Hero- EDITED

by axisofadorable

Hetalia: Yaoi: USUK: Human AU: AlfredxArthur- EDITED VERSION of previous story of the same name. Follows Greedy and Fragile, and will cover some of the same events. Rated M for a reason.

HERO

Hetalia: Yaoi: USUK Human AU: AlfredxArthur

NOTE: EDITED! If you want to read the unedited version of certain scenes, check me out on deviantart. The link is in my profile.

...

They were 9, and Alfred was climbing the huge pecan tree in the front yard. The air smelled of cut grass, hot and heavy with an impending thunderstorm.

As he worked his way up the wide trunk, while Matthew stayed below looking up at him, his ears were full of the sound of cicadas rasping.

He could feel the rough bark under his hands, and as he climbed higher, the moist wind tugged and lifted his bangs off his sweaty forehead.

Below, Matthew had started to cry.

'Come down, Alfie,' he pleaded. 'Don't go so high.'

Alfred didn't answer his brother, because he didn't want to come down. Instead he pulled himself up another body-length, slinging an elbow over the big branch above his head.

Bark scraped his skin, but he hardly felt it.

'Alfie?' Matthew called again.

He was crying for real now, and Alfred heard his voice break on the middle of his name.

This was the moment when, in real life, Alfred had stopped climbing the tree and shimmied back down to his brother.

He had put his arms around his twin and squeezed Matthew until Matthew stopped crying and started sniffling instead.

'I thought you were gonna leave me!' Matthew had whimpered into his shoulder.

'I'm not gonna leave you,' Alfred had said. 'You're my brother, why would I leave you?'

''Cause I'm stupid,' Matthew had said.

'You're not stupid.'

'And I've only been your brother for a year-'

'You've been my brother forever,' Alfred corrected him. 'You just didn't know it.'

They had gone back inside, and their grandmother had scolded Alfred for his skinned knees and Matthew's tears.

That was how things had been supposed to happen. But this time Alfred didn't stop climbing. Instead he went on, pushing his way higher and higher, until he couldn't hear Matthew's sobs anymore, until his brother grew smaller and smaller and finally disappeared from view.

Even as he did it, Alfred knew that it was wrong. This wasn't what had happened, this wasn't what he wanted.

He was supposed to stop and go back down. He wasn't supposed to leave Matthew behind. But somehow he couldn't make his body obey him.

Blindly he reached for branch after branch, ignoring the way that his chest had begun to hurt.

He couldn't stop, and suddenly he didn't even want to. The cicada scream was growing louder and louder in his ears. The wind was harsher and stronger as it buffeted against his skin. He was in the top of the tree now.

If he climbed higher- if he climbed high enough- he would break through the clouds into the sunlight above.

If he climbed high enough, he would have everything that he had ever wanted.

Alfred thought that he was going to make it right up until the moment when his fingers slipped against bark and gave way.

For a long moment he hung there upside down, his legs wrapped around the tree trunk, his stomach dropping without him.

And then he fell.

The speed of it sucked the breath from his lungs. He couldn't cry out, he couldn't even inhale. Cold wind rushed around him, yanking at his clothes with invisible fingers.

Was he right side up or upside down?

He couldn't tell. He couldn't see the ground beneath him anymore, or even the tree.

Not Matthew either.

He wanted to scream his brother's name, but Matthew was gone.

He had left Matthew behind. He had abandoned his brother, and now he was falling.

However far he fell, Alfred knew that he would never reach Matthew again.

'Fuck.'

For a moment Alfred lay still, staring up at the ceiling. His heart was pounding, and he couldn't catch his breath.

'Fuck…' he breathed again, softer this time.

He wasn't falling, and Matthew hadn't disappeared.

It had been a long time since he'd had this dream- the exact same dream, the exact same ending.

It had been a long time, but he hadn't forgotten it.

I have to stop leaving Mattie home, he thought.

It was just like when they were in high school, when he had had friends and Matthew didn't. Except that this wasn't high school, and he wasn't leaving Matthew home alone to go play video games.

I'm stupid, Alfred thought. Mattie needs me. He still needs me, even after all this time.

I can't forget that.

He shivered suddenly, realizing that he was just about naked, and reached for the quilt.

No wonder he was cold. Sometime during the night he had had flung the cover back, and his bare chest was sticky with sweat.

Alfred pulled the quilt up to his chin, ignoring the way the fabric stuck to his skin. His heart was still racing, and suddenly having Matthew just upstairs wasn't enough. He wanted to see his twin, to touch him, to hold him.

There shouldn't be anything in his life more important than Matthew.

There couldn't be.

Because Matthew was all he had.

And Matthew was so good... He never complained, no matter what.

Alfred knew he must get lonely- with Alfred spending almost every waking hour at Tony's, how could he not be? But Matthew'd never said a word.

Of course, Alfred being at Tony's was nothing new- he'd had been hanging out at the club since he was sixteen.

Lately, though, he'd barely been coming home to eat or to sleep.

It wasn't just that Arthur had finally made him a bartender and given him a real job.

It was that he could feel something slipping through his fingers, and he knew that if he didn't do something to hang onto it, it would be gone.

Matthew has no idea, Alfred thought.

He only had one secret from his brother- and Matthew had none from him. But Alfred's was a big one.

He had been sixteen when he seriously figured out how he felt.

Arthur and Francis had broken up, and that was the first time Arthur stopped coming around. The twins had grown attached to him- well, Matthew had grown attached to him.

For Alfred, it had been something else.

So he had hunted Arthur down at the club he owned.

Alfred was underage and nothing but trouble, and Arthur had done his best to keep him out. But he was a persistent little fucker. Not even Ivan, the scary Russian bouncer, had been able to drive him away.

At the time, Arthur had had no idea why Alfred was so obsessed with the club.

Alfred knew what he wanted even then, but he wasn't stupid. He was 16, and Arthur was 28. There was no way in hell that was ever going to happen.

But he hadn't given Arthur a chance to shake him off and disappear from their lives, and to his credit, Arthur had never really tried.

Maybe he had missed the twins, too. He had let Alfred hang out once he realized that he couldn't get rid of him, and he'd started coming by to see Matthew again too. So that was okay. And it stayed okay for a couple of years.

Alfred could remember exactly when things got serious. It was when he and Matthew were 18, and Arthur still hadn't gotten back together with Francis, or started seeing anybody else either. They were still twelve years apart, but Alfred was an adult now.

Now's my chance, he had thought giddily.

He'd tried slow and careful at first, and then when that didn't work, he'd had his first crisis of conscience and thought that maybe he should just back the hell off completely.

Arthur obviously wasn't picking up on his signals, and maybe that was because he didn't want to.

I'm a pest, Alfred had thought. I don't even know why he puts up with me at all.

He'd thought that maybe he had a chance of getting Arthur out of his system if he slept with somebody else, or a bunch of somebodies, and that was when he'd become a little bit of a slut.

It hadn't worked, although it had definitely taken the edge off a bit.

A year later he had tried again- this time he had come on stronger, although he hadn't done anything so overt that it couldn't be ignored.

And Arthur HAD ignored it. Maybe he just thought that was how Alfred was with everyone by now.

Alfred, shit-scared of scaring Arthur, had let him think that.

Up until a few months ago, that is.

Up until his and Matthew's birthday party, when he had fucked up completely and ruined everything.

Alfred stared up at the ceiling, counting lumps in the plaster.

Arthur hadn't told him to stay away, which was a miracle. But he had definitely distanced himself some since that night.

Alfred couldn't apologize. He couldn't tell him that there was more to it than just a drunken pass.

He had to just pretend it had never happened, while he watched himself being pushed further and further away.

Sometimes he wanted to ask Arthur if he was blind, or if he just didn't care.

Did he think Alfred just wanted another conquest?

If it had been that, then he wouldn't have hung on for five fucking years.

No, this was love, or something stupid close to it.

It was everything about Arthur- the way he looked, the way he talked, all the little things he did… They all drove Alfred crazy.

He had resisted it as long as he could. Fuck, he should have gotten a medal for how long he resisted it.

But in the end, he had stopped resisting, and all it had gotten him was this-

Arthur had stopped hanging out with them again. Arthur was avoiding him as hard as he could while still employing him three days a week.

He hadn't really said anything after that night, and neither had Alfred. But Alfred could feel it- the gap growing between them, the way that Arthur made sure he never touched Alfred, or let Alfred touch him, even by accident.

If Arthur had been straight, it would have made sense, but Arthur wasn't- which is why Alfred couldn't figure out why was he so reluctant.

But reluctant he was.

He'd stopped coming over every weekend. He had stopped sleeping at their house like he used to. More than that, he had stopped treating Alfred like a younger brother and started treating him like an acquaintance.

Alfred hated it. The younger brother stuff wasn't what he wanted, either, but this was worse. It was like Arthur wasn't even part of their family anymore. Like he didn't want them around. Not Alfred, and not Matthew either.

Matthew must be wondering why.

Alfred wondered why, too.

Not why Arthur wasn't coming around- because he knew that- but why Arthur didn't want him. Not even a little.

To be honest, it fucking hurt.

None of it was going to stop him from being at Tony's. though, or from being around Arthur. Not unless Arthur actually fired him, or told him not to come.

He guessed that was what love was- being unable to let go, even when you knew you should.

He did know he should- and he had tried.

He just couldn't.

This wasn't good for him, and it sure as fuck wasn't good for Matthew.

Alfred scratched his naked chest.

Maybe I'll take Matthew with me today, he thought.

Matthew didn't like Tony's, but he was fond of Arthur and they hadn't seen each other in forever, so he might go.

The thought of going to Tony's- of seeing Arthur- without the guilt of leaving Matthew behind galvanized Alfred enough to get him out of bed.

Looking around, he grabbed the first clothes that came to hand- jeans and his faded 'America Hearts Me' T shirt.

At least they were clean.

In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth, but not his messy blond hair. Then, shoving his glasses up his nose, he padded down the hallway and climbed the stairs to Matthew's bedroom.

Matthew's door was closed, but Alfred knew it wasn't locked.

Matthew didn't like it when he just came in, though- they used to share a room, but once they turned twelve and Matthew got his own, he started wanting Alfred to knock.

At first Alfred had thought that maybe it was because he was jacking off all the time- back before he found out what the real reason was.

Once he knew, it didn't matter so much anymore, but he still tried to respect Matthew's wishes most of the time.

Except when it came to Matthew sleeping late.

'Yo, Mattie,' he said through the door.

There was silence from inside- Matthew was a heavy sleeper.

'Mattie? You awake?' Alfred called again.

He laid his cheek against the cool wood and listened. Finally he heard Matthew's sleepy voice answering him.

'Yeah.'

'I'm hungry.' He wasn't really that hungry, but it was as good an excuse as any to drag his brother out of bed.

'Okay, Alfie,' Matthew answered at once. He was almost always agreeable, even when Alfred did something selfish like this.

Though by now he must be used to it- Matthew liked to sleep late, Alfred never did.

'Don't come in,' Alfred heard his brother add, and then a shuffling sound as he slid out of bed.

'Why not?' he asked. 'You naked?'

He smirked a little bit, even though Matthew couldn't see him.

But, 'Yeah,' Matthew responded. His feet thumped on the floor, and Alfred heard his dresser drawer slide open, then more shuffling, as he got dressed. 'Okay,' he said finally.

Alfred cracked the door open. 'You decent now?' he asked.

'Yeah,' Matthew said. 'Don't turn on the light, though.'

Alfred squinted toward him. 'Why not? I've seen it before.'

'I don't want to see it.' Matthew scrubbed at his eyes with his hands, then flicked his dangling curl back with a little toss of his head. 'Do you want pancakes?'

''Course.' Alfred felt himself grinning, and Matthew slowly smiled back.

By now, Alfred's eyes had adjusted to the dimness of the room. Matthew kept the light off most of the time and his windows were covered by heavy curtains, but Alfred could still see his brother clearly. He and Matthew were twins, but they weren't identical.

Matthew was prettier, Alfred thought. He always had been.

He looked sleepy and comfortable right now, and Alfred wanted to grab him and cuddle him the way he used to when they were younger.

Matthew wouldn't mind- Hell, he would probably like it. He'd never complained about any of the things Alfred had done to him. Not even that time that Alfred- ten years old and curious to know what it was like to kiss another boy- had cajoled Matthew into being his guinea pig.

But if Alfred glommed onto him now, Matthew would know that something was wrong.

He peered at his brother, glad to see Matthew looking almost happy for once.

'Hey,' he said. 'You okay?'

'Yeah,' Matthew answered. He picked up his glasses and put them on.

'C'mon, then.' Alfred spun around, ready to go downstairs to the kitchen, but Matthew shook his head.

'I have to brush my teeth,' he said. 'And my hair. And do some other stuff.'

He went into the bathroom before Alfred could argue, not that he really would have, and closed the door.

Matthew took a long time in the bathroom. He always did.

Alfred waited for him in the darkened room without looking at his brother's walls. He didn't have to look. He'd seen them before.

Matthew thought that the writing meant that he was crazy, but Alfred just thought it reflected their fucked up life.

Why shouldn't Matthew be a little bit broken? God knows Alfred was.

Matthew had started the writing thing after their grandmother died. It was during the time that Francis had been taking care of them- from when they were 12 until they turned 18.

Francis had been Nana's nurse, and because the twins didn't have any other family, she'd asked him to become their guardian after she died. Francis had grown fond of them in the year he'd spent living in their house, so he had said yes.

It was maybe six months after Nana died, and Matthew had been acting weird. Really quiet, and skittish. He had started eating less, and he had stopped letting Alfred come into his room.

Finally, one day Alfred just burst in. He wanted to know what was wrong with his brother. When he had first seen the walls, and then Matthew's skin, he had freaked out. Matthew had gone really quiet. He was almost catatonic, and it had scared Alfred shitless.

He'd tried to talk to Mattie, but Matthew wouldn't respond. Finally, when Alfred had shaken him and practically started crying, he had looked up with wide eyes. He wasn't crying himself, but that made it almost worse.

'I don't want to go away,' he'd said.

'Go where?' Alfred had asked.

'Away. I don't want to go away. People like me have to go away, and I don't want to.'

'You're not going anywhere.' Alfred had taken his hands and squeezed them. 'There's no 'people like you'. There's just you.'

Matthew had grabbed him and hung on, and Alfred had hung on, too.

'I'll stop,' Matthew had said later. 'I can stop.'

'Okay,' Alfred had told him. 'But I don't care.'

Matthew hadn't stopped. He couldn't stop. But Alfred really didn't care.

Matthew was his brother, his twin. No matter how much Matthew hated this part of himself, Alfred couldn't hate it. It was just Matthew, like his hair or his eyes or his crooked little smile. It didn't change him, it didn't make him any less who he was.

Alfred didn't care, but Matthew did.

It had been nine years, and he still couldn't stop, even now that they were 21 and living by themselves.

Honestly, that was the only thing that bothered Alfred about it- the fact that it bothered his brother.

You're okay, he thought. Come on, Matthew. You're okay.

Finally the bathroom door opened and Matthew came out. His hair had been tamed, and his breath smelled like cinnamon. There was no sign of inner turmoil as he looked at Alfred, waiting for direction, so Alfred headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time, like always. 'Can we have chocolate chips in our pancakes?' he asked on the way down.

'No,' Matthew told him.

'Why not?'

''Cause we're out.'

'Oh, crap.'

Matthew didn't care if he had chips or not, so he wouldn't have put them on the list the way he would with flour or butter. Alfred snapped his fingers. 'Well, shiz.'

'They're still good without,' Matthew said equably. His bare feet made little padding sounds on the stairs as he made his own careful way down.

'I know that,' Alfred said, deciding to forget it. It's not like it was Matthew's fault, anyway. 'Can we have sausage?' he asked.

'Yeah.'

'Sweet!' He swung around on the banister and suddenly took Matthew by the shoulders. 'Hey Mattie,' he said.

He could feel Matthew's bones under his hands, light like bird bones- he was too thin, and he just blinked as Alfred gave him a little shake and smiled at him. Alfred had to fight the urge to pull him closer. 'I love you,' he said.

'I know,' Matthew answered. He looked at Alfred, not smiling back, totally serious. 'I love you, too.'

Alfred released him. 'Just so you remember,' he said.

'I do.'

