Title: You Don't Have to Walk Alone

Authoress: Ankaris123

Summary: One-shot. AU. Matthew Williams had a decent if not average life: university education, friendly neighbours, and a loving pet. Well, two out of three isn't bad. America/Canada waff.

Note: Cécile is Seychelles.

A/Ns: I labelled it AmeriCana although given the circumstances it technically isn't really, it certainly looks like it so just to be safe I'll tag that on. Thought this up sitting on a bus to an early morning exam a couple weeks back and at the moment, I'm really wanting some fluff right about now so I finished this up. Yeah, I know the title makes no sense. I'm out of ideas. Read on.

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"Going home, Matthew?"

The blond looked up at his co-worker while bent over in the process of tying up his shoelaces.

"Yeah, are you starting your shift now?"

Cécile nodded, flicking a long pigtail over her shoulder. While she waited for Matthew to finish, she hummed whimsical show tunes and bounced on her heels. The soles of her flats made a rhythmic click-clack on the linoleum.

"I haven't seen you at the park lately. Is something wrong with Alfred?"

He hesitated for a moment and then visibly relaxed. Cécile frowned in concern at his reaction.

"N-no, he's fine. Well, there's a little...it's a bit complicated, but it's nothing serious," he added quickly, catching the worried frown on the Seychelloise girl's face.

"We-ell, here's a little something for him all the same," she said, a bit unconvinced but didn't push the issue, and handed Matthew a brown paper bag. Curious, he reached inside and pulled out its contents which happened to be a saran-wrapped package of hamburger meat.

"You know you're going to spoil him rotten with all these gifts of food," he said with a sigh, replacing the package and reaching for his backpack. "He's turned into quite the glutton."

"Like you don't pamper him enough as it is. I've seen you dote on him, Matthew. This is practically trivial compared to you," she teased, poking him on the cheek affectionately. "Anyways, I'm going to change into my work clothes. Say hi to the little guy for me, 'kay?"

As Matthew unchained his bike from the rack outside in the parking lot, his mind was abuzz with agitated thoughts that were borderline paranoia. He nearly dropped the small bronzed key twice and spent several extra seconds slotting it into the lock.

As you may have deduced, Alfred was Matthew's pet dog (a golden retriever at that). The blond's father who was a single parent with a high profile profession often did not have enough time to spend with his only child and was frequently overseas in Europe. Shortly after Matthew graduated from the local secondary school and was admitted to university, he was gifted with the small newborn puppy as a late birthday present that summer. His papa said he got him Alfred because he thought his precious little Matthieu was lonely, but in the end, it was really a compromise and an apology. An unanticipated promotion and a new long-term project meant his father who was the designated project leader won't come home any time soon (or if at all, not for long) in the next couple years.

It's been almost two years since then and Matthew had adjusted well to a solitary life. It wasn't too bad and not completely new to him. He lived in a friendly neighbourhood in a quaint house of a manageable size. The university was within commuting distance and he had a decent part-time employment at the grocers close to home which his papa insisted he didn't need since his own income was more than enough to cover Matthew's expenses. The only fault he could find was the loneliness.

Sure, he did have friends—a select few but friends nonetheless—and nice conversational neighbours, but coming home to an empty house dampened his spirit, which felt ten times worse on bad days. Then Alfred, a hyperactive bundle of joy, came into his life and now there was always someone home waiting for him after a long day, ready to slobber over his face in over-affectionate greeting.

Except recently a slight problem cropped up.

Turning up into the empty driveway, he wheeled the bicycle to the backyard where he leaned it against the aging gardening shed. He rummaged through his jean pocket, drew out a ring of keys and widgets, and unlocked the back door.

"I'm home-"

Before he could finish the statement, a yellow, red, and blue blur darted out from one of the rooms and flung itself on his chest. Unable to withstand neither the weight nor the speed of the impact, Matthew fell over backwards onto the floor. He spent a moment in mute thanks, grateful for the fact that the flooring was covered in a thick plush carpet and that he hadn't smashed his head on the door sill.

"Welcome back, welcome back! Did you have a good day? Hmm? I'm hungry! You brought food, right?"

