossed them elsewhere.

He knelt back between Alfred's open legs and fixed his eyes on Alfred's blue ones. "I've fantasized way too much about having you inside me to let you off this easily."

It's fascinating to see Alfred's eyes dilate even more, the blue only barely visible now. Arthur was still basking in the relief that Alfred's on board with the idea of Arthur being the bottom, when Alfred surged up to kiss him roughly, tongue laving against his own messily.

Before he knew it, they're turned around and he's pushed back on the mattress. Alfred wasted no time in ripping his briefs away, encircling his somewhat neglected co*ck in a warm, large hand.

"I thought about that too, a lot." Alfred said against his skin, voice darker than Arthur was used to. He's about to comment on it when he felt a thumb swipe over the head of his co*ck, dragging a little and he jolted with pleasure. "I thought about what I could do with you on your back."

Arthur immediately decided he didn't mind that even in bed Alfred seemed to be a talker. He tilted his head as Alfred moved back to his neck, which was apparently becoming a favorite place of his (not that Arthur's going to complain). He was very aware of the hickey Alfred was about to leave and decided he couldn't care less.

Alfred leaned up to survey his work with a satisfied hum, before leaning over to rummage around in Arthur's night stand. Arthur's a bit miffed that apparently he didn't even need to explain where the condoms and lube would be, but forgot all about it when Alfred managed to find the items and returned to hover over him.

"Turn around." Alfred said, and Arthur frowned.

"But I want to see you."

Alfred grinned and kissed him briefly, before tapping his thigh. "Yeah, me too, but right now I want you to turn around."

He harrumphed but conceded, choosing to pick his battles. It took a bit of maneuvering since Alfred was unwilling to give him enough space, but eventually he's on his front and he wriggled his hips upwards teasingly.

Alfred retaliated with pinching his left cheek and then horror washed over him when Alfred exclaimed; "Found it!"

"Bugger off, you twat." He sneered, struggling to turn back around so that he could hide the inked illustration of a six-string guitar. Alfred laughed and pressed a hand on his back, pinning him flat against the bed.

"Did it hurt?" Alfred asked then, sounding innocent even though he's grinding his co*ck against Arthur's ass. Arthur's embarrassment was replaced by white-hot arousal once more. "I'm a bit jealous of the dude that got to put it there, though."

"Not-" He started, halting to take a breath when his voice came out a bit higher than he wanted. "Not a dude. And it stung like a bitch."

"Good." Alfred whispered into his neck, biting at the bruise he left there earlier and Arthur moans.

He's glad Alfred was seemingly calm enough to properly open the bottle of lube and squeeze some of its contents onto his fingers, because if it were up to Arthur he'd already be filled with at least two fingers right now and that would've probably hurt in the morning. He waited impatiently as Alfred rubbed his fingers together, his other hand massaging the tattooed skin of his ass firmly.

"Don't move." Alfred said matter-of-factly and Arthur unwillingly felt himself freeze. Alfred seemed a bit surprised too, judging by his sudden silence. But he didn't comment on it and then Arthur felt the pressure of a finger against his entrance.

It's been a while since anyone stuck anything in there, and so Arthur had to take a moment to force himself to relax, biting down onto the pillow underneath him to distract himself. Alfred's sucking another bruise on his shoulder, and the sting was a wonderful distraction.

He wriggled his hips a bit when Alfred eventually adds a second finger. "You're so tight." Alfred murmured and Arthur wanted to tell him that sounds like something out of a bad p*rn, but all that left his mouth is a pathetically wanton moan. "I bet you'll feel so good around my co*ck."

Jesus. Apparently he was discovering some things about himself.

"H- Hurry up already." He growled in between moans, wriggling his hips to get Alfred to hurry up. Alfred pinned him down with a hand, but he did add a third finger upon his request. Then he brushed against something inside of him and he honest-to-God whined.

"That's it baby," Alfred said, amusem*nt recognizable in his voice when Arthur hid his face in his pillow to smother his sounds. He thrashed his head sideways again when he realized the action would cut off his oxygen. "Not so prim and proper now, are you? Should've known you'd be noisy."

"And I should've known you'd talk my head off." Arthur growled then, deciding his embarrassment to be a lost cause and pushing his hips up insistently. "Get on with it!"

"So bossy." Alfred laughed, curling his fingers again and Arthur's back to writhing. He had no idea how much time passed when Alfred finally let up and removed his fingers.

Arthur wrestled himself on his back again, reaching up to shove or pull at the same time when suddenly his wrist was grabbed and pinned back to the mattress roughly. He glared upwards fiercely.

Alfred's eyes raked over him hungrily. "Look at you," He said, and it sounded so much like praise that Arthur felt his body automatically respond positively. He's aware of what he looked like; he's been unfortunately blessed with skin that blotches red here and there when aroused. "You look like you wanna ruin my life."

"You get off on that?" He countered and Alfred shrugged nonchalantly.

"It's really hot." He quipped, moving back to kiss him harshly and wetly. Arthur felt lightheaded, lips stinging and he imagined they would still be swollen in the morning.

Alfred released his arm and then he heard the sound of the condom packet ripping open. His legs spread automatically and he felt his breath become uneven with anticipation.

Alfred's close to him when he felt the head of his co*ck push at his entrance, and so Arthur wrapped his arms around his neck to pull him down and hide his face in his neck. The stretch burned and stung and hurt, but Arthur knew to ignore the pain, knew it will turn into a pleasant and burning ache in no time.

"God, you feel so f*cking good. Taking me like you were made for it."

He's not sure if its because of the stretch or because of the filth that came out of his boyfriend's mouth, but Arthur moaned in a way not unlike a sob. Alfred slipped a little, suddenly pushing in a bit faster, and he winced, forcing himself to relax.

"That's right, you can take it, can't you?"

"sh*t, Alfred-" He's panting by the time Alfred was finally all the way in. Alfred stilled and Arthur wriggled a little to get more comfortable. The movement caused Alfred's hips to stutter slightly and Arthur cursed, throwing his head back. He feels so f*cking full and how has he ever gone a day without this experience?

f*ck, he just knows Alfred's going to absolutely ruin him for anyone else. He moved his fingers down Alfred's back, nails digging into the skin, and willed his muscles to adjust quicker. It helped when one of Alfred's hands disappeared between them again and wrapped around his co*ck.

He couldn't be arsed to remember if it's true or not; but right now he believed with all his heart that Alfred's dick's had to be the best and biggest and nicest he's ever had the pleasure of feeling inside of him. Alfred groaned and he wondered if he said that last part out loud, but then again; he couldn't be arsed.

"Move, move, move-" He grit out eventually and Alfred wasted no time sliding back out of him until only the tips remained. He hoped he'd slam back in, but instead he slid forward again agonizingly slow. He waited until Alfred's back in fully and quickly wrapped his legs around his waist, allowing a new angle that got Alfred's co*ck deeper inside of him. At least this way he could force him back faster.

"sh*t," Alfred sounded gutted and Arthur quickly raised an arm so that he could bite down on his fist, blocking the awfully noisy moan he knew was going to escape him if he didn't. But then Alfred's hand left his own weeping co*ck and grabbed his arm to force it away from his mouth, pinning it to the bed again.

"There's no one here baby, let me hear you. You sound so pretty."

"Fuuuuu-" his moan was cut off when Alfred slid out and back in faster than before. He could use his other hand to block any sounds, but he lowered it down to his own dick instead, grabbing it in a tight hold at the base. He' was going to drag this out for as long as he could, damn it.

Alfred's grip on his wrist tightened to the point of it being a bit painful, and Arthur guessed Alfred's not aware of it, but like hell if he was going to mention it. He gasped and listened to Alfred hissing his name again and again and again -

"I've wanted to do this all night." Alfred said then and Arthur opened his eyes, forced them to focus on Alfred's own. Alfred's eyes were a bit unfocused, his pupils horribly dilated and Arthur committed the sight to memory. "You and your teasing. I should've just dragged you away, maybe I could've bent you over in the car right then and there."

He slammed back into him and Arthur wished he could be talkative too, wished he had something witty to say in response: maybe tell him he should've done just that, or ask him why he took so long if he's thought about it too, but his mind was way too clouded with pleasure.

The only noise that left his mouth was a choked sob. Alfred didn't seem to mind and leaned down to kiss him, licking into his mouth. Arthur evened the score by biting on his lower lip meanly, but it only led to Alfred setting a quicker and rougher pace.

In the end, it's over quicker than Arthur had hoped. To be fair, he had been frustrated for weeks and the entire evening before this had felt like foreplay, so when he felt the telltale heat rapidly surge in his belly he decided not to fight it anymore. He tugged at his co*ck roughly a few more times before he allowed the white-hot pleasure to overtake him.

Ironically enough he came almost silently, with just a sharp intake of his breath. Alfred moaned, sounding almost hurt when Arthur inadvertently clenched around him, and his pace became erratic.

"f*ck, Arthur, babe, that's so good, you're so good-" Alfred's groaning into his ear and he reached up to tangle his hands in Alfred's hair, pulling him down in a much sweeter kiss than the ones they shared earlier.

It did the trick and Alfred's hips stuttered as he started coming apart as well. Eventually he buried himself deep one more time and he stilled, breaking from the kiss to hide his face in Arthur's neck.

They remain quiet for a while, both of them regaining their composure. Alfred started to pepper his neck with small, light kisses, distracting Arthur from the weird sensation of him sliding out.

"Wait here," Alfred then said, giving him a proper kiss before climbing off the bed. Arthur refused to open his eyes, basking in the afterglow of what had to be the best lay he's ever had (again; he couldn't be arsed if it's exaggerated or not).

He heard Alfred return and then there was a cold, wet washcloth dragged against his stomach. He winced, opening his eyes to glare at Alfred, who smiled mischievously. "Not my fault the water takes forever to heat up."

"You've got quite a mouth on you," Arthur muttered instead and he felt Alfred hesitate for a moment.

"I, uh, was it too much? I know I can be too much." Arthur frowned, disliking the way Alfred said that. So he swatted his hand away from his stomach and grabbed his shoulder, pulling until Alfred understood what he wanted and crawled back onto the bed with him. With a sigh he curled against him, soaking in the heat that radiated from Alfred's bare skin.

"I said no such thing." He grumbled sleepily, pushing his cheek against Alfred's chest and tangling their legs. "You must be blind if you didn't see how it drove me insane."

Alfred laughed, insecurity draining from his voice again. Arthur smiled when he felt an arm wrapped around him, holding him comfortably. "Well, you did remove my glasses. Everything was a bit blurry."

"You managed just fine." Arthur reminded him and Alfred's fingers danced on the tattooed skin on his behind. He felt his face heat up a bit, but swallowed down any embarrassment. "I lost a bet. Let's never mention it again."

"It's a guitar, right? I thought I heard you had a bit of punk phase in your teens." Arthur groaned; of course Alfred would know about that. "I would've had such a crush on you then, by the way."

"And I would've absolutely bullied you, you nerd." Alfred's chest rumbled with laughter and Arthur hugged him tighter.

Comforted by the other's warmth and breathing, Arthur melted against him, allowing the fidgeting of Alfred's restless hands to slowly lull him to sleep.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

April has never been Arthur's favorite month of the year. The weather was dreadful more often than not, no matter where he was. Normally he would be swamped with assignments, this year he was swamped with working on his thesis.

And of course there was his birthday. A day that he wouldn't celebrate at all, were it not for Francis' yearly persistence and pouting.

At least it had become very clear over the years that big celebrations would only aggravate Arthur, so Francis only subjected him to relatively small gatherings, attended by people who thankfully didn't make a big fuss.

Still, he waited a moment outside his apartment when he heard the commotion inside. Even through the closed door he could hear Gilbert bickering with Alfred, and while he was dreading the inevitable moment where he, however briefly, would be the center of the attention, he was also looking forward to seeing his friends.

And perhaps he was most looking forward to properly see Alfred again. Both of them had been busy with the end of the year approaching, but whereas Arthur had managed to make room for free time, Alfred had been pulling all-nighter after all-nighter.

He would argue that Alfred should divide his time more efficiently, but Arthur knew that he couldn't possibly do better than Alfred, exceptional time management or not. His only point of reference was the work Alfred did when they studied together, and if that was just Alfred's regular workload... well, he wasn't about to give unwarranted advice.

It didn't help that Alfred was also determined and a perfectionist. It was one of his more charming qualities, but it meant Arthur had seen very little of him the past month.

Which he could definitely understand from a rational point of view. He too was an adult with obligations, after all. But the emotional and temperamental part of Arthur whispered nasty little things to him, about how Alfred no longer wanted to spend time with him, succeeding in making him feel insecure and irritated.

He scowled and pushed those thoughts away. One thing was for certain: he missed Alfred something terrible and thus he was determined to soak up as much of his attention as he could for as long as it was possible.

He finally entered the apartment, immediately identifying the chaos as a rowdy board game. He slipped into the kitchen with a smile, hoping to inconpsicuously grab a drink before joining the others.

Inside it, Antonio was slaving over all kinds of snacks, as he was wont to do whenever they gathered at someone's home instead of at a bar. Predictably, Romano was sitting nearby him, criticizing his every move while simultaneously chatting up Laura, an exchange student from Belgium that was added to their group a few months earlier.

She was the first to spot him and smiled brightly at him, making grabby hands. He smiled back politely and walked over, allowing her to kiss him on his cheeks thrice. "Happy birthday, Arthur!"

"Thank you, dear."

Romano raised his bottle of beer towards Arthur. "Congrats, you're now one year closer to death."

"That's the spirit." Arthur replied, maneuvering around Antonio and grabbing a drink for himself. Once Antonio finished tending to the snacks he was putting in the oven, he crowded Arthur in a corner and enveloped him in a tight hug, smacking his lips against his cheeks wetly.

"Muchas felicidades!"

Arthur grimaced and shoved him away, wiping at his cheek. "Off me, you slobbering dog."

"Such blatant favoritism." Antonio pouted and Laura giggled behind them. "I'm poisoning your food."

"Wouldn't be able to tell, anyway."

Antonio mockingly glared at him and pushed around him to get to the fridge and Arthur smirked, moving towards the kitchen island to sample the wares that were already done. Antonio was actually a very good cook and everyone knew it, so he had no doubt the snacks would be amazing.

Gilbert stormed into the kitchen wearing a petulant expression, meaning he had probably lost whatever game they were playing. He perked up considerably at seeing Arthur though, and rushed over to envelop him into a hug before Arthur could react.

"The birthday boy! Arthur, you're growing up so fast." Gilbert bemoaned, squeezing him tightly. "It was just yesterday I found you and Frenchie on the curb... so lost, so afraid, so innocent and naive."

"It was us that found your sorry ass, Gilbert."

"No, I think your memory is failing you, old man."

"You're older!"

"Let the man go and get me a beer, loser!" Elizaveta shouted from the living room, apparently having an extra set of eyes somewhere in the kitchen. Gilbert immediately let go and grabbed the beer out of Arthur's hands, winking and slapping his ass before rushing back to his girlfriend.

Arthur scowled and doubled back to the fridge to get another one, before quickly escaping into the hallway. He halted there for a moment, gathering his wit. Inevitably his eyes were drawn to the one and the only Kirkland family picture in the apartment. It sat on the wall, where it usually went unnoticed between all the other ornaments and pictures Francis had hung there.

Birthdays at home had always been a large affair. A seemingly endless amount of family members would visit to celebrate, and Arthur would usually disappear into the woods with a couple of his cousins, gallivanting about. Now he'll simply get a card and a phone call.

Movement behind him betrayed he was about to be assaulted again, and so he didn't startle when two arms wrapped around him from behind. Alfred rested his head on his shoulder and he relaxed, leaning back into his embrace.

"I was wondering when you'd show up. Missed you." Alfred mumbled while pressing his lips to his neck.

"My seminar ran late." And it had been an off-campus one too, which meant he had to wrestle through the evening rush of public transport afterwards too. "And we spoke this morning."

He had to resist a frown when he realized how spiteful he sounded; especially since their texting the last few days had been everything but satisfactory. If Alfred noticed it, he thankfully didn't mention it.

"Flirting with you over text is fun, but it makes it kinda hard for me to kiss you." He accentuated his words with a kiss to his temple and Arthur sighed, turning around to greet him with a proper one.

"I missed you too." He murmured, knowing Alfred heard it judging by the squeeze on his waist.

He took a second to appraise his boyfriend. There was the slightest hint of dark circles around his eyes, but otherwise he seemed as chipper as ever. Alfred was smiling at him in that sincere sort of way that had Arthur's mood brighten a bit.

Then Alfred leaned forward for another kiss and whispered into his ear: "So I know you don't really wanna celebrate your b-day, and if you wanna, I can secretly whisk you away to an undisclosed location. We could watch some Netflix, eat some take-out, I'll blow your back out, the usual."

Arthur, who had been nodding along to the admittedly wonderful ideas, froze and felt his face heat up at the casual way Alfred propositioned him in an apartment full of their friends.

Alfred grinned mischievously, not feeling called to stop. "I could even dress up as a plumber, since it got you so horny the other day."

Now he was certain his face was bright red. Earlier this month, his kitchen sink had clogged up (the result of his cooking skills) and Alfred had kindly showed up to fix it for him. Arthur had been horribly distracted by his boyfriend showing how proficient he was in something Arthur was not, not to mention the tight shirt Alfred had been wearing that stretched around his shoulders every time he moved.

Alfred, of course, noticed and had teased him mercilessly. Arthur had retaliated by pinning him in place underneath the sink and giving him an impromptu blowj*b.

"Alfred," Arthur warned, trying to weasel his way out of Alfred's sudden iron grip.

"And you could wear your pirate outfit. But only the coat and hat, maybe the boots." Arthur squirmed when Alfred's hand wandered down to his ass playfully. "No pants or shirt, though."

He squeezed his ass and tugged him forward and Arthur couldn't resist laughing, hiding his face in Alfred's neck. "Done a lot of fantasizing in my absence, then?"

"Whaddya mean, I'm fantasizing right now."

"You're a hopeless trollop."

"I don't know what that means, captain."

"It means you're like a dog with two dicks."

"Now you're just making things up." Alfred chastised and Arthur interrupted whatever he was going to say next by slanting their lips together in a brief kiss.

Then he pulled back, satisfied that Alfred tried to follow him. But he wasn't about to make out with his boyfriend in an apartment full of his friends, no matter how long they hadn't seen each other, so he swiftly escaped his hold.

Alfred left for the kitchen as he went to the living room, where friendly chaos erupted for a few seconds. He quickly sat down next to Elizaveta at the table, smiling agreeably to the chorus of congratulations but eternally glad when everyone eventually went back to their conversations.

Elizaveta immediately wrestled herself underneath his arm, cuddling up close to him and sticking out her tongue to Gilbert and Roderich opposite of the table. Arthur played along, pulling her closer to him and allowing her to throw her legs over his lap.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart."

"Thank you, doll."

"It's been too long since we hung out." She pouted, reaching out to brush some strands of his hair out of the way. "Please have a sleepover with me next weekend."

"Only if we order pizza and watch reruns of The Great British Baking Show."

"Deal." They clinked their bottles together. "Gil and Rode will be gone, on one of their bonding trips." She said with a wobble of her eyebrows and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I don't need to know."

"They booked the entire weekend at a hotel with this sauna because Gil wants to try out this thing he saw on-"

"Liz, darling, apple of my eye, I do not need to know."

"What's this about the apple of your eye?" Alfred interrupted noisily, seating himself on the chair to Arthur's left. He slung an arm around his shoulder, pointing two fingers at Elizaveta. "Are you stealing my man?"

"Was he ever yours to begin with?" She countered, pinching Alfred's bicep. "But I'm willing to share."

Alfred pinched her calf in retaliation, causing her to yelp and pull her legs back from Arthur's lap. "Well, I'm not."

"Then you're not invited to our sleepover. Which is a shame, because we're going to braid each other's hair and gossip about our lovers."

"I'm intrigued. Tell me more."

Arthur groaned and used both of his arms to push both Alfred and Elizaveta away from him. "If you want to gossip about my sex life, at least do it somewhere I can't hear you."

Alfred laughed and ducked underneath his arm to crowd close to him again. "Aww baby, do you wanna talk about my sex life instead?"

"For your sake, I hope you're not having a sex life that I am unaware of."

"Merde, stop talking about your sex life." Francis moaned as he sat down opposite of them with bowls of snacks, which was a welcome distraction as both Alfred and Elizaveta leaned forward to stuff their face.

Arthur sighed fondly as the board game in front of him was cleared for a new game. He was content to sit it out though, as they had too many people to play. Instead he conspired with Elizaveta against Francis and Gilbert, and occasionally helped Alfred who was quickly turning out to be the grand loser.

Most of the evening went by uneventfully. Roderich's presence meant that Gilbert misbehaved significantly less than usual, and it was very entertaining to watch Romano flirt with Laura, in an attempt to get Antonio riled up but failing miserably because of Antonio's character.

The game inevitably stopped when Matthew arrived, and from then on they simply talked and drank. Gilbert tried to cajole people into playing a juvenile drinking game, which fortunately everyone refused.

Arthur sat back, leaning halfway into Alfred's side so that his boyfriend could fiddle with the fabric of his sweater. He'd been content just watching everyone, taking a careful note of how Matthew and Francis seemed a bit uncomfortable with each other.

Alfred's hand slipped underneath his sweater, and Arthur shuffled a bit to accommodate him better, but then the hand tried to worm underneath his jeans. Arthur immediately grabbed the hand and tugged it away, glaring at Alfred.

But Alfred looked a little odd. His pupils were a little dilated, his eyes a little unfocused, and his smile was a little too lopsided.

He almost... looked drunk?

That couldn't be possible. Alfred hardly ever drank, so how could he be drunk? Gilbert undeniably spiked some of the drinks, but so far Alfred had only been drinking out of cans.

"Are you drunk?" Arthur asked, because he could always be wrong.

"I don't drink." Alfred said happily, followed by a giggle. Arthur frowned again; Alfred never giggled, either. He'd either laugh loudly or chuckle lowly, but this sound was something foreign to Arthur.

Alfred leaned in to kiss him and Arthur leaned out of the way, pushing a hand against his chest to keep him at bay.

"Is he drunk?" Matthew suddenly asked, apparently having noticed his brother's weird antics.

At the other end of the table, Gilbert started laughing. "Nah, I bet those brownies are starting to kick in. He ate two of them in a row, haha!"

"What?" Arthur asked, feeling his confusion slowly turn into horror at the word brownies. He hadn't seen any brownies anywhere. "Brownies? What do you mean, brownies?"

"I had some leftover fun brownies from the 20th."

Oh. Oh no.

"Fun brownies." Arthur repeated, deadpan. He turned back towards Alfred and put his hands on his shoulder, holding him at arm's length. The room had quieted down, everyone listening in with anticipation. "Alfred, please tell me you didn't eat pot brownies."

"Gilbert said he had a lot of brownies, Artie. Not pot brownies. Though he didn't have a lot. I ate two." Alfred giggled and Arthur felt his eye twitch when he heard some people behind him gasp and hold in laughter.

"And you let him?!" Arthur whirled back towards Gilbert, letting Alfred slump against him.

"In my defense, I did say pot brownies. 's not my fault he misheard."

"Uh," Matthew sounded both amused and worried. "Alfred's never done drugs before, man. How strong were they?"

Gilbert was visibly trying to hold in his laughter and Arthur was about ready to attack him. "I don't think they're worse than my usual."

"Your usual is way too strong for someone who's never had them before." Francis mused then, still sipping casually from his glass of wine.

"Scheisse, this is gonna be fun." Gilbert laughed.

"I am going to kill you." Arthur threatened, abruptly shoving his chair back and standing up. Gilbert yelped and tumbled from his own chair to hide behind Roderich, who looked rather exasperated.

"Maybe he won't be effected by it very much." Elizaveta said hopefully. "It happens!"

Behind him Alfred giggled uncontrollably from where he's slumped over to lie halfway over Matthew on his other side. His brother looked torn between amusem*nt and exasperation.

"Arthur is sooooo mad you guys," Alfred whispered conspiratorially (read: exclaimed loudly). "Look at how angry his eyebrows are."

Francis choked on a sip of his wine, apparently not able to contain his laughter no matter how hard he tried. Arthur scowled and if he were within range, he would hit him on the head.

"He's so hot, right?" Alfred continued, crooning happily up at his brother. "So feisty. And all mine. I want to kiss him. Artie, I want to kiss you. On your-"

Matthew groaned and promptly shoved Alfred off his lap, causing him to tumble down to the ground in an uncoordinated heap. Alfred started giggling again, apparently finding all of this very amusing.

"All right," Arthur announced, ignoring the way his cheeks flushed red. "I think it's time I took him to bed. Party's over."

"Yeah, take me to bed, baby." Alfred jeered while the rest complained and muttered about their fun being cut short. Matthew, bless his heart, helped him out by dragging Alfred off the ground.

"Just get him into my room." He said, rubbing at his face. "I don't think it's a good idea to drag him halfway across campus in this state."

