He knew there was only one person who had the damned audacity to wake him from his slumber at two in the morning.

Alfred wasted no time in shimmying down the stairs, clad in nothing more than boxer shorts. It was cold because he had forgotten to turn the heat on, and he was pretty sure he was quite literally freezing his ass off.

He skipped the last two steps because Alfred swore he could feel the frostbite on his fingers and he made a dash towards the front door. He unlocked it faster than the gates of hell could open and was politely greeted with breeze of cold, unforgiving air. He sighed, partly because he was now a fucking icicle, and partly because of what he saw before him.

"Hey," Arthur Kirkland greeted, flashing a mock apologetic smile. His blonde hair was more ruffled than usual and covered his droopy green eyes, giving him the combination of some stoned hipster. His clothes were unkempt and his eyes were red and puffy from crying.

Again.

"Hey," Alfred greeted back, and the two just awkwardly stood there, looking at each other but not really looking at each other. Alfred noted that Arthur didn't have a jacket on, only wearing a simple plaid shirt with the first three buttons undone and some skinny jeans that looked like it was cutting off the blood circulation in his legs.

"Are you just gonna stand there?" Alfred said after a few minutes, knowing full well that they were inching ever so closer to freezing to death. "It's cold out there."

"Yeah, it is. Do you mind if I come in?"

"Dude, do I ever mind?"

Arthur shook his head and Alfred gave him the look of yeah, I'll never mind you waking me up so late at night so we can deal with your young adult crises because I'm your best friend and this is what best friends do. Alfred stepped out of the way and watched Arthur kind of shuffle his way like he always does whenever he thinks he's bothering someone. The nearly naked blonde slammed the door shut because fuck the cold and turned his attention to Arthur, who was staring at him like a lost puppy.

"So," Alfred started, making his way over to the couch and flopping himself onto it. He invited Arthur to sit with him, and the fellow blonde chooses to sit on Alfred's lap instead of the couch cushion, as usual, of course. "What did Francis do this time?"

"I broke up with him," Arthur breathed, voice cracking and eyes blinking repeatedly to hold back those never-ending tears. "For good," he quickly added. "We're done. Forever. Nothing more, nothing less."

Alfred waited a few minutes in case Arthur wanted to say anything else.

"Good," he finally said after a while. "This needed to happen, Artie. You know that, right?"

"Yes, I know," Arthur responded and boy, did he know alright. He was tired of playing games, and tonight just happened to be the night where Arthur decided to quit. Harsh words were held, stuff was thrown out the window, and twenty-three-year-old Arthur Kirkland found himself single again.

"You want to stay here tonight?" Alfred asked, knowing the answer to his own question. Besides, even if Arthur said no, he wouldn't dare let him go back home and deal with this on his own. He knew Arthur needed to be with someone that would let him order an extra-large pizza and eat it with him while they binge-watched Orange is the New Black on Netflix.

"Yeah." Arthur nuzzled against Alfred's chest, finding the slow, rhythmic patterns of his heartbeat relaxing and noted how his own heart was beating faster than the speed of fucking sound.

"Yeah," he said again, giving himself the reassurance of yes, he, Arthur Kirkland would like to stay the night at Alfred F. Jones's house because if he went home now he will surely destroy every item he owns and he currently doesn't have the money to buy any new ones because college loans are a bitch to pay off on a Starbucks salary.

"My room is the only room that doesn't feel like Antarctica, so you can sleep up there tonight. And no, I'm not letting you sleep on the fucking floor."

Arthur laughed sheepishly and blushed slightly at the fact that Alfred knew he was going to ask that. Sixteen years they've known each other and Alfred understands Arthur better than Arthur understands Arthur. It was amazing, really.

"You have no idea how happy I am that that asshole is out of your life," Alfred said, mainly to himself. He stared at the ceiling, absentmindedly thinking that the walls should be repainted. He'd ask Arthur to help; Alfred didn't understand jackshit when it came to interior design (and design in general) and he didn't want to run the risk of pissing off the Englishman because green does not complement freaking orange.

"I know."

"Seriously. A guy like him didn't deserve someone like you. You're cool, sweet. I hate sounding like Feliks, but you're a totally rock-your-socks-off type of guy."

Arthur giggled. "Rock your socks," he repeated in a valley girl accent, or as close to a valley girl accent his English accent would allow him to get, and the two friends broke out into the type of laughter that makes people think that one too many pot brownies were eaten.

"Artie," Alfred began once the laughter died down. "What happened between you two that made you break up with him? You don't have to talk about it right now if you don't want to."

