a/n;; this is one of those time-skippy fics. It will go back and forth la (:
By the way, this won't be a long fic x) At most 8-10 chapters, and short ones at that

Dandy xx

"Wake up, Princess," Alfred murmured jovially, prodding his friend's thin arm. The American smiled at the joke, but part of him hoped that Arthur was dead beat enough not to have heard. As the Brit shifted around in his slumber, Alfred reached into pocket and pulled out some cash, reaching over to hand them to cab driver.

"'Naw Arteh- it's Arterrr…" mumbled Arthur. He must have said the line so much it came out automatically. Alfred chuckled. At least he hadn't heard what he'd really said…

The cab driver's chin jerked at the overly-fatigued British Commander. "You're a bleeding heart to take in a Brit. I heard home's not doing so well there." A surge of pride swelled through the young man.

"Doing what I can, Will. 'Sides, he's a good friend. Saved me from all dozens of possible hangovers."

Alfred gave the driver one last nod, and opened up the door. He gave Arthur's sleeping form a small smile. How his body lifted and lowered from his heavy breathing, and how he just curled like so on the seat. He jerked open the back trunk and began lifting all the dusty, patched duffels. Once he had checked to make sure his guestroom was clean, or enough not to turn Arthur off, he dashed back to the idling car and lifted Arthur effortlessly bridal style. Will chuckled at Alfred's actions.

"He'd kill me if I did this while he was awake," Alfred joked. "See ya, Will!"

"You too, Jones!"

He kept the door open, and that made it easy for him to breeze into his townhouse with Arthur in his arms. Alfred hummed a song tune as he skipped up the stairs, entered his home and then kicked the door shut quietly with a nudge of his toe. Having the Brit in his arms just felt so right. Arthur was in no means short, barely an inch shorter than Alfred, but his body was more on the slender and lean side, while Alfred had broad shoulders and a bit more muscle packed on. His hands were closed and tucked behind his ear, and dressed in a clean shirt and khakis, he looked peaceful, finally.

Alfred contemplated about waking his friend up, because he knew crossing the Atlantic had been a long and restless journey. When they reached the guestroom, Alfred carefully slid Arthur onto the bed, and pried off his old leather shoes. As he tucked the Brit in, he made a mental note to go shopping.

Arthur,

I THINK there's tea in the kitchen, so go crazy.

Out shopping,

Alfred

"I heard your bloody footsteps," Arthur alerted.

"Oh, crap!" Alfred's voice responded sarcastically, the words slightly muffled through the door. Nevertheless, the young man turned the knob of the door and walked in, a plate with a vary of vegetables and meat on it. Arthur wiggled his body as he tried to sit up. He wasn't very appreciative that Alfred had to be present as he got himself presentable.

"You look like you're struggling," Alfred said pointedly.

"I'm glad you noticed, git."

Alfred set the plate down. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Artie, let me help you."

"I'm not a bloody invalid!" Arthur protested.

However, it was clear to both men that Arthur was tired, weakened by the past few days. It was only Arthur though, that knew of the discomfort of his usually tightly bandaged wound, located where his shoulder met his arm. The thing was, this was the first time Alfred, or anybody, really, that was present as Arthur got himself to sit up, or stand. His body constantly made the mistake of sleeping on the wound, only to release the pressure when Arthur was conscious. He hissed as he felt the poorly-done dressing come un-done. Arthur rubbed the area a bit, and looked up to Alfred.

The poor American was nearly sheet-white in his countenance.

"You're not letting me be a good host, Artie," Alfred sighed. Ignoring Arthur's splutters, he grabbed the thinner man's arm and tugged him to the kitchen. "Where's it hurting?"

"Nowhere, Alfred," Arthur groaned. "I have a few healing wounds but nothing to worry about. Just some burns and crap. Alcohol nulls it. So does determination."

"Well, as a guest under the Jones residence, we heal wounds with a kiss!" Alfred said with much bravado. He leaned down and tapped his nose on Arthur's shoulder.