In the kitchen, Alfred sat at the table and watched Matthew scurry around gathering ingredients. He had put his apron on- for a dude, Matthew was pretty girly. He probably had no idea how cute that was.

Alfred straddled his chair and rested his chin on the wooden back.

'Hey, Mattie,' he said again.

'What?' Matthew asked. He was breaking eggs into the bowl now, and using a fork to beat the batter he'd made.

Time to go for it, Alfred thought.

He sighed loudly and fixed Matthew with a pleading look. 'Dude, I am SO bored...' he said. 'Will you come to Tony's with me after we eat?'

Instantly Matthew's shoulders stiffened and he ducked his head, golden brown waves curtaining his face.

'I don't want to,' he said quietly. 'I don't like it there.'

'Why not?' Alfred asked, even though he already knew.

Matthew didn't like strangers, and he didn't like to be touched. At Tony's everyone was strange, and most of them touched you.

'It's loud, and there are a lot of people,' Matthew said. His voice was even tinier than normal now.

'They won't hurt you,' Alfred told him.

'I don't like it,' he repeated. He'd scrunched down, pulling his shoulders tighter, and he'd began to beat the batter in his bowl roughly and arrhythmically, with none of the care he had been using on it before. He was getting upset.

'Okay,' Alfred said, relenting. 'You don't have to.'

The fork slowed, and Matthew's shoulders straightened out. 'I'm sorry,' he said softly.

'Dude, don't be sorry,' Alfred told him.

Matthew had looked almost happy before. Now he just looked tense and miserable.

'I just worry about you,' Alfred said, trying to soothe him. 'All alone in this big spooky house…'

'It's not spooky,' Matthew replied. He poured melted butter from a saucepan into his batter and stirred it carefully. 'I like it.'

Alfred didn't say anything. He watched as his brother moved to the stove and started to spoon pancake batter into the hot skillet.

Why did I even ask him, he wondered. I knew he'd say no.

Was it because he really wanted Matthew to go with him, or just because he felt guilty at leaving him behind?

Abruptly, he stood up. 'BRB,' he said.

'These are almost ready,' Matthew warned him.

Alfred made his way around the table to the dining room entry. 'That's cool,' he said. 'I just gotta whiz.'

Actually, he didn't, but he did need to get out of the kitchen before he broke something.

In his bathroom, Alfred stared at himself in the mirror. The expression he saw looking back at him was something akin to hatred.

In one fell swoop, he had reminded his brother of the only thing he had ever wanted to forget- that he didn't fit in.

What was worse, Alfred was still going to go and leave Matthew alone.

Was it really so much more important to him, to go and hang out at Tony's instead of staying home with Matthew?

Arthur wouldn't care if he came.

Hell, Arthur would probably be much happier if he didn't come.

If he quit and never showed up again at all...

Alfred was just chasing his tail, and he was hanging Matthew out to dry while he did it. And even knowing that, he couldn't stop.

God, I need to go out drinking, he thought. I should call Gilbert.

Dimly over the sound of running water he heard his ringtone playing.

'Alfie!' Matthew called a second later. 'Your phone's ringing!'

Crap.

Alfred swiped at his damp eyes. 'Get it for me!' he called, forgetting for a moment that Matthew hated the damn phone, too.

But he could hear the reluctance in his brother's voice when Matthew answered. 'Are you coming?'

'Just get it!' Alfred yelled, angry at himself all over again.

He wiped his eyes roughly with the back of his wrist, then gave up and splashed water on his face. When he checked himself in the mirror, his eyes weren't even red.

He tried a practice smile. 'Hey,' he said. 'You know you're a dick, right?'

In the mirror, he saw himself wince. Yeah, he knew. He just couldn't do anything about it.

'Alfie, it's someone named Gilbert.' Matthew said through the bathroom door. 'I guess it's important.'

Gilbert!

Alfred's fake smile suddenly became a real one.

Gilbert. Was that a fucking coincidence or what?

He had met him a few weeks ago and the dude was so cool, Alfred couldn't even...

He was crazy, funny, cool, and for some reason he seemed to really like Alfred, although not in the sleeping-together way.

Which was almost too bad. 'Cause it didn't hurt that he was fucking gorgeous too. Not that Alfred was interested in him like that. He was also pretty sure that Gilbert was straight.

'Gilbert?' he said, popping the bathroom door open. 'Awesome!'

'Who is he?' Matthew asked as he trailed Alfred to the kitchen.

'He's this cool dude I met,' Alfred told him. 'He's really freaky, like, awesome.'

He snatched his phone off the table. 'GilBO!' he said, raising it to his ear. 'What's going on?'

'Uh, I had a fight with my brother, and I kinda… Well, I kinda kicked myself out. And now I'm standing on a street corner,' Gilbert said.

His voice sounded rougher than normal, and Alfred imagined him yelling at his brother until it cracked.

'Oh, shit,' he said. Suddenly a bright idea popped into his head. 'Hey, you had breakfast yet?'

'No,' Gilbert answered. 'I just woke up, rolled off the couch and me and Lud got into it.'

'You wanna come over? My brother's a great cook.' From the corner of his eye, he saw Matthew looking at him with round eyes and shaking his head.

Uh oh, he thought. Matthew's not gonna like this at all… But I really want to see Gilbert.

I need to see him.

'Is that who answered the phone?' Gilbert asked, unaware of the tiny drama playing out between the twins.

'Yeah. Matthew.' Alfred winked at his brother, pretending that he couldn't see how upset Matthew was. 'He's a little weird but you'll get used to him. So, you wanna come over and chill? Dude, it'll be so cool. I was just thinking about you. Shit, have breakfast and you can stay here. For whatever. As long as you want.'

Gilbert didn't answer.

'My brother won't care,' Alfred lied.

Come on, Gilbert, he thought.

'Are you kidding?' Gilbert asked him finally.

'No, I'm serious. It'll be cool.'

He heard Gilbert let out a long breath into the phone. 'Alfred, that would be AWESOME,' he said.

There was serious relief in his voice, and suddenly Alfred felt a little less guilty about Matthew. Apparently Gilbert really needed somewhere to go.

'Then it's settled,' he said. 'Hey Matthew! Make enough for three.'

'Unless he minds,' Gilbert said, as Matthew turned back to the stove.

''Kay,' Alfred heard Matthew answer quietly.

'He doesn't mind,' he lied again.

Fuck, he knew that he was lying- Matthew was really upset. But Gilbert needed this, and Matthew would get over it.

'Hey, I've got my bird with me,' Gilbert said suddenly. 'Is that okay?'

'Bird?' Alfred vaguely remembered Gilbert mentioning a bird. A pet or something.

'Yeah, my parrot,' Gilbert said now.

'Dude, like a pirate?' He grinned again at the thought of Gilbert as a pirate, with a parrot on his shoulder.

'I guess,' Gilbert said in his ear.

Well, there was Kumajiro.

Francis had brought the cat home when the elderly woman he was nursing had died and left it homeless. Matthew had immediately claimed the orphan. Kumajiro was already a few years old then. Now he had to be pushing thirteen.

'Well, my brother's got a cat, but he used to belong to an old lady, so he's really fat and he doesn't have any claws,' he told Gilbert.

'Gilbird can take care of himself,' Gilbert said. He sounded pretty certain, and Alfred laughed.

'I'd like to see him chasing Kumajiro around the house,' he joked. 'So do you have wheels or do you need a ride?'

'I'm walking.'

No way, Alfred thought. Did Gilbert even know where he lived?

'No, man,' he said. 'I'll come pick you up. Where are you?'

Gilbert gave him an address and Alfred typed it into Google Maps. When Gilbert's location popped up, he almost laughed. Well, that sure wasn't within walking distance.

He hung up. 'I'm gonna go get him,' he said to Matthew.

'Why?' Matthew asked quietly.

'Because he's my friend and he's cool and he needs my help.'

Matthew was normally nicer than this. He must be really pissed.

'No, I mean, why are you doing this?' Matthew said.

Oh.

Alfred sighed. 'Matthew, chill,' he pleaded. 'It'll be fine. Gilbert won't bother you.'

'I don't want anybody here,' Matthew protested. He sounded sad and lost now, like a little kid, and a fresh stab of guilt hit Alfred. It got even worse when Matthew ducked his head, hiding behind his hair. 'I like it just us,' he whispered in that tiny, breathy voice.

'And it'll be just us again soon,' Alfred said. He bit his lip.

Not gonna cry, he thought. Not gonna cry.

Mattie will forgive me later, and right now I'm gonna go get Gilbert and it's gonna be rad- it's gonna make me forget all about Arthur. For like, five whole minutes.

'This is only temporary, Mattie,' he said carefully. 'He doesn't have anywhere to go. Hey, he had a fight with his brother and he's out on the street. And he has, like, a pet bird, man. They need a place to stay.'

'Okay,' Matthew said. He turned the pancakes over without looking up.

'You okay?' Alfred put his phone in his pocket and peered at his brother.

'Yeah.'

'Are you sure?' Matthew didn't sound okay. He still sounded really upset.

But, 'Yeah,' he said again.

'You're not going to flake out on me, are you?' Alfred asked him. 'Gilbert's cool, I promise. He's really nice.' He thought about Gilbert and couldn't stop the grin, or the sigh that slipped out of him. 'And man, he is fine as hell,' he added.

Matthew snuck a glance at him. 'I don't care,' he said.

'I know you don't,' Alfred told him. 'But I do.'

It was no secret from his brother that Alfred liked guys. Matthew knew that Alfred was no virgin, just like Alfred knew that Matthew still was.

'Do you like him?' Matthew asked him now.

'What, like that? Nah,' Alfred said. It was mostly true.

'Okay.' Matthew took the pancakes out of the pan and started putting sausages in.

'I'll be right back, okay?' Alfred said.

Matthew didn't look up from the sausages.

'Hey, Mattie?' Alfred said.

'Yeah?'

'I'm sorry about this. I know it's freaking you out.'

'It's okay,' Matthew told him.

'Okay.' Alfred looked at him, then gave up on trying to tell if he was serious. He grinned, trying to get an answering smile back. 'Hey, you might like him,' he teased. 'Hmm?'

'I won't,' Matthew answered. He didn't smile, just went on shifting the sausages in the pan with his fork.

Alfred made a face at him, one that Matthew ignored. Giving up, he grabbed up his jacket from the back of his chair. No point trying to cheer Matthew up when he didn't want to be cheered up. But on his way out of the kitchen, he cast one last glance backward.

Matthew was staring down at the stove, looking distraught.

Fuck, Alfred thought.

He knew that Matthew would never guess from his careless goodbye that he actually gave a damn, but he did.

A short while later Alfred was pulling his black Camaro to a stop beside Gilbert's street corner.

He almost laughed- this must look a little weird to anyone else, with Gilbert standing around waiting for him in his scruffy black cargoes and T shirt, and Alfred pulling up in his flashy car, rolling down the window and picking him up.

If only.

'Gilbo!' he said, leaning across. 'Get in. The pancakes are gonna be cold.'

Gilbert opened the front door and slid in, and Alfred grinned at him.

He looked great. His white hair was messy and his strange burgundy eyes still looked half asleep. His T shirt was on backwards, but he was still almost illegally hot.

'This is gonna be awesome,' Alfred said. Reaching across the stick shift, he pressed a button on the radio and his favorite classic rock station came on.

On Gilbert's shoulder, the little yellow parrot let out an ear-splitting shriek.

Alfred laughed. 'He likes it!'

'He likes anything loud,' Gilbert said.

'Man, he's cute. So you fought with your brother? Dude, is he really uptight?'

'Yeah.' Gilbert scratched his hair and looked uncomfortable.

'He kicked you out?' Alfred asked. 'What a dick.'

'No, he didn't kick me out,' Gilbert said. 'I got mad and left. I guess… I'm always making a mess of the place and he's tired of cleaning up after me. He said some stuff, and… I just got pissed.'

Poor Gilbert. His brother sounded like an asshole.

'Wow,' Alfred said. 'I mean, he sounds like a mom.'

Not that he would know.

Their grandmother had kept the place neat, though. Now that she was gone neither Alfred nor Matthew really bothered. 'My brother doesn't care if I mess the place up, and it's his house. Our grandmother left it to him,' he told Gilbert.

'Damn,' Gilbert said. 'That's pretty cool. So you live with him?'

Alfred nodded. 'Yeah, I mean, it's his place I guess, but he pretty much does what I say.' It was mostly true, although Gilbert didn't need to know why. 'We're twins, you know, but I'm older so I can boss him around. Is your brother older?'

'No, I am,' Gilbert said.

'How old are you, Gil?'

'25.'

Wow. He hadn't known Gilbert was that much older. Still nowhere near as old as Arthur, though.

'Oh, man,' he said. 'Me and Matt are both 21, but I was born before he was.'

'Ludwig is 21.' Gilbert sighed, and his mouth turned down at the corners. 'I think he's really pissed at me.'

'Forget him,' Alfred said. He rolled his window down, wanting some air in the car. It smelled a little bit stale from all the old burger wrappers in the floorboards.

Gilbert put a hand over his parrot. 'Thanks for doing this,' he said earnestly. 'Man, I didn't know where I was gonna go. I just flew off the handle.'

'It's cool,' Alfred told him.

Cool? It was awesome. Gilbert had no idea how glad he was to be picking him up.

'You sure your brother won't mind you bringing someone home?' Gilbert asked suddenly.

Alfred winked at him.

'Happens all the time,' he lied. 'No, seriously, it's fine. Even if Matt doesn't like it, he won't say anything. He's really quiet. He's a great guy but he's not really a people person, so he might rather you're not there. But he'll get over it.'

Matthew would, right?

He'd have to.

Or if he didn't, Alfred would just bug him until he was forgiven. Matthew could never stay mad at him for long.

'Okay,' Gilbert said.

They were coming up on the driveway to his house, so Alfred flicked on his turn signal.

'Here we are,' he said. He parked the Camaro and got out, gesturing at the house. 'Home sweet home.'

'Wow,' Gilbert said.

The house WAS pretty impressive. It was a big, old-fashioned farmhouse style building, and it sat on a lot that was twice the size of the neighbors'. Big as it was, it almost dwarfed the massive pecan tree out front, which was saying a lot.

Gilbert stared up at the tree, like he had never seen one that enormous. Despite the dream, Alfred was still fond of the pecan.

'You like it?' he asked. 'That's a pecan tree. You should taste my bro's pecan pie, it's orgasmic.'

Thinking of food made his stomach rumble.

'Wow,' Gilbert said again. He grabbed his sweatshirt out of the car seat and closed the door.

'C'mon,' Alfred said, pleased with the reaction. He let Gilbert in, already heading toward the kitchen, but Gilbert's boots came to a stop behind him. When he turned around, Alfred saw that Kuma had appeared out of nowhere and was inspecting his cuffs.

'Hey,' Gilbert said.

'That's Kumajiro.' Alfred bent over and patted the cat's wide, soft back. 'He's a tank.'

'He's huge.'

'He's a Maine coon. See his eyes? They're two different colors.' Alfred tipped up Kuma's chin and the cat blinked. One eye was yellow, the other blue.

'Oh, cool,' Gilbert said.

'So you think your bird can handle him?'

'Oh, yeah. Gilbird's a mean little fucker.' Gilbert reached up a hand and the bird hopped onto it. 'See the kitty, Gilbird?' he said, lowering his arm a little.

'Kitty,' the parrot said suddenly. He walked along Gilbert's arm, looking down at the cat. 'Here, kitty kitty.' His voice was a tiny scratchy copy of Gilbert's. 'Awesome. Fuck you.'

Alfred nearly choked. 'He's whack,' he said laughing. Then his stomach rumbled again. 'C'mon let's go eat.'

'Where's your brother?' Gilbert asked.

'Probably in the kitchen. He's like, a total wife.'

Matthew was probably a lot more awesome than Gilbert's brother, whoever he was.

The way he could cook, the way he was almost always sweet-tempered- Alfred knew he was lucky.

He was almost happy to show Matthew off for Gilbert, he only hoped that Matthew wouldn't mind too much.

They went down the hall and passed through the dining room to the kitchen entry.

Matthew was standing at the sink when they came in, with his back toward them.

As they entered he turned around, and Alfred saw Gilbert's eyes widen as he looked Matthew up and down.

Alfred knew that look. He'd seen it before on other guys, though it had never been directed at his brother before.

Wow, he thought. Maybe Gilbert isn't straight.