"But it would be fun. I could even film it." Matthew suggested, smiling innocently when Arthur glared at him.

As Matthew manhandled his brother towards Arthur's room, Arthur glared back at the rest of their company. "I want you to know I'm very disappointed."

Gilbert actually looked slightly distressed by that, he noted with satisfaction. Francis chuckled and raised his wine glass at Arthur. "I'll get to kicking everyone out, rosbif."

He grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen and headed into his room, where Matthew managed to dump Alfred onto the bed. Once Arthur entered, Alfred shot up and smiled as bright as a thousand suns. Arthur had to admit he felt a bit endeared.

"Text me if you need me to take him off your hands." Matthew then offered, and if Arthur wasn't distracted by his accidentally high boyfriend, he would've asked why he wasn't staying the night here with Francis.

But Matthew already left and Alfred smiled widely at him. "Did you know the Eiffel Tower grows taller in summer?"

"Does it now?" He replied, figuring he might as well indulge Alfred. He knelt down next to the bed and started undoing Alfred's shoes, tossing them out of the way.

"Yeah! It's because of thermal expression. Uh. Exposion. Wait, that's not..."

"Expansion?"

"That's the one! You're so smart." Alfred gushed adoringly before erupting into a fit of giggles again. "You looked so cute on the Eiffel Tower. With your hair all messed up. I took a screenshot of that vid-call, you know."

Arthur didn't know, actually. He frowned and looked up, but Alfred had flopped back down onto the bed and stared at the ceiling dreamily.

"I have so many screenshots." Alfred continued. "I made my own Arthur gallery. I look at it when I miss you. Or when I'm horny. I looked at it a lot this month. Oh! I want a picture of you in your pirate outfit. I never got a picture."

Arthur felt his face heat up again, but smiled fondly. He removed his own shoes and sat down at the edge of the bed, reaching out to run his hand through Alfred's hair soothingly. Then Alfred grabbed his hand and forcibly yanked him down onto the bed too, rolling them over so he was on top of him. He wasted no time to climb on top of him, hands disappearing underneath Arthur's shirt and grinding down against his hip.

For a very short second, Arthur entertained the idea of letting Alfred do whatever he wanted. But then he reminded himself that Alfred wasn't thinking clearly and, even though Alfred would probably want it sober too, decided that he'd feel too uncomfortable.

So he let out a deep breath and calmly took hold of Alfred's arms, guiding his hands away from him. "Down, boy."

Alfred giggled again and leaned down to nose at his neck, nipping at the skin teasingly. "But we haven't had sex in ages!"

He cringed at how loudly he exclaimed it. And even though he agreed, he wasn't about to remedy it.

"And we're not going to now." He said calmly, jabbing him harshly in the side and succeeding in rolling them over again. He sat on top of Alfred and looked down at him with a raised eyebrow when it became clear that Alfred didn't mind this position either.

"Aww. We don't need to go all the way, I just wanna touch you for a bit. Naked."

"Ask me again in the morning and we'll arrange something." He promised. Alfred harrumphed, but didn't resist when Arthur grabbed and removed his wandering hands again.

Eventually Arthur shuffled back on the bed a bit, sitting with his back against the wall and Alfred's feet in his lap. After a lot of uncontrollable giggling and some more attempts at seducing him, he managed to distract Alfred with a Disney movie on his tablet, which he was now watching with a childlike sort of wonder.

He rested his head against the wall and smiled fondly as he watched Alfred's expressions shift every minute or so. He remembered the first time he got high, remembered the carefree feeling that made him feel like he could conquer the world, right up until it turned into a bad trip for him. He'd never used anything after that, content with just getting sh*tfaced drunk if he wanted to let go a little.

Halfway through the movie Alfred complained about being hungry and, knowing how the munchies could get, Arthur ordered him to stay put and then left in search of something nutritious for him to eat.

The apartment was mostly empty by then. In the kitchen Antonio was still clearing away the dishes while softly talking with Francis. Both of them looked up and grinned when he entered, and Arthur shot them a glare which was meant to convey he didn't want to talk about it.

"Is he asleep yet?" Antonio asked, not unkindly.

"No, he's watching the Lion King."

Francis laughed quietly, hiding behind his still-present glass of wine. Arthur pursed his lips, wondering if his friend meant to get drunk even though the party was over.

"Where's Matthew?" He asked conversationally, aware of how Francis' expression turned sour.

"He's tied up with coursework and can't answer his every beck and call; so naturally Francis is convinced he no longer loves him." Antonio answered for him, ignoring Francis' betrayed glare.

"You're still on that?" Arthur sighed. He's lived through this conversation before.

Like Arthur, Francis thrived on attention and constant reassurance. But whereas Arthur needed it to prevent himself from spiraling into self-deprecation, Francis needed it to stay convinced and worse; entertained. It had been the cause of some of his break-ups, along with his penchant for the dramatic.

But at least Francis was very honest about his feelings (unlike himself) and since he knew Matthew was a kind person, he doubted Matthew was actually ignoring him as much as Francis claimed he was.

He shook his head and turned around to rummage through the kitchen for some yogurt and cereal, mixing it together in a bowl.

"You can just leave that, Antonio." Arthur then said, nodding to the dishes. "And Francis, grow up and go to Matthew's. It's a Friday night, so I doubt he's studying right now."

He didn't wait on either of them to answer him and returned to his bedroom, where Alfred was still enraptured by the adventures of Simba the lion. He passed him the bowl of cereal and Alfred took it with a bright smile, immediately beginning to stuff his face with it.

By the time the bowl was empty and the movie had ended, Arthur was beginning to feel pretty tired himself. Alfred had calmed down sufficiently enough to be content to be sprawled halfway across Arthur, who had lied down next to Alfred. The bed wasn't exactly large enough to comfortably fit two people, but whenever Alfred stayed the night, they usually slept close to each other anyway.

Alfred was playing with the edges of his shirt pensively, and when Arthur asked what he was thinking about, he was told to be quiet because he needed to concentrate. So he rolled his eyes and tried not to focus on how one of his legs was falling asleep. One of his hands ran through Alfred's hair systematically while he aimlessly browsed on his phone.

"Your shirt feels weird." Alfred mumbled, before starting a rant on a movie about singing dolphins and space travel. Arthur made an agreeable noise every so often, but had tuned him out after a few minutes because he could recognize when a high person was rambling for the fun of it.

Then Alfred fell silent and Arthur reached out to gently grab the glasses from his face, setting them down on the night stand along with his phone.

"I'm really tired." Alfred eventually whispered. "I hate that I'm so busy. I miss you. Makes me wanna quit."

For a terrifying second, Arthur convinced himself Alfred meant he wanted to quit them. But then he realized Alfred meant his education, and so he leaned forward to press his lips against the top of Alfred's head.

"You don't mean that. I know it's a lot, but you're doing great, dear. I can wait."

"You shouldn't have to wait. One day you won't wanna wait anymore." Alfred mumbled, and Arthur sighed, running his fingers up and down Alfred's back in a comforting gesture.

"Don't be silly."

Alfred hummed and turned to bury his face into Arthur's sweater. "You're my favorite person in the world."

Arthur, while positively endeared by the sentiment, also felt his insides clench uncomfortably. Alfred sounded ridiculous and very sincere. He also knew Alfred was only being this candid because he was as high as a kite. "Is that so?"

Alfred didn't reply, laying very still instead. For a moment Arthur thought he'd dozed off, but then Alfred sighed and buried his face deeper into Arthur's chest while mumbling three words that Arthur heard, but wished he hadn't.

By the time he was absolutely sure Alfred finally drifted off to sleep, Arthur managed to escape to have a proper panic attack in the bathroom.

A loud buzzing noise beneath his head startled Arthur awake. He frowned and blindly fumbled about until he found the source, realizing it was his phone. He smashed the off button quickly, hiding his face back under his arms.

It took him a few seconds to realize his back was hurting a bit, and then another second to realize why that was the case. He had fallen asleep on the couch in something between a sitting and lying position, body having bent in a slightly unnatural way when he slumped over against the arm rest.

He frowned and slowly re-positioned himself, peeking out from behind his arms. The curtains were still drawn and there was a sheet over him, one he hadn't put there himself when he sat down last night.

After he had managed to calm down from a slow and intense panic attack, he had tiptoed back into the living room. The idea of returning to the bed with Alfred and the possible confrontation it could bring had terrified him, so he had kept stalling and stalling until he inevitably fell asleep on the couch.

Alfred's words had echoed inside his head like an incessant mantra for hours; words he hasn't heard directed to him in literal years.

For a second he wondered if Francis had draped the blanket over him, but then he remembered Francis' room being empty when he went to the bathroom, meaning the git followed his advice and went over to Matthew's.

But that would mean Alfred had done so. He wondered if he'd been awake when Arthur had the panic attack or he just simply woke up earlier and found Arthur on the couch. He was probably upset too, thinking Arthur was pissed or something.

f*ck, had he already ruined this before it had even properly begun? And where was Alfred, if he was already awake? He frowned and felt the beginnings of another panic attack. He wasn't sure what idea was more terrifying - Alfred still being in the apartment, or him having left.

Then he heard footsteps and quickly sat up to see Alfred leaving the kitchen. He was fully dressed again, carrying a cup of tea in one hand. Upon seeing Arthur, Alfred smiled gently, but there was definitely something hesitant in his expression.

Arthur blinked blearily, debating just escaping into his bedroom to sleep some more, but instead turned to sit a bit more comfortably. Upon him not smiling back, Alfred's expression soured minimally, but he sat down next to him anyway.

Arthur took the cup of tea with a mumbled thanks, diverting his eyes to the cup when he realized Alfred was staring at him. He had no idea what to say, so he simply kept quiet, hoping Alfred would just do his thing and talk about something other than the elephant in the room.

But he didn't. "So, you slept on the couch..."

"I," Arthur started, trying his hardest not to frown. "I didn't want to wake you up after I went to the bathroom."

"You know I sleep like the dead." Alfred said non-accusingly and Arthur felt the corners of his lip twitch involuntarily; he did know that, actually. "Are you angry with me?"

"Why would I be?" Arthur asked, knowing he sounded as anxious as he felt. Alfred looked confused, and a bit hesitant still. Arthur distracted himself by taking a sip from his tea, noting with some amusem*nt that it was a tad too sweet.

"Cos of the brownies. Which I am never going to eat again, normal or not. But I kinda ruined your night, didn't I?"

"If anything, I'm angry with Gilbert for bringing them in the first place." Arthur said with a shake of his head. He took another sip and tried not to show how antsy he got when Alfred kept staring at him.

"But I did ruin your night." Alfred then repeated after a few seconds. "You look like someone who cried and fell asleep."

"I-" Arthur cleared his throat, trying to appear nonchalant. "I don't know what you're talking about. I just woke up."

Alfred pursed his lips and tilted his head a little, obviously not believing him. Arthur wondered how much Alfred remembered. Drugs didn't always work like alcohol did; there was a very, very big chance that Alfred remembered everything. And judging by his closed-off expression, Arthur feared he did.

But even though he knew they had to talk about it, he felt his chest become heavy, felt his lungs constrict a little which made it harder to breathe without getting nauseous.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't talk to Alfred about something like this; they hardly saw each other this month, how serious were they? Apparently not that serious, because otherwise Alfred would try to see him more often, but he hadn't, Alfred didn't care about seeing Arthur all that much and now he was trying to manipulate him by saying -

"Arthur, what's wrong?"

Alfred placed a hand on his shoulder and Arthur flinched away from him, shaking his shoulder and spilling the tea over his lap. He cursed and quickly put the cup on the coffee table, jumping up and tugging the fabric from his skin a little.

"sh*t, let me-"

"Don't touch me." Arthur snapped, feeling himself revert to his instinctual defense mechanism and unable to stop it. He rushed into the kitchen, ignoring Alfred's hurt expression, and quickly grabbed a cloth to wet and dab his jeans clean with. Alfred followed him, hovering nearby the kitchen island but not saying anything.

Arthur threw the cloth back into the sink and tried to steel himself, breathing in and out deeply and digging his nails into his palms.

"I did something stupid." Alfred said quietly, trying to go for apologetic, but it only fueled Arthur's ire.

Arthur whirled around and glared, finding it so easy to simply lash out. Lashing out felt comfortable, felt familiar, he knew what would happen when he lashed out. Everyone always left when he lashed out, nothing unexpected would happen.

"So you think it was stupid." He snapped. "Then why did you say it, if it was so stupid?"

Alfred frowned, ducking his head a little, probably to make himself less tall or threatening or whatever psychological bullsh*t he was trying to pull. "I think there's a wrong answer, and I don't want to give a wrong answer."

"Don't be daft, there's only one answer." He knew Alfred's tells, would know when he was lying, and if Alfred would lie to him, that meant -

"I probably wouldn't have said it if it wasn't for those brownies." Alfred admitted and Arthur realized it hurt even more to know Alfred was telling the truth. "I'm sorry."

Alfred hadn't meant it, he regretted saying it, he wanted to take the words back. It had simply been a spur of the moment thing, how could Arthur even think someone like him would say something like that to him of all people, what the hell was he thinking -

"Get out." Arthur heard himself say and he nearly winced when Alfred's expression turned from closed-off to surprised horror.

"What? No, wait, we should talk about this!"

"I don't want to!" Arthur snapped, rushing forward to push at Alfred's chest, but Alfred caught his arms and kept him in place tightly.

"Why are you so angry? I said I was sorry!"

"Let me go and get out of my apartment!"

"Arthur, what the hell? Talk to me for once!"

Arthur froze to glare up at Alfred, who immediately released him. "What the f*ck is that supposed to mean?"

"If I freak you out, you gotta communicate with me, Arthur! I'm not dumb, I know you avoid talking about yourself and your past and Francis told me-"

"Francis? Francis told you what?" Arthur couldn't believe it; had his best friend gone behind his back? The nerve of that asshole! "Who the f*ck do you think you are? You don't know me, you don't get to -"

"That's not true, I know you Arthur, but I-"

"No, no, you have no right." Even if it was just there for a second, Arthur saw the hurt look in Alfred's eyes. And he knew he was being immature and that he was being irrational, but his ears were pounding and his eyes were burning and his fingers were itching -

"For f*ck's sake, if it bothered you that much, fine, then I take it back."

Arthur couldn't help himself - he flinched back, glaring when Alfred's expression immediately turned to one of regret.

"Good. Now get out of my apartment."

"Arthur-"

"Get out!" Arthur snarled, shoving at him again. This time Alfred didn't fight him, allowing Arthur to push him towards the front door and then out of the door. Then he slammed the front door in his face, refusing to look at his expression.

Arthur sagged against the door and stared ahead of him in horror. What was he doing? Why was he doing this?

sh*t, he knew why. This had been a long time coming. This was why it never worked out with Tomás either. He didn't want to open up about what was bothering him, and eventually people would get tired of him, and they would leave and Arthur would have no one to blame but himself. Even Francis was apparently tired of him because why else would he go behind his back like that?

Arthur dug his nails into his palms harder, refusing to cry. He'd been through this before, he knows how to bounce back up from being abandoned, he'll just go on with life, complete his education, get a job, f*ck, he'll be f*cking fine -

His phone blared obnoxiously from the living room and, thankful for the potential distraction, Arthur rushed over to it to accept the call.

"Yes?"

"Hello, is this Arthur Kirkland?"

"It is, who is this?"

All the anger and panic Arthur had been feeling at that moment came to a harsh and sudden halt when the caller introduced himself as a doctor from the nearest hospital, leaving him vaguely numb.

"I'm calling on behalf of Francis Bonnefoy. You are listed as his emergency contact, yes?"

"I-" He cleared his throat hastily. "I am. What's wrong?"

"He's been brought in with a severe anaphylactic reaction. He's stable now, but if you could come in as soon as possible, that would be great."

"I'm on my way." He said, hanging up quickly. He stared at the wall for a moment, remembering the last time Francis suffered an allergy attack. He was severely allergic to cashew nuts and walnuts, but it'd been years since he had an attack bad enough to send him to a hospital. Which probably meant that he had never told Matthew about it, and therefore Matthew carried no extra Epipen on him, and Francis always only carried the one, which sometimes wasn't enough.

How was he going to get there, though? He couldn't call an Uber. Public transport would take ages. f*ck, he needed to hurry. He was still in the same clothes as the night before. He grabbed his wallet and hastily put on his shoes and coat.

When he tore the front door open again, he almost bumped straight into Alfred. For a second he forgot why he was hurrying in the first place; instead feeling immensely confused. Alfred hadn't left, but had been standing right where Arthur had left him when he slammed the door in his face.

Alfred looked serious though, turning his own phone towards him so that Arthur could see he's been texting Matthew.

"Come on, I'll drive."

If it weren't for the iv and monitor hooked up to Francis, Arthur would've bashed his head in. Not only because he went behind his back and said things to Alfred, but also because he kept whining.

"This is utter nonsense." Francis grumbled. "It was just a little attack."

"You're a bloody wanker and I hate you."

"So you've said before, rosbif. After so many years, it starts to lose meaning."

Arthur sagged back in his chair, running a hand through his hair and ignoring his empty stomach. Francis wasn't as bad off as he had feared, fortunately. The doctor would come in to run some more tests and if everything came back okay, he'd be cleared to go home.

"What possessed you not to tell Matthew?"

Francis waved his hand nonchalantly. "You know me, I forgot because I never needed to. How was I supposed to know he was going to use cashew oil?"

"And how was he supposed to know not to do so? The poor boy's scared sh*tless. And I was also mean to him. That's on you, too."

Arthur was still very much on edge from what happened with Alfred this morning, and when they had entered the hospital together, Arthur had immediately taken out his anger on Matthew. Which turned Alfred defensive on his brother's behalf, and the whole thing spiraled until a doctor came to fetch Arthur.

"Bah, blaming all your problems on me is very boarding school of you."

"Oh, shut up. I'm telling your mother when she calls me."

Francis scowled and Arthur sighed, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling for a moment. Then something in the hallway dropped to the ground harshly and he startled rather uncharacteristically, narrowing his eyes at the door.

"Are you all right?"

"Why are you asking me? I'm not the one a hospital bed."

"You seem on edge. More so than usual when in a hospital. Did your mother call?"

"Mind your business." Arthur snapped and great; now he was reminded that sometime that day, his mother would call him to wish him a happy birthday. He could just pretend to have been busy, though. "That reminds me, what did you tell Alfred?"

"Come again?"

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about."

"Ah, that." Francis said nonchalantly, folding his hands in his lap. "I didn't tell him anything specific. Just that you're prone to flying off the handle under certain circ*mstances."

"Circ*mstances?"

"I'm assuming you two had a fight."

"You're lucky I adore your mother too much to actually kill you." Arthur snapped and Francis shrugged, looking unimpressed as always.

"I'm also assuming he drove you over here. So go and make amends with him already, he's probably eating himself up from the inside like a kicked puppy."

"f*ck you. I'm getting Matthew."

Francis smiled indulgently at him, and Arthur felt some of the anger he felt for him melt away."I'm sorry for worrying you, mon coeur. And happy birthday. May we spend a hundred more together, preferably not in a hospital."

"Don't get sentimental on me now, frog."

"I wouldn't dare!" Francis cooed at Arthur's back as he left, laughing when Arthur offered him a middle finger.

A little ways to the right of Francis' room was a sitting area, and as he left the room, Alfred and Matthew immediately sat up a bit straighter. Matthew still looked as panicked as before, his eyes rimmed red from crying.

"I'm so sorry Arthur." He immediately began. "I had no idea he was allergic to anything, I swear! I understand you're pissed at me."

Arthur sighed and forced himself to be kind, pointedly ignoring Alfred's warning glare. He already knew he was wrong to take out his worry and anger on Matthew, and he already knew Matthew was saying the truth. "I apologize for snapping at you, Matthew. He didn't tell you, so it's really his own fault. Though now that you do know, I advise you to carry an Epipen with you at all times."

"Yes, of course. Absolutely."

"You can go in if you want, the doctor should return soon with the results and then you can probably take him home."

Matthew fiddled with the strings of his hoodie. "Are you sure? I mean, I'd understand if he's angry with me. You don't need to say that to make me feel better."

"Matthew, you and I both know that he's desperately waiting for the opportunity to manipulate you into taking care of him."

That at least managed to get a half hearted chuckle out of him. "Thanks, Arthur." Then he quickly got up and left, entering the room Arthur had just left.

Arthur wanted to walk away then. He was very aware that Alfred was still staring at him and he was pretty sure that if he just left, Alfred wouldn't follow him. Either Alfred wouldn't care to do so, or he would be kind enough to give Arthur some space. Arthur wasn't sure what thought to trust on this matter and he was tired anyway.

So he sat down on the seat Matthew left vacant, leaning away from Alfred ever so subtly just to be petulant.

Alfred sighed and leaned back against the chair, one of his legs bouncing up and down nervously. But he didn't say anything, instead kept staring straight ahead of him. And so Arthur did the same.

He didn't very much like being in a hospital. If he'd lose focus, he'd probably lose himself in the memory of slipping tires, arguing doctors and blood dripping into his eyes. Arthur grimaced and closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing and counting to ten. This hospital was nothing like the one back in England and nothing was wrong with him.

He opened his eyes when Alfred gently grabbed his hand, slowly intertwining their fingers, giving him enough time to shake him off should Arthur want to do so. He remembered Alfred had guessed about the car accident himself, and he wasn't dumb, so he must've realized Arthur felt uncomfortable.

But he still kept silent and suddenly Arthur couldn't bear it anymore. Alfred wasn't supposed to be quiet; Alfred was supposed to chatter, and laugh, and tease, and whistle and hum.

"I hate hospitals." Arthur mumbled, and he knew Alfred heard him because Alfred tilted his head towards him.

"Hm, I don't think there's anyone that loves going to the hospital." Alfred replied, but his voice lacked humor. Arthur chewed at his bottom lip and looked down at their intertwined hands. At least that had to mean things could be okay, right?

"After the..." He began, before anxiety tightened his throat shut again. He waited for a moment and then felt Alfred's thumb press into his hand lightly. He wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, but it encouraged him anyway. "Accident. I was stuck in a hospital for a week."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alfred nod, but his throat closed again. He wanted, but couldn't talk about how scared he had been, how his mother had hardly been at his side because she also had Peter to take care of and a funeral to organize. His older brother had begrudgingly sat at his bedside instead, but because of the rift between them, he hadn't been able to draw comfort from him either.

He'd just start crying if he did talk about it. Hell, he was almost crying just by remembering it.

"It's all right." Alfred eventually said softly, obviously realizing Arthur wasn't going to continue. "You don't owe me anything."

"I do." Arthur said immediately, without thinking. He pursed his lips and frowned, a bit surprised, but knowing it was the truth. "It's not fair that - that I don't let you in. It's not fair I got angry."

Alfred squeezed his hand. "What happened to you wasn't fair either. You can take all the time you need, baby, I'm not going anywhere."

The use of his usual nickname, combined with what Alfred was actually saying, felt like a punch to the gut. Arthur's aware he was squeezing Alfred's hand a bit too tightly and he sniffed pathetically, trying but failing to not cry.

"I'm sorry." He choked out and Alfred turned towards him then, using his free hand to tilt his own head up. Arthur refused to look at Alfred's face, knowing his eyes would be so ridiculously blue and affectionate and worried, that he'd surely collapse into sobs. "I'm sorry I can't talk about it yet."

Alfred tugged him towards himself then and Arthur went happily, hiding his face in his bomber jacket. Alfred released his hand but wrapped both arms around him tightly, shielding him from potential curious passers-by.

"I'm sorry for being an ass." Alfred countered softly, pressing his lips into Arthur's hair. "I don't want to take back what I said last night, but I won't repeat it until you want to hear it."

Arthur did want to hear it. But he wasn't sure if he could properly acknowledge it and he sure as hell couldn't say it back at that moment. So he simply sniffed some more and clutched at Alfred's shirt, making sure he couldn't move away.

And while he was relieved that they were at least no longer fighting, he also knew that things weren't really okay yet.

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Things were all right, but they weren't back to normal.

Arthur knew he caused it, but after they made amends, he had hoped Alfred would return to his previous self and that things would naturally bounce back.

But they didn't, and they were kind of stuck in a vicious cycle. Alfred acted a little hesitant around him, even though he was back to smiles, nick names and jokes. The hesitance succeeded in making Arthur feel insecure, which made him appear stand-offish. Which in turn fueled Alfred's hesitance, leading to Alfred initiating romantic action less and less, which led to Arthur feeling more insecure, and so on.

Arthur wanted to fix it, but he was terrible at these kinds of things. He knew that to fix this, they would have to talk, and Arthur would probably have to come clean about why things happened the way they did.

He wasn't sure why he felt so afraid of doing just that. Alfred did know him, and Arthur knew him. He knew that Alfred was kind, loyal, trustworthy.

So why was he so bloody afraid?

Well, at least they weren't fighting each other. In fact, anyone on the outside might think nothing was wrong with them at all.