"A nose kiss? Never mind that, I'm not a girl, git!" Arthur flustered.

"I was kidding with ya, Arthur. Loosen up. We've got so much time now that people are trickling back from Europia!"

"Damn you," Arthur growled.

The first time Alfred had let it slip, Arthur hadn't been completely surprised.

All it took was a stupid fever Arthur had somehow contracted the past weekend. He had tried to hide it from Alfred because he knew what would become of it...

But why did it feel like he was just getting weaker?

Arthur had collapsed in Alfred's arms, his head spinning from nausea and just general illness. He hadn't felt so vulnerable in so long, and all he knew was he clung to Alfred's dress shirt, sobbing. On top of that, he felt useless. His few days in Boston had been both a whirlwind of eye openers, but at the same time…felt like a house wife.

That made no sense to Arthur, a former Commander for the goddamn Navy! He inhaled a deep breath and released his hold on Alfred's shirt. He scooted a bit away and shamefully looked at his American friend.

"I don't know what came over me." Arthur whispered. He wiped his eyes harshly, and dried them on the new pair of slacks Alfred had bought for Arthur.

Since he had arrived in the United States, Arthur had expected to stay in one of Alfred's guest rooms (or whatever the man had to offer), rest up from the war, and find a job. He hadn't much hope, but his English was excellent, and he could act kind when he wanted to. In all honesty, Arthur had also assumed that Alfred would just see Arthur as someone like a college dorm mate. They lived together, but had their own lives outside Alfred's townhouse. Arthur offered some of his income from the war to pay for his lodging- it was the least he could have done, and as soon as he had a steady income coming, he would continue his payment. It was a strict friend-only thing.

Instead, Alfred had practically doted on Arthur as if he was a china doll. Arthur smacked Alfred profusely, calling him 'git' and 'Yank' more than enough times. Still, the American businessman had made sure his bed was comfy, he was well fed, and he had the most expensive clothes (was that really necessary?! "Fashion's a-changing, Artie!"). He gave Arthur daily encouraging smiles, Alfred's oh-so-childish blinding grin.

It took much coercing before Alfred would even walk out the door to go to work.

"It's alright, Artie."

"I just feel awful."

"S'why I'm here." Alfred whispered. Arthur covered his mouth. Another wave of nausea went through him. He exhaled roughly when it passed.

Suddenly, he found a pair of familiar arms around his waist. Long fingers curled around his thin frame. It was not something just a friend did.

"Al-?" Arthur's voice hitched when the strong grasp pull his body closer to the other man. "Alfred…"

"Arthur," Alfred breathed, pressing his closed lips atop of Arthur's head. "Seeing you like this breaks me. Tell me, tell me, tell me, how do I make you happy?"

"Alfred…" Hairs on his back stood up when he felt Alfred's face on his shoulder.

"Anything, Arthur. Just tell me."

The entire embrace was already giving it away, and Arthur's heart was scared shi-less for confirmation from the younger man.

"Alfred, why are you doing this?" Arthur whispered.

This was terrifying. Did Arthur even return those feelings? What would happen if he didn't? Would Alfred ship Arthur back off to London (granted, part of Arthur didn't mind…)? Would he demand immediate reimbursement for everything? And what about Francis?

Alfred lifted Arthur's chin. The latter shut his eyes for what was coming.

His lips were soft, but obviously scared. As they pressed gently against Arthur's forehead, he knew his suspicions were right.

"Don't…sa-"

"I love you, Arthur. Please, please don't push me away. Let me help you." Alfred pleaded softly. His eyes looked at Arthur's blank face for seconds. "I know you think I fooled you come here, and that wasn't very nice of me….Just don't leave me right now. Not now."

The underlying tone of Alfred's please tugged at Arthur.

Finally, he spoke.

"I'm ill, Alfred. Be a dear and buy me some remedy…" Arthur looked into Alfred's blue eyes. He gave a small nod. "You wanker."