Not that he didn't have to admit that Matthew was pretty freaking adorable right now. He still had his apron on, and he was in a red long-sleeved T-shirt and black jeans. His feet were bare. With his long, golden-brown hair and his big purple eyes, it would almost be possible to mistake him for a girl.

Although Gilbert definitely knew that he wasn't.

Hmm, Alfred thought. I wonder…

Matthew grabbed a towel to dry his hands with. He wasn't looking at either Alfred or Gilbert. Instead, he looked down at the floor.

'Hi,' Gilbert said to him. 'I'm the awesome Gilbert.'

'Hi,' Matthew answered finally. His voice was tiny, and softer than ever. With the word, he finally looked directly at Gilbert.

And Alfred heard Gilbert suck in a tiny breath.

Pow, he thought. Oh, yeah. He's not straight. That, or Matthew is just so cute it doesn't matter.

But was this going to be good for Matthew, or bad? Alfred thought good, but he had been wrong before.

'Sorry to impose,' Gilbert said to Matthew. 'Your brother says it's okay if I stay here for a few days.'

'It's fine,' Matthew answered after a moment. 'Everything's ready. I'm gonna go upstairs, okay? You can serve yourselves.'

Damn it.

Alfred wanted to tell him not to go, but he knew better. If Matthew was freaking out, then it was best not to try to force him to stay.

Matthew went around Gilbert, but suddenly Gilbert reached out and caught his wrist.

'Hey. Aren't you going to eat?'

Oh, fuck, Alfred thought. Didn't I tell him- ?

'I... I…' Matthew didn't yank his arm out of Gilbert's grasp. He just froze up, his eyes going huge and his face pale.

'Hey, better let go,' Alfred said urgently. 'He's gonna freak out.'

Gilbert let go at once. 'Sorry. I didn't mean-'

He didn't get a chance to finish. Matthew bolted out of the kitchen, and a moment later Alfred heard his feet on the stairs.

Damn it, he thought, that was my fault.

He looked at Gilbert and saw Gilbert biting his lip. He was rubbing his thumb over his fingers as if he could still feel Matthew's wrist in his hold. He looked worried, and maybe embarrassed, but also intrigued.

'See?' Alfred said, as if nothing major had happened. 'I told you, he's a little weird. But he'll get used to you.'

'Is he okay?' Gilbert asked.

Definitely concerned, and definitely intrigued.

'He doesn't like to be touched, and he's shy,' Alfred said. 'But he's fine.'

'Wow.' Gilbert shook his head. 'I really fucked up, huh?'

'Nah, it'll be okay. Just don't do it again.'

'I won't,' Gilbert promised.

Alfred looked in the oven.

Matthew had outdone himself. Thanks to Alfred, though, he wouldn't be enjoying any of this food. 'Okay, let's eat!' he said with a cheer he didn't really feel. 'We got pancakes, and sausage, and look at this, he even made scrambled eggs, and toast. What did I tell you? He'll make somebody a great wife.'

'That's not really funny,' Gilbert told him. 'I mean, he does look like a girl, but he's still a guy.'

Ouch. Was Gilbert defending Matthew from him? 'Whenever he gets involved with somebody, he's gonna be the wife,' Alfred said. 'Trust me.'

'Is he gay?' Gilbert asked.

Hmm, Alfred thought again. Why not?

'Why? Are you interested?' He winked at Gilbert. 'I don't know what he is.' He honestly didn't. Matthew had never showed any interest in anyone, male or female. But, 'I am,' he went on, 'and we're twins, so maybe he is too. What about you, Gilbo? Do you like guys or girls?'

'Umm.. No comment?' Gilbert said.

'Hey, I told you mine.' Alfred peered at him, wondering why he was being so reticent.

'Girls,' Gilbert answered finally. 'But things with my girlfriends never work out, so I'm not into anybody right now.'

'Aww.. Too bad.'

'Why?'

''Cause you're hot,' Alfred said. 'But it's okay, I've already got somebody I like.'

Gilbert took a bite of his pancakes. He didn't seem to mind the direction their conversation had wandered in.

'Is it really okay that your brother doesn't eat?' he asked. 'I mean, he cooked all this. I didn't mean to steal his breakfast.'

'You wanna go ask him to come back down?'

Maybe that wasn't a bad idea. Gilbert liked Matthew. Alfred could tell. And Matthew… He couldn't really tell what Matthew was thinking, but Matthew's reaction to Gilbert had been a lot more dramatic than his reaction to any of the other people Alfred had ever had over.

Maybe it was time for Matthew to have someone pursue him. It wasn't like he was ever going to get laid any other way.

'You know, Gilbo, you might be good for him,' Alfred said.

'I don't want to bother him.' But Gilbert glanced toward the entry.

'No, you know what?' Alfred said. 'Go do it. Go get him.'

Gilbert was gorgeous and crazy and cool, and Matthew had never had anybody like that interested in him before. Shit, he had never had anyone interested in him before at all. Maybe he would like it. Even if he didn't, it might be good for him, to know that someone could want him.

'Shouldn't you?' Gilbert asked.

'No. You.' Alfred pointed toward the entry. 'His room's at the top of the stairs. Go on up. Tell him you want him to eat with you.' He checked Gilbert's face out. 'Are you SURE you're not interested?'

He didn't think Gilbert was going to respond seriously, but Gilbert did.

'He's cute.'

Well, fuck me, Alfred thought.

He was almost proud of himself.

'AlRIGHT!' he said aloud, high-fiving Gilbert. 'You have my blessing.'

'For what?'

'For whatever. Go get him.'

Gilbert stood up. 'I want you to know, this is the weirdest conversation I've ever had,' he said.

'Cool.' Alfred grinned at him, then sat back in his chair to wait and see what would happen.

Matthew, I hope you like this, he thought. I'm going to let this happen, because I love you. And I think you need it.

Despite the fact that he had sent Gilbert to go and get his brother, Alfred was still surprised when Matthew actually appeared in the kitchen.

'Mattie!' he said. 'You came!' He couldn't keep the smile off his face, even though Matthew looked anything but happy to be there.

'Yeah,' he answered, so quietly that Alfred could barely hear him.

'You okay?' Alfred looked him over carefully.

Had Matthew been crying? His eyes were a little red, and his hair was sticking up as if he had been pulling on it. His sleeves were pulled down over his hands, and he was gripping the fabric in his palms as if he would fly away if he let go.

'Yeah,' he said again.

'You gonna eat?'

'Yeah.' Now his voice was a little louder. He looked up into Alfred's eyes.

Alfred reached forward and tapped his fist on Matthew's. 'Alright! Twin power!' he said. 'So what do you think of Gilbert? You okay with him staying here?'

Matthew looked down again.

'I guess,' he said.

'He's not gonna mess with you,' Alfred wanted to touch his brother, but he thought it might embarrass Matthew in front of Gilbert. Matthew was probably embarrassed enough already.

He wondered what Gilbert had said to make Matthew come down. Whatever it was, it seemed to have left his twin a little flustered. Matthew glanced at Gilbert and then away. 'I know,' he responded to Alfred's statement.

Gilbert was watching them both. Alfred smiled at him encouragingly, then turned back to watch Matthew fill a plate with food.

When Matthew sat down, he decided to take things a step further.

Because if he didn't, who would?

'Will you be alright when I leave?' he asked.

'I guess,' Matthew said. He looked startled suddenly, as if he had forgotten that Alfred was going anywhere.

Well, Alfred hadn't been going to go now that Gilbert was here, but if he wanted anything to happen then he knew that he had to leave Matthew and Gilbert alone.

Even if Matthew hated it.

'Okay, Mattie,' he said, as if everything was perfectly normal. He picked up his fork and began eating his breakfast. It was delicious as always, but he hardly tasted it.

After a moment, Gilbert took a bite of his pancakes, too.

'Wow, Matthew, these are AWESOME,' he said.

'Thank you,' Matthew answered. He picked up his fork and ate a piece of pancake, although Alfred could tell that he was just forcing himself to act normal.

'You made all this yourself?' Gilbert asked him.

'Yeah.'

'You like to cook?'

'Yeah,' Matthew answered again. He ducked his head, hiding behind the curtain of his hair.

Come on, Matthew, Alfred thought. You can do this.

Maybe Matthew couldn't, but Alfred was going to damn well make him try.

He scraped a last bite of eggs off his plate and then put down his fork. He stood up.

'Hey, guys, I gotta run. Gilbo, will you be okay? Matthew can show you where everything is.'

Matthew glanced up at him, and Alfred saw raw terror on his twin's face.

Damn it, he thought. I gotta do this, though. Maybe it will work out. Gilbert's really nice. And Mattie won't do anything if I'm here. He'll just run away again.

'You guys have fun!' he said cheerfully, edging toward the entry.

Gilbert, at least, didn't have a problem with his departure.

'See you later, Alfred,' he said calmly.

Alfred blew a kiss at Matthew as if he couldn't see how close to freaking out he was, and then ducked into the dining room.

Don't blow this, Gilbo, he thought fiercely. Do not blow this.

Outside, he closed the front door and reached into his pocket for his keys.

Shit, he had forgotten his jacket.

Oh well. He sure as fuck wasn't going back for it. And he was just going to Tony's, anyway.

He was gonna go now, even though Arthur wouldn't be expecting him yet.

Alfred only worked three days a week and this wasn't one of them. It was early too, not even 11:00 yet. The club would've barely opened.

Too bad.

Arthur ought to be used to him just showing up by now. If he didn't like it, he could just tell him to go home.

He started the car and flicked on the radio. As he did it, he wondered what was happening in the house behind him. Was Gilbert talking to Matthew? Had Matthew freaked out, or was he calming down?

Maybe it was crazy, leaving his shy, anxiety-prone brother alone with someone he hardly knew, but Alfred didn't think that Gilbert would do anything that Matthew didn't want.

The problem was whether or not Matthew would even know what he wanted.

If he doesn't want Gilbert, he can tell him so, Alfred thought, pulling out. Matthew's not mute. He has a voice, when he wants to use it. And if he does want Gilbert, then more power to him.

Across the street from the club, Alfred eased into a parking space and shut the car off. He hadn't had to park two blocks away, which meant they were probably pretty empty.

Still, some people didn't have to work, and they liked to start their parties early. There was always a line to get into Tony's, and today was no exception.

Alfred cut it. No one tried to stop him, but as he walked by the bouncer's alcove, he felt eyes scorching his back. Without looking, he raised his middle finger and flipped Ivan off.

Someday that dude's gonna kick my ass, he thought. But not today.

When he got to the back of the club, he saw that Arthur was working the bar. That meant that the morning shift bartender hadn't showed up, and Arthur would be in a pissy mood.

Even though he only had a few customers, he was already looking harried. He'd taken his jacket off and he was wearing a white dress shirt paired with an olive green sweater vest.

Only Arthur would dress like that in a dance club, Alfred thought. And only Arthur would look good in it.

Sliding onto a bar stool, he rested his elbows on the brushed-steel bar top.

'Scotch and water,' he said loudly.

Arthur turned his head and their eyes met.

As usual, Alfred felt a spike of pain in his heart and a sinking in his stomach.

Arthur's eyes were bright green beneath heavy dark eyebrows. His blond hair was damp and spiky, as if he had just showered. Alfred had never seen eyes that color before on anyone else. He would have thought they were contacts, but after nine years he knew that they weren't.

Arthur would never know how fucked up he could make Alfred feel just by looking at him- Now he grimaced and pushed two more drinks forward to his waiting customers.

'Make it yourself,' he said.

Alfred shook his head, not breaking their stare. 'You're the bartender.'

Arthur looked away first. 'Then you'll have to wait.' A moment later he turned around again. 'Alf, what are you doing here?'

Fuck it, Alfred thought. 'I wanted to see you.'

'What? Why?' Arthur poured another cocktail. Some of the liquid splashed on the bar and Alfred saw him make another face before he handed the drink over and grabbed a different bottle.

His movements were quick and precise, but they lacked the flair that came from loving it.

He hates this, Alfred thought. He'd be much happier if he didn't have to do it.

That was all he wanted- to make Arthur happy.

'Let me do that,' he said suddenly.

The Englishman glanced up at him, brows high. 'You're not working.'

'I don't mind.'

'Really?'

Now he's glad I'm here, Alfred thought. Still he couldn't help the little thrill that went through him at the sight of Arthur's smile. ''Course,' he said. 'You keep doing it by yourself, you're just gonna get mad at everyone.'

'I will not.'

'Will too.'

'What are you, five?' Arthur was still smiling, though. It was almost like old times.

Don't fuck this up, Alfred thought. He tapped on the half door.

'Lemme in. I got it.'

When Arthur swung the half-door open for him, he grabbed a handful of shot glasses. Business was picking up as the line cleared the door, and he almost forgot the other man's presence as he entered into the familiar dance. Almost, but not quite.

By the time Toris, the normal bartender, finally showed up, Arthur had relaxed enough to sip a glass of Scotch. He sucked on his e-cigarette and exhaled rum-scented vapor over his shoulder while scanning the crowded club.

Alfred took a swallow of his own Scotch and water. He glanced over to where Toris was pouring drinks for a couple of girls.

Toris was new, and kind of hot. He was small, with long brown hair in a layered cut, and Alfred couldn't decide if his eyes were blue or green.

He'd been really apologetic about being so late- a sick brother, he had said, and then his car wouldn't start… Even Arthur hadn't been able to be really mad at him.

He was cute, and he was available.

Alfred could hit on him. He was pretty sure that Toris was gay, and it's not like Arthur would care, right?

'Fuck,' Alfred whispered. He took another gulp of his whiskey.

He didn't care about the age difference. He didn't care that Arthur had known him since he was a kid, either.

He had never had any problem getting anyone else before. He was hot, he knew he was, and he was charming.

So why wasn't Arthur charmed?

Maybe he's known me for too long, Alfred thought. Or maybe he just doesn't like my type. Who fucking knows? But I've done everything except strip naked for him, and he's never even blinked...

He took another swallow of whiskey, wincing at the taste.

Now that he was 21 and could legally drink in the club, he did it every chance he got. The whiskey tasted terrible, like smoke and iodine, but he swallowed it anyway.

He looked at Arthur again.

'So,' he said finally- because if he didn't say something, it was obvious that Arthur never would.

'So,' Arthur agreed. He looked at Alfred. 'Did I remember to thank you?'

'Nope.'

'Oh, I'm sorry. Thank you, Alfie.'

Alfred swallowed the lump of whiskey in his throat. 'You're welcome,' he said.

He was being so careful… But it didn't used to be like this between them.

In the old days, if he had wanted to, he could have gone over and slung his arm around Arthur the way he would do to Mattie. He swallowed again, suddenly tasting more than the liquor.

Fuck me, he thought, why does this always happen? I can't be around him anymore without feeling like this.

It hurts. I hate it.

But I can't hate him.

'Here,' Arthur said. He took the whiskey glass out of Alfred's hand and slid something else into it.

Alfred looked down. The new drink was almost purple, and it smelled like blueberries.

He took a taste. Sweet, and with a kick.

Damn it, Arthur, he thought with sudden viciousness. This is why I am where I am.

Why can't you see that?

Don't be nice to me, it just makes it worse.

This wasn't good.

Maybe the thing with Matthew and Gilbert had shaken him up more than he'd realized.

Alfred put the drink Arthur had made him down on the bar. 'I think I'm gonna go,' he said carefully.

Arthur put down his glass too. 'Already?' he asked. He studied Alfred's face. 'Oh. Well, I'll see you later, then.'

As he passed by to open the half-door as if nothing was wrong, he was closer than he had been in weeks.

Alfred caught a whiff of Black Label, and he closed his eyes.

It didn't help.

He knew exactly what Arthur looked like: he was shorter than Alfred was, and his body was slender and wiry. The sweater he was wearing flattered his narrow waist and broad shoulders to a degree that should be illegal, and his hair was almost dandelion-yellow under the bar lights.

Why would Alfred ever want to hit on Toris when Arthur was standing right there?

He was close enough to touch, but Alfred didn't touch him. If he started, he wouldn't be able to stop.

There was no sign of either Matthew or Gilbert when Alfred entered the house. Everything was silent.

They were probably asleep or something- He'd been gone for hours, after all.

Still, Alfred felt a thread of apprehension.

Was Matthew okay?

He'd barely thought about his brother all day.

After he left Tony's, he'd gone driving, and he'd finally ended up down by the river.