Arthur pursed his lips as his brains suddenly and randomly registered the last paragraph of his notes. He had no idea how the conclusion came to be and realized he hadn't processed any of the other text he had tried to read, lost to a daydream once more.

He'd have to reread the entire page, though perhaps he should just give up.

Also: he hasn't heard Alfred type in a while.

Arthur's eyes flicked from his notes towards Alfred, wondering if perhaps he was struggling with something or if he'd somehow managed to sneak to the bathroom or kitchen without Arthur noticing.

Alfred fortunately still sat opposite of him, and was fiddling with one of the strings of his hoodies. There was a faraway look in his eyes as he looked in the general direction of his laptop, the motion of his bottom lip suggesting that he was chewing on it gently in thought.

Arthur felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards and he tilted his head lightly, staring for a while. Alfred was lost in thought and didn't notice the scrutiny at all, and it gave Arthur a proper opportunity of blatantly observing his boyfriend.

He looked significantly better now that his coursework dropped to a more manageable load. There was no longer a hint of dark circles under his eyes, and the blue of his eyes once again shone brightly.

God, Arthur adored him. He really did. So why couldn't he say the synonym to that same word?

"Penny for your thoughts?" He asked eventually.

Alfred blinked owlishly, the sound of his voice snapping him out of whatever trance he was in. Arthur furrowed his brows curiously as Alfred smiled in response.

"I've been thinking."

"That doesn't bode well." He smirks when Alfred's smile drops into a fake frown, before shifting back to the faraway look from before.

"Ivan's throwing a party this Friday."

Arthur recognized the name as one of Alfred's friends. If he remembered correctly, Ivan was a rather tall, Russian guy whose sister Alfred has dated the year before. Apparently their relationship ended disastrously, but from it blossomed an odd friendship between the girl's brother and Alfred himself.

Which was odd, because Arthur's also been told they usually argue and challenge each other.

"And?" Arthur asked when Alfred failed to follow up. They didn't have any actual plans for next Friday, so it wasn't as if Alfred had to cancel on him, and Arthur sure as hell hoped Alfred didn't think he needed to ask permission or something.

"And I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?"

He admitted he was a bit caught off guard by the question, before realizing it was a perfectly normal thing to ask.

In fact, it was even a bit overdue. Alfred usually hung out with Arthur and his friends, and while his friends could also be considered Alfred's friends, he himself hadn't hung out much with Alfred's friends.

He hadn't dwelled much on that before. Another fact to fuel his insecurity about being a bad boyfriend, he supposed. Arthur vehemently refused to follow that trail of thought.

"You don't have to if you don't want to, of course." Alfred suddenly added and Arthur realizes he's been quietly contemplating for a bit too long.

"I'd love to come." He quickly agreed, smiling reassuringly when Alfred eyed him for a second.

Then, it was as if a switch was flicked. Alfred's face lit up with relief and excitement. Arthur wanted to crawl over the table and kiss him senseless, but stayed where he was.

"Alfred told me he loved me."

Elizaveta, who'd taken an exceptionally big gulp from her hot chocolate in an attempt to finish it, promptly erupted into a fit of coughs.

Arthur supposed his statement was a little out of the blue. He had planned to talk about this with her, but for some reason, he hadn't managed to find the right time. So when their episode of the Great British Baking Show cut off to the commercials, he just blurted it out.

He waited until her coughs faded to some simple wheezing and then continued. "Admittedly, he did it while he was high, but he still said it."

"Wait, on your birthday? Did you sat it back?" Elizaveta croaked, thumping her chest a few more times and clearing her throat.

"He fell asleep almost immediately after and I hid in the bathroom." He said, scowling slightly when he realized how pathetic that sounded. "And then we fought about it in the morning."

"That sounds like you." Elizaveta said, and Arthur wasn't surprised when her expression turned to one of amused sympathy. "Why'd you two fight?"

"He knew I freaked out about it and wanted to talk, and..."

"And you didn't want to." She finished for him and Arthur nodded with a small sigh.

Then he soldiered on and told her about how he kicked Alfred out, about their drive to the hospital, about them making amends and about the awkward week that followed.

"I just want things to go back to how they were before." He concluded, and Elizaveta snorted.

"Don't we all. But what did you expect? Relationships either evolve or crash. You either stay together forever, or you break up. There's no third option."

"Either one of us could die."

"All right then, Mr. Optimistic." She rebuked and Arthur shrugged with a smirk.

"I don't know what to do." He admitted, pulling his knees up to his chest. "He says he's fine with this, but I don't know if I am. I'm constantly thinking about it."

"Do you love him, too?"

Arthur grimaced. He'd been obsessing over it, tried to give word his feelings differently, but in the end it came down to one answer. Wasn't it too soon, though? Didn't people normally wait longer? Or was it actually overdue?

He could fret over it all he wanted, but he couldn't deny that he wasn't in love with Alfred. No, he was absolutely infatuated with the bugger.

"I think I do." He muttered. "Isn't it something you're supposed to know instead of think?"

Elizaveta shuffled a bit closer to knock their socked feet together. "Saying it feels very final, as if there's no backing out of it. But it's not final, and it's not always something you just know. It's okay if he's already sure of it, and you're not sure of it yet. As long as you communicate properly about it."

"I don't know how to be sure of it, though. I can't even remember the last time I told someone I loved them and actually meant it."

Elizaveta smiled softly. "Roderich hardly ever says it to us, too, because his family never did so either. It really upset Gilbert at first, but now that we know why, it's easy to see how he tells us non-verbally."

"So I need to show him instead of tell him?"

"You need to do whatever makes you feel comfortable. But you should probably talk to him about it, too."

Arthur worried at his lower lip. That was what it all boiled down to, in the end.

"...but my research is solid, and if everything goes well, I can start my Master's in summer. I already got a few potential internships lined up for the start of the actual school year." Arthur mused and Alfred hummed, their hands swinging between them while they walked.

"That means you'll be done in spring, right?"

"Yes. Which will give me enough time to find a suitable position at a school I like."

"Hopefully somewhere nearby." Alfred said, grinning at him. "Since I'll be stuck in this hell hole for at least two more years."

"But you could do your PhD elsewhere, of course."

Alfred made a disgusted noise and squeezed his hand, bumping their shoulders together. "Ugh, can we stop talking about my future now? Just thinking about the P word gives me shivers."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but dutifully changed the subject to more nonsensical things. Alfred easily took over by rambling the way he usually did, and it felt so familiar and comfortable that Arthur felt happiness warm his insides.

The feeling lasted well into the evening, even if he felt a little out of place at Ivan's party. He knew a few people thankfully, and Kiku (who Arthur had unexpectedly become rather good friends with) was there as well. Whenever Alfred disappeared from his side, Arthur at least had a few other people he could chat with.

It was good to see Alfred with his own friends, too. He wasn't much different than usual, but there was a certain easy aura he exuded while he teased, bickered, laughed and shoved. Arthur sort of regretted all the earlier moments he hadn't hung out with Alfred and his own friends, simply because he was busy or because it wasn't brought up.

He pushed his way through the throng of people towards the kitchen, in need of something to smooth down the sandpaper-y feeling of his throat caused by having to talk louder to be heard over other noises.

In the kitchen is was significantly quieter though, and he had no trouble maneuvering to the sink for a glass of water.

"Color me surprised, Arthur drinking water at a party!"

Arthur froze. Only two people said his name with that particular accent, and Antonio could be ruled out because he wasn't invited and was probably out with Romano anyway. Which could only mean it was Antonio's older cousin, also known as Arthur's ex-boyfriend.

He turned quickly and easily spotted Tomás sauntering over to him. Arthur tried really hard not to, what with his current boyfriend in the same apartment, but he couldn't stop his face from warming up.

"Tomás," Arthur greeted, letting surprise lace his voice. "What are you doing here?"

They last talked at Tomás' graduation party, which was coincidentally also the night they decided to end thing. Well, not directly. They had rather insanely passionate sex in the bathroom stall of a club, and then they ended things. Arthur had hoped to never see the twat again.

Tomás had no such reservations and enveloped him into a tight hug, squeezing perhaps a bit longer than necessary. Arthur pat his shoulder awkwardly, relieved when Tomás finally let him go. Or well, he didn't entirely let go, because he kept a friendly and warm hand on his shoulder. Arthur was tempted to shake him off.

"Enjoying the party, like yourself. It's been far too long! How have you been, mi cariño? You look amazing."

Arthur resisted an uncomfortable grimace when Tomás accentuated his words with a squeeze to his shoulder. He knew Tomás was a flirty person by nature and that this probably meant absolutely nothing, but he was caught remembering all the earlier times he would be called that nick name while also being touched by the one who said it.

"No, I mean, what are you doing in the States? I thought you were travelling around Europe."

"Ah! I was, but abuela isn't doing very well, so I thought I'd return for a little while, visit my sweet nephew while I'm at it."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Arthur genuinely is; Tomás' grandmother was a very kind person, who unfortunately didn't speak a lick of English, so Arthur never really talked to her. "Antonio didn't tell me you were here."

The prat. Not that Antonio was obligated to tell Arthur of course, as it was very likely that they wouldn't have crossed paths at all, if it weren't for this blasted party. But he would've liked a head's up anyway.

Tomás leaned in a little closer than was probably appropriate, giving him a proper indecent once over, and Arthur felt his face flush again.

"We should catch up while I'm here, mi cariño-"

Then Arthur suddenly felt an arm wrap around his waist. He was tugged away from Tomás ever so slightly, but far enough that he no longer felt as if he were caged in by the other. Tomás' hand automatically dropped from his shoulder and he schooled his face into a polite smile. It was then that Arthur recognized the leather smell of Alfred's bomber jacket, and he relaxed.

"Hi babe. Hey Tomás." Oh god. His boyfriend not only sounded miffed - but apparently they knew each other as well. That was just great.

"Alfred," Tomás greeted with that damned sly grin of his. "I see we have another friend in common."

"Another friend?" Arthur asked, hoping to divert the conversation elsewhere. Alfred's arm around him tightened a bit and Tomás definitely saw, judging by his smirk.

"Not really. Arthur's my boyfriend, not just my friend." Alfred said, his tone a bit too pleasant to be genuine. Arthur pursed his lips, a bit annoyed at his question being ignored. "How'd you two meet?"

"Oh, we-"

"He's Antonio's cousin." Arthur interrupted suddenly, aware he sounded a little flighty.

"Yes, and we also dated." Tomás continued, either oblivious to why Arthur interrupted them or doing it on purpose. "Feisty one, is he not?"

"Excuse me, 'he' is standing right here." Arthur bristled, scowling at the both of them, hoping that they weren't going to start some kind of pissing contest on his behalf. "How do you two know each other?"

"Kiku's a mutual friend." Alfred hooked his fingers around the edge of his jeans so he could press against Arthur's bare skin, in some weird way of laying a claim on him, apparently.

"I'm surprised Arthur didn't tell you about me." Tomás said with a playful note in his voice.

Arthur knew by that note that Tomás really just meant to tease, and that he wasn't trying to actually start an argument. But Alfred still huffed with annoyance and since the grip on his hip was starting to get a little tight, Arthur reached down to gently pry it lose. He smoothed his fingers over the back of Alfred's hand, prompting Alfred to relax.

"Yeah, never by name though." Alfred said then, voice still sounding a little tight but no longer annoyed. Arthur couldn't remember ever vividly talking about an ex with Alfred, but he wasn't going to discredit him all the same.

"Well, it was wonderful seeing you again, mi cariño. Give me a ring whenever you have time for a coffee?" Tomás then said, smiling suavely at him and winking before turning around and joining the party once more.

Alfred stayed at his side after that, and Arthur fought hard not to openly show how much he liked it.

"So..."

Arthur sighed when Alfred finally started talking. They were already in front of Alfred's building, and Arthur wanted to ask Alfred what the plan was; was he supposed to tag along, or was he supposed to go to home himself?

But he figured Alfred was still brooding about the incident with his ex.

"You never told me about Tomás."

And, bingo.

He was glad Alfred couldn't see how his lips twisted downwards in exasperation. Then he schooled his face into something more gentle, and tilted his head towards Alfred.

"No, I didn't really think it was necessary information... and you never asked."

"Yeah, okay, that's true." Alfred acquiesced, shrugging. "Still caught me off guard."

Arthur hummed and remained silent, knowing that wasn't all Alfred wanted to say.

"I didn't really like how he was looking at you."

He felt the corners of his lips twist upwards, but didn't fight his smile. "That's just how he is. There is nothing to worry about."

Alfred nodded, kicking at the ground awkwardly. Arthur again felt the urge to ask if they should go upstairs together, or if Arthur should go home. Before their fight over a week ago, it wouldn't even have been a question, Arthur realized. Because they'd already be inside.

"What did he call you?"

"Some silly nick name."

"And you're okay with him calling you that?" No, he wasn't, and Arthur was about to voice it when Alfred continued. "Why did it end?"

A lesser patient person would've been annoyed. But Arthur could hear the insecurity in Alfred's voice and instead just felt endeared.

"Because we wanted different things."

"What does that mean?"

Arthur hadn't trusted Tomás enough and eventually that had caused a rift between them. Despite Tomás' playboy attitude, he had quickly wanted to get rather serious and Arthur hadn't been ready.

Thinking back on it, he realized with a sour taste in his mouth that it actually sounded rather familiar.

"I wasn't ready to commit the way he wanted me to, I suppose." He answered honestly.

"But you still liked him?" Arthur wasn't sure how to answer that, but Alfred didn't wait for an answer anyhow. "And now? If he-"

"Alfred." Arthur interrupted, sounding more amused then he meant to.

"Can you blame me? He was all over you and you've hardly touched me all - sh*t, okay, I know. I'm sorry, I sound like a possessive asshole."

Arthur bit the inside of his cheek, feeling a little guilty. "You're entitled to your feelings, dear, but know that I only have eyes for you."

"Ugh, stop being so damn considerate." Alfred said with a somewhat nervous laugh. "I should introduce you to my ex, even the score a little."

Arthur chuckled and narrowed his eyes. "If that would make you feel better."

Alfred's shoulders slumped a little, blue eyes locking on his own. Arthur stayed silent, dipping his head a little as he stared back, waiting for Alfred to figure out whatever he wanted to say or do next. Then Alfred made a questioning sound and nodded up towards his building.

"Do you, uh, are you coming up with me? Or do you wanna go home?"

Finally. Arthur gestured towards the doors. "Lead the way."

The walk up was silent again, but Arthur at least felt less awkward about it now. He was sure Alfred would have more questions about Arthur's previous love life sooner or later, and suddenly Arthur felt the overwhelming urge to be honest. Alfred deserved to know whatever he wanted to know, he did, and Arthur trusted him completely, so why was he being such a twat about all of this?

As if on automatic pilot, he removed his coat and shoes, watching Alfred do the same. Then he followed Alfred into his living room, pleased to realize Matthew wasn't home.He nodded, steeling himself and turned to Alfred, ready to start this dreaded, awful conversation.

But Alfred caught him off guard by asking: "Can I kiss you?"

Arthur blinked slowly, opening and closing his mouth once before gathering his wit. "I don't see why not?" It's not as if Alfred's ever explicitly asked this of him before, so Arthur was a little confused.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted to. Or felt, I don't know, comfortable with it?" Alfred said softly.

Arthur felt his insides wreaking havoc with how much he bloody adored this man in front of him. He realized this would be the perfect moment to express his feelings, to say those bloody words back to him. It would be near movie-worthy romantic of him to say it right then, and yet when he opened his mouth, the words didn't follow.

So instead he quickly closed the distance between them. He cupped Alfred's face in his hands and dragged him down, slotting their lips together. Alfred's hands immediately found their way to Arthur's hips, pulling him closer.

One kiss bled into another, and before he knew it, they were slowly stumbling towards Alfred's bedroom. His hands fell from Alfred's face to his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper as Alfred's fingers dug into the dip of his lower back.

His jeans dropped to his feet and Arthur dimly registered Alfred kicking it away while simultaneously ridding Arthur of his shirt, pulling him back to press his warm hands on Arthur's bare skin.

He felt Alfred smile against his lips, felt hands at his own jeans and then they were tumbling onto the bed, the last items of their clothing joining the mess on the floor.

It felt so good to finally be kissing him again, to finally feel Alfred's bare skin on his own again. His hands were frantic, trying to cover as much of Alfred's back and arms and face as he could, and f*ck, he was already hard.

Alfred sneaked a hand behind him and grabbed his ass, pulling him up and against him, and Arthur wasn't ashamed to admit he produced a rather high whine when he realized Alfred was in the same predicament.

He tilted his head back and Alfred moved down to slant kisses over his neck, stopping at the spot where his neck met his shoulder and latching on there. Arthur moaned, wrapping both legs around Alfred to pull him down, to grind against him while Alfred was leaving what would no doubt be a fantastic hickey.

"Missed you," Alfred murmured against his skin, and Arthur couldn't agree more, refusing to let go when Alfred inevitably leaned away from him to retrieve the needed items from the night stand.

He only allowed his legs to drop and spread when Alfred began fingering him loose, one of the American's hands spreading him for better access and the other grabbing his thigh.

"You're so pretty," Alfred praised, breathlessly, and Arthur responded by squeezing around Alfred's fingers. "Gonna take me so well."

"Are you going to get on with it, or do I have to do it myself?" He panted, smiling sharply when Alfred's eyes flashed over to his own.

"Dangerous thing, you." Alfred then said, pushing Arthur's legs open wider to the point of it being slightly uncomfortable. But Arthur was flexible, and he'd endure if Alfred would keep looking at him like that. But then Alfred retracted his fingers, sitting back on his haunches, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Do it yourself, then."

Arthur glared, but he was ultimately way too horny and deprived of Alfred's affections to do anything but rise to the challenge.

Deeming he was stretched enough (it'd just have to do), he snatched the condom packet from the bed and ripped it open, ignoring Alfred's huff of laughter. Then he surged up, wrapping a hand around Alfred's co*ck and kissing him sweetly.It caught his boyfriend off guard, and Arthur used his distraction to switch their position and to roll the rubber on.

Then he leaned back, making sure their eyes were locked. He grabbed hold of Alfred's dick and maneuvered the tip inside of him, smirking when Alfred made a strained noise. He promptly sank down in one go.

It burned - more than he had expected it would. Perhaps he hadn't been stretched enough then, and perhaps it'd been a while since they last done this, but there was little that could be done about it now.

Refusing to back out or show that it hurt more than he'd anticipated, Arthur dropped his head on Alfred's shoulder, focusing on the litany of curses falling from Alfred's lips instead.

Alfred's hand grabbed his hips again, fingers pressing into the skin hard enough to provide another sensation to focus on. He shifted to readjust a little, to get comfortable again, and Alfred groaned.

"Don't - don't move. Please just... wait." He said, voice strained, and Arthur felt white hot pleasure shooting down his spine when he realized Alfred was hanging on by a thread already.

It seemed the tables had turned. He grinned sharply and tilted his head to nip at Alfred's earlobe, sinking his teeth into it and then running his tongue over it to soothe the sting. "You need a minute, dear?"

"Oh, shut up." Alfred countered, and Arthur silently chuckled.

"To think you would skip out on the opportunity to make some awful cowboy joke."

He felt Alfred's shoulders shake with laughter then, and his chest tightened with happiness at the fact that they were able to joke and laugh again at that moment.

"If you're the one riding me, it's you who should be shouting yeehaw, partner." Alfred said, his thumbs rubbing circles in Arthur's skin.

Arthur hummed and experimentally made a circular motion with his hips, pleased when Alfred moaned again. "Am I allowed to move yet, sheriff?"

"sh*t," Alfred said as he exhaled harshly. "Yeah, absolutely. Ride away, cowpoke."

"Yeehaw." Arthur confirmed and Alfred's chuckle was cut off by a moan when Arthur lifted himself off and dropped back down again, the movement burning less now that he'd gotten time to get accustomed to the intrusion.

It was a little sloppier than Arthur would've wanted, both of them not exactly matching each other's rhythm, but it was perfect simply because of Alfred's expressions and sounds. Arthur tightened his hands in Alfred's hair, using the grip to pull Alfred's head back so that he could look at him properly.

The blue of his eyes was simply a sliver now, consumed by his dilated pupil. There was a rosy color on his cheeks and his eyes were half-lidded as he stared right back at Arthur, and Arthur assumed he didn't look any different.

"I missed you too." He said then, aware that his voice is sounding a little more emotional than appropriate for the position they were in.

Alfred's heated look softened, and he tugged Arthur down. The new position didn't allow them to move much, but it allowed them to kiss languidly. He didn't protest when Alfred slowly pushed him forward, so that he could lie Arthur down on his back on the bed again.

Alfred planted one hand next to his shoulder to keep himself upright, and used the other intertwine their fingers. Hesighed into the kiss, trying to get Alfred to get back to the matter at hand, but Alfred had other plans. He broke away to press little, reverent kisses on his cheek, his jaw and down to his neck.

He didn't seem to be in a hurry though, so Arthur readjusted his legs to spread wider and as a result, Alfred slid in a little deeper. They both groaned and Alfred rose up to face him again.

"Chop chop." Arthur said breathlessly and Alfred grinned sharply.

"Impatient brat."

Arthur wanted to counter that he was actually the older one in their relationship and that it was Alfred who was the brat, but his response died on his tongue when Alfred suddenly snapped his hips back and forth.

"Fuuuuck, Alfred, hng," Arthur squirmed, wanting to simultaneously push and pull, and Alfred used both hands to grab his own frantic ones, pinning them down on the mattress. He wheezed, struggling to wriggle his way out of Alfred's hold, but his efforts were in vain.

"You're noisier than usual." Alfred said then and Arthur instinctively bit his lip. "It's hot. Please be noisier. It's just you and me here."

He allowed a breathless moan to escape him, feeling giddy about how Alfred's eyes darkened as a result.

"That's it. You're doing good." Alfred continued, setting a terrible pace where he pulled out agonizingly slow and thrust back in amazingly hard. "Been a while, hasn't it? What'd you do the last few days? I can just imagine you curled up on your bed, hand between your legs, biting at the pillow to keep quiet."

"Do you often imagine me jerking myself off, then?" Arthur panted, struggling to keep his eyes open to stare at Alfred's own.

"So, so very often." Every word was punctuated with a snap of his hips. Arthur trashed until his hands were free, and then locked his arms around Alfred's neck, so that he could pull himself up a little and mouth at Alfred's shoulder. Alfred groaned appreciatively and picked up the pace, lowering the both of them down against the bed again.

The slightly different angle caused him to brush against that one spot that made Arthur see stars.

"Yes, yes, there, there-" He immediately gasped, and Alfred seemed to understand, angling his hips just so. Then he thrust back inside harshly, and Arthur damn near sobbed.

"What's wrong, babe? Need a minute?" Alfred said, using his earlier words on him and sounding entirely too amused for Arthur's tastes.

Arthur tried to glare, but only managed to throw his head back again when Alfred snapped his hips forward again.

"Feel good? Tell me how it feels, baby." Alfred murmured into his ear and Arthur wanted to tell him, but then he hit his prostate dead-on again, and all he could do was sob with pleasure.

He buried his hands in Alfred's hair, tightening in the locks, and dragged him down in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, in which he tried to dump all the pent-up frustration and anxiety he felt earlier.

Alfred moaned as he allowed Arthur to take control of the kiss, instead focusing on keeping a steady pace of his own. Then he lowered a hand towards Arthur's somewhat neglected co*ck, thumbing at the wetness on the tip to collect some of his pre-cum. He spread it down and squeezed slightly at the bottom. He repeated the motion in time with his thrusts and all of a sudden it became too much. Arthur felt his org*sm crash over him suddenly, feeling as if his breath was punched out of him.

Only after he managed to open his eyes again, did he realize he tasted something metallic, and then he realized he had bit on his own lip rather harshly in the process.

"Jesus," Alfred panted, eyes zoomed in on how Arthur was sucking on his own bottom lip, and he rewarded him with another particularly hard thrust. "That was so f*cking hot, f*ck."

Despite feeling rather boneless, Arthur refused to relinquish his hold on Alfred, keeping his fingers twisted in Alfred's hair. He readjusted, his legs falling open even wider, resulting in Alfred's next thrust going a little deeper again, and even though he was starting to feel a little over-stimulated, he moaned appreciatively.

Alfred leaned down to recapture his lips, hungrily lapping and sucking, and Arthur eagerly reciprocated, despite the slight sting.The moment Arthur felt Alfred's pace grow irregular, he let go of his hair and slid his fingers down Alfred's back, digging into the skin with his nails a little.

Alfred's hips stuttered and he buried himself deep once more as he came, his moan swallowed by their locked lips.

They broke the kiss, but stayed in that position for a moment longer. Alfred's head drooped down onto his shoulder and Arthur brushed his fingers through Alfred's hair softly, using his other arm to trace circles into his shoulder.

Eventually Alfred moved away, giving him a brief kiss before disappearing into his bathroom. Arthur smiled dopily up at the ceiling and then back at Alfred when he returned, feeling rather pleased with himself and sighing when Alfred, considerate as ever, cleaned the both of them up.