Currently sitting on his stomach was not the lovable lump of fur he had spent his last couple years with but a blond boy (man, he supposed) who could pass off as his twin brother. So he lied, it wasn't really a slight problem. Alfred blinked down at his unresponsive master and poked him on the forehead.

"Mattie? What's wrong? Bad day? You're going to feed me soon, right? Hey, hey, say something."

Sighing deeply, Matthew tapped him on the shoulder and tried to sit up. Taking the cue, Alfred climbed off, crouching next to the shoe cabinet.

"What's wrong?" Alfred asked, nudging Matthew's hand with his cheek.

It happened about a week ago out of the blue. He had woken up one day to find the other lanky blond curled up at the foot of the twin-sized bed where he usually found his dog sleeping every morning. Matthew was overwhelmed with an uncanny feeling that this stranger was indubitably his dog thus was convinced he was hallucinating because dogs don't inexplicably turn into humans in the real world overnight. This notion was shattered when Ms. Hedervary whom he ran into while getting the newspaper out of the bush—Peter was an earnest worker but had a terrible pitching arm—commented none too vaguely about the naked man gallivanting around inside his home after Matthew had left for afternoon lectures.

At that point, Matthew was more careful with Alfred and began instructing him on human etiquette. There were a lot of things that couldn't be overcome in the short term as his animalistic behaviour tended to override most of his teaching or at times blended awkwardly together. He did however succeed to a minimal extent. In spite of much protesting about it being itchy and constricting, Alfred adapted quickly to wearing human clothes though was stubbornly against wearing the new ones Matthew bought specifically for him at the strip mall. He claimed his reason for doing so was that his current clothes (which were really Matthew's) 'smelled nice' and left it at that.

"Nothing's wrong, Alfred. I just-, hey! Don't do that!" He drew back his hand sharply when the dog-turned-human tried to nibble his fingers.

"But I'm hun-gry. And it smells like meat!" he said excitedly, leaning forward and trying to lick them. He refrained from pushing the point when Matthew made a hand signal. Index finger up and hand held forward meant wait, Alfred knew that and obeyed because he was a good dog. And maybe he'll get a tasty reward for it.

"I know that look, you're not eating this until dinner. I can see that you've already had a snack."

It was true. The island counter in the centre of the open kitchen was covered in boxes and bags of foodstuff—cereal, biscuits, even potato chips—with their tops left open and piled haphazardly on top of each other. Several of the cabinets stood ajar, especially the ones higher up, revealing empty spaces. Matthew sighed, he knew Alfred probably ate very little of it and was more curious about the objects than anything—the dog had been immensely fascinated by the acquisition of opposable thumbs—however there was a limit to his patience.

Dejected, Alfred sat back, peering upwards at his master. A whine escaped from him as he protruded his bottom lip. Matthew should have known to turn away at that point. Alfred had managed to retain from his previous form the perfected kicked puppy look.

Guilt tugged at his heartstrings and finally, he caved, heading for the stove. Cécile was right, he really did spoil him far too much.

"Oh boy! Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!"

"Alfred, what did I say about the kitchen?" Matthew said, sternly, waving a spatula at the hyperactive teen (if he may be called that) bouncing around the room in unrestrained bipedal glee. Alfred paused here, seriously contemplating the question.

"Mmm, not to play in it."

"That's right."

Edging into the small kitchen quietly, Alfred took a seat on the tall wooden stool, resisting the urge to pull up his long legs and put his feet on the tiny little seat. He had learned his lesson the first time around. At the sound of sizzling meat hitting the pan and his blond master turning the heat to high, he perked up expectantly.

Idly, Alfred attempted to tidy up the messy counter top by pushing everything as close as possible to the centre, sometimes putting a box of cereal upright to make better use of the space. His concentration was soon divided as the onslaught of delicious cooking beef overcame his senses. It was all he could do to hold himself back from jumping the stove for a quick bite.

Turning the knob down to low-medium, Matthew turned around to find Alfred staring intensely at him with anticipation. He could almost see the furious wagging tail to match the voracious grin.

Almost reflexively, the nineteen year old reached out and ruffled the mop of blond hair; an action received willingly.

