Lost Stars
Chapter One
Marked

'Albion... Albion...'

Arthur groaned awake as the morning sun moved across his face, bits of a familiar dream lingering in the corners of his eyes like bits of sleep that needed wiped away. He took his time opening his eyes and sitting up, mindful to be quiet to keep from waking up the fairies still sleeping in various spots around his room. His eyes softened as he looked over them, his long-time friends who had always been at his side, even when the world had been burning around them.

But the day wouldn't wait for him to linger there, and there was a meeting tomorrow that he was the host of. It was time to get to work. Caterers to confirm with, car reservation to check for himself, security to check in with. In addition to his usual work of course. He had a secretary, but these things he preferred to take care of himself.

By the time he headed back up the walk in the afternoon, Arthur was feeling nicely accomplished. He'd finished the day's lot of paperwork and his errands already, and it looked like he would even have some extra time to sit and finish the book he'd been reading before starting dinner for himself. Of course, all of that was before he heard an all-too familiar voice calling out.

"Hey, Artie!"

If asked, he was going to claim, under oath of court, that it was pure instinct that had him spinning and punching the idiot heading this way. "You idiot! I told you not to call me that!"

As if just to be as infuriating as possible, the younger nation just grinned as he rubbed his jaw where the punch had landed. "Why not? Sounds better than Arthur," Alfred said with a careless laugh.

"Arthur is a respectable name," Arthur growled, glaring up at him. So much for his good mood and peaceful afternoon. Which brought up another point. "Just what the hell are you doing here? The meeting isn't until tomorrow, and isn't at my house."

"About that..." Alfred's grin turned sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. "My boss has been riding me pretty hard about my spending, so I figured I could just crash here instead of paying for a hotel, right? You've got plenty of room since you live alone and all and I could even cook us breakfast before the meeting so you don't poison yourself cooking!"

Fist clenched, the Brit's eye twitched as assumptions piled onto insults. He'd been about to clock Alfred another one when the American just started walking past him with a suitcase in hand. "Wait one second! I never said that I was letting you stay here!"

"Yeah yeah whatever. Hey, do you have any coffee this time? And not that nasty instant junk you served me last time I was over," Alfred chattered, only stopping at the porch because the door was locked and he didn't want shot at like the last time he'd broken Arthur's door. Or the bill. Yeah, that was something he really didn't want to have to explain to his boss. "We should get take-out for dinner. Do you have Chinese take-out here?"

"If you want coffee, you can get your own and have it in your hotel," Arthur grumbled, stalking up to the porch to unlock his door and shove it open. He tried to shut it behind him, but a foot held it open long enough for Alfred to slip in after him. "And I don't care what you eat, but I already have the ingredients to cook dinner with and that's precisely what I'm going to do."

"Aw, but that means I've gotta smell your cooking for hours and to tell you the truth the turbulence coming over got me kinda queasy. Sure didn't help that I got crap sleep last night too. Really freaky dreams. Serves me right for having pepperoni pizza for a midnight snack, right?"

That caught Arthur's attention as he hung up his jacket, barely catching Alfred's as it was tossed in the vague direction of the coat rack (or, really, him) to stick it on a hook as well. "Dreams. What kind of dreams?" Knowing Alfred, something about superheros and rocket ships, but with his own acting up he had to at least ask, right?

Alfred kicked off his shoes and let himself fall back onto the sofa with a thump, shrugging his shoulders. "A weird one. Kinda reminded me of those silly stories you used to tell me as a kid, with all the make believe fairies and stuff."

"I told you, those weren't make believe, they were tales of things that happened!" Arthur snapped with his usual temper, curiosity forgotten. He was sick and tired of people saying his fairy friends weren't real, and had been since Francis had first landed on his shores! There really couldn't be only three people with the sense to see them in this world. "Told directly to me from the fairies who were there."

"Sure it wasn't the green fairy talking?" Alfred asked with a laugh as he put his feet up on Arthur's coffee table, letting out a little yelp and putting them back down again when a shoe was thrown at his head.

Holding the other one up in threat, Arthur glared at him. "I wasn't drunk you git! If you're just going to sit there and insult me you can go find yourself a cheap hotel and save money that way. I don't have any desire to put up with being mocked in my own house by a brat like you."

The American raised his hands in surrender, trying to calm the older nation down. "Okay, okay, I'll believe you believe in fairies, how's that? Calm down man. Old guy like you might put himself into a stroke if you get too riled up." When those eyebrows just twitched more, Alfred flashed him a smile. "So how about a movie until dinner time? I've got his new horror Japan sent me that I bet you'd love. Takes place on an old ship and everything."

For all of his complaining, Alfred still ate more than half of the food that Arthur cooked, making faces throughout the meal but barely even pausing in shoving it into his mouth. He finished scrubbing up the dishes, keeping an ear out as his former colony chattered loudly on the phone to... Matthiew it sounded like. Better than that frog. So much for his quiet evening, but for all of his bluster Arthur wasn't sure he'd have been able to throw the idiot out. Damn attachment.

"Hey Artie, I'm heading to bed!"

"It's Arthur!" he shouted over his shoulder with a growl, scowling at the laugh that drifted in from the living room before feet pounded up the stairs like an oversized kid. Arthur sighed and scrubbed up the last pan, setting it on the rack to air dry overnight before going around to switch off his lights and walk up towards his room at a much more civilized pace.

Opening his door, he had to stop and stare for a moment at the sight in the room, swallowing. Alfred had already shucked off his pants, back bent as he pulled his shirt off over his head. Arthur couldn't help the way his eyes moved down the well built spine until something caught his attention.

"Alfred, how long have you had those marks?" Arthur asked, lips forming into a frown. When Alfred twisted to look at him, he pointed to the collection of small darkened shapes that spanned across the skin directly over the waistband of the (predictably) spangly boxers.

The taller man turned to face away from the mirror in the room, head twisted around to see what Arthur was referring to. "Oh, those? Don't know really. I think I first noticed them back when Adams was president? Already had them checked out once though, so don't worry. They're nothing."

Stepping forward to get a better look, Arthur resisted the urge to touch and find out for himself, (highly irrational and stupid) moment of less than brotherly interest behind him. "You didn't have them when you were little. I'd remember seeing something like that."

"Careful Arthur, you sound like an old man, seeing cancer spots on everyone," Alfred teased, already done with the subject as he flopped onto the bed, claiming one side. "Come on, get undressed and switch the light off already. I'm going to need to sleep off that stuff if I'm going to be able to run the meeting tomorrow, and we don't need you crankier than usual!"

"I'm hosting tomorrow," Arthur reminded with a grumble as he grabbed his pajamas and stepped into his big closet to change with a little privacy. "If you're so tired just shut your eyes and go to sleep. With how often you've fallen asleep during meetings I don't buy that you need dark and quiet to do it."

There was a snicker followed by a rustle of cloth, assumedly Alfred getting himself settled and probably stealing half more than of the blanket. Arthur shook his head as he finished getting dressed for sleep and headed for the bed, positioning himself on the other side of the bed and giving the blanket a good hard yank to get enough of it to wrap up in. Obviously Alfred was fine, and didn't need him fussing over stupid marks just because he hadn't seen them before.