He had spent most of the day there, just sitting and thinking. By the time he was done, though, he wasn't any better off than he had been when he left the club.

He honestly had no idea what to do next.

Maybe it was time to give up, except that he didn't know how to.

Alfred thought about going up to Matthew's room, but he wanted to check on Gilbert first.

It had been kind of rude to just go off like that. Maybe Gilbert had been grateful, but not if things hadn't worked out. Besides, if Matthew was upset, Gilbert would know it.

The door to the guest bedroom was closed. Alfred didn't know if Gilbert was in there, and he felt weird knocking, so he just opened it. If Gilbert was naked, he would apologize.

Gilbert wasn't naked. He was sprawled face down on the bed, still fully clothed.

Something soft brushed by Alfred's pant leg, and he looked down and saw Kumajiro.

Before he could grab him, the cat made a beeline straight for the bed and landed in the middle of Gilbert's back.

Gilbert's body convulsed. 'Fuck, Ludwig, that's not funny-'

Lifting his face out of the quilt, he turned his head and saw the cat.

Kuma mewed and pushed his head against Gilbert's.

'Oh,' Gilbert said. 'Hi. Kumawhatsit.'

'Kumajiro,' Alfred said.

'Fuck!' Gilbert said again. He turned his head back toward Alfred, trying to see around the cat. 'Matthew?'

'Wrong brother.' Alfred grinned. 'Were you dreaming about him?'

'Ow.' Gilbert pushed at the cat. 'No. Get this thing off me.'

'He likes you. Hey, don't you have a job to go to?'

Gilbert's eyes widened. 'Fuck!'

Finally he managed to squirm his way out from under Kumajiro, who curled up on the coverlet with a minimum of movement and squeezed his eyes shut.

Gilbert dusted cat hair off his shoulders and sat up. 'What time is it?'

'6:30,' Alfred said.

'Oh. Fuck. I'm gonna be late.'

'Will the animals care?' Alfred grinned, but Gilbert didn't grin back.

'No, but the boss will.'

'OIC.'

Gilbert put his hands in his hair. 'Shit, shit, shit.'

'Do you need a ride?' Alfred asked him.

'Yeah.' Gilbert looked up at him. 'Man, I am SO sorry.'

'It's cool.' Maybe it would make up for the way he had bailed on Gilbert earlier.

Besides, he wanted to talk, and it's not like he ever would have left Gilbert stranded anyway.

Gilbert reached for his bird, who was snoozing on the curtain bar. 'Gilbird. C'mere, bud.' When the parrot got on his hand, he turned back to Alfred. 'Okay, let's go. Seriously, I owe you one. Or, like, seven.'

'No probs,' Alfred told him.

Gilbert glanced around the guest room. 'Is this where I was supposed to be? Sorry if I imposed.'

Alfred blinked. 'No, this is it. What, didn't Mattie show you around?'

Suddenly Gilbert was looking at the floor. 'Um, well…'

'Oh my,' Alfred said. 'Did things go better than I thought? Speaking of Mattie, where is he?'

'In his room?'

It sounded like a question.

'Oh, did they go worse than I thought?' Alfred's heart sank. 'Did he flake out on you?'

'No, he…' Was Gilbert blushing? It seriously looked like he was. 'I… I may have done something dumb,' he said.

Alfred leaned toward him. 'Tell Alfie.'

'I'll tell you in the car.'

'Deal.'

Gilbert picked up his hoodie and followed Alfred out to the Camaro.

Alfred climbed in first and then reached over to open the door for Gilbert. He patted the passenger seat. 'Hop in. Tell all.'

Gilbert climbed in. He chewed on his lip and glanced over at Alfred.

'Okay, well, you know how you said Matthew might be gay?'

'Yeah?' Alfred asked.

'I think you might be right,' Gilbert said.

'Okay?' This was getting interesting.

'And you know how I said I'm not?' Gilbert went on.

'Yeah?' Alfred said again. He had a feeling he knew where Gilbert was going with this.

'Well… I think I might be wrong.'

Score, Alfred thought.

'Hoo boy.' He leaned back in his seat. 'Sounds like a cool story. Go on.'

'Okay, well…' Gilbert was looking out the window now. Alfred saw a muscle jump in his jaw. 'I may have… Kind of... Kissed him,' he said. 'Sort of.'

'Sort of?' Alfred asked. Gilbert had sort of kissed Mattie? How did you sort of kiss someone?

'Okay, I kissed him,' Gilbert said. He looked over.

Alfred knew his eyes were a little wide. I mean, out of all the things he had imagined, Gilbert kissing Matthew definitely wasn't one of them.

'Dude,' he said finally. 'You kissed Mattie?'

'Yeah,' Gilbert admitted.

'What did he do?'

'Well, he kind of got into it. And then I think he got upset. Or scared. Or pissed. Or something. And he told me to stop.'

'Did you?' Alfred asked.

'Yeah,' Gilbert said.

'Good. 'Cause I wouldn't wanna have to hit you.' Alfred bit his lip. Okay, so Mattie had gotten into it, but then he had gotten upset? That sounded like Matthew. 'Hmm… ' he said. 'I kind of wasn't expecting you to move that fast. I mean, or even to move at all.' Gilbert winced a little. 'Although I did think you liked him,' Alfred added. 'You looked kind of… Taken aback when you first saw him.'

'I was,' Gilbert said.

'He's pretty cute, huh?' Now Alfred grinned. He couldn't help it, he was happy for his brother. Even if Matthew'd flipped out, for a minute he had been digging it, right? He had finally been kissed. 'Total wife material,' Alfred said. 'If he wasn't my brother… And like, my twin, so like, basically me but girlier- I would totally be all over that shiz.'

'Alfred, you're so fucked up,' Gilbert told him. He didn't sound like he cared, though, and Alfred kept grinning.

'I know, right?' He flicked his turn signal on as they approached a plaza. Most of it was taken up by a huge, ugly pet store. 'This it?'

'Yeah. Right in there.' Gilbert pointed, although it was totally unnecessary at this point, since the monstrosity was impossible to miss.

Alfred parked the Camaro. He looked over at Gilbert, suddenly serious. 'So, you still wanna do him?' he asked.

'Yeah,' Gilbert said. He didn't even pause, and Alfred thought, score one for Mattie.

'Is that all you want?' he asked.

'Are you asking my intentions?' Now Gilbert looked at him, brows high.

'Basically, yeah,' Alfred said.

'That's awesome. No one's ever asked my intentions before.' Gilbert started chewing his lip again. 'I really like him,' he said. 'I want to sleep with him… I think…'

It was Alfred's turn to raise his brows.

'Okay, I do,' Gilbert said. 'But I also want to get to know him, and like, hang out with him, and cuddle with him and shit. God, I'm lame.'

'No, that's sweet.' Alfred kind of wanted to hug him. 'Gilbert, you're a good dude,' he said. 'I like you. I told you, you have my blessing. I will do everything I can to help you get in my brother's pants.' He put his hand out. 'Shake on it?'

'Okay,' Gilbert said. He grabbed Alfred's hand and shook it. 'You're awesome.'

Alfred felt himself grinning again. He really needed to hang out with Gilbert more- when was the last time he had smiled this much? 'Thanks, I get that a lot,' he answered. 'You can call me hero, if you want. A lot of people do.'

'Okay, hero.' Gilbert let go of his hand. 'I gotta get going or I'll be so late.'

'When do you want me to pick you up?' Alfred asked him.

'Dude, you don't gotta. I have to be here until 4am. That's when morning shift comes in.'

'I've never seen a 24 hour pet store before.'

'That's 'cause this is the Pet MALL. It's the only one.'

Gilbert closed the door of the Camaro.

'I'll pick you up,' Alfred told him. 'Stay chill, dude.'

He waved and pulled away before Gilbert could protest.

'Mattie?'

Alfred leaned his cheek against Matthew's door. It was okay if Matthew wasn't ready to talk to him. He would wait as long as it took.

But finally he heard Matthew's answer.

'I'm in here.'

He opened the door a crack. 'Mattie… Are you okay?'

'Yeah,' Matthew said.

'Can I come in?'

'Okay.' Matthew's tiny voice sounded tinier than ever. He sounded miserable. He sounded broken.

Oh, fuck, Alfred thought. Not Mattie, too. Don't let this happen to Matthew. He doesn't deserve it.

Matthew was sitting on the bed. Alfred sat down beside him, and then thought- The hell with it.

Reaching out, he pulled Matthew's slight body into his arms. He smelled good, and he felt slender and soft and familiar. Alfred hugged him tightly, and after a moment, Matthew hugged him back.

'I'm okay,' he said.

No, you're not, Alfred thought.

'Matthew, Gilbert told me what happened,' he said.

'Oh.' Matthew's chin settled on Alfred's shoulder. He didn't say anything else, and Alfred wondered what he was thinking.

Was he pissed at Gilbert?

Was he pissed at Alfred? No, probably not.

Whatever it is, I have to cheer him up, Alfred thought. It's my job.

'Was it that bad?' he asked his brother.

'Was what that bad?' Matthew asked back.

'Gilbert,' Alfred said. 'Is he that bad of a kisser?'

'Alfie!' Matthew pushed back and looked at him, and Alfred grinned.

'So he's not that bad?'

'Alfie, did you know he was gonna do that?' Matthew asked. He was serious, and Alfred got serious, too.

'No,' he said. 'Well… I kind of thought he liked you, but I didn't know he'd do that.'

'He doesn't like me,' Matthew said. 'He doesn't even know me.'

'He wants to,' Alfred told him.

'No, he doesn't.' Matthew pulled away, and Alfred let him go. 'If he knew me, he wouldn't want to kiss me anymore,' Matthew said.

'Yeah, he would.' Alfred tried to see Matthew's expression. 'Do you want him to want to?'

'No,' Matthew said. But Alfred was pretty sure he was lying.

'Are you lying?' he asked.

Matthew didn't answer. That meant yes.

'You do want him to,' Alfred said. 'Wow, Mattie. You really like him, huh?' He couldn't help but be happy for his brother, even though Matthew was upset. Matthew DID like Gilbert. That was awesome. If only Matthew thought so, too.

But, 'I can't,' Matthew said.

'Yeah, you can,' Alfred told him. 'You should. Gilbert's awesome, and he's really into you.'

You have no idea how much he's into you.

'I don't know him,' Matthew said.

'You could get to know him.'

But Matthew just shook his head. 'Uh uh,' he said. Then he sighed. 'I wish he wasn't staying here.'

'Did you tell him that?' Alfred asked. He felt bad for Gilbert if Matthew had.

'No. Of course not,' Matthew said.

'That's good, 'cause he feels really bad. He didn't mean to upset you.'

'He didn't. I mean…' Matthew flailed a hand in the air, at a loss for words. 'He kind of moved a little fast, but… It wasn't awful.'

'I bet it wasn't,' Alfred said. He leaned forward again, checking out Matthew's face. 'I bet it was really good. Wasn't it?'

'Yeah, I guess.' Matthew looked down. He bit his lip, and his cheeks flushed pink.

Alfred sucked in a breath. He leaned closer, teasing Matthew.

'Wow,' he said. 'I do believe my little brother has lost his kiss virginity.'

'Shut up,' Matthew responded weakly. Alfred knew he wasn't really mad.

'Seriously, though, are you okay with things?' he asked. 'Gilbert said you were upset.'

'I just… I don't want him to know. About me.'

Oh, Mattie, Alfred thought.

'Mattie, he won't care.'

'Alfie, please.' Matthew looked up at him, his eyes big and tragic.

Alfred should try that puppy look on Arthur- whenever Matthew did it, Alfred would give him anything he asked for.

If Matthew ever did it to Gilbert, Gilbert would probably jump him right there.

'I'm not going to say anything,' he said. 'But you should. Tell him what's bothering you. If you want him, you should have him.'

'I don't want him,' Matthew said.

'Yes you do.'

Matthew bit his lip. 'Alfie, I can't,' he said. 'I can't want him. It hurts too much.' A tear rolled down his cheek.

Shit, he was crying?

'Mattie, don't cry.' Alfred hugged him again. 'We'll figure this shiz out, okay?' He squeezed his brother hard. 'Talk to Gilbert,' he said in Matthew's ear. 'You don't have to tell him everything. Just tell him you like him. He thinks you hate him now.'

'I don't hate him,' Matthew said softly.

'I know you don't, but he doesn't know that.'

'Where is he?' Matthew asked, pushing back again.

'At work. I dropped him off.'

'He works?'

'Sure. He works at the Pet Mall.'

'I don't know what that is,' Matthew said.

'It's a pet store,' Alfred told him.

'Oh.'

'I'm picking him up at 4. So you'll be asleep. But in the morning, can you talk to him?'

Please, he thought.

'I guess,' Matthew said. He sounded anything but happy.

'Okay, Mattie,' Alfred said. 'Love you.'

'I love you too.'

Alfred got off the bed. 'You hungry?' he asked. 'You want some burgers or something?'

'No, I just wanna sleep.' He did sound wiped out. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, looking adorable and unhappy.

'Okay. I'll wake you up in the morning,' Alfred told him. Even though it was time to leave, he stood there, unwilling to go and halfway hoping Matthew would ask him not to. But Matthew didn't.

''Kay,' he said.

What Alfred really wanted was to hold onto Matthew. Maybe it wouldn't help Matthew, but it would help him.

But he couldn't. Matthew needed sleep, and how was he gonna do that with Alfred hanging all over him?

Instead, Alfred walked out and closed the door.

I want this to work out for Mattie, he thought. Please. Only 'cause I don't want him to ever feel like I do.

Having nothing better to do after he put Matthew to bed, Alfred fucked around on his computer until it was time to go pick up Gilbert.

He never even got sleepy, and he was glad when he looked at the clock and saw that it was 3:30.

Matthew was still asleep, of course. He had crashed and he wasn't likely to stir until Alfred woke him up the next morning.

He hadn't had any dinner, but missing one night wasn't going to kill him, even if he was too thin.

Alfred pulled into the plaza parking lot. Instead of picking a space, he pulled around to the front of the Pet Mall and honked his horn.

After a few minutes, Gilbert came out through the glass doors. He turned around and locked them, then walked over to the car. He looked pretty beat too.

Well, it was 4am.

'GilBO!' Alfred said cheerfully. If there was one thing he could do, it was fake cheerful.

'Hey, Alfie.'

'Sweet, you called me Alfie. Only my best friends call me Alfie.' He took his foot off the brake as Gilbert got in, and the car rolled forward.

'Awesome,' Gilbert said. He had his parrot in a birdcage now, and the little fucker looked pissed.

'Hey, you've got him in a cage,' Alfred said.

'Yeah I don't want him to eat everything in your house. I'll still have him out a lot.' Alfred turned out of the plaza. 'That's cool. So how was your day, er, night, at the Pet Mall?'

'Sucky,' Gilbert said.

'Cool. My job sucks ass too. I'm a fighter pilot.'

That got a grin out of Gilbert. It was small, but it was there. 'You wish,' he said.

'No, actually, I'm a bartender,' Alfred told him. 'And I'm so great at it, you should totally come and watch some time. See the hero in action.'

'I'd love to,' Gilbert said. He leaned his head back against the seat and blinked sleepily. 'Man, I am so beat. I don't think I slept enough earlier.'

'Hey, don't fall asleep in my car,' Alfred said. 'You might drool on the seats. Those are real leather.'

'Then drool won't hurt them,' Gilbert pointed out.

'My call, man, my call.' Alfred flipped on his turn signal and merged.

'Alf, thanks again,' Gilbert said, looking over at him.

'No probs,' Alfred said. 'I like you. If you didn't have your eye on Mattie…'

He trailed off suggestively, and Gilbert raised a brow.

'I thought you said there was someone…?'

Don't remind me. 'There is,' Alfred said. 'But he's, like blind. And deaf. Or maybe just dumb.' He felt kind of bad saying that shit about Arthur, but he had to play it cool, right?

'He doesn't know?' Gilbert asked.

'Dude, he doesn't care.'

'Aw... That sucks.'

Gilbert bit his lip, and the sympathy almost made Alfred spill everything right there. But he knew better. 'I know, right?'

Gilbert almost did fall asleep on the way home.

Alfred thought that he was going to have to wake him up, but when he parked, Gilbert woke himself up enough to get out of the car. He stumbled a little passing through the house, though.