Then Alfred climbed back into the bed and Arthur wriggled his way back on top of him, cushioning his chin on Alfred's chest. Alfred took a few seconds to get comfortable but allowed the inconvenient extra weight on top of him, wrapping an arm around Arthur to keep him steady.

"That was great, we should do that more often." Alfred then said casually and Arthur snorted, slapping his shoulder. Alfred smiled and pulled him up a little, so that he could bury his face in Arthur's hair. "I don't deserve you."

"On the contrary. We reap what we sow, love." Arthur felt himself slowly tense, astonished he had let a word like that slip out so easily. Yet Alfred simply hummed and didn't acknowledge or mention the apparent new nick name.

But if he could call Alfred love, then he could say it as a verb too, right?

He waited until Alfred's breathing deepened, and until the fidgeting of his fingers on Arthur's lower back stopped. Then he waited a few minutes more for good measure, pressing his cheek into Alfred's chest so that he could hear his heartbeat.

"I love you." He murmured, ignoring the fluttering of his own heart and focusing on Alfred's steadily beating one instead.

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Chapter Text

When Arthur startled awake, he had no idea where he was, but that hardly mattered.

His ears were thundering with a pounding so loud that it felt as if his eardrums were going to burst. His vision was blurred and his shirt clung to his skin, somehow making him feel both hot and cold at the same time.

He realized he dreamed about the accident again, and if he wasn't going to slow down his breathing he would start to hyperventilate.

He sat up quickly, looking around for some kind of tether, or perhaps to turn on a light. But everything was incredibly unfamiliar, and in an attempt to reorient himself, he tumbled out of the bed harshly.

The sting of his knees hitting the hard floor distracted him from the building panic enough to make him realize his vision was blurred due to the tears in his eyes. Rubbing at them didn't help, and so he tried to stand up again by using the object on his right to hoist him up. Only he lost his balance again, and what appeared to be a night stand toppled to the side, the objects that were on top of it crashing on the ground loudly.

Arthur hastily sat back down on the ground again, clenching his eyes shut and pulling his knees up to his chest.

He had no idea how long he sat there, trying to control his breathing. Eventually he heard a door open and close, and the figure that entered called his name with worry and confusion.

As Alfred knelt down next to him, Arthur instantly remembered where he was. Forcing his eyes to focus, he recognized the fairly standard furniture of the motel room they were in.

A motel room they rented on their way to the Jones ranch, where they would celebrate Alfred's and Matthew's birthday. A room that they had to rent, since the eight-hour drive turned into a much longer one due to Arthur's frequent requests to take a break.

It all boiled down to that, once again.

"Arthur?" Alfred asked softly, and Arthur felt his eyes burn again. "You okay baby? What happened?"

Though the pounding between his ears had stopped, and though the sweat he'd been working up had cooled down, Arthur still felt out of breath. It was like he had run for an hour straight, and his lungs and chest felt bruised.

"You - " Arthur halted when his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, reaching out to tangle his hand in Alfred's shirt. Just in case he would get the idea of leaving. "Where were you?"

"sh*t, sorry. You were still sleeping so I grabbed a coffee with Mattie across the road." Alfred quickly said, realizing what had happened.

Arthur hummed in understanding and allowed Alfred to help him up on the bed again, sagging against his boyfriend when Alfred quickly sat down next to him.He felt a hand on his head then, fingers carding through his sweat-soaked hair soothingly, and he managed to focus on that.

"It's okay." Alfred mumbled, softly, as if not to spook him. "It was just a dream."

Arthur sucked in a big, watery breath. He forced himself to hold it until his lungs started to burn, and then a few seconds more. Then he exhaled again, slowly, through his nose. He repeated it a few more times and focused on the movement of Alfred's hand.

"Better?" Alfred asked after what seemed like forever, and Arthur sighed and loosened his hold on Alfred's shirt. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"No." Arthur sighed, suddenly feeling very dirty. His shirt clung to his skin and his hair was damp, something he was painfully aware of due to how Alfred was running his fingers through his hair. "I'm sweaty."

"Hardly the first of your bodily fluids I've touched."

The answer was so random and so completely Alfred, that Arthur felt a strangled mix of a sob and snort escape his own throat. At least Alfred didn't comment on how he had sounded like a squealing pig, because Arthur would've most likely taken offense.

Alfred turned away from him and for a second Arthur panicked, tightening his hold again.

"Just grabbing you some water." Alfred said, standing up to hurry towards the little desk opposite of the bed. He grabbed a water bottle from his still open bag and returned, uncapping it and handing it over to Arthur.He accepted it eagerly and took big gulps. The water sloshing in his empty stomach made him a little queasy, but it gave him something else to focus on.

"Feel better now?" Alfred asked again then, taking the bottle back after Arthur finished draining the thing.

Arthur wasn't sure. "What time is it?"

"Bit after eight." Alfred answered, looking down at his watch. "We don't have to hurry, if you're still tired."

Arthur made a dismissive noise, not trusting his voice, and instead rubbed at his eyes again. They were still watery, and he only just managed to keep the waterworks inside when Alfred pulled him against his chest again.

"I - I should shower." He mumbled and Alfred hummed agreeably, but didn't let go of him, instead rubbing circles into his back soothingly with a firm hand.

"So you had another nightmare, huh?" Alfred asked eventually and Arthur grimaced.

It's not the first time he had a bad dream while sleeping next to Alfred. The first time it happened, Alfred's presence had startled Arthur so badly that he had elbowed the man in the face.The second time it had been a really bad one, and Arthur hadn't been able to stop crying for the better part of an hour. Instead of prying, Alfred had pulled him close, and held on to him gently until Arthur finally calmed down.

"I dreamed about the accident again." He said softly, burying his face in Alfred's chest to somewhat smother his voice. "About the moment where my father realizes we're going to crash, and the look in his eyes."

He told Alfred about the accident a while ago. It'd been somewhat unprompted: because when Alfred asked Arthur to accompany him home to celebrate his birthday, Arthur had hesitated. Alfred first assumed it was because of the long car drive, but eventually Arthur told him the real reason. It wasn't that he didn't wanted to come, but the date was dangerously close to the anniversary of his accident - and subsequently his father's death.

(Normally Arthur would hide out in his apartment and drink himself into a stupor, but that wasn't going to be an option this time - nor did he want it to be.)

"You can talk about it, if you want. Maybe you'll feel better." Alfred said gently, and Arthur realized he'd been caught up in his thoughts again.

"It's - it's just the same dream as always. We crash, I can't move, and it hurts to breathe. He looks at me with - he's dead, but he looks at me. And I can't look away."

His breath caught for a moment and he blinked away new tears.

The worst part about the nightmares was that were followed by a scathing feeling of guilt. After all; if Arthur hadn't lashed out to his father, if his father hadn't needed to pick him up from school because he'd been a brat... then they would've never gotten into the accident.

At least Alfred didn't know about that part. As far as his boyfriend was concerned, it was just a random car accident. Arthur wasn't yet able to deal with admitting everything had been his fault, nor with the disappointed look Alfred would surely give him.

"I need to shower." Arthur repeated, feeling gross and wanting to wash the residue of fear and anxiety off of him.

"All right. D'ya wanna grab breakfast with us, or should I get you something for on the road?"

"The latter, please. I'll come find you when I'm done." He replied, disentangling himself from Alfred.

Alfred smiled and nodded, watching him pad over to their bags as he grabbed some clean clothes and disappeared into the attached bathroom.

He took a wickedly long and hot shower, and by the time he reentered the room, Alfred was gone again. The night stand Arthur had toppled over was back in place, and the rest of the room seemed tidied too.

It was easy to single out his friends in the diner across the street, seeing as they were the loudest group of people in the building. Arthur ignored the mix of secondhand embarrassment and affection he felt and hurried over, sliding into the bench next to Francis.

"Hiya babe! Saved you a muffin." Alfred said with a grin, sliding over a bag and a takeaway cup of tea towards him.

"Thanks, love." He said gratefully, unaware why Alfred seemed to freeze suddenly. It's not as if he hadn't used that particular nickname before, after all. He was about to ask if there was something on his face, when Francis elbowed him in the side, causing him to nearly spill his tea and effectively distracting him.

"Watch it." He snapped without any ill intent, and Francis tutted, sliding closer.

"You look tired, rosbif." Francis said and Arthur narrowed his eyes, hoping that Francis would know what happened without having to tell him. "Up all night, then? You animals."

Or he could make an assumption like that. Either was fine with Arthur.

"Ugh." Matthew said grimly. "If you want to ask about their night, please do it in French. I know enough about my brother already."

When Matthew and Francis went back to their room to pack up and get ready, Alfred apparently decided that acting cheeky was the best way to lighten the mood.

And it worked; because while some people would call Alfred immature or bothersome, Arthur genuinely thought Alfred was funny and adorable when he tried. It wasn't long until he finally caved and snorted at some raunchy joke, causing Alfred to narrow his eyes playfully and corner him for a rather juvenile make-out session.

He succeeded in altering the mood: because Arthur was no longer thinking about his nightmare. No, now he was brooding about meeting Alfred's entire bloody family, with a hickey the size of the State they were in low on his neck, where he could barely cover with his shirt.

As if meeting your significant other's family wasn't already stressful enough.

"Get your hands off of me, you degenerate." Arthur said with a scowl, slapping Alfred's hand away when it wandered up his arm to pinch the aforementioned bruise. Alfred huffed with laughter, putting the hand back on the gearshift. "You would think this is funny. What will your family think? My god, I'm never letting you touch me again."

"You're a terrible liar, Artie."

"It's Arthur -" Arthur halted when all three passengers in the car said it at the same time he did, and he turned around to glare at Matthew and Francis.

He huffed and turned back towards the window. It wasn't fair that Francis wasn't nervous; though he rarely was in these scenarios, and he'd also already met the Jones family months back, so he had a bit of a head-start.

Alfred managed to wrestle his hand into his own sometime later and Arthur let him, albeit begrudgingly. "Don't worry babe, they'll love you. You're this posh, rich gentleman that'll set their poor wayward boy straight - or, uh, not straight... But yeah, they'll worship the ground you walk on, just like I do."

Francis made an ugly sort of gagging noise behind them that the both of them ignored, and yelped when he was elbowed by a sleepy Matthew.

"I knew you were only in it for the money." Arthur countered halfheartedly, though he thought the joke fell rather flat. Alfred smirked anyway and squeezed his hand, before resting their joined hands on his own leg.

By the time they passed the obnoxiously large 'Jones Ranch' sign, he had managed to somewhat relax again. It was hard not to, with how excitable Alfred got as he immediately slowed down to point out all kinds of structures, animals and landmarks.

Arthur listened with half an ear as he and Matthew bickered over who it was that spent most time fixing the fences they drove past, instead focusing on the building in front of them that was the house.

He vaguely remembered it from the video calls he had shared with Alfred all those months earlier. It was fairly large, with a spacious porch at the front. Around it was a scattering of other structures, most likely sheds and stables.

As they parked and exited the car, the front doors of the house opened and a group of people spilled out, chattering excitedly.Francis patted Arthur's shoulder with a wobble of his eyebrows and Arthur elbowed him in the side, before dusting imaginary dirt from his clothes and rounding the car to greet everyone.

A woman who Arthur assumed was the twins' mother, had both boys wrapped in a tight hug.

"Hi ma," Alfred said with a somewhat strained voice, and Matthew followed it up with a "Good to see you."

"Good to see me, they say! I haven't seen you two in ages. The woman said, releasing them to give them a stern look. "What happened to once a month, huh?"

"I think it's a who, not a what!" Another woman piped in, and everyone's attention immediately turned to Arthur and Francis.

"Francis, it's so good to see you again, dear." The twins' mother said then, moving over to give said Frenchman a hug.

Arthur fought not to squirm when the attention was then directed to him, and he painted a smile on his face.

"And you must be Arthur!" Alfred's mother said sweetly and when Arthur politely reached out to shake her hand, she tugged him into a hug instead; which he honestly should've seen coming. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, ma'am." Arthur quipped, feeling his cheeks warm up when he heard one of the other women present mumble something about accents.

"None of that, you can call me Olivia or Liv. Oh, you're way too skinny! Alfred, what did I say about taking care of your boyfriend?"

"I swear, I'm not even home for one minute."

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle, relaxing when Alfred quickly joined his side to fend of his mother's inspection of him. He was swept into more introductions then, and Matthew seized the opportunity to grab his bags and drag Francis into the house while Arthur was in the midst of what felt eerily like a job interview.

When it was finally over, Arthur headed over to grab his own bags, only to find out Alfred had already shouldered all of them like the show-off he was.

Alfred's mother then seized that opportunity to hook her arm in his to firmly tug him towards the house.

"You must be starving after such a long ride. You four stayed at a motel, right? I hope it wasn't too much trouble. Alfred told me you're not fond of long car rides. I'm not either, these old bones get so stiff. I told the boys there was a university much closer to home, but they were so dead set on this one. Well, I suppose it doesn't matter."

By the time she finished speaking, they were inside the kitchen.

"Do you want some lemonade? Or some water? I can make you some tea. Alfred didn't tell me what kind you drank, so I got some of everything."

Arthur resisted a nervous chuckle; he wasn't used to being put on the spot like this, even though it was undeniably sweet.

"Some water would be lovely, thank you ma'a- er, Olivia."

Alfred's mother smiled warmly at him and Arthur felt himself relax a little more.

"Listen to that hot accent!" A new, feminine voice said.

Arthur turned to look at the newcomer and was instantly stupefied; the girl looked exactly what Arthur imagined Alfred would look like as a woman. They were eerily alike, down to their hair color and their eyes, and for a second Arthur wondered if there had been a third twin he'd never been told about. In all fairness, she looked more like Alfred than Matthew did, and even wore a somewhat similar bomber jacket. How she was wearing it in this heat was beyond him, though.

"You must be the one everyone's been talking about. I'm Amelia, nice to meet ya, sugar."

"Arthur. It's a pleasure to meet you." He said, trying not to make it obvious how much he's gawking at her. Their likeliness was insane.

Amelia smirked, obviously having noticed his surprise. "I'm not his sister, no. We're cousins. Though that might as well mean the same down here, huh?"

"Amelia!" Alfred's mother scolded and Amelia laughed brightly. "Go make yourself useful and put on some coffee. Arthur, ignore her, that's what we all do."

"It's fine." Arthur said, clearing his throat lightly. If Amelia was that much like Alfred, he'd be able to handle her just as well, too. "I admit the likeliness threw me off a bit."

Alfred chose that moment to enter the kitchen, and he smiled with relief when he spotted Arthur, glaring at Amelia the moment his eyes found her.

"I'm seriously not home for five minutes and you guys are already bothering him."

Amelia stuck out her tongue. "You can't bring back a British hottie and expect the women of the family to not fawn over him."

"Oh dear." Arthur mumbled and he felt his face flush.

Amelia yelped when Alfred's mother hit her thigh with a dish towel, and Alfred groaned and grabbed hold of Arthur's hand. "We're going to unpack and get settled, okay? Y'all get whatever this is out of your system."

"Of course sweetie. It's so good to have you, Arthur!"

He didn't have time to properly reply, because Alfred already dragged him out of the kitchen. Their bags were already in the hallway and Alfred grabbed the both of them.

"I'm so sorry for them," Alfred said as they ascended the stairs, the amusem*nt clear in his voice. "But I also don't know what else you could've expected from the people I grew up with."

"It's okay, really, they seem lovely." He quickly reassured, letting his eyes wander around his surroundings.

Everything looked pretty much like how Arthur imagined a ranch would look, from the furniture to the decorations to the pictures lined up on every wall. He smiled when he spotted Alfred's younger face in some of them, but decided he'd admire them later and followed his boyfriend for now.

"It's uncanny how much your niece looks like you, though."

"Yeah, I know. Wasn't expecting her to be here yet, otherwise I'd have warned you. Also she will flirt with you relentlessly just to bother me." He grunted the last part with annoyance and Arthur stifled a laugh.

Near the end of the hallway, Alfred kicked a door open to lead him into a reasonably sized bedroom. Arthur smiled when he realized the somewhat messy room still very much reflected Alfred, even when not used often anymore.

There were posters of movies and superheroes on the walls and there were shelves full of space rocket models above a table cluttered with books and various trinkets. In a corner were a few boxes with 'Alfred - attic' scribbled on them, and in another corner stood a neatly organized desk.

The only other thing that was neat in the room was Alfred's made queen-sized bed, but he suspected his mother had something to do with that.

Wanting to complete the image, his eyes inevitably raised to the ceiling, and he was not surprised to see it littered with glow-in-the-dark stars and planets.

"I was six, okay."

"I don't believe you." Arthur said as he looked over to Alfred again, feeling affection burn in his chest. "They're too well placed. You definitely did this as a teenager."

Alfred huffed and tugged him further inside, shutting the door with a foot. "You should see them when it's dark. Which you will when I have you on your back tonight."

Arthur couldn't help the laugh that escaped him and he shoved at Alfred's chest. "You're positively mad if you think I'm going to have sex with you here."

"Not even on my birthday?" He asked, pouting a little and crowding closer again. Arthur rolled his eyes and gave him a brief kiss.

"My mere presence here is your gift this year."

"Dude, if I'm gonna be your sugar baby, then you gotta step up your game."

Arthur scowled and pushed him off of him, agilely avoiding Alfred's attempts to grab him again. "You're sleeping in the barn tonight."

"But this is my room!"

"I don't care."

The door behind him opened with a loud creak and Arthur startled, hoping no one actually heard their exchange. Amelia popped in with a devilish smirk on her face, nodding towards Alfred. "He already giving you trouble, sugar? The guest room's big enough for two, just sayin'."

Arthur bit his lips to keep from laughing. "Thank you for the offer, but I will be quite all right."

Amelia raised her eyebrows at Alfred's direction. "You better keep him happy, Al. Auntie Liv's already planned the Christmas seating plan."

Alfred, who had waltzed back up to Arthur, shrugged with a lop-sided smirk and threw an arm around Arthur's shoulders. "You know how it goes. Happy wife, happy life."

Arthur elbowed him in his side hard enough for Alfred to stumble and wheeze and he glared his way. "I will hurt you."

"I am a glutton for punishment, baby."

"Ugh, why do you say the things you say." Amelia said, and Arthur never agreed with another person more than he did right then. "Anyway, y'all gotta come back down when you're finished, face the masses. Blink twice if you need me to save you."

She almost shut the door, but seemed to reconsider as she opened it up again.

"Oh, Artie, if ya need some concealer for that hickey, lemme know."

Then she shut the door again and left, though Arthur could hear her throwing open the door to Matthew's room, confirming that the house was noisy and that, if Arthur had anything to say about it, absolutely nothing untoward was going to happen.

"She's literally you." He said with an accusatory tone, tugging his shirt up to cover his bruise again. "Am I on a reality show? Are you messing with me?"

Alfred laughed and reached out to pinch the once more hidden bruise on his neck, earning himself another shove.

The Jones family was absolutely delightful. They were also very close to one another. At first Arthur thought everyone's presence was due to the twins' birthday, but apparently one of the aunts lived here with her children as well.

It was eerie how at home he was made to feel, too. Especially the women of the family had taken to him, swooning over his British accent and his polite manners. He had even managed to steal the thunder from Francis, who was normally in the spotlight when introduced to a family.

He was used to this kind of hospitality from the Bonnefoy family, but he'd known that family for years. To receive the same kind of warm welcome at a new family made him feel a little uncomfortable at first.

The downside of this entire ordeal, was that everyone woke up at an ungodly hour. And since the house was noisy, it meant Arthur inevitably woke up at the same ungodly hour.Alfred obviously had no problem with it, and while Arthur wasn't used to sleeping in late per say, he was used to waking up after seven at the earliest.

The first morning, Alfred told him to go back to sleep as he slipped out himself, and Arthur had done so. The second morning had been the twins' birthday, and Alfred had given him no other choice but to wake up when he rolled on top of Arthur and smothered him with kisses.

Arthur had grunted about morning breath, but eventually was dragged into Alfred's enthusiasm and returned the favor, smiling as he congratulated him in between kisses.

A small hour later he sat down on the porch swing, yawning and warming his hands on a cup of tea. Francis was already there, mirroring his tired expression, but with a cup of coffee.

In the house he could hear Olivia chatter with her sister and sister-in-law, as they set about preparing the big birthday breakfast Arthur wasn't allowed to help with (which was probably for the best, but he felt out of place anyway).

"At least it's summer, now." Francis mumbled after they shared an amicable silence. "Last time I was here it was winter, and let me tell you, their heaters do not work as well as they claim."

Arthur snorted and sipped his tea before pulling his knees up to his chest. It was still a little chilly and he'd thrown on one of Alfred's hoodies over his own shirt, secretly pleased with how it was a little big on him and how it smelled of Alfred's aftershave.Alfred had frozen in the hallway when they passed each other and he had seen it, an expression on his face that told Arthur that Alfred wanted to tease him, but he'd been whisked away by his father before he could.

"They're putting on quite the show." He said, commenting on how Matthew and Alfred were helping their father and move crates and hay bales from one barn to another.

"Think they'll pull off their shirts sometime soon?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and cursed when another person suddenly climbed onto the porch swing with them, jostling them both into almost spilling their drinks.

"Oh, they will." Amelia confirmed as she snuggled underneath one of Arthur's arms and into his side. "Right Hollywood stars, they are."

"When is your birthday, Amelia?" Arthur asked, half afraid that she was going to say it was also on the fourth of July.

"June." Amelia reassured him. "You're invited to come and celebrate next year, provided you come alone."

Arthur had grown quite fond of Amelia, despite her best efforts. Or rather, she did not actively seek out to annoy him - no, her mission seemed to be as friendly with Arthur as he permitted, so that she could actively annoy Alfred.

"I accept."

Francis complained about being left out and Arthur tuned them out as they started talking with him physically between them, zoning out as he watched Alfred disappear and appear from one of the barns.

Eventually Amelia was called away to help in the kitchen, and Francis left to finally take a shower and get ready. By the time Arthur finished his tea and was thinking about heading back inside to again ask if he could help, Alfred had finished helping his dad.

Arthur watched him saunter over to him, smiling indulgently when Alfred flashed him a wry grin.

"Lookin' mighty cute in that get-up." Alfred jeered as he sat down on the porch swing, jostling it back and forth again.

Arthur dipped his head so that he could hide his chin in the collar of the hoodie. "I see why you wear these awful things so often. They're quite comfortable."

"Gosh Mr. Kirkland, what would your fellow button-up-with-sweater-vest peers think?"

"Oh, do shut up."

"Nuh-uh, it's my birthday. I'm gonna do whatever I want today."

"As opposed to any other day?"

Alfred chuckled and leaned back, using his legs to softly push the porch swing back and forth. Arthur turned sideways, so that he could look at Alfred proper, even if it meant the arm of the swing was digging into his back uncomfortably.The movement caused the envelope he pocketed in the hoodie to crinkle softly, reminding him of its presence.

It'd been rather tough finding a suitable gift for Alfred, especially since Arthur had the tendency to 'splurge'. And really, if it were up to him, he'd gift Alfred a new laptop or maybe even a beach holiday in a tropical faraway country, but Alfred refused to 'profit' (his words, not Arthur's) off of him.

"Whatcha broodin' about?"

"The longer you are here, the more atrocious your speech becomes." Arthur chastised and Alfred mock-glared at him, pouting. "Suppose I have a present for you, would you want it now or later?"

Alfred's face went from curious to enthusiastic so quickly that Arthur wondered if he blinked and missed the transformation.

"Now, duh." Alfred said excitedly and Arthur pulled the envelope from the hoodie's pocket, holding it out for Alfred to take.

Inside the envelope were two tickets to the U.S. Space & Rocket Center. Once Alfred recognized them, he smiled as bright as a child on Christmas day, and Arthur felt his heartbeat flutter harshly.

"I wanted to make a bit of a road trip out of it, too." He continued as Alfred inspected the tickets. "Since I know you wouldn't let me treat you to a proper vacation."

"A road trip?" Alfred echoed, looking a little surprised. "You sure?"

"I trust you." He said with a sincere smile, amused when Alfred's cheeks flushed a little in response.

"Awesome, a road trip it is." Alfred said, nodding to himself and looking back at the tickets. He carefully put them back in the envelope and smiled brightly back at Arthur. "Aw, I kinda wanna go right now! Thanks babe, I love y- uh,"

Arthur frowned at how Alfred froze up like a deer caught in the headlights, and he supposed that was his own fault. But he hated how nervous Alfred suddenly seemed, hated knowing that he caused that himself.

And yet, even though Alfred himself didn't realize it, Arthur had gotten somewhat used to hearing Alfred saying it. Or well, he wasn't used to it per say, but he didn't feel like fleeing anymore. Why? Alfred talked in his sleep, and if Arthur was awake enough, he'd amuse himself by attempting an actual conversation. In many of those conversations the past few weeks, Alfred threw the three words around like they were sprinkles.

"I love it. The, uh, tickets. Love them. And the road trip idea. Can't wait!"

