A/N: Warnings include mentioning sexual things, kissing, a tiny bit of feels, and fluff. I hope you enjoy~

Fidelity

Laughter as light as air.

"Okay, okay," the giggles died down. "Truth or dare?"

Arthur tapped his chin in feigned thought. He always was too scared to pick dare and Alfred knew it. Sometimes he wondered why Alfred bothered asking "Truth or dare?" instead of "Truth again?"

"Truth."

"Okay, hmm…" Alfred leaned backwards, looking up at the ceiling as if it held the answers to every question. His eyelids fluttered and—He snapped his fingers. He sat up straighter with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Do you have a crush on anyone? If so, who?"

Arthur blushed. "No fair, that's two questions!" he sputtered much too quickly.

"Then answer the last one!" Alfred sat up taller, seeing as it was obvious the answer to the first question was "yes." He seemed too eager to hear the answer. Or for a denial.

Arthur fell onto his back, hiding his face in his hands. His hair scattered over the carpet. Alfred peered over at him. He had an odd urge to touch it.

"I can't tell you. You'd laugh at me," Arthur mumbled miserably.

Alfred laughed, "I'll laugh at you anyways, already am. Tell me! We're best friends right? You can tell me anything."

That last sentence seemed to crack his shell. A finger moved and Arthur's—beautiful—green iris peeked out at him. He sat up slowly, revealing his cheeks a brighter red than before. He stared down into the corner of the room where they hid their bag of chips since they weren't allowed to eat in the room. They did anyways. Just another secret between them.

"Francis Bonnefoy!" he blurted out abruptly, squeezing his eyes shut.

The playful air seemed to freeze. Arthur opened one eye, looking for Alfred's reaction. He wasn't laughing like he expected.

"Francis? Francis Bonnefoy?" he verified, "that pervert that's always making a move on you? Why would you like him? And if you did why don't you just take him up on one of his offers? God knows he makes enough of them."

Arthur sighed. "All those things he says is just to get into my pants," he looked down. "I don't want sex, I want a relationship. I like him because he's funny… He's protective… He's sweet… And all he seems to want is a one night stand."

"Dude, we're sixteen. He's perverted and needs to know when to lay off. At first it was funny and now it's just harassment. I can't imagine why you like him like that."

"Maybe he just wants to love someone!" Arthur blurted, feeling silly afterwards. "Maybe everyone marks him off like that so no one can…"

The air stilled once more. Arthur bit his lip, feeling guilty for ruining the mood of their sleepover. He opened his lips to apologize but only warm breath came out.

"Alright!" Alfred spoke before Arthur had a chance. "Well, I guess I should be supportive about it! I'm gonna be your wingman. I'll set you two up and you'll be dating by the end of the week!"

Arthur's eyes shot open and he blushed deeper. "W-What do you mean? Don't get involved! It's just a crush! It isn't like I'd actually confess!"

"You wouldn't?"

"Of course not!"

"Why not?"

"B-Because he doesn't like me back! Maybe he's not even gay!"

"Dude I bet he sucks dick every weekend."

"E-Eh?! Bad images! Bad images!"

"You're right. Here's a better one: your dick."

"Oh my god. Worse image!"

"Can't be that bad. I mean you like him don't you? Or maybe you just want it the other way around?"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Arthur covered his ears, his face a vibrant red as he tried to shut out Alfred's voice that went on and on about what Arthur "would want." Alfred burst out laughing eventually. Well there's the reaction Arthur expected at last. A bit delayed though.

"Alfred! Alfred stop!" Arthur yelled, pulling on his sleeve. "I told you I don't want to act on this little feeling! Very, very little feeling!"

Arthur's voice rang with desperation as he tugged on Alfred's shirt. He could swear he heard the sun laughing at him as well. He had to start this at school? What if people overheard? What if rumors spread? What if—

"Come on, take him to the winter dance, dinner before that, and everything will be easy flying from there! I even bought the tickets for you two!" Alfred waved the two pieces of paper in front of him.

Arthur snatched the tickets from his hands, shoving them into his pockets. "I-I have no idea how to act, then I'll make a fool of myself and he'd never like me. Needless to say I can't dance at all!"

Alfred stopped teasing, raising a brow. "You really can't dance?"

Arthur looked down, nodding. Alfred looked at him for a moment, two were quiet before Alfred reached to Arthur's hands, taking the tickets back—or one of them.