'Man, I so need to lie down,' he said. 'I think I'm seriously sleep deprived.'

Alfred took him by the arm. 'I'll walk you,' he said. Gilbert's arm felt nice. He reminded himself that Gilbert liked Matthew, and that he had given up trying to drown his sorrows in easy fucks.

Not that Gilbert would be easy, but still… Not going there.

'You don't gotta…' Gilbert said.

'Chill.' Alfred took the bird cage and slung his arm around Gilbert's shoulder, pulling him closer the way he would have with his brother. 'Here we go,' he said. 'Left turn. Walk. Aaand- the bedroom!' He kneed the door open and set Gilbird's cage on the coffee table.

Kuma had disappeared from the bed, so he gave Gilbert a little push toward it. 'Featuring your new best friend- the bed. Strip and hit it, dude. I'll get the light.'

'Cool. Thank you.' Taking his words at face value, Gilbert pulled his shirt off- baring a pale but nicely muscled chest- and then shoved his pants down his thighs. When he kicked them loose, Alfred couldn't help but look at his ass.

Knowing Gilbert had caught him, he whistled.

Gilbert smirked at him, then dropped face first on the bed. Alfred flicked the light switch off, not without a last lingering look.

Lucky Mattie, he thought, surveying Gilbert spread out on the bed. I should have hit that.

Honestly, he would have been happy to just curl up beside Gilbert. He didn't even want to fuck him that bad, he just craved the human warmth.
But it wasn't for him. Nothing was, it seemed like.

Instead, he went to his own lonely bed.

Even though he had been up for more than half the night, Alfred still woke up early. At least this time there wasn't a dream to screw up his morning.

Rubbing his hands through his messy hair, he made his way into the bathroom and stripped to get in the shower.

As he soaped his own body up, he reflected that it wasn't really a whole lot worse than Gilbert's. Yeah, his muscles were a little less impressive- he was pretty sure Gilbert was some kind of military nut, and he had the body to prove it- but they were still there. And he wasn't fat.

He was a little heavier than Matthew, of course. Well, a good bit heavier- Matthew was so light he would practically blow away in a strong wind. But Alfred was far from fat.

It obviously wasn't his body that was turning Arthur off. So what was it?

Surely not his face. He wasn't vain- okay, he wasn't very vain- but he did know he was attractive. Not as pretty as Matthew, but not half bad, either.

And Arthur liked blue-eyed blonds, if Francis was any proof of that. So Alfred was his type.

It has to be my personality, he decided, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel. He doesn't hate my body, or my looks- he just hates me.

No. That was wrong. Arthur didn't hate him. He was just indifferent. Which was way worse.

'Mattie. Wakey wakey,' Alfred said outside his brother's door. He had dressed in his same T-shirt and jeans- they were still clean, so why not? -and he'd dried his hair, but hadn't bothered to comb it. The messy look was in.

He was still dwelling on Arthur, as he waited for Matthew to wake up.

Arthur used to like him. He was pretty sure of it.

So it must be because he had changed as he got older. Unlike Matthew, who had stayed cute and biddable, Alfred had become a rebellious flirt who was always hanging around being a bother.

It wasn't Arthur's fault, then, it was his own.

Well, that helped.

'Okay,' Matthew said from inside the room.

He was up.

Suddenly, Alfred was afraid to see his brother. If Matthew took one look at his face, he would know something was wrong.

Turning around, Alfred headed downstairs. He had about ten minutes before Matthew got out of the bathroom and made his own way to the kitchen.

That was plenty long enough to get the mask back on and be the person his brother needed him to be.

He was in luck. It took Matthew about twenty minutes. When he came into the kitchen, he was wearing his favorite Nine Inch Nails T-shirt –long-sleeved like everything else he owned- and a pair of pajama pants with little maple leaves on them. His hair was wet.

Despite being only about eight years old when he left Canada to be reunited with his twin, Matthew still considered himself to be a Canadian.

Alfred, raised in America and proud of it, often tried to outdo his brother with the national pride thing. He was glad that he was still wearing his own favorite shirt, 'cause it definitely beat out Matthew's PJs.

'Alfie?' Matthew said sleepily.

'There you are,' Alfred said. 'I'm hungry, make me pancakes.'

As usual, Matthew accepted his demand without even a token protest. ''Kay.' He got the mixing bowl down from the cupboard where it lived and grabbed a bag of flour. 'Is Gilbert eating?'

'Yeah,' Alfred said. 'I'll wake him up when you're done.'

''Kay.' Matthew said again. He turned the burner on under his skillet and got out a box of eggs from the fridge. He cracked one, then looked up at Alfred from under a damp curtain of bang. 'Is he… Did he say anything else?'

'Nah,' Alfred told him. 'He was pretty wasted. I think his job really sucks.'

'Oh. That sucks.'

'I know, right?' Alfred drank some orange juice from the glass in front of him. 'Hey Mattie?'

'Yeah?'

'Are you gonna talk to him?'

Matthew winced a little. 'I don't know.' He started beating the pancake batter. 'It's probably better if I don't say anything. We can just pretend it never happened.'

Alfred narrowed his eyes. 'I don't think Gilbert wants to pretend that,' he pointed out.

'Maybe it's not up to him.' Matthew refused to meet his stare. He stirred some melted butter into his bowl. 'You can call him now,' he said. 'This is almost ready.'

'Okay,' Alfred answered. He gulped down the last of his orange juice and stood up.

There's no point in knocking on Gilbert's door, he thought a moment later. He's still passed out.

Instead he opened the door in question and stuck his head inside. 'Gilbert! It's morning time and breakfast is calling.'

Gilbert moaned and rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillows in a mimic of the pose he had adopted last night. Or early this morning.

During the night he had crawled under the quilt, though, so there was no show. Alfred was NOT disappointed. Okay, maybe a little.

'Nooo… Ludwig, let me sleep,' Gilbert mumbled.

'I'm not your bro, bro.'

Fuck it. Alfred pulled the quilt off him-

He knew Gilbert was at least wearing boxers, so why not?

He was, but they didn't cover much. 'Nice body,' Alfred said, unashamedly admiring it. 'Lucky Mattie!'

'He doesn't think so.' Gilbert, undisturbed, rolled over again and opened one eye.

'Yes he does,' Alfred said. He ran his eyes up and down Gilbert's exposed chest and pale, sexy stomach. He couldn't help himself, Gilbert was gorgeous. 'Mm, mm, nice,' he observed.

'Don't make me blush,' Gilbert said.

'Could I?' Alfred asked him curiously.

'Probably,' Gilbert said. 'If you keep looking at me like I'm covered in strawberry jam.'

Now, that was an image. 'Dude, if you were covered in strawberry jam I would say the hell with Mattie,' Alfred told him. He winked. 'C'mon. Breakfast's getting cold.'

'Okay, okay.' Finally, Gilbert sat up.

It made his stomach do interesting things, and Alfred's too, kind of.

Damn, he thought. It was funny how he could be so in love with Arthur and still not fail to notice Gilbert's nearly insane level of hotness. Probably normal, though, right?

'Hey, do you have anything I could wear?' Gilbert asked him. 'My shit is so dirty. I hate to keep asking for stuff-'

'Dude, it's no thing,' Alfred interrupted. ''Course I do, the hero has lots of clothes. Hang on, I'll get something. By the way, would you like to shower?'

'I would love to.'

'Go ahead, then. I'll leave your clothes on the bed.'

He pointed out the downstairs bathroom, and Gilbert went inside to do his thing.

Alfred got him something to wear, and then went back to the kitchen, because hanging around thinking about Gilbert in the shower wasn't going to do anybody any good, least of all him.

'He's taking a shower,' he told Matthew. 'I told him it was okay. He was pretty dirty.'

'It's fine,' Matthew said. He went on cooking pancakes, but Alfred could tell that his shoulders were up around his ears. Matthew was seriously freaked out about seeing Gilbert again.

But it wasn't an 'I'm pissed at him' kind of a freak out, or even an 'I'm scared of talking to him.' It was more of an 'Oh god, I don't know how to handle this.'

Alfred wished he could think of something to say that would settle Matthew down, but he was totally blanking.

Matthew had just about finished all the pancake-cooking by the time Gilbert came in. Gilbert looked happier and more awake after his shower. His hair was all spiked-up from the water, and when he put his hand through it he made it even spikier. He looked fucking nice in Alfred's clothes. Alfred grinned.

'It's pancakes again,' he said. 'Mattie loves 'em, so it's all he ever cooks for breakfast.'

'I could make something else, if you want,' Matthew said from the stove. Alfred saw him take a quick look at Gilbert.

'I love pancakes,' Gilbert said.

I'll bet you do, Alfred thought. 'Mmhmm,' he said aloud. Matthew cast him a look, and he shut his mouth.

'Here.' Matthew put a full plate of pancakes down in front of Gilbert. He picked up the syrup and hovered it over the plate. 'Syrup?'

'Yes, please,' Gilbert said.

Matthew started pouring syrup. 'Say when,' he said.

Gilbert's eyes were fastened on Matthew's hand. Even when the syrup overflowed the pancakes and started puddling on his plate, he didn't say when. He seemed to have zoned out.

Matthew quit pouring.

He looked at Gilbert, and Alfred did too.

Wow. Gilbert was blushing. Seriously. He was.

'Sorry,' Gilbert said.

He and Matthew and locked eyes, and now Matthew was blushing too.

When Gilbert's fork clattered against his plate, he and Matthew both jumped.

'Okay, guys,' Alfred said. 'Is it just me, or is the sexual tension through the roof?'

'Shut up, Alfie,' Matthew said reflexively. His cheeks got pinker, and he slapped another plate of pancakes in front of Alfred. 'Just eat. I'm going upstairs.'

'Please don't,' Gilbert said, before Alfred could. He gave Matthew a puppy-eyed expression that Alfred hadn't known he could pull off. 'Stay and eat.'

'Okay,' Matthew said. But he didn't sound happy. He was pinching his lip, the way he did when he was really flustered.

Next thing, he'll be pulling his sleeves down again, Alfred thought. Even though they're already down.

He watched his brother fill a plate with pancakes for himself.

'Are you okay?' he asked when Matthew sat down.

'Yeah,' Matthew said.

'Cool.'

Alfred forced himself to attend to his own plate. His pancakes were delicious, and it wasn't that much of an effort once he started.

I'm gonna have to bail again, he thought. Sorry, Mattie.

Licking the last of the syrup off his fork, he set it down.

Matthew looked at him and opened his mouth.

'Gotta go,' Alfred said abruptly. He stood up, trying to ignore the way Matthew's eyes widened and his mouth opened further before he bit his lip and ducked his head.

Crap. Now Matthew was upset again. He hated doing this to Mattie, but how else were he and Gilbert ever going to work out whatever was between them? Alfred was a third wheel, and he knew it.

'Alfie-' Matthew started.

'Seeya, twinsie,' Alfred interrupted him. 'Bye, Gilbo.' He blew them each a kiss and then got out of there as fast as he could, with nothing but a 'Love ya!' over his shoulder.

Once he got outside, though, he wasn't sure what to do. It was still pretty early, and it was another day off from Tony's.

After the debacle of last time, he knew he really shouldn't go there again unless it was to work.

But who was he kidding? There really wasn't anywhere else to go. Matthew was gonna be occupied (he hoped) with Gilbert, and he needed to be out of the house.

He could call or text one of his friends, but it had been a while since he felt like seeing a anybody- and it wasn't as if they had been breaking down his door to find out where he was, either.

He could always call Francis- he LOVED his big bro, and Francis was always happy to see him. But it had felt a little weird for Alfred to be around Francis ever since he had his FUBAR with Arthur after the party.

He wasn't 100 percent sure that Arthur had told Francis what had happened, but he wasn't 100 percent sure he hadn't, either. Arthur and Francis were still kind of tight- if you could call trading insults and driving each other up the wall 'tight'.

Not knowing if Francis knew- it just made things weird. Besides, Francis was probably busy. He had a showing at the gallery this weekend and he was going to be running off his feet getting everything ready.

Nah…

Alfred got in the Camaro and started it up. He knew where he was going. There was only one place he ever ended up these days.

No matter how much he told himself it was a bad idea, no matter how many times his pathetic attempts ended in flames, he couldn't stop himself. And maybe he shouldn't. Maybe it was time to crash and burn.

As Alfred entered the club, Ivan stepped out of the bouncer's alcove in front of him.

Great. That was just what he needed- Arthur's psychotic guard dog giving him shit.

Sometimes Alfred almost thought that Ivan was jealous- otherwise, why would he make such a point of fucking with him every time he showed up?

Even when Arthur had made it plain to the Russian that Alfred was allowed to go wherever he wanted, Ivan still pulled this shit.

But Alfred knew for damn sure that nothing was going on between the two of them, so if he WAS jealous it was all one-sided.

And Alfred was glad of it, because if Ivan had ever laid a finger on Arthur, he would have had to kill him. And it would have been a job.

He looked at the bouncer.

Ivan wasn't exactly barring his way, but in order to go around him, Alfred would have to pass a lot closer than he was comfortable with.

Ivan had done it on purpose. He was like that. He enjoyed fucking with people, enjoyed scaring them.

Shit never went down at Tony's, and it was mostly 'cause Ivan was there.

'Ivan,' Alfred said by way of a first salvo.

He knew the Russian's name was actually pronounced Ee-vahn, but he always said Eye-van just to fuck with him.

Ivan cocked his head. 'I think you would remember my name by now,' he remarked in his soft, childish voice.

For a dude who was more than a head taller than Alfred, he had a really GIRLY voice. Except Alfred had never heard a girl with a Russian accent before.

'What are you doing here?' Ivan went on. 'You don't work today, da? You were here yesterday, too.'

'It's none of your business why I'm here,' Alfred said. 'Or when I'm here. Get back in your kennel and stop barking at me, bitch.'
He was probably the only one who would ever dare speak to the bouncer like that, because Ivan had intimidating down to an art form.

Today he was wearing his normal outfit of a long brown coat and brown military pants. No matter how hot it was outside, he always wore a pinkish gray scarf wrapped around his neck, too.

Arthur had told Alfred once that Ivan's sister had knitted it. Alfred couldn't imagine Ivan with a sister.

The Russian's lilac eyes were almost as pretty as Matthew's. Alfred couldn't say that he was unattractive otherwise, either- his features weren't unpleasant, and his platinum hair was striking, too. But the only thing that Alfred had ever felt toward him was dislike.

Ivan seemed to share it. His eyes narrowed.

'Someday you are going to regret speaking to me like that,' he said.

'Not today,' Alfred answered. He'd said it before.

Normally Ivan would just nod and agree with him- Da, not today.

Not this time. This time he smiled.

'Maybe today,' he said.

'What?'

Alfred blinked, but then Ivan stepped aside as if nothing had happened. 'Enjoy your visit,' he said.

Cautiously, Alfred moved past him. He cast a look sideways as he did so. 'Ivan, what is your ish?' he asked. 'You are so fucked up.'

'Am I?' Ivan responded innocently.

'Don't act like you don't know.'

'Then don't act like you're not.' He went back into his alcove, leaving Alfred shaking his head.

Not what? Fucked up?

Maybe he was, but he sure as hell wasn't as fucked up as Ivan.

When he got across the dance floor, he saw that it was Toris working the bar.

At least that meant Arthur's mood would be better. Toris had made it here on time today. Maybe his brother was better, and his car issue taken care of.

'Hey Toris,' Alfred said. 'Where's the boss?'

Toris looked up from the cocktail he was mixing. 'Oh! Alfred, hi. He's in his office. He said he had a lot of paperwork to do.'

'Cool. I'll just go on up.'

''Kay.'

Another reason to hit on Toris- he was almost as agreeable as Matthew.

The problem was, Alfred didn't want to hit on him.

He wanted to hit on Arthur.

Alfred made his way to the back of the club and pushed the curtain aside. A short flight of stairs led up to Arthur's private office, and he took them two at a time, just like he did at home.

That way Arthur could hear him coming. He could lock the door, if he wanted, although he never had.

As per normal, the door was closed, but it wasn't locked. Alfred opened it a bit and stuck his head in.

'Artie? You here?'

'Don't call me Artie.' Arthur was sitting at his desk. His sweater was grass green today, and his shirt was pale blue. He had stack of forms in front of him but no pen in his hand, so he'd either already finished or he hadn't started yet. 'Alfred, what are you doing here?' he asked, just like Ivan.