"You... you can say it." Arthur mumbled, dipping his head down again to avoid Alfred's eyes. "I - it's just - well. You can. If you want to. I don't mind."

Alfred didn't say anything for a while, and just as Arthur wanted to look up to see what was wrong, Alfred moved closer again to drape himself against Arthur's knees. Instinctively Arthur raised one of his hands to reach out and curl around Alfred's shoulder, lowering one of his legs to make it easier for Alfred to hide his face in his neck.

"I love you." Alfred whispered then, out of sight.

Arthur held his breath, felt his heart fluttering like crazy again, and the same words itched in his throat. It almost physically hurt to not say it back; so why didn't he? Why was he nervous, and why was being nervous making him feel queasy?

Alfred apparently either noticed his internal struggle or decided he didn't want to wait, because he leaned back, turning a little so that he could press his lips against Arthur's own.Arthur happily reciprocated, thankful for the distraction and that Alfred wasn't demanding anything Arthur, for some reason, still could not give yet.

Then the front door slammed open, startling the both of them bad enough to almost topple from the porch swing.

"I thought you turned twenty, Al, not sixteen. No making out on the porch!" Amelia accused, though there was something teasing behind her scandalized expression. She pointed at Arthur and crooked her finger at him in a come-hither motion. "And breakfast's ready, sugar."

"We could escape and head into town." Alfred whispered conspiratorially, and as much as the idea appealed to Arthur as well, he sighed and gently shoved Alfred off of him.

They had a birthday to attend, after all.

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Chapter Text

The return address on the envelope in his hands was one Arthur knew by heart.

He stared at the rather fancy envelope intensely, as if it would somehow go up in flames if he averted his eyes from it for just a second.

"Hi babe." Alfred greeted as he walked into the kitchen, shirtless and toweling his hair dry.

Arthur finally dragged his eyes from the object in his hands to appreciate his boyfriend's physique. His hair was still damp from the shower and he wasn't wearing his glasses, and all Arthur wanted to do was cancel the day and snuggle up together on the couch.

"What's that?" He asked as he grabbed the cup of coffee Arthur had prepared for him earlier, moving to lean against the kitchen counter.

"I'm about to find out." Arthur said with a sigh.

He threw back the last of his tea, set his cup down and then abruptly tore the damned envelope open, extracting the equally fancy looking card from inside.

On the front was his brother's name, along with his brother's girlfriend's name, and a date.

Arthur had known that the two were in a relationship, they'd been in one since Arthur left the country. But he had no idea they were that serious or that they had even gotten engaged.

Then again; whereas he talked to his mother every now and then, he hadn't talked to Allistor in years.

He flipped it over and opened it to scan the fairly standardized text inside. It was probably a bulk order, because there was nothing personalized about it. His eyes landed on what was the Kirkland landline number, with the request to please RSVP.

"It's an invite. My brother is getting married." He explained when he realized Alfred was still waiting curiously.

"Aw, I love weddings. Congrats!"

"It's in England, two weeks from now."

Two weeks was a rather short time frame for a wedding to be sent. That either meant that they hadn't wanted to invite Arthur in the first place, or that they decided to keep it small. Both options seemed perfectly possible.

Alfred attempted to look nonchalant, but Arthur knew him too well to not recognize it as blatant curiosity and anticipation.

Arthur eyed the part where the invitation said to bring a plus one.

"We would both have to take a few days off."

Alfred smiled so brightly that Arthur instinctively felt himself relax.

The idea of Alfred tagging along and meeting his entire family was nerve-wrecking, but the whole affair would be much more bearable with his company. And the idea of being seperated from him for a whole week - whereas they'd nearly spent every day of the last summer together - didn't sit right with him either.

"I don't think that'll be a problem!"

"Do you even have a proper suit? If not, we'll need to go shopping for one."

"How very Pretty Woman of you."

Arthur glared, forcing himself not to smile at Alfred's flirty expression. Which was difficult, because the squinting due to the lack of glasses made him weirdly adorable.

He looked back down at the card in his hand. "I'll have to warn you that they could not be more different from your own family."

He toyed with the idea of not going, of simply saying he never got the invitation. He couldn't imagine his brother being upset with him for not coming. But his mother would definitely hold it against him, and he supposed he was a few years overdue for a visit anyway.

Alfred's flirty grin turned into a soft and sincere smile. He leaned forward and reached out to trace his fingers over Arthur's wrist.

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

Arthur nodded absentmindedly, thinking about all the things he needed to (mentally) prepare for. They could get a hotel, but his mother would probably be offended, and there was a big chance that the wedding took place on their estate anyway.

After their flight, they could get the train to the city nearest to his home, but after that they would have to either rent a car or get a cab. Arthur would definitely prefer Alfred driving, but he would have to be comfortable with driving on the left side of the lane.

Perhaps they could take a few days after the wedding to drive around the area, Arthur thought longingly as he remembered their road-trip a month earlier.

"It's way too early for such an intense thinking face, Artie." Alfred playfully grumbled as he tugged at Arthur's wrist while leaning forward a bit more.

Arthur blinked as he was snapped out of his musing and rolled his eyes, but leaned forward to meet Alfred for a brief kiss anyway.

"Don't you have a job to go to?" He said as he gestured at the clock.

Alfred laughed and threw his damp towel at Arthur. "Such is the fate of us little people." He bemoaned dramatically, disappearing from the kitchen before Arthur could throw the towel back.

Arthur waited until Alfred left before grabbing his phone and dialing the Kirkland residence's number.

Why Arthur had ever thought that this had been a good idea, was beyond him.

At least Alfred seemed to have fun. Despite it being his first intercontinental flight and despite not having slept much at that flight or the following train journey, he appeared energetic and eager.And despite driving a little slower than usual, he did fine in that area, too.

Not that it mattered - Arthur was too distracted with the impending doom that was growing larger the closer they got to his childhood home.

Alfred's attempt to distract him by asking him a million questions was endearing at first, but now Arthur was getting snappy. At least Alfred knew when to stop, because now he simply hummed along to the radio.

He understood Alfred wanting to keep both hands on the wheel, but he wished he'd hold his hand.

"Ugh." He exclaimed, realizing even his anxiety was getting clingy towards Alfred now. He shifted until he could lean his head on the window, glaring at their surroundings.

Alfred's phone, which was functioning as a GPS right now, announced the next intersection and where they needed to go, but Arthur reached out to silence it.

"It's faster if you take a right here."

"All right." Alfred agreed readily, following his next few instructions. "How long has it been again?"

"Four years." He mumbled, ignoring the stab of guilt. Then again; it wasn't as if he visited all that much while he still lived in Europe (but it had at least been once a year, his mind reminded him).

The gates to the estate were conveniently open, but Arthur knew that they'd be expected so he didn't ponder on it. Alfred turned down the radio and slowed the car down a little, obviously taking in his surroundings with rapt attention.

Arthur closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. It'd be fine - what was the worst that could happen, anyway? It wasn't as if everyone was going to start fighting immediately. No, everyone was perfectly mature now - except maybe 16-year old Peter.

Alfred whistled, sounding impressed, and Arthur opened his eyes to see the manor a ways ahead of them.

"Smaller than I expected."

He snorted, recognizing the slightly nervous tone underneath Alfred's casual humor. He reached out to sqeeze Alfred's hand, which had gone to rest on his thigh since they slowed down.

"If it's not to your liking, we could still turn around and find a hotel." He suggested, trailing his thumb over the dorsal of Alfred's hand.

"Tempting, but you promised your mom."

Arthur had no doubt that if he persisted, Alfred would do as asked. But he was right, and so Arthur simply shrugged, trying to look anywhere but his childhood home. Which was quite difficult, because it was rather large, and at this distance always in his peripheral vision.

"Wasn't this place in an episode of The Crown?"

"Ha ha -" Arthur began sarcastically, before halting. "Wait, I knew you were watching and not actually sleeping, you liar."

"What can I say, the drama got to me. And I figured it'd help me understand your heritage, your Highness."

"Please don't bring out the sugar daddy jokes in front of my family." Alfred laughed then, obviously relaxing a bit due to their banter. "And you won't be needing to call anyone by any title, we all sh*t on the same few toilets here."

Alfred gasped as he tore his eyes from the manor at the end of the road, turning to look at him with a scandalized expression.

"Good grief, Master Kirkland! The language that leaves your foul mouth."

"You should see what else I can do with my foul mouth."

"Dude, I'm about to meet your family." Alfred said, sounding rueful.

Arthur smirked playfully, but decided to abandon the juvenile flirting anyway, since he had a valid point.

When they finally drove around the decorative fountain and pulled up in front of the entrance, Arthur spotted his mother rushing towards him as he exited the car.

At first glance, it seemed she had hardly changed since the last time Arthur saw her face-to-face. Her dyed blonde hair was up in her usual bun, and she was dressed casually chic as always. But she also looked as if she was tired, and there were definitely a few more wrinkles on her face.

"Arthur!" His mum said with delight, moving forward to hug him lightly. Just as quickly as she did, she let him go again, holding him at an arm's length to inspect him. "It's so good to see you."

She still wore the same perfume, too.

"Thanks, mum. It's... been too long." He said, awkwardly trying to withhold an outright lame excuse for not coming home to visit sooner.

"What's important is that you're here now." She said with a nod, as if she somehow read his mind anyway. "And this must be your Alfred."

Alfred had arrived at his side in the meantime, flashing his signature winning smile, and Arthur felt some of the tension in his shoulders leave again.

"Alfred F. Jones, ma'am. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He took her offered hand and bowed down to kiss it, instead of shaking it. Arthur only barely managed not to roll his eyes, and wasn't sure if the amusem*nt hiding in his mother's eyes was due to Alfred's accent or his manners.

"Please, call me Eleanor. I trust your flight went well?"

"Without a hitch, ma'am."

His mum laughed, reaching out to kindly pat Alfred's upper arm as she smiled knowingly at Arthur. "Oh, I like him. He has manners."

He had no idea what to say in return, so he simply smiled awkwardly. His mum appraised them for a brief, quiet second, and then stepped back with a kind smile.

"Well, you two must be exhausted. How about you get settled and rest a little? Peter will be home soon, I'm sure he'll want to catch up at dinner."

Arthur was infinitely grateful for her suggestion, nodding thankfully before following Alfred back to the car to get their bags, feeling the inquisitive eyes of his mother burn into his back.

The next few days were going to be tough.

One of the silver linings in this whole affair, was Alfred's admirable attempt to adapt to his surroundings.

Alfred was a country boy at heart, and watching him struggle whenever someone called him Mister Jones or whenever the staff did something Alfred meant to do himself was becoming one of Arthur's guilty pleasures.

He'd taken pity on his boyfriend sometime during his tour of the property, though. After the manor, the stables, the tennis court and the swimming pool, Arthur dragged a slightly bewildered and subdued Alfred towards the forest surrounding the house.

It was easy to navigate the paths he used to wander as a child. Lots of the small structures and fairy houses he built were still there, albeit slightly decayed due to aging and being neglected.

By the time he reached the tiny structure he called his own 'cabin' as a kid (to be fair, it did look bigger then), Alfred was wearing one of those dopey smiles that caused Arthur's heartbeat to flutter painfully.

He tugged Alfred inside, half hoping that the roof wouldn't collapse on them, smiling when he noticed some of his old stuff was still in there. It was incredibly dusty and everything creaked a lot more than it used to do, but the fact that it still stood, made Arthur nostalgic.

"I can just picture a tiny you hiding out in here." Alfred gushed, brushing his fingers over a piece of decor Arthur made with moss and dried flowers over a decade ago. It was severely dried out and crumbled a little, causing

Alfred to hastily retract his hand. "Oops."

"I kept bringing pillows and toys here, yet they'd always be gone whenever I returned a day later." He said with a sigh, knowing by now his parents were responsible. Back then he thought it had been trolls causing mischief.

He must've looked nostalgic or pensive, because Alfred appeared in front of him with a bright, adoring smile. He had to hunch forward slightly as to not hit the ceiling of the tiny cabin, reminding Arthur once more of how big this place had seemed when he was young.

"So, is this where you'll lure me to in the deep, dark night?"

Arthur snorted and shoved Alfred away from him. "Is having sex in childhood homes a fantasy of yours? Christ."

Alfred laughed and crowded closer again, grabbing Arthur's arms to prevent him from struggling and peppering his cheeks with kisses until Arthur gave in, deciding that a little make-out session wouldn't hurt.

Peter was a delight. Upon seeing Arthur, he'd rushed over to hug him, firing question after question. Arthur could easily see the young lad somewhat idolized Alfred too, inconspicuously inching closer every time Alfred was nearby, hoping Alfred would strike up a conversation.

Most of those conversations ended in Peter speaking in near incomprehensible English, much to Alfred's confusion and amusem*nt and Arthur's delight.

("Whatcha up to, little dude?"

"Sweet Fanny Adams. Which is pants, because I'm bored silly."

"Artie, help. I have no idea what he's saying."

"He's teasing you."

"Me? Teasing him? That's bonkers and you're a twit for saying so!"

"Call me twit again and see what happens, you brat.")

As for the rest of his family... well, everyone could see that things were tense.

Both Arthur and Eleanor Kirkland walked on eggshells around each other, but at least Alfred and her interacted politely - and superficially, but Arthur did warn Alfred about the difference between their families.

He was more concerned about Allistor, though.

"Allistor, Mary, so good to see you." Eleanor said delightedly, moving forward to briefly hug her son and to kiss her future daughter-in-law on her cheek.

"Mum." Allistor nodded in return, though his eyes had already landed on Arthur. He looked him up and down for a moment - almost as if surprised - and then nodded at him, too. "Arthur. Been a while."

Arthur forced himself to smile. Allistor looked exactly like he did the last time Arthur had seen him - which was right after Arthur slammed the door shut and left for the airport, four years ago.

"Congratulations on your engagement."

"Thanks."

Mary quickly - blessedly - intervened, obviously having no quarrel with Arthur at all and hugging him excitedly while babbling about how long it has been since she saw him.

Attention was diverted from him the moment he introduced Alfred, and he made a mental note to apologize to his boyfriend later for throwing him into the fire like that.

After they went back inside, nothing out of the ordinary happened. They shared a lunch, afterwards Peter, Alfred and Arthur played a board-game, and then Peter mentioned something about showing Alfred his favorite video game.

Arthur told them to go ahead, as he felt a dire need for a cup of tea.

And that's when things inevitably went south - earlier, yet also later, than Arthur initially expected.

The kitchen happened to be completely devoid of anyone but Allistor, and Arthur remembered his mother and Mary had gone into town for some last minute wedding shopping.

He knew that turning tail would only be cowardly, so he nodded at Allistor and set about making himself a cup of tea, ignoring his brothers piercing stare.

It'd be fine as long as they just ignored each other, but Allistor apparently had other ideas.

"Why'd you come?" Allistor suddenly asked, voice purposefully nonchalant.

"You invited me." He replied shortly, tapping his fingers against the counter.

"Never swayed you before."

He turned around, facing Allistor properly. "Get to the point."

Allistor stubbed out the cigarette he'd been smoking. "You haven't shown your face here in four years, can't blame me for wondering."

Arthur took a second to calmly inhale and exhale, trying not to snap out of annoyed nervousness.

"It's not everyday you get married."

"Hm."

"Look, if you didn't want me to come, then why did you invite me?" He asked then, aware he sounded defensive, and aware that he should not have sounded defensive.

Allistor pursed his lips, expression growing irritated as well. "You're my brother, that's why."

He couldn't help it - he really couldn't. He snorted sarcastically and uttered: "You've never cared about that sentiment before."

He hadn't meant to say it, but it was true anyway: most memories he had of Allistor consist of being bullied by him and of being ignored by him, after all.

Allistor scowled. "You mean when you were being an insufferable brat, or when you decided to drop off the face of the planet entirely?"

Arthur glared in return, knowing he was going to say things without thinking about them beforehand, but not caring much about it."I never imagined you would be any less of a wanker, so I don't know why you imagined things would be any different."

"I hoped you would've grown out of blaming everyone but yourself for your sh*tty behavior by now, but I guess not."

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that mum's been heartbroken ever since you came back only to pick up your sh*t and f*ck off to the States. And now you suddenly show up, with that lad in tow, not even acknowledging the rift between us."

"Don't bring him into this." Arthur sneered, ignoring the stab of guilt in his chest at everything else he had said. "And you damn well know what exactly caused that rift."

"We all had to deal with losing dad, Arthur."

"Really? Because if I remember correctly, you moved out the moment your part of the inheritance came through."

Allistor's face darkened then, and he shoved his chair back so that he could stand up. But Arthur was long past the age of being intimidated by his meathead of a brother, so he stayed put with a fierce glare.

"You weren't exactly making it a delight to be around, brat. You can't blame me for moving out, nor mum for sending you away. Actions have consequences."

"I was twelve, you absolute knobhea*d."

Allistor's stormy expression faltered then - and Arthur briefly remembered Allistor objecting when his mother announced that Arthur was going to a boarding school. But that rare instance of brotherly worry was not enough to make up for everything else.

Allistor had no f*cking right to look at him with concealed sympathy.

"And instead of helping me with - instead of being there for me, she dumped me overseas. So kindly take your judgement and shove it up your arse."

"Uh." A voice said suddenly, and both of them whirled to the doorway where Peter and Alfred were standing.

Peter looked a little concerned, as if he was expecting Arthur and Allistor to start trading punches.

Alfred wasn't looking at him, but was glaring at Allistor, and while Arthur was afraid of how much Alfred heard, he was at least glad that he too thought Allistor was being an ass.

Arthur glared at Allistor one more time, before turning around and storming out of there, tea be damned.

He was aware that Alfred immediately followed him, but he didn't turn around to check. Anger, panic, guilt - it all clouded his mind at once, and Arthur was torn by the desire to punch or break something.

Why was he even here? Why had he dragged Alfred over here? This was a mistake, and he knew it would be, but he still went.

Nothing changed and honestly, everyone (himself included) would be much better off if Arthur just went home and never came back again.

f*ck, he needed a distraction. He needed to not freak out and to not think about this any more.He was so sick and tired of feeling nervous, guilty and out of place. He wanted to feel anything else, if only for a little while.

It wasn't until he'd marched into his own bedroom that he realized he knew exactly what could take his mind off of things.

Alfred shut the door behind him, throwing him a worried glance, but Arthur ignored it and shoved him against the door instead, swallowing his surprised grunt by smashing their lips together roughly.

He clutched at Alfred's shoulders and bit at his lips until they finally opened, but instead of pulling him closer, Alfred's hands at his waist were pushing gently.

"Babe -" Alfred managed to extract himself from Arthur's grip, and watched him warily.

"I just want to feel something else for a moment." He mumbled, inching back towards Alfred and mouthing at his jaw while also busying himself with unbuttoning Alfred's jeans.

"Uh, I don't know if this is a good idea."

Arthur grumbled and disentangled himself, stalking over to the bed and angrily tugging his shirt over his head while he sat down.

"If I promise to talk about it later, will you f*ck me first? Come on," He taunted, sitting down on the bed and spreading his legs lazily. "you can even come inside me."

Alfred's face darkened a little and he exhaled harshly, looking upwards as if to ask strength from some higher being.

Arthur scowled; he was getting impatient.

"If you don't want to, that's fine, but then please leave so I can take care of myself." He allowed his eyes to go half-lidded, leaning back slightly and playing with the front of his jeans. "Unless you want to watch."

"f*ck, Arthur." Alfred sounded more angry than turned on, but it only spurred Arthur on. "We need to talk about -"

"Later." Arthur interrupted, undoing his own jeans and slipping a hand in. "Please just f*ck me first. I want to forget my own name."

Apparently that was incentive enough, because Alfred growled angrily one more time and then he stalked over. Arthur grinned excitedly as Alfred looked down at him, but before he could make use of the ideal situation of being eye-level with Alfred's own crotch, Alfred sat down next to him.

"You gotta promise me this is all right. I don't want this to upset you later."

Arthur sighed: even after multiple talks about consent and after dating eight months, Alfred was still always so damn considerate.

"I promise." He said, shuffling closer and slanting their mouths together again. He licked into his mouth with broad sweeps of his tongue, and Alfred made a yielding noise, finally reciprocating properly.

Arthur shuffled and shuffled some more until he managed to sit on top of Alfred's lap, trapping him by putting his knees on either side.

He could feel Alfred's thighs shifting beneath his own, knowing the fidgeting motion meant that he was starting to get turned on too.

"We're going to talk about this later." Alfred breathed against his lips, his voice taking on a low tone that made Arthur putty in his hands.

Arthur hummed and grabbed the edges of his shirt, pulling until Alfred too is shirtless. He tossed the garment aside carelessly and latched onto Alfred's collarbone, alternating sucks and bites teasingly until Alfred pulled him back in another searing kiss.

He moaned and tried to grind down in an effort to find some friction. When he didn't get a proper amount, he tangled his hand into Alfred's hair and pulled harshly, urging Alfred to get on with it. He probably pulled harder than necessary, considering Alfred's hand tightened around his waist as a warning.

"In a hurry?" Alfred murmured, trailing his lips across Arthur's jaw.

"You're being too slow and sweet." Arthur complained, albeit a bit breathlessly.

He knew Alfred preferred slow and sweet, and usually Arthur did too, but he wanted to forget - and it was taking too bloody long, even though the kissing was really great on its own.

Arthur awkwardly managed to get a hand between their bodies, messing with the fly of Alfred's jeans in order to get to his prize. It wasn't very comfortable like this, though.

"Come on," he sneered when Alfred lazily dragged his lips down to his neck. "Alfred, come on."

"Kind of hard when - ow, f*ck -" Alfred gasped when Arthur gave his hair another harsh and mean yank while also grinding down again.

Then Arthur is suddenly lifted up and, f*ck, if it isn't hot how effortless it seemed.
Alfred turned around and forcibly pushed Arthur down on the bed, face first. Arthur grunted when his face met the pillow, but he betrayed his excitement by raising his hips to meet Alfred's hands.

"Fine, damn it." Alfred growled, quickly sliding both Arthur's jeans and underwear down in one go. He shoves a knee up between Arthur's open legs, the rough texture of his own jeans offering spectacular friction. "You want it rough then?"

"If you're up to the task." Arthur tried not to admit to himself that he was getting a somewhat sick kick out this.

Alfred then suddenly left the bed, and he immediately sat up to ask what the f*ck he thought he was doing. Alfred glared at him heatedly.

"Don't. Move." He ordered, voice low.

Arthur felt his co*ck twitch, and he quickly lied back down. But he did grind into the mattress a bit, satisfied when Alfred gave him a weary glare.

He listened with anticipation as Alfred got rid of the rest of his clothes and rummaged around in a bag. Then he joined Arthur back on the bed and Arthur realized his own movements were a bit restricted by the jeans still trapped around his calves.

He tried to wiggle out of them, but Alfred deliberately sat one knee down on the fabric, pinning Arthur in place.

Then he pulled at him so that his hips were raised again, and Arthur pressed his face back into the pillow, smothering what was going to be a whine.

He keened when a cold, lube-coated finger entered him without any warning. Alfred leaned over him and Arthur felt dizzy with the idea of being unable to escape, his boyfriend looming over him.

"I don't wanna hurt you." Alfred said, breath tickling his ear as he curled his finger wickedly.

"I'm not fragile." Arthur countered heatedly, turning his head slightly when Alfred moved down to mouth at his neck.

"I know, but if I wanna stop, we stop."

The idea of Alfred having the willpower to suddenly stop and leave Arthur hanging, was insanely hot, so Arthur simply pushed his hips back up in lieu of a response.

Alfred hummed, abruptly adding a second one, and even though it's too soon, Arthur doesn't care. It burned, yes, but not excruciatingly so. Alfred's free hand grabbed onto his hip to keep him in place, grip tight enough to feel bruising.

"I said don't move." He said then. "Be good, and I'll make you feel good. You know I will."

Arthur loved how confident Alfred could get in bed, and this time was no exception.

He forced his hips to still, fingers scrabbling to find purchase on either the sheets or the pillow when Alfred started curling and scissoring his fingers again.

By the time Alfred adds a third, he's positively panting. "Please, please," He pleaded, not sounding half as put together as he wanted to. "Imagine how tight I'd be - if you'd just - ah - push in right now. I'd be so tight around your big -"

"Arthur." Alfred groaned, pushing his fingers in deeper as he ground against Arthur's thigh. The drag of his hot co*ck against his own bare skin made him dizzy with anticipation, and he pushed back eagerly.

"Let me turn around," He babbled, forgetting what Alfred ordered him to do earlier and trying to turn around. "Let me, I want to kiss you, let me ride you, come on, come on-"

He keened when Alfred's hand left his hip and instead wrapped around the back of his neck, restraining him from turning even his head towards Alfred now.

It's intoxicating how Alfred managed to keep him from turning around with what seemed to be little trouble, but it was also driving him mad.

"I really have to buy you a gag, huh? I'm not taking any suggestions." Alfred teased, though the tone of his voice suggested that he was probably actually considering it.