"No, no, it's okay. I want to." Arthur took a deep breath to compose him. He could feel the tears coming back full force, and he told himself no, don't you dare fucking cry. Don't you dare fucking cry over him, got it?

"He'd, uh…I found out he cheated on me with Antonio."

"Whoa," Alfred exclaimed. "Antonio Antonio? As in the Antonio that's with Lovino Antonio?"

"Yep."

"Holy shit, dude. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. It's okay. This gave me the strength to finally call quits. It's not like we loved each other anyway. We were together and stuff, but it's not like that bloody bastard and I were together together. We were just kinda, I dunno, there in the same area, I guess. Not really close, but never too far. And I didn't like that. He obviously wanted to pursue other people, and there was someone that I had my eye on for a while now…"

"Really? You know you have to tell me, like, now."

"It's someone you know and it's just pretty much me not realizing how much I loved him until the last moment. I was so pissed at myself; it felt like I was in some cliché romantic comedy where the main character didn't know how much they needed the love interest until it's too late and then go through totally realistic shit in order to prevent them from leaving or falling in love with someone else or whatever."

"Who is it? Is it Feli?" Alfred laughed. No, it couldn't be him. Feliciano was too head over heels for Ludwig. "Ah, is it Kiku? Oh my God it's Kiku, isn't it? Fucking OTP."

Arthur finally looked up at Alfred for the sole purpose of rolling those emerald orbs. Alfred chuckled.

"Who, then, Arthur?"

"I'm not sure how to say this…but, it's you. See, I'm the main character and you're my love interest that I should have been with in the first fucking place instead of being some oblivious idiot and-and-"

It was now that those treacherous tears streamed down his face. God, this was his fifth time crying the entire night and he felt pathetic for crying once again and felt pathetic for awkwardly blurting out his love for his longtime best friend and just felt like shit overall. He could really go for a fucking cup of hot tea right now.

Five minutes went by (though it seemed like eighty years to Arthur) before Alfred started laughing a little too loudly and a little quickly and Arthur was sure that he just broke the American. Five more minutes went by before Alfred became a giggling schoolboy and Arthur attempted to process what happened.

"T-that's funny, Arthur, because I always considered myself the main character that wanted the boy and was too scared to say anything so they just hoped that one day an opportunity can present itself and they'll be like, "I love you, too!"

It had taken a moment to fully register Alfred's words because oh my God he feels the same way, he feels the same way, and Arthur doesn't know how to react so he just laughs and Alfred laughs again until somehow, someway, they find inch closer and closer to each other and – it happens. Lips are pressed against each other, fingers are interlaced with golden locks, and the room gets a little bit hotter and touching becomes a bit more frantic and needy.

Alfred was ready needy and wanted to keep his hands up Arthur's shirt, but the morally correct side of him reluctantly told him to stop. Of course, Arthur wasn't minding one bit, and was hoping that he, too, could end wearing nothing more than boxer shorts (or preferably less); but the fact that Alfred stopped to see how he felt about made his heart flutter and gain a new appreciation for romantic comedies.

Arthur cocked his head to the side like an adorable puppy or dorkable Feliciano. "So that happened?" he asked, though he meant more as a statement of yes, that happened, let's make it happen some more.

"Yeah."

"So, are we – "

"A thing?" Alfred finished. "Yeah. Definitely, dude."

Arthur smiled. "I hold the quickest rebound time, then, now don't I? Didn't even wait a whole day before getting back into the dating scene."

Alfred chuckled, stroking Arthur's hair and enjoying this newfound relationship. It felt like he was in a dream and he half-expected to wake up in his bed, half-naked, staring at God knows what while he makes an attempt to reevaluate his life.

Alfred blinked really hard, just for good measure.

He opened them again.

Arthur was still in his arms.

Thank fucking God.

The two sat in pure silence for a while, not knowing what to say since nothing really needed to be said. They were together. There wasn't much to it. They were together as friends, a huge weight had been lifted off their shoulders, and now they were together as boyfriends. They doubted much would change from their usual routine, except there will be more kisses and "I love you's" and sex will now be added to the equation. For all intents and purposes, that sounded like a greatest and most perfect relationship.

"Hey, Aly?" Arthur asked, playing with Alfred's hair.

"Hm?"

"Right now, there are reruns of The Walking Dead on. I have them recording at my house, but, you know…can we…?"

"Hell yes. Should I get the deep dish pizza this time?"

Arthur flashed a big toothy grin. "Hell yes."

'Ello, 'tis be Inuyasha with some precious USUK. *puts it in a box and wraps it in the good wrapping paper* Here you go.