Alfred scowled. He knew it was stupid, but he couldn't help it. 'I wanted to see you,' he said.

Arthur didn't miss the expression, or the tone in his voice.

'That's what you said last time.' He scratched above his ear, shifting spiky locks of yellow hair. 'You're starting to worry me. Is something wrong?'

'What would be wrong?' Alfred asked. He knew he wasn't doing a very good job of pulling it off- to ask that question, you had to sound a lot more cheerful then he felt right now, and you couldn't scowl.

Arthur wasn't convinced.

'That's what I want to know,' he said. 'You've been acting odd. If this is about what happened after the party, you can forget about it. I'm not angry with you.'

'Then why are you treating me like this?'

'Like what?'

'Like…' Alfred's voice trailed off. Like what?

Like Arthur didn't care? Like Arthur didn't like him anymore? Like he didn't want to be around him? All of that, and more.

'Like you don't want me near you,' he said finally. 'Like you can't stand for me to touch you.'

'Alfred…' Arthur put his hands flat on his desk and stood up. He sighed. 'It's not that. I just thought it would be easier this way.'

'Easier?'

'Yes. Easier. If you're confused… If you think you want something…' It was his turn to trail off.

Alfred started to get pissed. 'If I think I want something?' he said. 'What do you mean? I don't think I want something. I know what I want.'

'And what, exactly, is that?' Arthur faced him with a defiance that touched off a matching defiance in him.

'I want you,' Alfred said bluntly.

'I see,' Arthur answered.

No, you don't, Alfred thought. He bit his lip.

'I do see,' Arthur said calmly, as if he could read Alfred's mind or something. 'But if that's what you want, then you can't have it.'

Alfred couldn't help but draw in his breath at the flat response. He was a little shocked. Arthur had made it plain that he wasn't interested, but wow…

He'd known he was going to get shot down. He just hadn't imagined Arthur doing it so coldly.

Maybe he really is getting sick of me…

'Just because you want something doesn't always mean that you should have it,' Arthur was going on. He sounded pedantic, as if he were talking to a child, or lecturing an idiot.

Alfred took two steps closer to him, and he stopped talking and looked up.

He could have said he doesn't like me, Alfred thought. He could have told me he just isn't interested. He didn't have to say it like that…

Impulsively, he reached out and put his hand on Arthur's shoulder.

As soon as he felt the muscle and bone under his hand, he knew it was a mistake. But it was too late. His stomach flipped over, and he put his other hand behind Arthur's neck, just below the edges of his shaggy hair.

Did Arthur think still think of him as kid?

He wasn't one anymore, and he could prove it.

Arthur's eyes widened, and his mouth opened as Alfred pulled him forward.

Probably to protest. Probably to call Alfred an idiot.

Before he could say a word, Alfred leaned down and covered that open mouth with his own. Arthur exhaled a startled breath, and he swallowed it. His tongue slipped inside, and he tasted black tea and bergamot.

He had dreamed of this for so long, he had wanted to do it so desperately- and the real thing was so much better than any fantasy he had ever imagined.

He felt Arthur's hands claw into his T shirt in response to the assault on his mouth, and he made a small, involuntary sound in the back of his throat. Instinctively, he kissed Arthur deeper, and now the Englishman made a sound, too.

Alfred didn't want to stop. He might not have, but then he finally realized that Arthur was trying to push him away. His hands were flattened against Alfred's chest, and his fingernails were digging in hard enough to hurt.

Alfred released him, suddenly light-headed.

When he let go, Arthur shoved him violently backward. 'Bloody hell!'

The push was almost hard enough to knock Alfred off his feet. Arthur's cheeks were flushed, and his hair was standing straight up.

Alfred winced. He had never seen a look like that in Arthur's vivid green eyes before, but he knew what it meant, because Arthur looked ready to throw a punch. He was beyond pissed, and Alfred wouldn't really have blamed him if he had done it.

They were friends- correct that, they had been friends. But even friendship could only go so far.

Alfred hadn't crossed the line- he had fucking obliterated it.

'O-Oh, fuck,' he said. For the first time in his life, his tongue stumbled over a word. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…'

Then he stopped.

Yeah, like Arthur was going to believe that. Of course he had meant to.

'I'm sorry,' he said again. 'Arthur, I'm really sorry.'

Arthur didn't answer him. His shoulders were stiff and bristling beneath his sweater, and he was still breathing hard.

Alfred was having trouble catching his own breath.

He kept getting flashes of Arthur's mouth under his, of his tongue down Arthur's throat. Even as he shivered under the weight of his guilt, he couldn't forget how GOOD it had felt.

God, I am such a shit, he thought. He hated it, and I still want to do it again.

Finally Arthur's stiff pose relaxed a little. He closed his eyes, then opened them again. 'Idiot,' he said in almost a normal tone.

He didn't sound pissed anymore, but he was holding his hands in front of him, the fingers doubled into fists, and he was staring down at them like he'd never seen them before.

Maybe he really was about to swing one of those fists at Alfred's head, but the uncertain look on his face- so unlike him- made Alfred doubt it.

Had he really fucked up?

Had he fucked up so hard that he had fucked Arthur up, too?

He knew Arthur was gay- Arthur had been seeing Francis, after all- but maybe having Alfred grab him for an unwanted make out session had been too much for his weird British sensibilities to handle.

Impulsively, Alfred reached out and seized his hands in his own. 'Artie, forgive me,' he said.

Arthur stopped looking at down and looked up into Alfred's eyes instead.

Alfred winced. 'I wouldn't blame you if you didn't,' he said quickly. 'But I'm SO sorry. I'm so sorry I did that to you.'

Arthur opened his mouth. For a moment he didn't say anything, and then he released a torrent of words. 'Then why DID you sodding well do it? Were you mad? I'm not going to feel right for a week.' He sounded more hurt than anything else, and Alfred winced again, even though his automatic first thought was- Oh, I could make you feel right.

To his surprise, Arthur hadn't pulled his hands free. He was still holding them. Now he squeezed them even tighter. 'I'm sorry,' he said again. It seemed to be all he could say. 'I really didn't mean to do that to you. I just… kind of snapped. It won't happen again. Ever.'

'Alfred…' Arthur said.

'Arthur, please forgive me. I'll be good, I swear I will. I'll never do anything like that ever again. I promise. If you'll just forgive me.'

'Alfred…' Arthur said again.

'Really! I really promise. 'Cause if you don't-'

In another minute he was going to cry. He could feel the tears burning hot behind his eyes, and he knew that he was only seconds away from breaking down worse than Mattie ever had.

'It's alright,' Arthur interrupted him. 'I forgive you.'

Alfred wasn't going to ask him to repeat it. He wasn't going to ask him if he meant it, either. The words would have to be enough.

'Then I'm gonna go,' he said. 'But… I'll see you tomorrow, okay?'

'Tomorrow,' Arthur agreed. He didn't sound happy- of course he didn't sound happy- but he didn't say no.

Outside the office, Alfred walked slowly down the stairs. His usually verve had deserted him. All he could think about was just how badly he had fucked up.

He'd come here to crash and burn, hadn't he?

Well, he had certainly done that.

After everything, it was hard to believe that Arthur hadn't told him to go fuck himself, or forbidden him the club.

That Arthur hadn't told him that he never wanted to see him again.

I have to come back tomorrow, he thought, and act like nothing happened. It's the only way that we can get past this.

Fuck…

The tears were pushing at the backs of his eyes again. He didn't want to get past this. He didn't want to pretend it had never happened.

He wanted it undone and a chance to do it over. But that wasn't possible. And even if it was, it wouldn't really make any difference.

Was he still kidding himself?

He'd known he was an asshole, but not this much of one.

Nothing was ever going to happen between him and Arthur! Nothing except a repeat of what had already happened. And if THAT happened again, he knew that Arthur would never forgive him.

He had promised, hadn't he?

Then again, what kind of person even had to make a promise like that?

Matthew wasn't the crazy one.

Alfred had spent so much time trying to convince everybody that he was perfect, sometimes even he forgot just how far off the mark that was.

What a joke.

If anybody really was perfect, it was Matthew.

Nobody even knows, Alfred thought. Nobody has any idea how fucked up I am. Ivan was right.

Maybe I should tell him, he thought. Wouldn't that be a good idea? To pick a fight with the crazy Russian? Only if he had a death wish.

Maybe he did.

Toris waved at him as he walked by the bar and Alfred lifted a hand in response, although he couldn't force a smile.

He knew the mask had slipped. Whatever expression was on his face now, it wasn't one that belonged to the Alfred that everybody knew.

Maybe I should tell Mattie, he thought. That was a better idea than telling Ivan.

It wouldn't help, but at least maybe Matthew would finally understand why Alfred had been such a shitty brother lately.

By the time he reached the bouncer's alcove he had forgotten not only his momentary thought about telling Ivan how fucked up he was, but the bouncer's weird behavior from this morning entirely.

He wasn't thinking about Ivan at all, until the big Russian stepped out in front of him.

Alfred's heart began to race. He wondered desperately if Ivan could tell that he had been crying.

If he could, it didn't matter, because Ivan had obviously planned this.

Without saying a word, he seized Alfred by the shoulders, spun him around and threw him into the alcove.

Alfred's back hit the wall and he stared open mouthed as Ivan stepped in, too, blocking the exit.

The wind had been knocked out of him. Maybe that was why he didn't make his usual smart remark. It wasn't because he was scared.

Alfred was never scared.

'I figured it out,' Ivan said.

'What?' Alfred asked him. He had caught enough breath to speak, but not enough to understand what Ivan was talking about. He was lost, and still shaken from what had happened upstairs.

'What you like.' Ivan said, stepping closer. 'I figured it out.' His chest was nearly up against Alfred's. 'Is this what you like?' he asked. 'Do you like it when they don't want you back? I do.'

Before Alfred could react to the words, Ivan had grabbed his wrists and pinned them against the wall beside his head.

'Ivan, what the fuck?' Alfred said. Why did he sound so breathless?

Maybe because he was terrified.

'No. Not 'Ivan, what the fuck.' Ivan leaned his head down, until Alfred could feel his breath on his lips. 'Say yes or no. Is this what you like?'

'No,' Alfred said breathlessly. He tried to pull away, but Ivan was too strong. His wrists didn't even move. He had no leverage.

'One of these days I'm going to come where you live,' Ivan said. 'And you're going to let me in. Da?'

'No,' Alfred said again. He didn't like the way his voice sounded, almost as tiny and soft as Matthew's.

He couldn't breathe. He had the insane feeling that Ivan was about to kiss him or something.

If he did, Alfred thought, it would be way worse than what he had done to Arthur.

Was this really what Ivan wanted, or was he just doing it to fuck with Alfred?

Which would be worse?

Maybe some of what he was thinking showed in his eyes.

Suddenly, Ivan let go. 'Run away, little boy,' he said.

And giggled.

Jesus fucking Christ. Alfred shoved the larger man aside and burst out of the alcove.

As he did so, he saw Toris across the dance floor, looking at him with wide eyes.

Had the bartender seen everything that Ivan had done?

Jesus, Alfred thought again. His hands were shaking.

He had kissed Arthur, and then Ivan had… He didn't even know what the fuck Ivan had done.

He had absolutely nothing to say to Toris, so he just turned away and made for the door.

When he got to his car, he laid his head down on steering wheel for a moment and closed his eyes.

This is the worst day of my life, he thought numbly.

When he got back to the house, Alfred only had one thought on his mind.

Matthew.

He took the stairs to his brother's room two at a time, and when he got there he grabbed the doorknob with both hands.

'Mattie,' he said, leaning his cheek on the cool wood. 'Hey, Mattie.'

There was an unintelligible mumble. Alfred couldn't understand the words, but it was all he needed. Matthew was there.

'Mattie!'

Alfred opened the door, and without thinking, he turned on the light.

'Alfie, no!' Matthew cried.

Alfred's eyes took in the scene before him without understanding what he was seeing. It took a moment for everything to make sense, and when it did, he felt a sense of shock.

He had wanted things to work out for Matthew and Gilbert, but maybe he hadn't expected them to work out quite so well, or so quickly.

Matthew was still mostly dressed. Gilbert was not.

Alfred had thought previously that he might not mind a look at Gilbert's cock. Now that he had had such a look, he realized that it was probably best not to see the cocks of people that you didn't intend to sleep with.

'Oh, shizznap,' he said almost calmly.

At the sound of his voice, Gilbert sat up suddenly. He made no move to cover himself, but Alfred had already stopped looking at him.

He was looking at his brother.

\Matthew had been wrapped up in Gilbert's arms a minute ago, probably happier than he'd ever been before. He was still wrapped up in Gilbert's arms, but he wasn't happy anymore. Alfred had never seen a look like that on his brother's face- Matthew had gone stark white. He was paler than Gilbert's hair, and his eyes…

Oh god, Alfred thought. Why is he so upset? Is it because I've seen him with Gilbert? Doesn't he know that this is what I wanted?

Well, maybe not exactly this…

'What is it?' Gilbert asked Matthew with equal concern.

'Fuck, Mattie, I'm sorry,' Alfred said to his brother. He wanted to do anything to wipe that look off Matthew's face. 'I didn't know he was in here with you-'

And then suddenly he realized what was really wrong. The light. Matthew had had the light off, like he always did, and Alfred had turned it on.

Matthew's freak out- that was because he hadn't told Gilbert about the walls. Matthew still had his shirt on, because he hadn't wanted Gilbert to see his arms, either-

'Oh shit…' Alfred said. He couldn't get his mouth to stop going, though he did try. 'You mean he didn't see it...?'

Oh, look. He could finally stop talking, now that the damage was done.

Mattie's never gonna forgive me, he thought. I've lost him too-

Gilbert started to look at him, probably about to wonder why Matthew was so freaked out at his brother finding them in bed.

Then he got sidetracked by Matthew's walls. His eyes widened as he took in the expanse of writing. You couldn't read it. It was way too small and crowded for that. But you could see that it was writing, and you could see that there was a lot of it. The walls from top to bottom, even the ceiling, all covered in Matthew's tiny, neat block letters.

Matthew was crying, Alfred thought. He was still trapped in Gilbert's arms, so he couldn't run away.

He had done the next best thing. His eyes were closed, and he had curled into as much of a ball as he could.

'Matthew?' Gilbert asked.

Now Alfred could hear Matthew. He wasn't crying. Or maybe he was crying too. But the sound he was making was words. 'Don't look,' he was saying. 'Don't look.'

That tiny, broken voice… It did something terrible to Alfred. He swallowed hard.

He had done this. He might as well finish the job.

'Matthew,' he said. 'Show him your arms.'

Gilbert looked up at him, then down at Matthew. When Matthew didn't move to do what Alfred had said, Gilbert picked one of his arms up and pushed back the sleeve.

Alfred knew what he saw. Writing on Matthew's skin, too, covering every inch of his arm from back to front. He was ambidextrous. It was on both of them.

Alfred saw Matthew try to pull away. 'Don't,' Matthew said.

'Gilbo,' Alfred interrupted, to make Gilbert look up at him.

After a reluctant moment, Gilbert did. 'What is it?'

'My brother thinks he's crazy. He thinks he's fucked up, and that nobody will ever love him because of it. I tell him that the only crazy part about him is the part that thinks that. But he doesn't believe me.'

He took a breath to say more, but Gilbert stopped him.

'Alfred,' he said.

'What?'

Gilbert pinned him with a red-eyed stare. 'I love you. But, get out.'

In that moment, Alfred knew that whatever he had fucked up, Gilbert could fix.

Part of him was relieved, but the other part was just empty.

'Got it,' he answered.

Then he closed the door without another word, and left the two of them alone.

Because he had nothing else to do, Alfred went down to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of juice- he felt dehydrated- and then he sat down at the kitchen table and rested his chin on his arms.

Maybe Matthew would be okay. He had Gilbert, and Gilbert wasn't the type to give up. If anyone could fix what was broken in Matthew, it was Gilbert.

Maybe Matthew would even forgive Alfred, when he realized that his brother really hadn't meant to do what he had done.

He hadn't been thinking. He never did, but this was the most it had ever cost him.

But Mattie will forgive me, he thought. He always does. Maybe not right away, but he will.

Arthur… Arthur won't. Oh, he might say he has- but he'll never trust me again.