"Good boy," Matthew said as Alfred leaned into the touch.

It felt a little awkward standing in his kitchen and petting the head of a teenager like he was a pet (which he was but that didn't make it any better, notwithstanding the fact that Al still acted the part). He smiled seeing the other blond practically dribble all over the place as the sweet aroma of beef grew stronger. It was nice to know the pup that kept him company for these past two years was still present inside the unfamiliar form. He gave him one last pat before turning back to the stove.

"Is it done yet? Huh? Is it? I'm hungry, Matt. When are you going to feed me?"

"Look if you can't be patient, go to the living room and do something while you wait, okay? Go," he added more firmly, pointing to the hallway. With a pout, Alfred obeyed and hopped off the stool, dragging his feet in a defeated fashion as he exited.

In the living room, Alfred crouched for a while by the side table wondering what he could do to pass the time. He dare not touch anything he didn't recognize no matter the temptation not after the last scolding he had. Damn his accursed curiosity. On the bright side, his master was very consoling and sympathetic after he had burst into tears and apologized. He even got to cuddle for the rest of the evening, something the dog-that-once-was missed dearly.

Yawning openly, Alfred spotted a cozy patch of carpet next to the glass door window. He crawled over lazily and flopped onto the spot, marvelling at how the sunlight shone in through the glass just right. Rubbing his face in the warm tufted material, he drifted over to sleep.

And that was how Matthew found him several minutes later, sprawled on the carpet. Carefully setting down the plate of hamburger meat on the low coffee table, he approached the dozing figure. Picking up the sound of his footsteps with his enhanced hearing, Alfred surfaced from a fuzzy dream, rolling over to stretch out on his back. In the process the red hoodie hiked up around his midriff, exposing several inches of bronze skin. Matthew paused a moment and noted the frustrating attractiveness his pet possessed before balking at the thought.

This was his dog he was talking about, what was he thinking?

Oblivious to his owner's internal conflict, Alfred continued to watch his master, waiting. Finally, with a sigh, Matthew sat down cross-legged and rubbed his exposed tummy. Humming in content, Alfred laid there docile, enjoying the attention and pampering.

"You know...," Matthew began, running his hands over the smooth skin. "The meat is done.

Like a trigger, Alfred sprang to his feet in jubilation.

"Oh boy! Oh boy!"

"Now calm down or-, whoa!" Flailing his arms about in a moment of disorientation, Matthew grabbed onto his broad shoulders to steady himself as he was swept off his feet.

Well, he mused as he was carried over to the two-seater, at least they were no longer in full view of their neighbour's veranda. If they were seen, it would probably have been enough gossip material to last Ms. Hedervary for weeks. Yet he couldn't help feeling a little unsettled about how effortlessly he was picked up. Alfred's human alter ego possessed freakish strength for human standards which was worrisome and also hurt Matt's male ego, just a little.

Setting his master on the sofa, Alfred shifted his undivided attention to the plate giving off the most scrumptious smell and dug in with fervour. He only paused once to express his compliments and devout approval of the platter gutturally. In a matter of seconds, the dish was being licked spotless.

Shaking his head slightly, Matt tugged the plate out of his hands and wiped the blond's face clean with a napkin. After he was cleaned up, Matthew turned on the television set, brightening up considerably to see a hockey game appear on the screen. He settled back into the cushions; his mind touched briefly on the topic of buttered popcorn before he became absorbed in the match.

At least he would've been if not for a certain moping pet of his who decided that he needed attention and made his presence known physically.

"Oof! A-Alfred!" Matthew protested weakly, trying to keep his eyes on the T.V. while at the same time, trying to remove the heavy body now draped across his lap.

"Mattie~" he whined, proving to be an effective dead weight.

"Alfred, you're too heavy for this. Move back a bit," Matthew chided sternly as the commercials came on. Alfred complied, scooting back a foot so only his upper body was resting on his master's legs but his sullen attitude was ever present.

"Oh come on now, Al. Don't be like that." He threaded his fingers through the shaggy blond hair, stroking it just the way he used to like it. Apparently he still did from the sound of the satiated sighs and the way he seemed to go limp. This continued on for a while in companionable silence as the dim room filled with a jaunty jingle about bread.