Arthur's mind wandered a bit, fantasizing, and just as he's about to suggest that a tie would work too, Alfred's fingers left him.

Alfred shuffled a bit to reposition himself and it allowed Arthur to finally kick his jeans off all the way. But before he could use his newly gained freedom to perhaps turn the tables, he felt Alfred's hand tighten around his neck as a warning.

A warning that should not have felt as arousing as it did, but he supposed that was just another addition to his growing list of Alfred-involved kinks.

"For the third time, don't move." Alfred said roughly, sounding a little out of breath. "Unless you want me to leave. Do you? I could go downstairs, get myself something to eat. I'd tie you to the bed first, of course. Leave you here, wanting, helpless."

"Christ, Alfred," Arthur moaned, forcing himself to not thrash around and announce that it sounded more like a promise than a threat.

Alfred rewarded his renewed stillness by pushing his legs further apart with his own knee. He paused then, seeming to consider something, and just as Arthur wanted to growl that he was not into spanking, Alfred brought his hand down on his left buttock with a harsh slap.

And, well. Apparently Arthur wasn't so sure anymore about being into spanking or not.

He cursed, not really knowing if he was actually saying something or if he was just making noises while Alfred kneaded the abused flesh in a hand.

Then the hand left him and finally - finally finally - Arthur felt the head of Alfred's co*ck prod at his hole. There's a bit more resistance than there usually is as Alfred slowly inched forward, but the burn nearly tipped Arthur over to the edge, and he hadn't even been touched yet.

Alfred stilled when he's all the way in, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Arthur's shoulder.

"Fast or slow?" He asked, voice strained but impossibly gentle.

Even now his amazing boyfriend found the mental willpower to be considerate. Arthur wanted to smother him with kisses.

"If you even think of going slow, I swear -" His threat is cut off when Alfred pulled back and slammed back in viciously, fingers around his neck tightening just a tiniest bit.

The sound that left his throat can only be classified as a wail, and despite knowing his walls were somewhat sound-proofed, Arthur vicariously hoped no one was nearby.

The pace Alfred then set was both gentle and brutal at the same time, something Arthur hadn't known was possible. He tried to move his hips back in sync but in the end decided he'd enjoy it more if he'd just give up and let Alfred do the work.

Alfred certainly didn't mind, leaning forward to trap him against the bed with more than just his hand. He can hardly move, much less wedge a hand underneath himself to grab his own dick. It felt a bit claustrophobic, but in the best way possible.

When Alfred reached a hand towards his own, Arthur latched onto it viciously, craving the emotional comfort it brought no matter where they were or what they were doing.

He swore vehemently at one particularly harsh thrust against his prostrate, the friction of his own co*ck dragging up and down the bed nearly unbearable.

He wanted to come so badly, but also didn't want this to ever end at all. So he bit down on his lower lip, then at the inside of his cheeks, trying to create a pain that will distract him but none of it works.

"Ah - Alfred, sh*t, Alfred,"

Alfred shifted a bit and rammed his prostrate dead-on. Electricity ran up Arthur's spine so violently that he came all of a sudden, keening as Alfred consistently f*cked him through it.

When he came down from his rather abrupt high, he noticed Alfred is still hard and still inside of him, not moving. He was breathing harshly, as if he was trying to calm himself down before he too went over the edge.

He didn't protest at all when Alfred pulled out, leaning back and pushing at him until he's turned over and facing him. Alfred smiled down at Arthur, somewhat apprehensively but also adoringly.

He moved his hands to his hips to lift him up as he entered him again, and Arthur was still so boneless he didn't even wince, even though it felt a bit sensitive.

Alfred leaned forward to brush his lips against Arthur's. "You totally came untouched, didn't you." He whispered and if Arthur hadn't still been riding his high, he'd be a little embarrassed.

The pace Alfred then set was agonizingly slow, slowly chasing away Arthur's high and replacing it with a new, burning yet comfortable aching.

Alfred buried his face into his neck then, and Arthur's heart swelled with delighted anticipation when he realized what was coming.

"I love you." Alfred murmured, loud enough for him to hear.

Surprisingly enough, Alfred did not say it every day, as Arthur had expected after he told Alfred it was okay to do so. He used the privilege sparingly, as if fearing that if he said it too much, Arthur would reconsider.

Most of the times he would hide his face - in Arthur's hair, neck, shoulder, you name it - and by now, Arthur was as intimately familiar with the sound of the words as he was with the feel of them against his skin.

He raised his hands to trace his fingers over Alfred's skin, settling at the back of his head.He turned his head to whisper sweet, nonsensical nothings into Alfred's ear, sighing when Alfred's hips stuttered as he buried himself deep one more time. He finally came with a drawn out moan, and though it was going to a bitch to clean out, Arthur hummed appreciatively in return at the feeling.

Alfred managed to not collapse onto him entirely, but he's still a comfortable weight on top of him, one that makes him feel secure. Eventually Alfred moved, slipping out of him and Arthur winced slightly.

Alfred, of course, noticed immediately, dopey expression making way for concern. "sh*t, are you okay? I'm sorry, I got carried away."

Arthur resisted grimacing as he turned, feeling wetness trickle down his thigh as he did so. He was probably going to be sore later, but he was going to do everything in his power to not let Alfred notice.

"Don't ruin my afterglow with apologies I don't need." He admonished with a smile, reaching up to tug Alfred back towards him.

Alfred went willingly, but carefully. His hands skimmed Arthur's waist gently, as if looking for something, but his whole body was still warm with pleasure and Arthur simply curled into his touch eagerly.

"I still can't believe we did that, damn." Alfred grumbled when he saw the state of the bed, hours after their tussle under the sheets.

Dinner had been incredibly awkward. Allistor and Arthur resolutely ignored each other, and his mother definitely knew what had happened, considering Peter looked a little guilty too.

He'd left the table as soon as he could, fleeing to the safety of his room while Alfred, chivalrous as always, went down to the kitchen to fetch them something to drink.

Arthur eyed the same bed from where he was sitting at his desk. He'd thrown the dirtied sheet in the laundry, and had simply thrown a clean one back on top of it. Why bother making the bed when they were going to sleep in it that same night?

"What if someone heard? What if your mom heard?" Alfred continued, groaning with something akin to embarrassed agony.

Arthur couldn't help it; he started laughing. It was more akin to giggling, but he refused to acknowledge it as that. The chance that someone heard them, was glaringly small, after all.

"You're insane." Alfred muttered, though there's no malice behind the words. Arthur shrugged and smiled when Alfred set his cup of tea and his own coffee down on top of Arthur's dresser.

When Alfred turned back around to face him, something seemed off. He looked a little uncomfortable, in a way he hadn't been in Arthur's presence, ever since before they started dating.

"So," Alfred began once he noticed Arthur had noticed he was acting off. "You wanna talk about what happened with your brother now?"

Arthur had a dreadful feeling that it was not what Alfred was feeling uncomfortable about.

"Not really."

Alfred sighed and Arthur swallowed the nasty taste of guilt, as he again disappointed his boyfriend. He wondered when he was going to grow tired of that - of him.

"Do you want to talk about something?" He asked eventually, when Alfred averted his eyes and went quiet.

Alfred seemed to think it over, but when his shoulders slumped, Arthur at least knew he was going to be honest.

"I, uh, I talked to your mom. Earlier when I went to the kitchen."

Wait, what?

"What about?"

Alfred obviously tried to go for nonchalance, but instead he simply looked a little sheepish. He straightened a bit, as if he was hesitating between staying put or moving towards him.

"She... she came to me, actually. Asked me about you. About," Alfred paused to clear his throat. "how you were doing, and stuff."

There was a certain uncomfortable look in Alfred's eyes, as if he hadn't meant to say it or hadn't known how to say it.Arthur felt cold dread wash over him - so much for no longer feeling out of place, anxious and angry.

"What did she tell you?"

"Look, I told her I didn't feel comfortable talking about it -"

"Alfred. What did she tell you?"

Alfred exhaled harshly, obviously wishing this wasn't happening by how defensive he looked. "She asked if you were okay with being here and... and mentioned something about the accident, about sending you away because. Well, you know. I asked her to talk about it with you, not me."

Arthur felt his throat close up.

His mother told him about - about how the accident had been Arthur's fault, because Arthur was a terrible kid who got into a petty fight and had to be picked up from school. A brat, who then distracted his dad from the road, and caused him to die as a result.

"She - she shouldn't have." He muttered, and Alfred quickly approached him.

He probably wanted to comfort him with a hug. But instead of staying and receiving it, Arthur jumped up from the chair, quickly moving away and causing Alfred to falter.

"Arthur, I'm sorry - "

"No, I can't do this right now. This - " Arthur said, quickly backing away towards the door.

Alfred looked concerned, but it could've just as well been disappointment or anger, Arthur couldn't tell anymore.

"It's not your - uh. Sorry. I gotta..." He gestured around lamely and when Alfred didn't reply, Arthur opened the door and fled.

Some time earlier

"I could do that for you, Mr. Jones."

Alfred quickly shook his head, smiling at the woman in front of him awkwardly. He didn't even remember her name - how awful was that?

"Nah, I got it. Thanks though."

The woman smiled in return and nodded, leaving the kitchen a few seconds later. Alfred headed over to the counter, grabbing what he needed for a cup of coffee and a cup of tea. He snatched a hideous Union Jack mug from the corner of a cabinet, smirking mischievously.

He'd have to get Arthur a similar one back home, but with the Star-Spangled Banneron it.

As the water boiled, he leaned back against the counter, eyeing the rather insanely large kitchen. His own mother would have a field day with all this storage and walking space, he figured.

Then again, she'd probably feel as uncomfortable as he did. He couldn't help but think the size of the place made it seem... cold and empty. As if it wasn't a place where children could grow up and play in.

He wondered if that's one of the reasons why Arthur used to prefer to go to his little cabin in the forest. Even though it was rather small for two adults, he reckoned it'd feel absolutely cozy for a kid.

Speaking of Arthur, he should probably stop daydreaming and hurry up. He'd been sticking close to him intentionally, aware of the constant fight-or-flight look in his eyes.

And they definitely needed to talk about what happened earlier that day, no matter how fun their lovemaking had been.

Though Arthur would probably not want to talk about it.

He sighed and ran a hand over his face, feeling rather tired himself. He hated seeing Arthur like this, and he also felt incredibly uncomfortable with the distant and unfamiliar vibe the Kirkland family had going on.

He wouldn't say it out loud, but he'll be glad when he can swoop Arthur back to the States again.

"Alfred, do you have a moment?"

He was snapped out of his musings when Arthur's mom, Eleanor, suddenly entered the kitchen, approaching him with a thin smile.

And sh*t, if that didn't make him feel nervous.

She'd been nothing but kind to him, so perhaps it was a bit unfair, but there was something about her that Alfred couldn't wrap his finger around. Something unapproachable.

But, despite wanting to flee, Alfred donned a charming smile in acknowledgement.

"I was wondering if we could talk for a moment."

Oh. Oh fuuuuuck. Alfred wasn't prepared for anything like this, no sir.

"Uh." He said, before quickly clearing his throat. "Of course, ma'am. What about?"

"Arthur." She said with a raised eyebrow, and Alfred figured he could've expected that answer. What else would she want to talk with him about, after all? "He seems quite taken with you."

Alfred should certainly hope so, they've only been dating for the past eight months after all.

But that's probably not what he should say in return.

"Me too. Uh, I mean. I'm very taken with him too."

Perhaps that was an understatement.

Alfred was head over heels. He loved him so much, that sometimes it frightened him a bit. He wasn't sure if it was normal to believe you found the love of your life at the tender age of twenty, but here he was.

"Peter told me what happened earlier today." She said, and Alfred could've seen that coming. "Tell me, honestly. How is he? Is he truly fine with being here?"

That was an unfairly loaded question.

Alfred wasn't really sure how to answer it, also because there were a lot of things Arthur had yet to tell him. Things Eleanor probably already knew about herself.

He could play the oblivious boyfriend and say he was doing fine, but he wasn't a terribly good liar. No, he had to pick his words carefully, and he should also get out of this conversation pronto.

"He's... well, it's been a long time. He's a little on edge."

Again; understatement. But he wasn't about to tell her that. However, the look Eleanor gave him said enough. He guessed she was more perceptive than she let on.

"I suppose it's my own fault for sending him away."

She sighed then, and Alfred felt as if he were punched in the gut. He really, really should not be having this conversation with her. He should hear these things from Arthur first, when (and if) he was ready to share them.

"I just didn't know what to do with him back then."

"Uh." Alfred managed, trying to force himself to interrupt properly and tell her that she shouldn't talk about this with him.

"I had no idea it'd only push him away further and I genuinely thought the new surroundings would help. Everything here reminded him so much of his father, and he felt so terribly guilty."

Alfred nearly, nearly lost control and asked her to clarify.But he wasn't stupid: he could easily think of a couple of reasons why Arthur would feel guilty about the accident that got his father killed.

The most common one being that Arthur somehow thought he had caused the accident... which, actually, now that he thought about it, would explain a lot of other things.

He felt his chest clench painfully. Of course he knew Arthur suffered from what was probably PTSD, he recognized the textbook examples. Francis confided enough in him that he knew Arthur already went through therapy and medication, and that he was probably as 'fixed' as he was going to get.

Alfred had hated it when Francis had said that. Arthur wasn't something that needed to be fixed - he was fine as he was, and Alfred would always take him as he was, even if it meant Arthur would never tell him the whole story.

But, Alfred supposed that, if Arthur had been feeling guilty, that feeling would've only been reinforced after having been sent away to another country.

What a sh*tstorm, honestly.

He cleared his throat, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I don't really feel comfortable talking about this." He said honestly, even though he could practically hear his own mother yell at him to 'be polite and shut up' in the back of his mind.

Eleanor looked a little surprised and then embarrassed, fortunately seeming to understand.

"Goodness, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to burden you with this."

The look on her face nearly made Alfred tell her it was okay and to keep going. She looked genuinely sad over her son.

"I think he'd like to talk to you, about this." Alfred then said, trying to find a way to console her.

Eleanor smiled sadly at him again, and Alfred wondered if she believed him. "I'm glad he has someone like you to care for him."

"I... I love him." He replied, feeling a little skittish about admitting it to her.

But he wanted her to know that Arthur was in good hands, that he'd take care of him for however long Arthur would permit it.

Eleanor's smile turned more genuine and warm, and she patted his arm, before nodding and turning around to leave.

Alfred sighed and glared at the kettle when it started whistling.

Arthur was going to be upset when Alfred told him about this. But not telling him would only lead to trouble, too.

Again: what a sh*tstorm.

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Chapter Text

He had to leave the manor, because it felt as if the walls were closing in on him. Every corner, every hallway and every room contained a memory he didn't want to think about - not to mention that there was likely staff milling around just about everywhere.

It wasn't very cold outside, and Arthur wasn't about to go back to grab his jacket anyway. He'd suffered enough cold nights when he lived here, and the shelter of his trusty old cabin would be enough.

But right before he took the right path, he faltered, and went the other way instead.

It was a path he'd taken only a handful of times before, but still knew frighteningly well.

He reached his destination within a few minutes. The small gazebo in front of him looked surprisingly well taken care off, considering his father had been the only person to actively use it.

He could easily picture his father sitting in one of the chairs, a book or sketchbook in hand, reading or sketching for several silent hours. Or at least they felt as hours, but time passed differently as a kid, so Arthur wasn't sure anymore.

He grimaced as he felt his heart sink at the memory, but stepped inside the gazebo anyway, sitting down in one of the chairs slowly. It creaked underneath his weight, but it didn't seem as if it were going to collapse.

The gazebo used to be decorated with potted plants, flowers and throwaway pillows. Right now it felt chillingly empty, even though it was obvious someone kept it somewhat tidy.

Arthur inhaled deeply and held the breath inside for a few seconds, as he closed his eyes and focused on the silence around him. All he heard was the faint chirping of the birds that were still up, and the rustling of the trees around him.

He should've gone to his cabin. But he knew Alfred, and he knew it was the first place Alfred would go to look for him. Arthur needed to be alone for just a few minutes.

He leaned back, ignoring the dangerous creaking protest of the chair, and exhaled again.

He wondered what it'd be like if his father hadn't picked him up from school - or rather, if he'd still been alive and well.

Would he have been sitting here with him, right now?

Would Arthur still have been sent to the boarding school? He'd been an annoying brat even before the accident, after all. Or would've he stayed here?

If he hadn't been sent away, he would have never met Francis, would have never thought of going into Education and would've never gone to the States... and he would've never met Alfred.

f*ck, he'd known the lad for less than a year, and the idea of never having met Alfred almost physically hurt him.

Then again; Alfred would probably be better off not having to worry about someone like him.

He scowled as he recognized he was going in a downward spiral. He didn't often ponder on 'what-ifs', and this was exactly why. Nobody had the power to change the past, anyway.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, with his eyes closed and listening to the silence around him, when the creaking of wood startled him.

As he opened his eyes, he saw his mother approaching him, smiling ruefully.

"I thought I might find you here." She greeted softly.

He resisted a sarcastic scoff - she'd never appeared interested in any part outside the manor and its direct surrounding grounds before. If anything, she loathed the forest, because it was full of germs that could make Peter sick.

Then again, it was kind of childish of him to think this way. It's been years, and his memories were most likely influenced by his young age.

Also; he didn't want to piss yet another person off today. He reckoned he'd already reached his daily quota.

He watched curiously as his mother wandered about the gazebo for a few seconds, brushing away dead leaves and dirt. When she became aware of his scrutiny, she gave him a small smile.

"Don't look at me like that, young man. I do some of the chores myself. It keeps me humble."

Arthur bit the inside of his cheek, realizing he wanted to smile in return. Swapping banter with his mother felt like something he did in another lifetime.

Eventually, inevitably, she ended up in the other chair, sitting down on it carefully.

"Peter told me what happened."

Of course he did. It wasn't as if Arthur could actually blame his little brother - he wasn't even aware of the extent of Peter's memories, wasn't sure how much Peter knew and realized growing up. He'd have to had an idea though.

"I wish you boys didn't fight."

Arthur swallowed the sour taste in his mouth and the nasty comeback on the tip of his tongue. Instead he made an agreeable noise, averting his eyes again and hoping the conversation was over.

"It's fine." He quickly replied, in an attempt to smooth things over before they started.

Eleanor sighed and leaned forward, closing the distance between them a little bit. Arthur resisted a sigh of his own as he realized the conversation was not yet over.

"Could we talk, Arthur?"

"We're talking, aren't we?"

Eleanor gave him a look and Arthur at least had the decency to appear sheepish at his own cheekiness.

But really: what could she want to talk about? There were many things they should talk about, yes, but the gravity of most of those things made it near impossible to simply just... spontaneously talk about it. Especially in a place like this.

His mother sniffled, and Arthur quickly looked back at her in alarm.

"My boy..." She softly said while reaching out to grab his hand, and while Arthur's chest clenched painfully at seeing his mother like this, a part of him was also furious with her.

But again; he'd caused enough grief today.

So he bit the inside of his cheek and allowed her to squeeze his hand, and while he didn't reciprocate, he did turn his hand so that she could properly hold it.

"I apologize. It's just been so long since you've come home." She said after a few seconds of visibly trying to recollect herself. "I was starting to fear I would never actually see you again."

Arthur pursed his lips, not knowing what to say to that and deciding to just keep quiet.

As much as he wished for things to be different, he had started to share that same fear. He wasn't sure when it happened exactly, but at some point, Arthur'd pushed any idea of his family being involved in his future away.

He didn't picture them attending his graduation, or even his own wedding. He didn't imagine them celebrating any holidays together, couldn't picture his mother being a grandmother to any child of his (though whether or not

Arthur would ever even want children of his own, was already questionable enough).

"I'm here now." He mumbled, realizing his mother was quiet herself, looking at him with sad anticipation.

"You are." She repeated, nodding to herself. "But I know you do not want to be."

"That's - that's not true." Arthur countered halfheartedly - if he truly had not wanted to be here, he would've never come after all. Despite their disagreements, their non-existent relationship and everything else, Arthur had come, hadn't he?

Eleanor squeezed his hand again and gave him a meaningful look. "I'm not angry, sweetheart. Or disappointed."

The words nearly punched the breath right out of him and he instantly felt his eyes start to burn, but he inhaled deeply and looked away, refusing to start crying.

The last time he cried in front of her was when she told him he was going to France, and it hadn't helped a bit then, so it wasn't necessary now either.

"In fact, I'm so proud of you. And I know your father would be too."

Arthur shut his eyes, dipping his head downward a little so that she wouldn't be able to properly see his face.

"Arthur... I know that an apology won't fix anything. But I want you to know that I love you."

"Mum, I -" Arthur halted, aware of how shaky his voice sounded. He took a deep, rather wet breath, trying his best not to cry. "This is - it's not -"

"I know, dear. We don't have to talk about it now, but I want you to know that I'm here, whenever you're ready to."

Arthur silenced, because he wasn't ready to do so right now. He couldn't talk with her, not with Alfred nearby, not with the wedding tomorrow, not while sitting at his father's favorite place.

But he liked to imagine that he'd be ready, one day, hopefully sooner than later. And he liked to imagine that he'd be brave enough to travel to England alone then, and that he could spend proper time with his mother, Peter and perhaps even Allistor.

Perhaps he could apologize to them, and perhaps he would be ready to hear an apology in return as well.

He squeezed her hand back for the first time since she grabbed it.

And when his mother stood up and hugged him, he reciprocated by hugging her back, trying not to cling onto her too tightly.

They parted ways at the gazebo - not because Arthur didn't want to accompany her back to the manor, but because he was almost certain that Alfred wouldn't be there.

And he supposed he had some apologizing to do. He dragged Alfred over to England so that Arthur could distract himself from everything, and he knew he hadn't been an exemplary boyfriend so far.

He navigated the paths towards his cabin, memory serving him well enough even now that it was almost pitch black dark outside.

And as expected, the door was halfway open, and Arthur could hear someone rummaging inside. He smiled and ran his hands over his face, trying to rub away all the previous sadness and frustration that felt glued to his skin.

He slowly walked over and gently pushed the door open further. The creak of wood that followed startled Alfred something severe (the lad was easily spooked, after all), causing him to jump and bang his head against the ceiling.

"Owww, sh*t." Alfred cried out, flinching forward and holding his head.

Arthur quickly walked over, a grimace on his own face as he sympathized and reached a hand out to trace the area Alfred was covering.

Then he noticed the cabin was a lot fuller than it was before - pillows and sheets were strewn about, creating some kind of a nest, and one of Alfred's bags was at the side. It almost seemed as if Alfred decided to camp out here instead of in Arthur's bedroom.

"Relocating?" He asked for clarification, even though the idea seemed preposterous.

Alfred carefully straightened as much as he could again, glaring at the low ceiling before smiling brightly at Arthur.

"I wanted to surprise you. Kinda thought I'd find you here, but then I figured you'd eventually end up here anyway."

Arthur felt his eyes burn again - for what was probably the hundredth time that night.

"Are you okay?" When Alfred reached out to caress his cheek, a thumb swiping over his cheekbone softly, Arthur finally lost the fight. He realized he was crying by the look on Alfred's face before he did by the actual tears coming out of his eyes.

Instead of immediately crushing him into an embrace as so many other people would do when faced with a crying lover, Alfred reached out his other hand to caress Arthur's other cheek as well, gently brushing away the tears.

The considerate gesture only caused Arthur to cry harder and he moved forward to hide his face in Alfred's chest, soothed when Alfred's arms finally encircled him tightly.

"It's okay." Alfred murmured into his hair, fingers rubbing circles in his lower back.

He didn't say anything else until Arthur managed to quiet down to the occasional sniffle, but he refused to step away and reveal his face. Apart from knowing his crying face was horrid, he also felt a lot calmer with his boyfriend's arms around him, shielding him from everything else.

"I'm sorry." Arthur muttered when he finally found the courage to come out of hiding.

Alfred smiled sweetly. "You don't have to be. Do you want to talk about it?"

He did. He's so sick of Alfred not knowing the whole story, of continuously being afraid that Alfred too would be upset with him.

"It was my fault." He said, knowing he sounds shaky and clearing his throat. "I- I was a terrible kid. I got into a fight and my dad had to pick me up, and then we argued and he didn't pay attention to the road and because of that - because of me, we got into that f*cking crash. He's - it's my fault he's - "

"Oh, Arthur." He heard Alfred sigh, but Arthur ignored it: the floodgates were open now, and he didn't want them to close until he got it all off his chest.

"I don't even remember what the argument was about, but I know I was being childish. Maybe if I hadn't distracted him, nothing would have happened. They said - they said my father was dead on impact. I - It hurt so bad when they pulled me out of the car that I lost consciousness."

Even though it physically hurt him, he slowly worked through telling the important bits of the aftermath - the hospital, his family, the funeral, the rehabilitation and therapy.

"And now everything's turned to sh*te. I could've - I should've tried to - but I was a kid, and my dad just died horrifically in front of me, and I was just dumped in a boarding school because no one knew how to deal with me."