And I don't blame him. I don't even trust myself.

He had no idea how long he sat there. It could have been hours for all he knew. But finally his phone chirped, and the sound pulled him out of his daze of misery.

Someone had just sent him a text.

Alfred pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen.

From Arthur read the letters in front of him. Come over.

Alfred stared at the device, his mind blank.

When was the last time Arthur had texted him?

And 'Come over'?

Come where? To Arthur's house?

He wouldn't have said 'Come over' if he meant Tony's, Alfred thought. He must have left early.

But why did he want Alfred to come over, when he had been avoiding coming to Alfred's and Matthew's house like the plague?

Had he changed his mind?

Maybe he's finally going to tell me that he's had had enough, Alfred thought. That he never wants to see me again.

He had known it was too much to expect, that Arthur could have forgiven what he'd done.

I can't… he thought. I can't. Not now.

It can wait, right? Whatever he wants to say to me, it can wait.

His phone chirped again.

Just one word more on the screen: Please.

When Alfred parked his Camaro in front of Arthur's house, his heart was pounding and he felt sick.

His feet dragged as he walked up the driveway and onto Arthur's front porch.

How long had it been since he'd last been here?

Practically a year, he thought, but the place looked the same as ever: a cottage with a neat, small garden and a front door painted pale mint green. Arthur's cream colored Mini Cooper was parked out front.

It looked like an old lady's house, and the car didn't help, but that was just Arthur.

Alfred rang the doorbell. His stomach flipped over when he heard footsteps approaching, and by the time the door swung open, he was ready to bolt.

Of course, by then it was too late.

'Come in,' Arthur said. He was dressed the same as he had been at Tony's- green sweater, blue shirt, charcoal pants- but his hair was wet as if he had just showered.

Alfred stepped into the foyer. 'Hey,' he said before Arthur could say anything else. 'If you want to tell me-'

'Come into the kitchen.' Arthur closed the door and stepped past him. 'We can talk in there.'

He walked away without waiting for Alfred to accept or decline, so Alfred followed him down the hallway and into the small eat-in kitchen.

It was nothing like the big one at his and Matthew's house, and he knew from prior visits to the cottage that Arthur didn't do a whole lot of cooking in it. Which was probably just as well. He was a terrible cook. He could burn water, and his scones tasted like ceiling plaster.

Alfred swallowed.

'What is it?' he asked, because knowing was better than not knowing. Or at least, he was less likely to throw up if Arthur told him quickly. 'Why'd you want me to come?'

'Sit down.' Arthur gestured at the table. When Alfred sat, he went to the dish drainer and got a couple of spoons, then came back to the table and handed one to Alfred. Then he went to the freezer and got out two cups of ice cream. Handing one of those to Alfred, too, he sat down across from him and took the lid off the other.

Alfred looked down at his ice cream. It was coffee, his favorite.

Across the table, Arthur ate a spoonful of ice cream. His was rum raisin. 'I thought we should talk,' he said, licking his lips.

'About what?' Alfred knew his voice was tiny but he couldn't make it stronger. He laid his spoon down on the table top with his ice cream untouched. 'Is this about what happened at the club? Because I told you it won't ever happen again. I told you I'm sorry-'

'I know you did.' Arthur dug his spoon into his ice cream and left it there. 'And yes, it's about that. Listen, Alfred.' He leaned forward. 'I know you didn't mean to upset me. And I have had time to think about things. What you said then, did you mean it? That you want me?'

'Yeah,' Alfred said. He swallowed the lump in his throat the way that Arthur had swallowed his ice cream.

'And I take it that you mean sexually?' Arthur asked.

Alfred winced a little. But, 'Yeah,' he said again.

'Maybe I was too hasty,' Arthur sounded like he was talking about the weather, or the state of corn in Iowa. The words didn't really sink in until Alfred heard the next part. 'If that's really what you want- and you're sure that you want it- then what's the harm?'

He had to be hearing this wrong. Alfred leaned forward. 'I'm sorry?' he said.

Arthur shrugged. 'We're both adults. If that's what you want, then why not?'

Is he… Was he…

Was Arthur actually suggesting that they-

Alfred felt his fingernails digging into his palms. 'Let me get this straight,' he said. 'You understand that I want to fuck you, and you are saying that I can?'

'That's a little bit blunt, but yes, basically that is what I'm saying,' Arthur told him. 'Provided that you still want to, of course.'

He said you could fuck him, Alfred thought. He didn't say he cares. He didn't say HE wants to.

Still, he couldn't help the way his fingers had suddenly begun to tremble, the way his heart had jumped into his throat.

He had less breath then he'd had when Ivan pinned him against the wall at Tony's.

It was wrong. He knew it was wrong.

But how could he turn it down? He would never get this chance again.

It was just his body, nothing more, but it was still Arthur.

'Okay,' he said abruptly. He got to his feet and held out his hand. 'Let's go.'

'E-Eh? Now? Already?'

For the first time since he had let Alfred into his house, Arthur looked unsure.

Alfred liked it.

'Yeah,' he said, his own voice growing stronger. 'I've been waiting five years. Why wait any longer?'

'I… Ah, I suppose there is no reason.' Arthur scratched the hair above his ear. 'I guess I should have expected this. You've always been impatient.'

Alfred winced. 'Don't say stuff like that now,' he begged.

'Why not?' Arthur asked. 'It's still me. That's what you want, right?'

Alfred still felt sick, but it was a different kind of sick now. Nervous anticipation curdled in his stomach.

'Yeah. It's what I want,' he said

'Then I guess you'd better come upstairs.'

Alfred was glad he hadn't eaten any of the ice cream, because then he probably really would have thrown up.

Part of him was horrified that he was actually going to do this, but the other part- the part that ruled his cock- was ready to sit up and beg.

As he followed Arthur's sweater-clad back up the stairs to the bedroom- traditionalist, British Arthur wasn't going to do the nasty anywhere but in the proper place- he still couldn't believe that this was really happening.

Maybe I'm dreaming, he thought.

Maybe I'll wake up before it happens. If I'm dreaming, it's okay, right?

He knew he wasn't dreaming. Everything was too vivid, too real. Arthur opened the door to his bedroom and walked inside, and Alfred followed him.

The room was neat and tidy. There was a bouquet of flowers on the walnut dresser, with a little towel under it to keep it from marring the wood-

'Cause there are little cozies on all of the furniture in Arthur's house, to keep them neat and tidy. He's such a neat freak…

His bed was even made, Alfred saw, the sheets pulled tight and the red-white-and-blue coverlet without a single wrinkle.

I wonder if he'll get mad when we mess that up, Alfred thought.

He glanced at Arthur just in time to see him beginning to undress.

Reaching up to his throat, the Englishman unknotted his tie and then pulled it free from his collar. Alfred watched, transfixed, as he carefully rolled up the tie and set it aside, then bent and slipped off his shoes.

Next to go was the sweater, his slender body twisting as he pulled it over his head. When the item of clothing had been removed, he folded it in half and set it down on the dresser. Then he began to unbutton his shirt.

His fingers were careful and methodical on the buttons, and Alfred suddenly realized that he was not comfortable with the scene before him.

Arthur looked as though he was getting ready for a shower, or for bed.

His movements were too orderly for Alfred's liking, his expression too reserved.

Whether or not Arthur really wanted to do this, it had been his idea.

It was probably never going to happen again, and if Alfred was going to suffer the guilt from it, then he was damn well going to enjoy it.

In two strides, he crossed the room.

Arthur's fingers froze on the buttons. He looked up, his eyes wide, and Alfred took his face between his two hands, bent his head and kissed him.

For a moment Arthur's lips were rigid under his own. In spite of that, Alfred carefully opened his mouth with his tongue and advanced inside. Arthur's hands came up and settled on his shoulders, encouraged, Alfred slid his tongue deeper. This time he tasted rum raisin ice cream instead of tea.

Arthur made a small sound, and his fingers tightened in Alfred's shirt.

He tasted like dessert, and Alfred sampled him like one. He was careful at first, but then the sensations overwhelmed him and he upped the intensity.

He couldn't fucking help it. He was drowning.

Growling softly into Arthur's mouth, he wrapped his arms around the smaller man and pressed him backwards. 'You're delicious,' he said when he could bring himself to pull away enough to speak.

'Mmmph!' Arthur said. His back hit the wall with a small, muffled thump, and Alfred leaned in again.

Fuck, I could do this all day, he thought. It feels so good.

After a moment, though, he shifted his hold so that he could angle Arthur's head to the side. Moving from his mouth to his neck, he found a tender spot beneath the corner of his jaw and sucked it lightly.

Arthur's skin smelled like soap and Yardley's Black Label cologne. He tasted good. When Alfred sucked harder, his fingers convulsed in the fabric of Alfred's T shirt and he drew in a harsh breath. His head had tilted back a little bit.

'Does that mean you like it?' Alfred asked in his most seductive voice. He couldn't believe that he was talking to Arthur like that, but if he was going to do this, then he might as well do it right.

I can touch him, he thought. I can do some of those things… and I can say whatever I want.

Deliberately, he slipped one hand into Arthur's hair.

It was thick and messy, and his fingers had always itched to feel it.

Silky, he thought. Kinda soft.

His other hand wandered down Arthur's back. He could feel warm skin even through the thin fabric of his dress shirt, and Arthur didn't do anything to stop him.

He smelled so good. He felt even better.

Alfred licked the spot on his neck that he seemed to like, and let his hand wander lower still.

'Um,' Arthur said finally. His voice had grown a little bit huskier, Alfred thought.

He drew back and inspected his face. It was flushed, and his pupils had dilated a bit. His lower lip was swollen, and the skin on his throat where Alfred had been nibbling was bright pink.

'You can tell me when you like it,' Alfred said, looking into his eyes. 'You know, this doesn't have to be a chore.'

Arthur made a small sound that might have been a laugh. His eyes dropped away from Alfred's. 'I didn't say it was a chore,' he said.

'No?' Alfred reached out and undid the top button of his shirt, causing Arthur to look up at him again. 'You didn't look very excited when we started.'

'Oh...' He paused when Alfred leaned in and licked his jaw again. 'Ah! I must admit, I find this a little bit...'

Alfred undid another button, still nuzzling Arthur's throat. When he looked down, he could see his collarbone, and the smooth skin of his upper chest.

God, he was gorgeous.

'A little bit what?' he asked against Arthur's skin.

Arthur sucked in a particularly hard breath at something Alfred's tongue was doing.

'A little bit awkward,' he said when he could get the words out.

'Awkward?' Alfred pulled back.

Arthur thought this was awkward?

He looked turned on. He SOUNDED turned on. But maybe he wasn't.

'Why is it awkward?' he asked. 'Because it's me?'

'Well, yes.'

'Am I that bad?'

Arthur's eyes widened. 'No!' he said. 'No, Alfred. You're not bad. Trust me, you're not. I only… It's just that I feel rather like I shouldn't be doing this.'

'Why?'

'Well, because…'

'You said it yourself. We're both adults, right?'

'Yes…'

'Consenting adults?'

'Y-Yes.'

'Then where's the problem?'

Arthur sighed, looking down again. 'I didn't say there was a problem. I said it was awkward.'

'Awkward IS a problem!' Alfred knew he hadn't managed to keep the frustration out of his own voice, either.

'Alfie…' Arthur said.

'Isn't it?' Alfred asked him.

Arthur shook his head. 'No. It's not. It's just something that happens sometimes. It's been a while since I've done this, and you… I just never thought…' He stopped, seemingly at a loss for words. 'I didn't really do a good job of envisioning the whole picture,' he said finally.

Oh.

Alfred thought about that. Did that mean that he was coming on too strong?

Five fucking years, he thought, what does he expect?

Maybe he wants to stop.

If he wants to stop, just kill me now.

'Does that mean you want to stop?' he asked bluntly.

'No! Of course not,' Arthur said.

He sounded genuinely appalled, as if Alfred was suggesting he go back on his word or something.

He's too fucking British, Alfred thought. He's not gonna back down even if he's freaking out like Mattie, and I… I can't. Can't stop. Not unless he tells me to.

There was only one way to go on. 'Then quit talking,' he said. He leaned down suddenly and captured Arthur's mouth again.

Arthur made a small indignant sound before Alfred's tongue silenced him.

I'm not gonna hold back anymore, Alfred thought. He didn't tell me no, so this is okay.

Apparently it was. After a moment of what was either continued indignation or just plain surprise, Arthur started kissing him back.

Oh, fuck.

Arthur, Alfred thought, had obviously picked up a few things from dating Francis.

Not that he wanted to think about THAT too much, but damn, that one thing he was doing with his tongue tip right now-

It was Alfred's turn to clutch his fingers in Arthur's shirt. He wasn't going to deny that he was fairly experienced when it came to both the give and take of tongue-kissing, but he was almost certain no one had ever done that before. If they had, he would have remembered it.

'Mmm… Jesus…' he mumbled into Arthur's mouth. 'Where'd you learn that, huh? No, wait, I already know and I really don't want you to say it.'

Without looking, he swung Arthur off the wall, moved him sideways and pushed him down onto the bed.

Arthur made another one of those little sounds that could be either protest or encouragement. He landed on his back with Alfred on top of him, and Alfred proceeded to return the little tongue-tip thing. He was a quick learner.

Arthur actually moaned, apparently he liked it too.

Or maybe it was because Alfred had tugged his shirttails out of his pants and slid his hands up under his shirt.

His fingers skimmed across Arthur's stomach- flat and smooth-skinned- and up the understated musculature of his chest. He hadn't known Arthur was built like that, but he liked it.

Alfred bent his head to bite at Arthur's neck.

He was on top of him, so it was impossible not to notice the way he actually arched up off the bed at that.

Well, that answers one question, Alfred thought.

That means he likes it, right?

He bit Arthur's neck again, this time a little more forcefully than he'd meant to, because Arthur felt REALLY good pressed up against him like that.

'Bloody fucking hell!' Arthur said. He didn't exactly sound like he was complaining, though.

'Tell me what you want,' Alfred said into his ear. 'More? Less?'

'Eh?'

'Tell me. I want to make you happy.'

Arthur shifted a little bit. 'I'm pretty happy right now,' he said.

'I can make you happier.' Alfred ran his hands downward, dragging his fingernails over Arthur's stomach. 'Do you want me to?'

He stopped at the belt buckle, even though he didn't want to stop at all. His fingertips were brushing the fine hair that trailed from Arthur's navel down into his pants.

'Um,' Arthur said. 'Exactly what did you have in mind?'

'What do you think?' Alfred asked.

'Er…'

'Are you blushing?' He leaned down.

'No,' Arthur said.

'Are you sure?'

'Of course I'm sure, eejit. I don't blush.'

'Right. Not even if I do this?'

When Alfred slid his hand down Arthur's pants and into his boxers, the Englishman made a small, strangled sound.

'Hang on,' Alfred said. ''Cause this is gonna be REALLY awkward.'

'Mmph!' Arthur exclaimed.

Yes, he was blushing. His cheeks were pink and his eyes had widened. He looked dazed and confused and completely unlike his normal, somewhat reserved self.

Arthur had always been kind of untouchable, but this was how he looked when you touched him.

Alfred liked it.

'You look cute like this,' he said.

'I'm not bleeding cute-'

He didn't get any further than that. Alfred kissed him into submission, and then while the Englishman was still too flustered to react much he yanked his hand out of Arthur's pants and undid his own jeans.

When he shoved them down his thighs, though, he realized that he was still wearing his shoes.

Fuck. Too much clothing.

I wish I could just snap my fingers and be naked... Actually, that would be an awesome super power to have. Especially if it worked on other people, too…

By the time he got rid of everything he was wearing, Alfred saw that Arthur had recovered enough to look at him with a hint of apprehension.

Alfred was naked, but Artie was still mostly dressed- his shirt partially buttoned, his pants still fastened. He was even wearing socks.

And he looked delicious- his hair was all messed up and his eyes were almost too green.

'You're a little too clothed for what I intend to do to you,' Alfred said to him. He leaned down and brushed Arthur's hair off his brow, then gave him his best seductive smile. 'Aren't you?'

Arthur's green eyes widened, and when his own words fully registered, even Alfred felt a little bit surprised.

Jesus, where was this coming from? I mean, yeah, he always topped, but he kind of hadn't figured on topping Arthur this hard.

Arthur WAS older, and he'd always had a bit of an authority thing that he could bring out whenever Alfred misbehaved.