"Mattie..."

"What?"

Alfred turned in his lap until he could see face to face with his owner. Matthew's grin slipped away at the uncharacteristic serious expression he displayed, causing him to pause in his petting.

"What's the matter, Alfred?"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Wrong?"

He turned back around, resting his chin on folded arms.

"Yeah..., you can tell me, you know. I'll apologize, I'll do better next time, really. Just..."

"Alfred," Matthew began, unsure about this sudden outburst. "What are you talking about? Why do you think you've done something wrong?"

Reacting immediately, Matthew pressed back into the upholstery as far as he could, startled at the abrupt close proximity of his humanized pet as two large hands grasped him by the shoulders.

"You don't let me eat out of my bowl! You don't let me sleep on your bed at night! You've taken my collar away, made me wear clothes, and sit up and stand up on two legs!" Alfred babbled rapidly before slowing down to a mumble. "You don't let me fetch the morning paper. You get mad when I lick your face. We don't go out for walks in the park. You haven't even let me out of the house in ages. You don't...you don't treat me the same anymore. Why? Why don't you? Is it because I did something wrong? Are you punishing me?"

"Al..." It hurt him the forlorn look on Alfred's face. He looked so bereft, so...afraid.

"Don't you love me anymore?"

Then it all came crashing down on him. Here he, Matthew Williams, was shoving human guidelines and social norms on someone who never rejected it nor questioned him. He was treating Alfred so differently without once thinking about how he was taking this at all, not considering that inside that human form, it really was his beloved pet and always had been all this time. What Alfred wanted wasn't to be treated like the person he'd become because to Al, he hadn't changed in the slightest, only superficially and Matt just didn't see that.

This realization tore at him from the inside, intensified by the dejection Alfred displayed.

"I-I'm sorry, Alfred." He had been so utterly selfish. "I do. I do love you. It's all my fault...all mine."

"Mattie...?"

"You're still Alfred, my most treasured companion, best friend. Always Alfred, the canine hero on the mornings I sleep through the alarm or dozed off while chasing essay deadlines. My little Alfie the wonder pup that hates baths but loves jumping through the lawn sprinklers. Always, always my Alfred."

He must have zoned out for a moment, immersed in the blissful memories they had together as master and pet and at the same time drowning in guilt at how he jeopardized that relationship, when he was jolted back to reality by a tentative lick to the cheek.

"Don't cry, Matt. I'm sorry for whatever I did. Don't cry," Alfred said, concerned and then, after a moment of contemplation, drew him close for a hug as he'd seen their neighbours do at the doorstep after a long, stressful day at work. It seemed to have the desired effect as Matthew pressed his face against his shoulder and clung back. Encouraged he imitated the soothing gestures that his master often did and which he himself found relaxing, petting Matt's soft hair and humming quietly under his breath.

"Don't be sorry...it's not your fault," Matt mumbled into the sweater. "It's mine...for being..." A fresh wave of tears flooded his eyes and he pressed his face closer, willing them away. Fear, that was the cause, fear that this unconditional devotion would slip away once Alfred realized it for himself.

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

"Matt," Alfred called out trying to get his attention. "Mattie."

The blond sniffed, pulling back so they could see face to face again. He blinked his bleary eyes a couple of times to bring his vision back in focus.

"I love you, Mattie," he said, butting their foreheads together, nuzzling his cheek with his own. Those words were unbelievably honest, so much that it hurt to accept them.

"I know."

He had to decide. They couldn't go on like this. Should he treat him like the person he's become? Or the lovable lump he always was? The answer wasn't so clear cut.

"Hey, Al?"

"Mm?" The long fingers continued to run through his hair.

"Let's go to the park later, you and me."

"Can we really?!"

"Yeah."

With weary eyes, Matthew smiled as joy sparked in the blue eyes at these words. He decided he'll leave that decision for tomorrow, at the moment, he only had time at present for right now.

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A/Ns: Nngh, I want to cuddle too.

Thanks for reading. Tell me what you think?