Arthur shut his eyes, tasting the bitter and frightened feeling that came with the memories as if it were bile.

"I just want things to be fixed, you know? I talked to my mum just now and - she told me - and I just want her to - I want things to be all right."

Alfred tugged him back into an embrace and Arthur spent another good few minutes smothering his sobs in his chest, the fabric of his shirt starting to feel damp, not really processing the sweet nonsensical things Alfred was whispering into his hair.

It felt as if hours passed until he calmed down again - he thought he'd succeeded once, but then Alfred had told him how thankful he was that Arthur told him, and that this didn't change a thing, and that Alfred still loved him so, so much, and Arthur had erupted into uncontrollable sobs again.

It had to be nearing midnight by the time Arthur finally managed to calm down and stop rambling. Alfred had tugged him down onto the many pillows and sheets, pulling out a thermos of coffee that they shared between them as they talked quietly about everything and nothing.

Despite knowing he probably looked like a puffy, red tomato, Alfred still looked at him with the same adoring expression as ever, and Arthur was content to just bath in the feeling of being loved no matter what at the moment.

"I got you a surprise." Alfred said after a while, tugging at Arthur's elbow. "But you gotta lie down. And no, it's not anything weird, don't worry."

Arthur snorted but listened, lying down and wriggling against the pillows until he was comfortable.

"Okay, so, don't laugh, okay? I made a silly purchase a while ago, because I wanted to treat myself. But it calms me down when I'm stressed, so maybe it does the same for you? So I thought I'd bring it. Anyway, close your eyes."

"If you tell me not to laugh beforehand, I definitely feel as if I am going to laugh." Arthur admitted, dutifully closing his eyes and even raising his hands to cover his eyes with, just so that Alfred would feel listened to.

"Okay, you can laugh a little. I just gotta find my power bank... ah, here! Okay, wait. Lemme set this up."

Arthur's curiosity burned almost as much as his overwhelming sadness did, earlier.

"Boom! Nice, it works. Okay, wait." Alfred shuffled and shuffled and eventually he felt Alfred lie down next to him. "Okay, you can look now."

Arthur lowered his hands and opened his eyes and - and it wasn't what he expected, but then again, Arthur wasn't sure what he expected in the first place.

Apparently Alfred had bought one of those galaxy projectors that were advertised all over his social media lately - the one Arthur remembered Alfred talking about every now and then. Because of the compact size of the place they were in, the entire cabin was covered in slowly moving stars and a nebula that slowly changed color.

The way it rippled across the ceiling reminded him of when one was underwater and looked up at the surface.

Arthur was absolutely mesmerized.

The slow and gentle movements and the colors were so incredibly comforting, and for a moment Arthur felt as if he were a kid again, play-pretending in this little cabin with imaginary friends.

"So?" Alfred asked eagerly. "Whaddya think?"

Arthur turned to look at Alfred, who was looking up at the ceiling with a brilliant grin. The lights reflected in his eyes, and for a moment Arthur could see why Alfred was so obsessed with the beauty of space.

Watching Alfred's dazzling expression, the soft colors tinting his skin, Arthur was starting to, too.

"I love you."

Alfred abruptly sat up and turned towards him, surprise written across his face. Arthur didn't dare move, and refused to take his eyes off the ceiling. It felt as if his heart wanted to punch itself out of his chest, and he had to remind himself to continue breathing properly. But he also realized that he didn't want to pretend that he didn't say it, so quickly sat up too, haltingly looking Alfred in the eye.

"I- I love you so much."

His nerves were shot to hell, he still felt bloody awful from crying so much, and he couldn't properly read Alfred's expression. So naturally, he just kept going.

"You're absolutely perfect. Being around you never fails to make me happy. And the more time I spend with you, the more I want to devote myself solely to your happiness, f*ck, Alfred, I love you so - mmf!"

Somewhere during his rambling confession, Alfred had clambered over towards him and smashed their lips together clumsily. His glasses were digging into Arthur's cheeks, but he didn't care, and immediately latched on to kiss him back.

Alfred leaned back again, pulling until Arthur climbed into his lap, but there was nothing heated about their closeness for once. Arthur was content to just drown in Alfred's kisses, content with the feel of his arms around him, warm and familiar.

"Love you, love you," Alfred mumbled in an impossibly gentle voice and Arthur honest to god felt his eyes starting to water again, so he clutched him closer. "I love you so much, Arthur."

When Arthur tugged him back for another snog, he realized the wetness he felt on his cheeks wasn't his own, and he leaned back.

"Don't cry." He sniffed, reaching out to wipe away the tear streaks on Alfred's cheeks. "If you cry, I'm going to start crying again."

"You got more water stored in those after all that? Damn."

Arthur ignored that and draped himself back against Alfred, slanting their lips together again, feeling as he could keep kissing him until morning and deciding to see if he actually could.

If he weren't at his own brother's wedding, Arthur would've probably done something improper.

But it simply wasn't fair. Alfred was already quite the handsome young man when he didn't really try, and was already incredibly handsome when he wore a button-up and a tie. And now? Dressed up in a suit, his hair somewhat tamed?

Arthur wanted to drop to his knees to both thank some higher power and to also wedge himself between Alfred's legs and swallow his -

"You gotta stop staring at me like that, babe." Alfred teased, and Arthur blinked when he realized he'd been daydreaming again.

The sharp and dangerous curve of Alfred's smile told him that Alfred knew exactly what Arthur had been thinking about. Arthur threw him a flirty smile.

"Or else?" He asked, making sure there was a challenge in his voice.

"Hmm." Alfred leaned back against the wall and eyed him with a smirk, while also idly toying with the cuffs of his shirt.

Bloody hell, it wasn't fair. He looked like he walked right out of a Hollywood blockbuster, and Arthur was strangely fixated on the way his fingers toyed with his cufflinks.

But this was his brother's bloody wedding. So instead of doing anything untoward, he simply walked up and raised his head expectantly, smiling lightly when Alfred grinned and leaned down for a brief kiss.

"Love you." Alfred murmured cheekily, and Arthur felt his cheek warm up - he might've finally said it back the night before, but that didn't mean that he was going to say it every minute of every day. Fortunately Alfred didn't look offended when Arthur returned the sentiment with another kiss, instead of the same few words.

Just as he was reconsidering the whole untoward business at a wedding thought, they were interrupted by Eleanor. Alfred appeared to get as flustered as Arthur felt himself get, and he grumbled as his mother smiled knowingly at them before clearing her throat.

"Arthur, be a dear and bring this to Allistor. Alfred, I could use your help outside."

Clever.

Arthur grimaced as he accepted the box in his mother's hands, but he couldn't help a smirk when Alfred sent him a helpless look over his shoulder before being dragged away by his mother.

At least the wedding was held on their own grounds; there was a small comfort in knowing where people would be and where they would not be. As it were, most of the house was sort of off-limits, and he easily avoided other attendants while on his way to his brother's room.

He spared a glance outside to look at the set up; even though it was claimed to be a small wedding, there were still a lot of people. He'd recognized a few family members, but there were also a lot of people he either didn't know or didn't really remember.

Unfortunately a lot of people seemed to know him, though. He ignored their sympathetic and curious stares, and answered any (slightly intrusive) questions with nothing but politeness.

But eventually he had enough, and so he'd escaped back into the house with Alfred, and now here he was.

At least, after the ceremony, the festivities could start and people would be too preoccupied to really bother with the wayward, long lost Kirkland son.

Arthur knocked out of courtesy and immediately entered his brother's room, resisting a scowl when he realized it was occupied by not just his brother.

When he was young, there were several cousins who frequently visited. Some of these cousins were Allistor's age, and since no one was allowed to bully Peter, Arthur had been an easy target for them, especially so with Arthur's fantastical imagination and quick temper.

So no, he did not have a lot (or any) fond memories of Seamus, Dylan and Harry.

"Look at that! Do my eyes betray me, or is that lil' old Arthur?"

Specifically Harry. The last time he saw Seamus and Dylan, they'd been civil at least. And at least their bullying had never really been personal - they just joined Allistor and bullied him like he were their younger brother too.Unlike Harry, who always made jabs at his insignificance, his personality, his lack of friends, his imagination - and so on.

"Come on, everyone can recognize those eyebrows." Seamus teased, but he smiled at Arthur amicably, as if he was pleasantly surprised to see him.

Dylan passed him with a light and friendly shove to the shoulder, and Arthur forced a polite smile on his own face, resisting the urge to shove back.

"Boys." He said in lieu of a greeting, heading towards the table to put the box he'd been requested to bring across it. He realized he'd forgotten to peek inside to see what it was, but he wasn't about to do so now. "Glad to see you're all doing well."

"Oh, you know us co*ckroaches, we're always doing well." Seamus said, snorting when Dylan flicked his forehead.

"Heard you were doing well too, Arthur." Dylan said then, and if Arthur had been anyone else, he'd probably engage them in actual conversation.

But Arthur actually wanted to leave the room as soon as possible, so he simply shrugged.

His eyes found Allistor's through the long mirror his brother was in front of, and it looked as if he'd paused from struggling with his tie to mess up his hair some more. It was a little weird to see his brother trying not to appear nervous, but there was a first for everything.

They hadn't said a word to each other since their fight the day before. He figured that if they'd been alone, Arthur would've at least wished him luck personally.

"Really well, I hear!" Harry jeered, leering at him. "Heard he even brought himself back a little boyfriend."

Right, that was his cue to leave.

"Alfred, right? Is he from America? He sounded American." Dylan asked him directly and Arthur halted, wondering when Dylan had met Alfred, since they'd hardly been apart all day.

"Yes, we met at college." Arthur replied simply, knowing it was common knowledge in their family that he'd moved overseas to study.

"Ha!" Harry snorted. "I wasn't surprised at all, I've always known Nancy here was a fa*ggot."

Arthur schooled his face back into something neutral, giving Harry an unimpressed look. Just as he was about to turn around and leave, his brother whirled around and stomped over to Harry, abruptly swinging his fist against his cousin's cheek.

Dylan and Seamus didn't look entirely surprised, though they both grimaced when Allistor's fist made contact and caused Harry to stumble back. Their lack of surprise made Arthur wonder if this was the first asshole comment the man made that morning.

"Dude, what the hell?"

"That's my little brother you're talking about, you sh*tstain. Now get the f*ck out."

"Bro, you know I -"

"Get the f*ck out, Harry! Jesus, on my f*cking wedding day." He growled and turned back around to face the mirror, angrily undoing the mess that had become his tie and starting over.

Harry glared at his back, then at Seamus and Dylan and finally at Arthur, but he stormed out of the room anyway. Seamus elbowed Dylan and shook his head towards the exit. They nodded with friendly smiles at Arthur as they both left too, and then Arthur was alone with Allistor.

Bollocks, he should've left too.

Instead he sighed and pursed his lips, striding over towards his brother and knocking his arms away to take over, smoothing out the tie before getting to work.

"You shouldn't have done that."

"f*ck off, I do what I want. He had it coming."

Arthur resisted rolling his eyes - didn't he know it.

"I suppose you want a thank you?"

"Who cares." Allistor bristled, avoiding looking at him even though they were so close to each other that it was nearly inevitable.

Arthur nodded curtly, while quickly finishing properly tying his tie. He smoothed it over once more before stepping back, gesturing at the mirror for Allistor to inspect it.

Allistor glared at himself in the mirror but shrugged, and that was enough of a show of gratitude to Arthur as well. Then he tugged at his collar and Arthur groaned, slapping his hand away.

"It looks fine." He scolded. "Don't be so nervous, it's weird."

"Well excuse me, I'm only about to walk down the altar and sign myself away forever."

Arthur couldn't help it - he snorted with amusem*nt. "I hope that's not how you proposed to Mary."

Allistor sighed and his shoulders sagged a little as his glare softened into something more nervous again. "She actually proposed to me."

"Well, she - wait. You're serious?"

Despite Arthur believing anyone could propose, regardless of gender, he was incredibly caught off guard. It just seemed so unlike his brother - and he could hardly envision Mary getting down on one (proverbial) knee and proposing to Allistor. It was fun to imagine how embarrassed Allistor must've been, though.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want." Allistor grumbled when Arthur couldn't stop the grin from spreading on his face. "As if you'd ever be confident enough to propose yourself."

Well, he did have a point. The idea of marrying had never really crossed his mind, mostly because it was, frankly said, terrifying.

"Don't tell the guys, though." Allistor mumbled then and Arthur hummed his agreement - he knew just the types of comments Allistor would receive, and not even Arthur was cruel enough to inflict it on him.

He watched as Allistor looked at himself in the mirror some more, before suddenly starting to feel out of place.

"Well, I should go back outside."

"Arthur, wait." Allistor said with a sigh, turning around to face him. "Look, I know we're never going to best friends or even good friends. But you're my little brother, all right? And even though I've lost count of how many times I've wanted to kick your arse, that will never change."

Arthur resisted a grimace, even though he supposed he shared the sentiment. "It's all right, Allistor."

"I know, but I figure you need to hear it anyway, cause we sure as hell haven't said it enough in the past. Nobody blames you for anything, okay? Everything just went to hell and no one knew how to deal with it."

"Allistor, really, it's - "

"Arthur, shut up for once. I'm trying to say it's all right, yeah? It's all right if you want to disappear on us again, I get it. I don't like it, cos sh*t, we've already almost lost... - anyway, I get it. You gotta do what's best for you. And you gotta know that we - that I love you anyway. Okay?"

Bloody hell, Arthur was going to need a serious vacation after this wedding was over, just to deal with the barrage of emotions he'd experienced the past few days.He felt his eyes burn again, and shifted on his feet a bit.

"All right." He said, sounding smaller than he wanted to. "Did you want to hug it out now, then?"

"f*ck no." Allistor said, betraying his relief by the huff of laughter that escaped him. "We good?"

"It's - we're good, Allistor. You're a pain in the arse, but I do... love you too."

"Okay, good. Cos my brats are going to need at least one responsible uncle to keep them in check, even if he's overseas."

"Wait, is Mary - "

"No! No, not yet, Christ." Arthur knew he was smiling like an idiot, but at least Allistor was grinning himself, and everything felt all right for once. "Now get out of here before either of us starts crying."

"One of us is definitely going to cry today, but it's probably going to be you."

"Don't I know it. Ugh."

He knew he was supposed to go ahead and take his seat, but Arthur couldn't help but indulge himself for a short while.

He was standing a little ways from the rows and rows of chairs, leaning against a tree and partly using it for cover should Alfred or Peter suddenly turn around and see him.

From this distance, he couldn't possibly figure out what they were talking about, but Alfred was grinning widely and using his arms as he talked, and Peter was squinting with restrained laughter.

He knew that if he were to join them, he'd interrupt whatever fun they were having, and honestly, Arthur was having the time of his life simply watching his boyfriend interact with his little brother like this.

It made him want to return with Alfred someday.It also made him want to go back to Alfred's family, to see Alfred interact with his little cousins again.

He startled when a hand suddenly brushed his arm, and turned to see his mum smiling softly at him. She was obviously on her way to Mary, to help her finish up since the ceremony was supposed to start in less than fifteen minutes.

She looked at where he'd been staring at before and chuckled, squeezing his arm."He makes you happy, doesn't he?"

"So help me, he does." Arthur admitted, wondering if the wedding was to blame for him feeling like such a sap.

"You should take him to the house in Scotland one day." His mother mused then, and Arthur smiled patiently, not yet prepared to force his boyfriend on yet another trip down Kirkland memory lane. "Will you come back soon? For Christmas, maybe?"

His mother sounded so incredibly hopeful that Arthur nearly felt guilty for having to decline.

"The Jones family already..." He started, waving towards Alfred. His mother abruptly nodded, trying not to appear disappointed, and he hesitated. "But maybe I could visit again next summer?"

Eleanor smiled tentatively, reaching out to brush the bangs from his forehead. Her fingertips grazed his scar and he wondered if it was deliberate, but he didn't mind either way.

"We'd love that. Bring Alfred, too." He nodded and she squeezed his upper arm again, looking as if she wanted to hug him again but deciding against it. Arthur wouldn't have minded if he were honest, but he also didn't mind her deciding not to."I should go and help Mary. Go save me a seat?"

"I will."

His mother smiled once more and then walked back into the manor. Arthur turned a little to watch her leave until she was out of sight, and then turned back around to watch Alfred and Peter. Peter was engaged with one of their aunts, and Alfred was looking right at him, smiling sheepishly and obviously waiting for him to join him.

Arthur pushed himself off the tree and headed over, feeling the lightest he'd felt in a long while.

Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Chapter Text

Arthur had been feeling stressed even before his weird argument with Francis.

For starters, he was nearing the deadline for a pretty important paper, and he wasn't nearly as satisfied with his work as he had hoped to be. But he also knew that he had no time to start over, so he'd have to make due with what he had, even if it wasn't to his liking.

Secondly, Alfred had one of those weeks where he didn't sleep or socialize, instead devoting all his time to studying and drinking coffee. Which felt a little like withdrawal for Arthur, because they had spent nearly every day and even night together since summer.

And thirdly; the weird argument with Francis, of course. It hadn't really been a fight, but it certainly left behind a nasty aftertaste.

Francis had been acting weird for a few days already, and once Arthur figured out it had to do with Matthew, he then voiced it, and Francis had uncharacteristically snapped at him.

Apparently, Matthew wanted to partake in a special college program that would require him to attend a college in Canada from January until June or July.

Arthur had understood his frustration of course, but when he inquired if there wasn't a similar program Francis could partake in on the same campus or nearby, Francis had snapped again.

It wasn't until after he left with a mixture of English and French curses, that Arthur realized that Francis had been toying with the idea, but was obviously on the fence about it.

Arthur would hate if that had anything to do with him. He knew Francis cared more for Arthur than he'd actually admit - that was just how their friendship worked. They loved each other like family, and on more than one drunken occasion, they had proclaimed themselves platonic soulmates.

But that didn't mean that they'd always have to live together, or that Francis couldn't go up to Canada with his boyfriend for a few months.

Just as he decided he'd sit Francis down later to have a proper conversation about this, another thought flew into his head so suddenly that it made him a little dizzy and even more stressed.

If Matthew and Francis would both go up to Canada - then Alfred would live alone, and Arthur would live alone.

And... well. Should they both live alone? That seemed a little unnecessary, didn't it? Especially since they already spend so much time together with so little trouble anyway.

However, simply spending the nights together was much, much more innocent than something as drastic as actually living together.

Living together was an actual commitment, something that was serious. It would mean being in each other's presence constantly. They might even get into arguments or fights about their habits, their schedules or their belongings.

It wasn't a decision Arthur could undo after a week or a month. Not without serious consequences, anyhow.

And so, on one Wednesday evening, Arthur decided there was only one way of tackling this train of thought - and that involved a bottle of Francis' finest wines.

Perhaps drinking in the middle of the week wasn't the smartest idea he'd had in a while, but he was alone and he didn't have classes on Thursday, so he reckoned; why not?

And he was already on the fun side of tipsy - Francis' wines had a habit of doing that to him.

He was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling with a semi-pout. Francis was spending the night at Matthew's, and Alfred was studying, and Arthur was so horribly bored. He wasn't used to being alone anymore, especially at night. Usually when Francis left to spend the night with Matthew, Alfred would end up on his doorstep sooner or later, with an invitation or without one.

What did he even do on his nights alone, before?

The thought of reading a book without Alfred's fingers fidgeting with his ankles seemed preposterous, he could never concentrate if he would attempt to do so. And was he just supposed to pick out what he wanted to watch on the telly himself? How could he even get through a crime documentary without Alfred's unnecessary commentary?

Arthur sighed miserably, kicking back the wine still in his glass and pouring himself some more.

He could ask Alfred to come, but he didn't want to distract him from his studies. But at least he was texting him, this time.

Alfred: You think I can mix energy drinks with coffee?

He scowled in disgust.

Arthur: Theorically you can, but you'll probaby die of heart papations.

Alfred: Didyou just make not one, but several typos????

Arthur frowned and squinted back at the phone screen. Oh. Alfred was right: there were definitely typos in his message.

Alfred: Are you drunk? Lol

He sighed and eyed the halfway empty wine bottle. If he'd finish it, he'd probably be on the less fun side of tipsy.

Then again, he was alone, and no one was here to judge him. Within the safety of his own, empty house, what was the worst that could happen? He'd probably just cry a little and have a wank. The only damage it would do was to his own pride.

The idea of a wank didn't even seem so terrible, he mused. He hadn't masturbat*d in forever, because again; Alfred was usually always around or available.

Then suddenly an idea popped into his head.

It was a horrible, horrible idea. But Alfred had tried to put the idea in there so very often, so wasn't it really his fault in the end?

Arthur had never indulged Alfred's attempts to have phone sex or to sext with him, because he thought it was ridiculous. Surely there was nothing sexy about exchanging filthy texts. And since Alfred was literally only ten minutes away, why would they even do such a thing in the first place?

He quickly emptied his still full glass, swallowing a particularly big gulp and smacking his lips before grabbing his phone again.

Arthur: So what if I am? I'm bored.

It went to read immediately but it took a while for Alfred to start typing, and he figured he had their chat open on the desk while he was studying.

He shouldn't distract Alfred from studying.

But Alfred was a proper adult, wasn't he? If he didn't want to be distracted, he'd simply turn his phone off. Arthur would only be a little offended.His phone vibrated in his hand and he realized he'd already gotten two texts while he was lost in thought.

Alfred: Haha aww, whatcha drinking?

Alfred: I bet you look really cute right now ;)

Arthur raised his eyebrows and smirked. Alfred probably thought Arthur would blow him off again, as he usually did when Alfred started texting like that. But if Arthur would, for once, respond positively - well, it was kind of Alfred's own fault for instigating, right?

Arthur: How so?

He could tell it caught Alfred off guard by how he typed, stopped typing, typed again and so on. After a good few seconds, his phone finally vibrated with a new message again.

Alfred: You always do :)

Arthur sighed at the safe and sweet reply, and felt a fond smile tugging at his lips.

Alfred: And your cheeks always flush adorably when you're tipsy, kinda like when you're horny. Lol.

Arthur grinned again, excited with the response and how easy Alfred was falling into his little trap.

Arthur: I suppose I am also horny, right now.

There was no response from Alfred for a while again, but his message was read, and he resisted the urge to giggle. He could just imagine Alfred staring at the phone, wrecking his brain for an approperiate response or perhaps even to figure out if Arthur was f*cking with him or not.

He decided to up his game a little.

Arthur: I wish you were here :(

Arthur never used emoticons. Perhaps it was a little too much -

Alfred: Are you trying to sext with me? :O

Arthur: Is it working?

Arthur was chewing lightly on his thumb as he stared at their open text conversation. He had never done anything like this before and honestly, he wasn't sure if he'd actually be up for it too. Reading dirty texts just seemed ridiculous and would probably only make him laugh.

But Alfred seemed to like the idea, and Arthur supposed if Alfred was here with him, they'd probably be going at it already. A tipsy Arthur was a touchy Arthur, after all.

Arthur looked at the ceiling, imagining what would be happening if Alfred was here with him right now. He'd probably be hovering over Arthur, because that was what they both preferred. There was something about feeling caged in, not being able to leave easily while Alfred pinned him down and had his way with him.

Oh.

He dropped his phone on chest, forgotten thanks to his sudden tipsy, horny daydream. He used his free hand to trail down his own neck. It was one of Alfred's favorite areas - he'd nip, suck and bite at the skin there, never failing to leave a spectacular hickey Arthur would cuss about having to cover up.

He pinched the skin where he'd imagine it would be and automatically sighed with pleasure.

His other hand trailed down his stomach, and he pushed up his shirt (one of Alfred's, he realized hotly, one he'd stolen weeks earlier and put on whenever he had to sleep alone because he was pathetic like that), and danced his fingers down the hairline from his navel to his crotch.

Alfred would grab his hips tightly. Experimentally, he dug three of his own into his skin harshly. He'd whisper sweet nothings, too. Or he'd get right to it. Either of them turned on Arthur as quick as a light switch, so he could fantasize about both of them at the same time.

He quickly lifted his hips to push down his trousers and briefs enough to give him access, aware that he was still in the living room but also aware he was blissfully alone. He settled back against the couch and grabbed his hardening co*ck, trying to mimic the firm grip his boyfriend would use and exhaling harshly at the sudden relief it provided.

He raised his other hand up his chest again but changed his mind and raised them to his mouth instead, sucking on them hesitantly. If he closed his eyes, he could so easily pretend it was Alfred's hand on his co*ck and Alfred's fingers in his mouth.

And oh, the look in his eyes would be so intense and dark, with that annoyingly sexy grin tugging at his lips. Arthur whined, laving his own tongue around his two fingers and swiping the thumb of his other hand over the head of his co*ck, so that he could collect the leaking precum and smear it down.

Alfred would probably tell him he was doing really good, that he felt nice, that he sounded beautiful.

"f*ck," He moaned, annoyed that he was on the couch and not on his bed, where lube would be within reach. And saliva would make an awful lubricant, even while tipsy he realized that.

