Basic Idea: WARNING for possible historical inaccuracy. I'll be trying the best I can D: Comment on anything to fix, p&ty3
WW2 is officially over, and Arthur finds that soon he'll be discharged. His home has been ruined, but he doesn't think much of it. His friend, Francis, has yet to wake up. Alfred Jones, the young and well-off new friend of Arthur's out of the blue asks him to live with him back in America. Arthur is reluctant to leave his long-time friend, but he finds he might feel safer if he leaves the war-ravaged lands. What he has yet to find out is that Alfred likes Arthur.
Typically, the gentle tap on his shoulder would have warned the Commander that his visiting hour was almost over, and being the refined gentleman that he was, Arthur Kirkland would have given the nurse a polite curt nod and fled the area. He knew that the doctors and nurses had a handful to work with, and it was only right of him to not intrude on any aid for the patients. That being said, it was different in this case. The patient that lay motionless in the cot was his mate. His bloody, perverse French friend (and secret crush), Francis Bonnefoy The stupid git had gotten himself painstaking hurt during the invasion of Germany, and had yet to wake up.
The Commander refused to believe that one of the most outspoken members of the Free French Forces would join the other millions of casualties. He had prayed to ever higher power there was, he had wept his tears for Francis. Why wouldn't the git wake up?!
Arthur turned his head to see it was not the nurse that had tapped on his uniform almost five times now. Instead, it was his American wanker of a friend, Private Alfred Jones.
What was-
Oh, Arthur remembered. He motioned to slap his forehead with his right hand. He had promised to join the American for a round of drinks. Before he could apologize, Alfred just smiled that he forgave Arthur. After all, he knew, despite the stereotypical national-relations, Arthur and Francis were quite close. As close as old friends could be. Francis had been close to being captured early on in the war, but he wouldn't have allowed that. Having Arthur at sea, at risk of the German advances, made him push forth, and survive well.
Or at least, until recently.
"I shouldn't just leave him…" Arthur murmured, running the back of his hand across Francis's pale, and toughly scathed face. "He'll wake up…" At the point, Arthur had said that to everyone who walked by so much, he couldn't remember if he said it to assure others, or himself.
Alfred turned to face the Brit. "Doctors want you out soon, Artie."
Arthur smiled mirthlessly. "Why do both my friends bloody eff my up name? It's not Artie, and it sure as hell is not Arzur." He picked up another blanket from the side stool and unrolled it, laying it on top of his unconscious friend. "He has an accent; you have no bloody excuse."
"Would you go all Royal Navy on me if I continued to call you Artie?" Alfred joked, nudging him the arm. Arthur gave him a look of confirmation, and shut his eyes.
The Private put his hands into a prayer position, and by then Arthur was murmuring the same pleas to any higher power that could hear him. Arthur's face as he prayed was a mix of pain, and peacefulness. Alfred felt bad that the person he had fallen in love with looked unsatisfied.
At the same time, he hated how much Arthur seemed to worry over Francis.
"It's cool out," Arthur mused. The two men had up until now walked fairly quietly. "I just hope it doesn't rain. I love London, but I don't need waterfalls forever." His had purposely altered his tone to refrain from Alfred knowing how scared he was. His unclear future had been on his mind for days, from VE Day, and through VJ Day. "London'll be a mess. It IS a mess. I just hope it'll work out."
Alfred let out a soft chuckle.
"Arthur…"
"What is it, git?"
"Come back to Boston with me."
"Sh-what?!" Arthur gasped in a soft voice. "The war officially ended not 2 days ago…Alfred, I live in London." They had managed to pick up a few drinks before the pub kindly asked them to leave. The poor bartender was running extremely low on his drinks. Arthur was thankful in a sense that he was a few glasses close to being completely wasted. He blinked several times and widened his strides.
"Stop walking away from me," Alfred whined, his tone quiet to not sound as childish.
"That- what you said in there…what was that?" Arthur demanded. He couldn't tell why he sounded completely annoyed by the question. Running what he heard, his logical side found it possible. His family was gone, his home was literally in shambles and Francis was indefinitely asleep.
That was it.
He couldn't look at himself if Francis had woken up, only to hear Arthur was probably never coming back. The two had bickered, had gotten pissed drunk with each other.
But they had promised they were in it together.
Alfred sucked in his cheeks. "I guess it was kind of sudden…"
"Very."
"But I did mean it."
"You-what?!"
The sky was already dark. Arthur had a right mind to head back to the temporary shelter he had with the other British officers, but telling by Alfred's stride, they were probably headed more toward the American tents. He could deal with that- Arthur knew the site well enough to be able to find himself back at base after Alfred arrived at his. "Belt up, git, what did you say?"
"I asked you to live with me in Boston."
"You're a child of a big heart, Alfred, but I live in London."
"We're friends, right?" Alfred whispered, hating how that sounded as it left his lips. He was sure what he felt for Arthur was beyond friendship. "I'm not a child, Artie. I fought in this war?"
"Be it as it may, you're what, 18?" Arthur chuckled mirthlessly. He jammed his hands into his pockets.
"I'm 22, Artie...and I heard some of your men talking earlier."
"Oh?"
"In a few days you'll be paid, given a pat on the shoulder and left to go home. Where's home?"
"In London."
"But, no, your house, home. It's gone, isn't it?"
"I'm sure I can room with a mate here. Many of us will be left a bit destitute, but we'll make do."
"You won't be occupying any place- you told me, remember? C'mon Artie. I don't want a friend like you here left to suffer. Meanwhile, I'll be living on land un-harmed by war…We care for each other right?"
"Alfred. You know as much as anyone that knows me, I am strong. I like getting what I need on my own. I survive on my own. I won't have anyone taking pity on me. If I end up on the streets, I will not be alone. Not only that, I will not impose on your family. That's preposterous! 'Oh, look, mumsie, I found this poor Brit on my way home! Can he room with me?' Are you kidding me? Alfred, you make me laugh. Not." Arthur said, patting his pockets. Damn, he'd smoked all his cigarettes this morning He turned to Alfred. "Got a smoke on you, by any chance?"
Of course Alfred did. He handed one over, and then pulled out his lighter. Arthur murmured his gratitude.
"I live alone in Boston. I was watching over my family's company at their Boston HQ before I enlisted. Don't you remember?"
Oh, blimey, right.
While Arthur had been a part-time worker at a bookshop before he dropped it all to join the Navy oh so many years ago, his American friend had been the sole heir to a multi-million dollar entertainment corporation. He lived well off, and joining the war where he risked his life seemed to confuse Arthur. Something about being a hero, or some shite-
"Anyway, I don't want my friend to suffer here…You can always come back, I guess. Just a few months, y'know? Get your mind off the war…" Alfred hastily added. "It's kind of lonely…"
Oh, jeez. Arthur adjusted his cap and tapped the cigarette on his thigh. "Alfred, this is a big offering for some bloke you met barely 2 years ago. I could be a former rapist, or convict for all you know."
"I don't care!" Alfred added, a tad too quickly. Arthur quirked one of his infamous eyebrows. "I trust you…I won't force you, but think about it, okay?"
Arthur realized they'd reached Alfred's base.
"Good night, Arthur," Alfred smiled shyly. He gave Arthur a wave. " Really think about it...I..."
"Good night, Alf-"
"I really care about you." Alfred finished.
Afterword;;
what do you think? :S
(BTW, Alfred is not not going to be batshi- crazy possessive or anything. He's a bit jealous of Arthur's longer friendship with Francis, and he should be. But he's young, rich, used to getting what he wants, and only been in the war for a bit) He really does like Arthur.