"This," he waved the ticket, "is going in Francis's locker. With a note from 'Arthur.'"

"A-Alfred, wait , don't say anything stupid!"

"Dear Francis, you're so sweet and protective, I want to hug you! And kiss you! Lots of love, Arthur Kirkland."

"Alfred! No!"

Alfred laughed, "Don't worry about it, dude. And don't worry about the dancing either. It's easy, I'll help you."

Arthur sighed in defeat, and when he looked back up, Alfred was already gone.

The whole idea of the thing was silly. It was cliché. It was in every movie he'd ever seen and yet he was living it. Alfred pushed the couches back against the wall so they had room. The lights were brighter around them even though it was nearly midnight. Why did they act mostly at night again?

Arthur felt his heart flutter like it never had before when Alfred jumped out of the bathroom in a suit, bowing jestingly. "Like it? Your date's gonna wear one, so I decided to play Francis!"

Had his eyes always glistened like that?

Alfred ran to the stereo, putting some pop music on. "Let's bust some moves!" he shouted and started doing dance moves—he looked like an absolute idiot.

He felt his arm jerked when Alfred grabbed him, yelling, "dance!" Arthur stumbled, trying to regain his balance as he looked up at Alfred. Sometimes he wondered if the world was in slow motion when he was with him—then other moments would fast-forward. It'd always been like that with his best friend. Maybe that's how they got to be so close.

"Come on, dance!" Alfred reminded and snapped Arthur out of his thoughts.

Arthur moved his arms rather awkwardly, trying to dance. He did warn him he was a terrible dancer, but Alfred didn't seem to mind. Not too much later Arthur began to forget they were rehearsing for the Winter Dance next week. He and Alfred just seemed to be having too much fun. He smiled so much his face felt like rubber and he had to force himself to frown to relax—then laugh more because—such a silly face it is to force a frown.

Alfred, however, was painfully aware of the fact they were only rehearsing. Was Arthur always this beautiful? Were his eyes always that radiant? His smile seemed more forced the longer they went on. He'd never seen Arthur as anything other than a friend until recently; a year ago. When he would offer to do anything to have him spend the night again. To want to be adopted by Arthur's parents just to live with him and never have to leave his side. And the world just stopped turning when he smiled.

And he swore time froze for the moments they were together. He felt jealousy crawling inside him and he tried to push it away. He only wanted Arthur to be happy—No you want to be with him, no matter the costs— If he was happier with Francis that was better right?

"Alfred?" Arthur blinked at him. Alfred seemed to be lost in his own world. "How am I? Terrible as I thought?"

Alfred forced another laugh, "You're awesome at dancing! …If you're a clown."

Arthur's face flushed—in the most adorable way—and Alfred laughed harder, a more sincere laugh.

"Kidding, kidding," Alfred waved it off. "Seriously though, you're not that bad."

Arthur smiled to himself. Alfred's heart clenched.

The music changed again as the song ended and a slower song came on. Arthur looked over, about to go change it to a faster one.

"Wait, don't change it!" Alfred said almost desperately. "There's a slow song at the end of the dance right? Why don't we rehearse that, too?"

Arthur blinked for a moment, but turned around. "I can already waltz. It was just the fast beat dancing that I needed help with."

Alfred stubbornly grabbed his wrist, pulling him into his arms.

"Just pretend I'm Francis," he said with a fake French accent that made Arthur giggle.

It hurt to say that.

Arthur seemed to oblige, "but wait," he said, "who leads?"

Alfred pretended to think. "Me! Do you think Francis is the submissive type?"

"Do you think I am?" Arthur sounded offended, but Alfred could tell there was more curiosity in his voice.

He tilted his head in thought. "Well in a relationship there's gonna be times where one person is more dominant than the other, and that might alternate. You seem like the type that would be dominant if you play the cards right and submissive if you do the right things."

Arthur looked a bit shocked by the lengthy answer. "So you've thought about this often?" he joked.

Alfred only laughed and Arthur joined in.

He had.

"I'll just lead, okay?" Alfred said, taking his hand—it was so warm—and putting a hand on his waist.

Arthur nodded begrudgingly, a soft blush scattering over his—beautiful—cheek bones. Alfred took the first step forward and Arthur took a step back. Being so close the height difference stood out. Arthur was adorable when he looked up at him like that. Those eyes—Alfred wanted to stare at them forever.