With a huff he stood up, grabbing his phone and taking a swig right out of the bottle of wine before leaving it there and heading to his bedroom, kicking off his trousers and briefs as he went.

An excited, giddy sound left him as he deposited himself on the bed, wriggling into position and snagging the bottle of lube that was on his night stand. He was being a bit hasty and spilled some of it on his bed, but who cared anyway? He quickly drizzled some over his fingers and lied back down, one hand on his co*ck again and one hand sneaking behind him.

He was grateful for his flexibility, and within no time he managed to get two of his fingers in, hissing at the sudden burn and conjuring up more of Alfred's praise.

Then he froze. Alfred went slower when he prepared him; would never use two fingers at once, would always start with one. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek and removed his fingers, wiping them at the bed distractedly. If he did it to himself though, what would Alfred say? Would he tell him to slow down or would he praise him, encourage him?

He eyed the phone, aware that Alfred had sent him a couple of texts but too distracted to read them right now. Even though the thought that went through his head made him flush with embarrassment, the co*ck in his hand twitched with excitement.

He could just type it out. He wouldn't have to send it.

Arthur: Can you send me a voice note?

Arthur snorted at himself and moved to select it all and delete it, but then Alfred's status jumped to online. That meant he was caught typing, and Alfred would ask him what he wanted to say if Arthur would close the chat again.

f*ck it. He pressed send.

It immediately jumped to read, meaning Alfred still had his chat open. But no text bubble appeared and Arthur frowned, slowly feeling dread fill him. Alfred would probably think this was weird - or that it was annoying that he asked while Alfred was supposed to be studying -

Suddenly his phone buzzed, screen showing that Alfred was calling him.

"sh*t, bollocks, bloody f*ck." Arthur tossed the phone away from him, feeling his face flush red. What was Alfred thinking? After Arthur asked him something like that? He asked for a voice note, not his actual live voice.

But his arousal wasn't deterred in the slightest and, feeling a little bold due to the alcohol in his system, he snatched the phone again. He could just answer. What was the worst that could happen? He doubted Alfred would make fun of him or be angry. Arthur flicked his wrist a little, more so because it had started to cramp, and moaned wistfully.

All right, fine.

Arthur lied back down on the bed and tapped the green accept button, holding the phone to his ear.

"Oh, good, I almost wanted to hang up." Alfred said happily and Arthur couldn't help himself. The sound of his voice, even though he said something entirely non-sexual in an entirely non-sexual tone, had heat shoot down his spine so quickly it made him dizzy.

And Alfred probably knew it too, because Arthur couldn't contain the breathless moan that left him in reply.

"Oh." Alfred repeated, sounding a bit confused. Then; "Oh. That's why you- Oh, lol, now I understand."

Arthur felt his face burn with shame and pleasure at the same time, but was unable to stop his hand from working on his co*ck. "If you- hah- if you want to laugh, I'm hanging up."

"Oh hell no! Are you- sh*t, you're jerking off, aren't you? Arthur, baby, that's so hot."

Finally he heard something more along the lines of what he wanted to hear. He moaned appreciatively and nodded, before realizing Alfred couldn't see him.

"Please talk to me, just talk to me."

"How long have you been going at it without me, huh? I would be jealous, but you sound so good. So pretty. I wish I was there with you, too."

Arthur gasped and thumbed at the head of his co*ck again, pushing down on the slit with his thumb. He could ask Alfred to come over, and he was fairly certain he would, but something about this was strangely exciting and Arthur didn't want it to end already.

"What- what would you-"

"How about you put me on speaker so you can use both hands." Arthur had never followed an order as fast as then, and he tossed the phone onto the pillow. "because if I was there, I'd want to use both my hands. One on your pretty co*ck and one to finger you open."

"I can take two, please let me take two." Arthur immediately babbled, wanting to return to where he was.

"In a hurry, are you? All right, but just this once. I know you can take it."

He heard some rustling on Alfred's side of the phone and he imagined Alfred jerking himself off too. f*ck, if it wasn't a pretty thought.

Arthur hurriedly moved a hand down again, shoving the same two fingers in. He gasped as it went a little tougher than it did the first time, because he'd wiped off some of the lube, but he soldiered on regardless, too impatient to start over.

"Does it hurt?" Alfred asked, voice low and soft, and Arthur whined.

It did burn a little, but Arthur liked it to hurt a little, liked a little pain to be mixed with his pleasure. And Alfred definitely knew it.

"It's not enough." He panted, twisting and curling his fingers in a desperate attempt to find the spot that would make him see stars.

There were noises on Alfred's end of the line that he couldn't quite place, but he didn't care, alcohol mixing with pleasure in a way that didn't allow him to focus on anything but the feel of his own hands and Alfred's voice.

"I know it's not." Alfred teased. "Maybe I should buy you a dild*, huh? I heard you can make them based on your own co*ck. You'd like that?"

The idea was rather hilarious - did people actually do that? Arthur moaned anyway.

"I'd rather have the - ah - real thing." He pushed in a third finger with an excited little groan.

"I bet." Alfred growled in response, and Arthur curled his fingers again, whining when he still couldn't get the right angle.

He lost track of time then, spurred on by Alfred's voice near his ears, but keeping himself on the edge to drag it out as long as possible. He had no idea if Alfred was in the same predicament as he was and franky said he couldn't spare the energy to think about it, instead focused on keeping himself from coming too soon.

Who knew he'd enjoy this phone sex as much as he did? Arthur certainly hadn't. He was also not sure if he'd ever do this again, or if he'd ever do this while sober (not that he was that drunk currently), but it was definitely fun.

Then suddenly the front door slammed shut and Arthur shot up in surprise, unaware that the call ended as he scrambled from the bed. He moved as if on auto-pilot to rush to his door and slam his shut; if Francis would catch him like this, he'd never hear the end of it.

But just as he reached his door, it was pushed open fully, and Arthur's mind blanked when he was met with Alfred instead of Francis.

He wasn't aware that Alfred had a key, so how did he - oh bollocks, what did it even matter?

Alfred looked as if he'd been hurrying, phone clenched in one hand and eyes as intense and dark as Arthur had pictured them earlier. He was incredibly aware that he was only wearing a shirt when Alfred's eyes lowered to his dick, and fought the urge to cover up.

Nothing the lad hadn't seen before, after all.

"f*ck, you're so hot." Alfred said then, voice vaguely reminiscent of a whine. "Is that my shirt?" Arthur grabbed the end of the shirt and smiled tauntingly as he raised it up a little, revealing the bare skin of his stomach. "No, no, sh*t, keep it on." Alfred immediately growled.

As if kicked into motion, he rushed over to Arthur then, hands tight on his waist as he pulled him close and proceeded to snog the living daylight out of him. Arthur groaned appreciatively, tangling his fingers in Alfred's hair, pulling himself up to grind his hips against Alfred's.

Alfred grinned against his lips and pushed and pushed until the back of Arthur's knees met the bed. Arthur promptly sat down on it, pouting when Alfred didn't follow him, but forgetting his sorrows when Alfred rapidly started to remove his own clothes.

By the time he was gloriously naked, Arthur had crawled back on the bed, legs spread invitingly.

Then Alfred picked up his discarded bomber jacket and tossed it his way.

"Put that on too." He ordered, and Arthur immediately slid into it without any backtalk.

The leather smell of the jacket, entwined with the smell that was uniquely Alfred's, bombarded his senses and he sighed pleasantly as he lied back down on the bed. Alfred crawled on the bed in between his legs and hovered over him, just as Arthur had imagined minutes before.

He quickly raised a hand to pluck the glasses from his face, tossing them on the nightstand next to him, and Alfred leaned down to kiss him sweetly. His hands found their way underneath Arthur's (or Alfred's) shirt, teasingly brushing up and down his sides before settling low on his hips again.

Alfred's lips left his own and he sat back up again, shuffling backwards a little. He halted and just looked, his dark eyes appraising him intensely. Arthur felt his skin burn even hotter.

"Take a picture, it lasts longer." Arthur eventually said, voice a bit hoarser than he meant to. Alfred's darkened eyes shot up to his.

"You're so beautiful, you know that? I love you so much. I want a million pictures of you like this." He said, grabbing Arthur's left ankle and manhandling it up to hook over his shoulder. "Look at you... f*ck."

Arthur felt his co*ck give a hopeful little twitch as he watched Alfred like a hawk when he kissed his calf, eyes still locked with his own. On his way down Alfred eventually had to break his gaze, sucking at the skin on his inner thigh.

Then Alfred reached up to grab a pillow, manhandling Arthur up a bit so that he could slide it underneath his hips, causing his upper body to curve downwards in a slightly unnatural position.

"I'm going to eat you out." He growled, and all Arthur could do was moan his consent, tensing up with excitement.

The moment Alfred's tongue finally met his target, one of his hands flew up to grab hold of something other than Alfred's hair, but he miscalculated the distance and slammed his fist rather harshly against the wall.

He squirmed and squirmed when Alfred alternated between broad, flat swipes of his tongue and quick, curling licks. The leg draped over Alfred's shoulder slipped off and Arthur couldn't be bothered to control the quivering of his thighs, especially when Alfred used his hands to spread his cheeks a bit further.

Somewhere between the wonderful sensation of Alfred's tongue and his own moaning, Alfred managed to get his fingers up there as well. Even though he'd already stretched himself, there was a slight burn that enhanced his pleasure and he thrashed his head back again, pulling at Alfred's hair harshly. If it hurt, then Alfred didn't mention it.

Alfred added a third finger and he cheekily gave the bottom of his tattoo a farewell kiss, before pushing himself back up.

"You are not going to kiss me after where you've been with that mouth."

"Oh babe, I absolutely am."

Arthur wanted to glare and roll his eyes, but instead closed them when Alfred kissed him hard. He ignored the strange flavour, instead focusing on the other's fingers inside of him. Hurried or not, Alfred always slowed down during the third, taking his sweet time.

He curled them and Arthur broke their kiss in favor of throwing his head back against the pillows again, breathing harshly. Alfred chuckled in that confident way that made Arthur feel hot all over. "Like that?" He whispered into his chin, teeth skimming over his jawbone.

"f*ck- get on with it already. I already did it myself."

Alfred groaned appreciatively at that, eyes darkening with lust again. "God, that really drove me insane, y'know? You're a menace. You don't get to do that when I'm nearby, okay? I'll do it for you."

Arthur laughed incredulously, forcing his eyes open again to watch Alfred. "You think I don't do it every night you're not here?"

He didn't, but Alfred didn't need to know that.

Alfred glared down at him, pinching the skin on his hip. "Guess I can't leave you alone anymore."

The implication of that didn't really process in his mind, but it still punched an agreeable moan out of him, and Alfred moved back down to bite at one of the hickeys he left earlier on his neck.

"I love seeing these on you. You like it too, don't you? When I leave bruises and love bites all over you, so you can touch them the next day and remember - don't you?"

"Yes, yesss, now hurry up."

"Say please."

"f*ck you." Alfred's fingers curled again, brushing so terribly close to his prostate. "Please-"

"Good."

Alfred removed his fingers and Arthur followed his every movement with half-lidded eyes as he grabbed the lube and quickly drizzled some on his hand, before lathering his co*ck with it. Alfred shuffled a bit between his thighs and re-positioned the fallen leg back onto his shoulder, pushing the other aside some more.

Their eyes met as Arthur felt the thick head of Alfred's co*ck pressing at his entrance, slowly pushing in.

Arthur glared and reached out to pull at the other's shoulder, to encourage him to faster. Alfred grabbed his wrist mid-air and pinned it to the bed, leaning forward a bit and forcing Arthur's leg to bend a little unnaturally. He stopped pushing in, much to Arthur's aggravation.

"Oh no, you're going to lie there and take it the way I'm going to give it to you." He assured in a low voice, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I want you to feel it tomorrow, so that you're distracted and I can study in peace."

"Or you could just forget about studying and f*ck me all day."

What a horrible thing of to say, Arthur realized, but at least they both knew that Arthur wasn't serious.

"Hmm, that'd be hot." Alfred abruptly pushed all the way in with one thrust and Arthur keened, burying his face in Alfred's neck.

Alfred paused for a moment, breathing harshly into Arthur's mop of hair and giving Arthur time to adjust.

"You're so tight." Alfred panted hotly. "You're always so tight, it doesn't matter how often I f*ck you, does it?"

Arthur groaned and wiggled his hips, encouraging Alfred to move. "Maybe you're just too big."

Alfred snorted and kissed the skin beneath his earlobe, but before Arthur could curse at him to hurry up, he started setting his familiar, relentless pace, where he'd pull back agonizingly slow and slam back in fast and hard.

He planted his free hand down on the mattress next to Arthur so he could support his weight. It made Arthur feel trapped, caged in and overpowered; and he bloody loved it.

Knowing it'd only spur the other on, he allowed whines to fall from his lips, trying to rip his captured wrist free. Alfred was stronger than him though, and it didn't go anywhere. If anything, Alfred's grip only tightened to the point Arthur thought it was going to bruise him.

And wouldn't that be something? A hot flash of possessiveness raged through him and he sunk his teeth in Alfred's collarbone, biting down hard. Alfred cursed and punished him with an extraordinary harsh thrust right against his prostate, one that forced Arthur back onto the mattress with a sob.

He clenched his eyes shut and moaned away, feeling overwhelmed as a white flash of pleasure shot through him like a lightning bolt each time Alfred would hit his prostrate.

"Look at me." Alfred ordered roughly, and with difficulty Arthur pried his eyes open to stare up towards his lover. "Good; keep them open. I want to see your eyes when you cum."

"You think highly of your- oh- self."

Alfred grinned down at him wickedly, and Arthur took it as an invitation to kiss him again. It was wet and filthy and Arthur should be (but wasn't) disgusted by the drool he felt sliding down the corner of his lip. Instead he sucked on the others tongue, forcing his other leg up and around Alfred's hips to pull him even deeper.

"f*ck, babe, you take me so good. You're made for my co*ck, aren't you? You're so good, so pretty, I love you so much." Arthur clenched in response, feeling Alfred stutter in his rhythm. "sh*t."

Finally Alfred let go of his wrist, only to grab his neglected co*ck, bobbing between them. He wrapped his hand around it and Arthur keened, grabbing Alfred's shoulder and digging his nails in for purchase."Come on baby," Alfred whispered, licking at his earlobe. "Come on. I want to feel it, want to feel you clench and come around my co*ck."

The thrust of his hips, the filthy promises and the exclamations of love and the hand on his co*ck, caused Arthur's org*sm to come very suddenly and without warning. He was almost positive his vision blacked out for a moment and a long, wanton moan escaped him as Alfred kept pumping at his co*ck until he was too sensitive.

Mercifully his hand returned to the bed afterwards and Arthur pried his eyes open again to look at Alfred.

"I love you," He returned, smiling a particular kind of love-drunk smile that he knew would affect Alfred. "Come inside, let me feel it." Alfred groaned and leaned down so that Arthur could kiss at his cheek.

Alfred came with a loud, drawn out curse, hips stuttering before finally burying himself deep one last time. Watching his face was one of Arthur's favorite moments, but the feeling of Alfred finishing inside of him hotly had him clench his eyes shut with pleasure.

They stayed like that for a while, Alfred leaving butterfly kissing everywhere he could reach. Arthur would reciprocate, but he felt rather boneless. He ignored the slight sting of discomfort when Alfred eventually slipped out of him.

Alfred rolled away to his side, pulling him close and burying his face in Arthur's hair. "Hmm, you smell good."

"I absolutely do not." Arthur knew he absolutely did not smell good - he probably reeked of sweat and sex. Maybe even wine, too.

"You do, you smell of me." Alfred said cheekily, and Arthur suddenly realized he was still wearing the man's jacket. He rolled his eyes and let Alfred tangle their legs together.

"We should shower."

"Hm, you should keep it inside you a bit longer." Alfred said out of the blue then, lowering a hand to his ass and Arthur yelped when he pressed a finger against his already abused entrance. "Too much?"

"No, but you're not buying me a butt plug." Arthur said, bending an arm so that he could grab Alfred's invading hand and tug it back around himself. "How'd you even get inside?"

Alfred made a questioning noise before suddenly realizing what Arthur meant.

"Oh! Frenchy was at our place. I nabbed his keys from his coat."

Arthur almost, almost suggested that Alfred should have his own key.

Almost.

But he stopped, frowning at himself and at the overwhelming feeling of never wanting to sleep without Alfred next to him ever again.

Eventually he felt too sticky to continue lying there and so he wrestled himself free, pleased that Alfred trailed after him begrudgingly. They were both tired and so they showered briefly, and Arthur decided not to bother with putting on any clothing since Alfred was enough of a furnace anyway.

As soon as they hopped back in the bed, Alfred predictably tugged him into a spooning position, and Arthur tried to not get stuck in the same, overwhelming train of thought that managed to trap him before.

Only he couldn't escape the thought, not even after Alfred (who'd probably already been exhausted before he came over) had gone to sleep, judging by the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

His eyes were adjusted to the dark enough by then that Arthur could stare at his boyfriend's face, mapping out the curve of his jaw, cheekbones and nose.

It was funny how looking at Alfred's face both managed to calm him down and rile him up, at that moment. Despite the frustration he felt, he also smiled fondly when Alfred's nose twitched a little and he frowned lightly in his sleep, before settling again.

Despite the bed being a tad too small for the both of him, Arthur felt more comfortable than he did in days. He really was used to Alfred sleeping next to him, he reasoned. The warmth of Alfred's arm slung lazily around his waist was incredibly comforting, as was the tangled mess that was their legs.

He wasn't sure if they actually slept like this too, but he usually fell asleep and woke up in a position similar to this.

Arthur sighed. Would it be so terrible to move in with Alfred? He could stress and stress about everything that could go wrong - but if he were honest, the list of advantages and things that would go right was much, much longer.

He figured he didn't have to make any decision right now. Francis hadn't even made up his mind about going to Canada with Matthew yet, or at least he hadn't told Arthur yet. And even if Francis would go with his own boyfriend, January was still a few months away.

He could dwell on it a while longer.

But he wanted to taste the words, anyway. He often murmured things to Alfred while he slept, just to test them out.

"Move in with me." He whispered softly, resisting the urge to trace his fingers over Alfred's cheek even though Alfred slept like the dead.

Only Alfred suddenly stiffened, and his eyes shot open, and Arthur froze in return.

"Wait, what?" Alfred asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

Arthur scowled and sat up, disentangling himself from Alfred. Alfred rubbed at his eyes and leaned up on one elbow too, staring at Arthur incredulously.

"I thought you were sleeping!" Arthur accused, loud now that he knew Alfred had actually been awake.

"I was!" Alfred grumbled as Arthur moved to push the sheets away from himself. "I was, but I woke up because I was thirsty, and then I felt you staring at me and -"

"And you decided to fake sleeping?" Arthur snapped, finally managing to get free from the trap that was his bed and stumbling out of it.

Only his foot snagged on a discarded piece of clothing almost immediately and he tripped, tumbling down towards the floor and yelping as he fell down on his arse harshly. He winced at the sting and cursed as he kicked the piece of garment from his foot.

Looking back at the bed, he could see Alfred's concerned frown make way for something unreadable. Then Alfred quickly dropped to hide his face in the mattress and he heard something akin to a snort and squeal escape him.

"Don't you bloody laugh!"

"I'm sorry -" Alfred managed between fits of laughter, as he rolled over to face the ceiling. He pushed a hand to his mouth to hide his grin, but couldn't contain his giggles. "It's just, your face! And the noise you - hahaha-"

"This is all your fault!"

Alfred simply dissolved into laughter again, and Arthur's scowl slowly softened. He supposed he did look rather ridiculous on the floor like this, completely naked to boot. It wasn't long until Alfred's laughter finally managed to put a smile on his own face, despite his best attempts.

"All right, get it out of your system then. I could've bashed my head against the table, you know."

He got back on his feet, grabbed his discarded shirt and briefs from the ground and slipped them both on. If Alfred wanted to laugh on his behalf, Arthur at least wanted the dignity of being dressed.

Alfred forced himself to calm down, the laughter subsiding, but the grin still on his face. It softened into a smile when he saw Arthur looking down at him with furrowed eyebrows, and he made grabby hands at him. Arthur sighed and stepped closed, allowing Alfred to drag him down on the bed again.

"I'm sorry I laughed at you." Alfred said, and it would've sounded sincere were it not for the giggles still trying to escape him. "Did you hurt yourself? Want me to kiss it better?"

Arthur scowled when Alfred's hand wormed down to pinch his buttocks, and slapped it away halfheartedly.

"Your kissing privileges are revoked for the remainder of the week, actually."

"Whatcha gonna do, have me arrested?" Alfred taunted, wetting his lips exaggeratedly before trying to get close to him with puckered lips.

Arthur snorted and pressed a hand against Alfred's mouth, trying to push him away. But Alfred wasn't deterred and licked the palm of his hand. Instead of being disgusted and removing his hand, Arthur kept it there, giving him an unimpressed glare.Then Alfred mumbled something and Arthur reluctantly removed his hand.

"So... was that sleep talk or did you mean it?" Arthur tilted his head sideways, just so that he could look at anything but Alfred's face.

However, Alfred didn't let him, and he pursed his lips when Alfred sat up and reached out to tug Arthur back towards him.

"Hey, it's okay if you didn't mean it." Alfred said softly, smiling so incredibly sweetly, and Arthur's insides twisted painfully when he recognized the concealed hurt behind Alfred's eyes. "I get it, I wasn't supposed to hear it."

"Alfred," Arthur said once he realized he was being an idiot. "first of all, I love you."

Alfred visibly brightened at that, reminding him a bit of a puppy, and he grabbed Arthur's hand to raise it and press his lips against it. "I love you, too."

"Good. Second of all, no, you weren't supposed to hear, but... I didn't not mean it, I suppose."

He risked a peek at Alfred's face again, soothed by the sincere and fond look on it. Alfred's fingers rubbed over the dorsal of his hands softly. His lack of reply worried him though, and he felt himself grow anxious again.

"So?" Arthur prodded, starting to get annoyed.

"So I think you cheated." Alfred said then, and Arthur raised his eyebrows, wondering where on earth he got that idea from. "Cos I was planning on asking you first, but I wanted to wait till our one-year anniversary of knowing each other."

Which would be in a couple of days, Arthur realized.

"I mean, Mattie told me he wanted to go to Canada next year, and I figured Francis would follow him, and then I couldn't stop thinking about you and me, y'know? But I wanted it to be romantic and man, you just asked me after we had sex. What the hell."

Arthur frowned at him, incredulous. Then he promptly dissolved into laughter himself, realizing that apparently the both of them have been thinking about the same thing that week. Alfred pouted at him but didn't say a word until Arthur managed to quiet down again, hands still tight around his own.

"All right, we can forget this ever happened and wait for our anniversary." Arthur conceded then, and Alfred smirked.

"And miss out on the opportunity to drag you to Ikea this weekend? Hell no. Ikea dates are the best kind of dates. Do you think we could get away with making out in one of the showrooms?"

"You're a pig." Arthur scolded fondly. "We're not going anywhere, you have to study for your exam on Tuesday."

"Party pooper. So you wanna move in with me?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and climbed fully onto the bed, draping himself across Alfred's chest when he lied back down again.

"Will you let me rent a place in town for us?" Alfred frowned and Arthur flicked his fingers on his chest. "How about you let me take care of you while you finish up college, and then when you get a job and make ten times the amount I'll make with my meager teaching position, you can take care of me."

Alfred's expression told him that he still didn't like the idea, but Arthur also knew he had him in the bag - after all, Alfred still had two years left here and his PhD would take at least three years. His funds, scholar ship or not, would eventually dry out. Alfred didn't like talking about it with Arthur, but he wasn't naive.

"Only if we can get a dog." Alfred mumbled then and Arthur snorted.

"Absolutely not, who will take care of the poor beast when we're both out all day?"

Alfred seemed to reconsider and agree with him, but the glint in his eye told Arthur that he wasn't done discussing this yet. "Fine, then we'll get a cat. Two cats. Or Iggy will be lonely."

"Iggy?"

"The cat, duh, keep up." He laughed when Alfred tickled his sides and dragged him down for a brief kiss.

"I suppose that would be acceptable." He mused, playing with Alfred's hair gently and smiling fondly when Alfred resisted a yawn.

"Good." Alfred murmured sleepily. Arthur realized his ministrations were slowly lulling him back to sleep, as the fidgeting of his fingers on his lower back started to slow and grow irregular, and he slowly moved until he was lying next to Alfred again instead of on top of him.

Arthur traced his fingers along Alfred's cheek like he had wanted to do a while earlier. "I can't wait to fall asleep and wake up next to you every day." He whispered, feeling a little overwhelmed with happiness, relief and affection.

Alfred smiled and cuddled closer to him, tugging Arthur against his chest. Soothed by Alfred's rhythmic breathing and heartbeat, and with only the exciting thought of their future on his mind, Arthur finally allowed sleep to take hold of him too.