Yet Alfred was sure as fuck misbehaving now, and all Arthur did was blink a little and ask, 'What are you planning to do to me?'

He sounded nervous, but Alfred thought there was something else in his voice, too.

Was this turning him on?

'Better ask what I'm NOT planning to do,' Alfred said experimentally.

He was rewarded when Arthur drew in a sharp breath.

'If you don't like it, you can tell me to stop,' he went on. 'But I gotta warn you right now, I don't have a whole lot of self-control.'

'Oh, fuck,' Arthur said.

'Are you scared, or does that make you hard?'

'Alfred, bleeding hell… Are you TRYING to scare me, or are you trying to make me hard?'

'Maybe a little of both.'

Fuck, he was enjoying this too much, but it was likely his one chance. So why not use all of the fantasies up at once?

He ran his eyes over Arthur's slender, wiry body. 'You look really good right now,' he said, lowering his voice and applying all of the sexiness he could.

Which was a lot.

'Don't look at me like you want to eat me up,' Arthur said.

Score, 'cause he sounded a little breathless.

'Why not?' Alfred asked. 'It's true.'

'Jesus fucking Christ, Alfie!'

'Shut up.' Alfred leaned down and caught Arthur by the wrists. He pinned them against the bed the way that Ivan had pinned his, and then lowered his head slowly until he could breathe against Arthur's mouth.

'Kiss me,' he said. 'Kiss me fucking please.'

'Bloody hell,' Arthur whispered.

And then he raised his head and kissed Alfred, just like he had asked.

It got out of control quick.

A couple of hot, desperate minutes later, Alfred found himself straddling Arthur. The other man's wrists were still pinned and he was making little gasping sounds as Alfred ravaged his mouth.

They weren't sounds of protest, or at least not all the way, because he was kind of squirming, too.

Letting go of one of his wrists, Alfred reached down and one-handed his belt buckle. Then realized that there was no way he could get Arthur's pants down without letting go of the other wrist, too.

Fuck.

Well, the dom thing had to be good for something, right?

'Don't move,' he said. He let go and brought both hands to Arthur's waist. 'Up.'

Arthur lifted his ass up when Alfred told him to, which meant he still wasn't saying no. Alfred pulled his pants down. Artie was still in his socks and boxers, but by that point Alfred didn't care.

He wanted Arthur really badly now. But would Arthur let him?

There was topping, and there was topping. Alfred topped hard. Arthur had said they could have sex, but he hadn't specified what kind.

I want him, Alfred thought. He's obviously not one hundred percent cool with this already- what happens if I take it too far? Does he tell me to stop? Because I don't know if I can.

Only one way to find out.

'I want to,' he said.

Still loading on the sexy.

He ran his hands down Arthur's hips, then brought his eyes to the other man's face. 'I want to, so you need to tell me if I can or if I can't.'

'Want to what?' Arthur asked. His voice was husky, and his pupils had blown, swallowing most of the green of his irises. His head was pressed into the pillow hard, and little strands of hair were sticking to the sweat on his forehead.

'I want you,' Alfred said, going for broke. 'And I want you now.'

'Jesus bloody Christ,' Arthur said. 'Are you asking permission, then?'

Suddenly he sounded a lot more British.

Well, that wasn't exactly the reaction that Alfred had hoped for.

'Yeah,' he said anyway.

Arthur closed his eyes. 'Alfred, just fucking do it,' he said. 'Don't ask me every time, unless you want the answer to be no. Because in case you're wondering, this is still awkward. I'm not a-'

Back to the dom shit, Alfred thought, because obviously that's the only thing that works on him. He wasn't saying anything was awkward when I was pinning him to the bed.

He reached down, and Arthur stopped spouting British.

'Do you like that?' Alfred asked him. 'Does that feel good? That's all I want. To make you feel good.'

'Alfie,' Arthur said.

'Jesus, what?'

'Stop playing around, and do it.' He sounded like a teacher telling one of his students off.

Alfred's heart almost stopped.

In all of his fantasies, dreams and wishes, he had never imagined hearing those words, in that voice.

And something inside him just snapped.

When he obeyed the command, Arthur grabbed one of the pillows under his head and buried his face in it. Alfred heard him yell something into it- not a word that he had ever heard Arthur use before.

Fuck, he thought- did he just call me a…

Who cares?

It felt really good. Arthur felt really good.

Then he shifted a little bit underneath Alfred and mumbled something into his pillow.

'What?' Alfred asked, half afraid that the words had been 'stop' or something similar.

'I said, if you're going to shag me then just fucking do it already.'

Alfred sucked in his breath.

If Arthur wanted him to do it, then he was damn well going to, and he wasn't gonna restrain himself anymore, either.

When he grabbed Arthur's wrists again, pinning them to the bed, Arthur did nothing to stop him. He just hugged the pillow harder against his chest.

Alfred couldn't see his face. He wanted to, but the sensations were overtaking him.

'Arthur,' he said. 'Artie…'

The little noises Arthur made into the pillow were what pushed him over the edge.

He'd wanted to hang on, to make it last, but he couldn't.

It felt so good that he whimpered a little.

After, Alfred didn't want to open his eyes. He didn't want to move, either. But Arthur hadn't said anything.

He still had the pillow over his face, and his legs drawn up some. His chest rose and fell with his hard breathing- he was breathing as if he had been running, or as if he had been doing something else, even though Alfred knew damn well he was the only one who had benefited from that little exercise.

Arthur's skin was damp with sweat.

I'm so thoughtless. He's not going to be able to walk right for a week- and he has to work tomorrow.

'Fuck… Artie? Are you okay?'

'I'm fine,' Arthur said. The pillow muffled his voice a little, but he didn't sound particularly pissed, or even upset.

But there wasn't even a hint of afterglow in that voice, either.

Then again, why would there be?

Arthur hadn't had sex. Only Alfred had had sex.

And although part of him was- even now- still incredibly happy about that, now that it was over he couldn't ignore the reality of the situation: despite the fact that he had been halfway able to convince himself that Arthur was getting into it too, Arthur hadn't really wanted him. His body might have responded- Okay, his body had responded pretty wholeheartedly at first- but that was all.

This was a mistake, Alfred thought. But you knew that going in.

'Are you sure?' he asked Arthur. 'I was… pretty rough.'

Now Arthur moved the pillow. 'It's not like that wasn't mostly my fault,' he said, meeting Alfred's eyes.

If he was embarrassed to be stark naked and on display, with another stark naked guy leaning over him, it didn't show on his face.

'Your fault?' Alfred asked.

'Yeah. What I said to you-'

'Oh, right. That. Anyway, I've probably overstayed my welcome,' Alfred said quickly, sliding off the bed and grabbing his boxers. 'I'm gonna get dressed. Um-'

Was he supposed to say thank you? It felt weird, but it felt weirder not saying anything. Maybe this was what Arthur had meant when he said it was awkward.

'Do you want to leave?' Arthur asked suddenly.

'What?'

'Do you want to go? Or would you rather stay?'

Stay? Alfred thought. What does he mean, stay?

'Well… I don't really wanna go. But I thought you-'

'Then stay,' Arthur said.

Wow. 'Okay.'

Now it's really awkward. But…

As Alfred sat on the edge of the bed, he thought of something. It was stupid, and Arthur would probably say no, but he wanted it almost as much as he had wanted to fuck him. 'Then, if I'm gonna stay could you…'

No. He couldn't.

This was stupid, and he wasn't gonna go there.

So what if half of his fantasies had been about this one, stupid thing that had nothing to do with sex? He was never going to admit that. Not now.

'Could I what?' Arthur asked.

'Never mind.'

'Alfie. Spit it out. Could I what?'

Great, now HE was blushing. 'Could you just, like… Cuddle with me? Just for a minute?'

'You want me to cuddle with you?'

There was nothing in Arthur's voice to imply that he was laughing at it, but Alfred still winced.

God, it sounded stupid.

'Forget it,' he said. He reached for his pants, but Arthur caught his arm.

'You really want to?'

Admit it, or lie?

No contest.

'Yeah. I really do,' Alfred said.

'Then come here.

When Arthur pulled him against his chest, the position put his chin in Alfred's hair, with their bodies spooned together tighter than silverware in a drawer.

'Ohhh,' Alfred said. 'Feels nice…' He closed his eyes for a moment, pretending they were going to sleep like this, and something tickled his nose. He sniffed, and inhaled a tear.

What?

Oh, shit, was he crying?

Yes. He was.

More warm wetness trickled down his cheeks, and Alfred sucked in a ragged breath. 'Oh fuck,' he said.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not after he actually got what he had wanted for so long. Not when he had even gotten this last, stupid, lame, pathetic wish.

'Alfie,' Arthur said, close to his ear.

'I can't,' Alfred told him suddenly. 'I can't do this. Oh fuck. I gotta go.'

He pulled free from the loose embrace and blindly reached for his pants.

'Oh, sod it,' Arthur said. Suddenly his arms were encircling Alfred again, and he found himself on his back with Arthur leaning over him. He blinked trying to see through his tears.

'Alfie, you idiot,' Arthur said. 'You're crying? Over me?'

'Let me go.'

'I don't think so.'

Alfred tried to sit up.

Fuck, had Arthur always been this strong? Suddenly he was the one with his wrists pinned. Arthur was kneeling on him, holding him in some kind of weird British wrestling hold or something. He couldn't move. 'Fucking let me go!'

'You don't really want me to.'

'Yes I do.'

'No, you don't.' Arthur leaned down and ran his tongue across Alfred's cheek. 'You're crying for me. That means you don't.'

Alfred shuddered. 'Don't,' he said.

'Alfie, why didn't you tell me you were serious?' Suddenly Arthur pulled back and let him go, as if he had meant to all along. 'If you'd told me-'

Alfred sat up, breathing hard. 'If I'd told you, so what?' he exploded. 'It's not like you love me back!' Oh, fuck. He hadn't meant to say that. 'It's not like you're ever going to!' And now he couldn't get himself to shut up. ''Cause, right, why would you? It's not like I didn't know that. But it's been so long, and I just-'

Arthur interrupted him.

'Bloody hell, Alfie. Of course I fucking love you.'

For a moment Alfred's heart almost stopped. Then he sucked in a breath, feeling as though Arthur had hit him.

'No,' he said. 'No, I don't mean like that. You're so fucking dense! I'm in love with you. I have been for years. But you don't see me that way, and you never will.'

Arthur was starting to look pissed off. Maybe it was because Alfred had called him dense.

'Alfred, you prat, do you think I would have fucking slept with you if I didn't see you that way?'

'Are you trying to tell me you wanted to?'

'I'm not trying to tell you anything.'

Alfred squinted at him. Though his eyes were still a little teary, he could make out the fact that Arthur's cheeks were pink again. And he was scowling.

Suddenly his heart began to race. He leaned closer. 'What is it?' he said.

'What is what?'

'What are you hiding?'

'I'm not hiding anything, Alfred.'

Oh, yes, you are.

'Tell me,' Alfred said. 'Tell me that you wanted this, too.'

Silence. But not denial.

'Artie?'

'I wouldn't have taken my clothes off if I didn't,' Arthur said finally. 'I'm a gentleman, but I'm not that much of a gentleman.'

His voice was deadpan, but something in his green-eyed stare made Alfred feel like he was the one who should be blushing. He hadn't bother to tell Alfred not to call him Artie, either.

'How long?' Alfred asked.

'What is this, an interrogation?'

'Maybe.'

'You're not crying anymore.'

'Don't try to change the subject. How long?'

Arthur shook his head. He started to get up, but Alfred, suddenly feeling in control again, grabbed him by the shoulders.

'Tell me.'

'Let go.'

'You didn't when I asked.' He pushed Arthur down until he was flat on his back, and then leaned over him. 'How long?'

Arthur started to try and sit up.

He was playing hard to get again.

Alfred pinned him down with one hand on his chest.

'How long did you want to?'

'Since you started flirting with me,' Arthur said finally. His chest rose and fell under Alfred's hand with slow, regular breaths, but the pounding of his heart belied his calm answer.

'Really?' Alfred asked him, not believing it. 'Then why didn't you do something?'

'Because you were eighteen. And because it wouldn't have been right.'

Alfred moved his hand over Arthur's chest. The smooth skin was still damp with sweat, from their activities earlier, and it felt insanely good under his palm. 'And now?' he asked. 'Is it still not right?'

Arthur grabbed his wrist, but he didn't move his hand away. 'You're a big boy now,' he said.

'Mmm. So you noticed,' Alfred replied. Cool, he had the sexy voice going again. He bent his head and nuzzled Arthur's jaw.

'Alfie,' Arthur said.

'Artie.' Now he was nibbling Arthur's neck. Arthur's breathing had picked up a bit.

'Don't call me Artie,' he said.

There we go, Alfred thought. His left hand was still flattened against Arthur's skin. 'When I kissed you,' he said. 'In the office. You acted like you hated it. Later you seemed to get into it some, but-'

'I didn't hate it,' Arthur said.

'I thought you hated me.'

'I don't.'

'Artie…'

'I said don't call me-'

'Why not?' Alfred licked his collar bone. 'You like it. You probably like everything I do.'

'No, I don't.'

'You do. And you can call me Alfrizzle Fo Shizzle.'

'I will not.'

'You sure? I bet I can make you.'

He moved his face up and licked Arthur's ear. Arthur started to shove him away, then gasped when Alfred's right hand started to do something lower.

'Bloody hell,' he said.

'So tell me.' Alfred kept on doing what he was doing, feeling the way that Arthur's body arched up into him in response. 'If you wanted me when I kissed you, then why did you push me away?'

'I…' Arthur made a small sound in his throat. 'I don't know…' he said, trying to answer. 'I just... I couldn't…'

'It's okay.' Alfred shifted his hand. 'You don't have to say anything else,' he said into Arthur's ear. 'Just tell me one thing.

'…What?'

'If I had just wanted a fuck or two, would you have been okay with that?'

Arthur drew in his breath. 'No,' he said with an effort. 'But I wouldn't have expected more... Bloody HELL, Alfred.'

'Why not?' Alfred shifted his hand again, and Arthur gasped and came up off the bed.

'Do we have to have this conversation now?' he managed.

'Yeah.'

Arthur sucked in his breath again. 'Mmm… If you keep doing that, I'm not going to be much good for anything else.'

'I don't need you for anything else.' Alfred kept doing it. 'I like this. Answer the question.'

'Ah…' Arthur's voice sounded almost pained now. 'What question?'

'Why wouldn't you have been okay with it?'

'Because… I … Oh, Christ, Alfred!'

Alfred took his hand away and leaned sideways, until he could cover Arthur's mouth with his own.

He kissed him until he was gasping for breath, then sat up and looked down at him.

Wow.

Arthur sat up, too.

'What-' he started to say.

He didn't get any further than that, though, because Alfred ducked down and licked him.

'Bleeding fucking HELL!' Arthur said.

If it was a protest, Alfred ignored it.

If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was this. He'd told Mattie about it once, just in case…

Well, maybe Gilbert had had the chance to appreciate his advice.

Arthur fisted both hands in his hair, and Alfred gave him an extra dose of tongue tip.

Well, he can't say it wasn't good...

Because if that was any evidence, it was wonderful.

Arthur was muttering something rude and British under his breath. Alfred was pretty sure that in this context it was a compliment. 'I could do that all day,' he said.

'I couldn't.' Arthur's voice was ragged.

'You might have to,' Alfred told him. 'At least until I get tired of you.'

'I hope that was a joke.'

'It was.' He stared up at the ceiling, unable to keep the smile off his face. 'I could never get tired of you.'

No joke there.

Did Arthur think he was ever going to get rid of him? No way. Not gonna happen.

And at least now I know the way to convince him that he doesn't even want to...

'Let's cuddle again,' he said.

'Are you sure that's all you want to do?' Arthur sounded understandably suspicious.

'Well… not really.' Alfred rolled over and snagged him in an inescapable grip. 'But I'll give you a break if you'll spoon with me.'

The answer came almost too quickly. 'Deal.'

He might almost think that Arthur didn't want to have sex with him again.

Of course, he did. Would. Whatever.

Which is better, sex or this, Alfred wondered.

Sex.

No, this.

No, sex.

Well, it doesn't matter, he thought, 'cause I get both.

Fuck worrying about anything.

No one could blame him for falling asleep smiling, right?

.