Arthur had to admit Alfred was a better dancer than he expected. He didn't seem like the type to do things such as these. Yet here he was, their bodies so close, moving together. He hardly remembered they were still rehearsing anymore. He wasn't dancing with Francis. He was dancing with Alfred.

Alfred lifted his arm and twirled Arthur around.

"I'm not a girl!" Arthur protested, blushing as Alfred pulled him back in with their bodies touching.

"You sure?"

Arthur blushed darker and Alfred laughed. He was too fun to tease.

"Kidding," Alfred said in a softer voice than Arthur thought was possible for him.

The song was coming to an end sooner than Arthur was ready, and with the tinkling jingling of the tune withering away, the two were closer than necessary for the dance. Their faces nearing by the second. Their noses touching. Alfred spoke.

"And at the end of the song," his voice was just a whisper, melting like chocolate on his fingers. "You'll lean in."

Arthur felt his heart stop and at the same time run away. He felt Alfred's breath ghost over his lips—mint?

"He'll probably kiss you."

Alfred felt his heart ripping apart as he pulled away. Arthur's eyes were dazed and he confusedly looked up as if asking why didn't you kiss me?

Alfred looked back at him, wordlessly responding.

Because I'm not Francis.

"Oh," Alfred's voice was plain as he tossed him a ticket. A ticket to the dance? Was he asking—"I didn't think it'd be right of me to ask Francis for you. You should ask him tomorrow."

Arthur felt his face fall in disappointment.

Why was he disappointed?

"Don't let all this be for nothing," Alfred smiled stonily and winked at him.

Alfred left to his bedroom after that.

Arthur was standing, staring blankly at the ticket. He felt so empty when Alfred left. His heart was still screaming and running around like crazy, thinking of nothing but how amazing it felt when Alfred held his hand. How electrifying it was when he touched any part of him. How much he yearned for Alfred to have closed the distance between them instead of pulling away. His heart fluttered and stilled at the same time.

Francis had never made him feel like this.

The door opened slowly and Arthur walked in slowly. Alfred seemed to perk up and grin at him.

"Hey! Sorry for leaving you hanging out there. Guess I needed to clear my head," he chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He seemed to be back to normal.

Arthur sat down next to him on the bed. He looked down at the floor, biting his lip nervously.

"You okay? You seem a little—"

"I don't want to go to the dance with Francis," Arthur interrupted.

The room fell silent.

The silence lingered; Alfred wasn't the first to break it.

"I want to go with someone else," he said determinedly and finally lifted his eyes.

Alfred's posture stiffened and he looked away. He didn't want to hear more about Arthur's crushes. It made him jealous. He wanted that kind of affection.

Arthur was a bit nervous, not liking how Alfred was reacting. He was too quiet. Alfred's never quiet.

"Why didn't you kiss me?" Arthur changed the subject.

Alfred looked back at him, taken off guard. "We were just rehearsing. What did you want me to kiss you? Like a little practice kiss? I'm sorry but I'm not Francis or whoever else you like in that way," Alfred's words were venomous whether he meant them like that or not.

Arthur was quiet. "What would you do if I said yes?" he asked in a small voice, blushing softly. "What if I told you I did want you to kiss me?"

The room hushed once more and the silence choked Arthur. What if Alfred was mad at him? What if he was disgusted and didn't want to kiss a friend? What if—Arthur shook his head. He wanted to be selfish. He wanted have Alfred.

"I would," Alfred responded after an eternity and a day.

"I want you to kiss me," Arthur said nearly immediately and didn't have the patience to wait. He rushed forward and kissed him—oh at last and how right it felt.

The kiss was gentle and chaste. It flowed like a small stream of water, splashing over rocks. The kiss got deeper and Arthur breathed into it. He would gladly suffocate if it meant he could kiss him for two seconds extra. Alfred's hands found Arthur's hair, finally able to run his fingers through it.

"I want to go with you," Arthur muttered against Alfred's lips, diving back in and coming up. "I want to go to the dance with you."

Alfred smiled, "then hang onto that ticket, Cinderella."

Arthur pulled back, absolutely mortified at the nickname. "C-Cindere—"

Alfred laughed, pulling him back in and kissed him again. That blush was something he'd never get tired of.