All around him, his house was burning. A brush of flame was enough to make Alfred grit his teeth in pain. He ran, his blistered feet struggling to carry him down the endless halls. How could he get lost in his own house? In his panic, he ran into several doors and empty rooms, only met with another wall of flames, hissing and spitting into his anxious face. Finally, shivering with fear and exhaustion, he reached the stairs, half falling-half running as he dodged the flames that clawed at his clothes, one managing to take a bite out of his sleeve. Running across the burning carpet, he threw himself against the door, finding it blocked. Outside, men howled and cheered, throwing flaming bottles onto the roof and through broken windows. The deafening roar of manic laughter, hungry flames, and the beat of his own frantic heart filled his ears, drowning out his own frustrated scream. He slid down the door, coughing and hacking as his lungs searched for clean air. Smoke filled his nose, the scent making him gag uncontrollably. The flames burned his eyes, slowly advancing as he sat helpless on the ground, the effort it took to breath taking the energy needed to move his legs. His thoughts whirled as he searched for some sort of escape, some path still clear enough to walk. But as the flames grew and the screams increased and his eyes stung and his throat burned and he breath stuttered and the smoke—

Alfred woke with a start, sweat plastering his shirt to his chest. He pressed his palms against his eyes and rubbed them, pursing his lips. A dream. Just a dream.

He breathed deeply, immediately choking on the rancid air. Looking up, he found an unfamiliar ceiling clouded with smoke. His eyes widened. Nope. Not a dream. Grabbing his glasses and jumping out of bed he ran for the door, only to run into the wall. Where'd the door go? Rubbing his nose, he groped the wall until he found the doorknob. The hell had happened to his house? He threw the door open to a single hallway, vaguely familiar but very different from the any he was used to.

Pulling his shirt over his nose, he searched for the source, a guiding hand against the wall. At the end of the hall was a living room and study, again vaguely familiar but much different from any of his rooms. A bright flicker caught his eye and he turned to see Arthur batting at a flaming pan. His head throbbed. Right. This wasn't his home. He didn't have one. Arthur had taken him in, kindly offering dinner to the starving homeless man. Dinner turned to a night out of the rain, a night turned to a week, and a week turned to two. For a moment, Alfred wondered if he was still dreaming.

However, his trance was broken by Arthur's frantic call of, "Help me you bloody twit!"

Alfred ran for the fire extinguisher in the corner of the room and pulled the pin, effectively coating the kitchen in foam. With the fire no longer a danger, Alfred stumbled over to open the kitchen windows. They just barely opened, but let out enough smoke that it was easier to breath. A hack caused Alfred to turn to Arthur, doubled over and covered in foam. Whoops.

Alfred guided him to the couch, setting him down before glaring down at Arthur, who was now picking at the foam between coughs.

"The hell was that?" Alfred scoffed, rubbing one of his burning eyes. "Tryin' to burn the place down?"

Arthur shook his head, returning the scowl as he brushed foam from his arms. "Very funny you twit. Nice aim, by the way," he smiled spitefully, shaking foam to the floor.

"I panicked!" he threw his arms up, trying not to laugh. He just couldn't take the man seriously covered in foam. "I didn't see you doin' anything about it!"

"I was trying to keep the rest of the place from burning down!" he shrieked, putting his hands on his hips.

"What were you doing setting fires in the first place?!"

Arthur pouted and looked away, folding his arms. "I… I was trying to cook."

"THAT'S what happens when you cook!?" Alfred laughed, an amused grin pulling at his lips. "The hell were you thinkin'?"

"I thought it'd be fine! I mean last time the kitchen was only a bit burned…"

"A bit? Why were you cookin' in the first place?"

Arthur blushed and turned away from Alfred. "Because…" he mumbled, kicking at the foam.

"Because…?" Alfred prompted, a bit gentler than before. When Arthur didn't turn, Alfred sighed and shook a hand through his shaggy hair, moving to sit on the coffee table across from Arthur.

"What happened to you?" Arthur asked, pointing to Alfred's chest. "Nightmare?"

"Uh, yeah…nightmare," Alfred mumbled lamely, tugging at his damp shirt.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked gently, frowning as he placed a hand against Alfred's cheek.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Alfred laughed, giving Arthur a brave smile. "I'm not afraid of anything." Arthur only continued to frown.

Arthur dropped his hand as a knock came from the door. "I'll get it," he waved Arthur away as he stood to get the door. "You go take a shower." Arthur hesitated for a moment before nodding and turning to the hallway. Alfred turned and opened the door to a naked brunette.

"Buon giorno! I just ran out of pasta and was wondering—"

Alfred closed the door. Arthur turned back and looked at him quizzically.

Alfred pursed his lips. "Okay…maybe there's one thing I'm afraid of."

Arthur grinned half amused-half confused. "Who was at the door?"

"Some nude foreigner," he shrugged.

Arthur sighed and pushed Alfred out of the way of the door, looking wearily at the naked man. "Feliciano, where are you trousers?"

The brunette smiled brightly. "Lovi took them! He said if I'm not gonna wear them in the house, I can't wear them anywhere so he locked them in his room and the shelf is too tall for me so I just left—"

Arthur held up a hand to stop the babbling man. "Would you like to borrow a pair?"

The man—Feliciano—quickly shook his head. "No I like it like this. It's so free!" He threw his arms up and spun in a circle. "Naked siestas are the best anyway!"

Arthur laughed, seemingly much more comfortable with Feliciano's nakedness than he'd been with Alfred's. "You'll have to go out in public eventually."

"Oh I did! And I'm not allowed in the bakery anymore," he laughed, Arthur's face changing from amusement to shock. "That's okay though, Lovi can get my sweets for me." His expression quickly changed as he took notice of Arthur's foam soaked appearance, cocking his head in confusion. "What happened to you?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at the disastrous kitchen. "Did you try to cook again?"

Arthur scowled and stepped aside. "Just get your bloody pasta."

The brunette grinned and ran to the kitchen, throwing open a cupboard and digging through the food until he'd found what he wanted, nearly running into Alfred on his way back to the door.

"Oh! You're Arthur's new roommate, right?" he smiled brightly and stuck out a hand. "Piacere di conoscerla. I'm Feliciano."

Alfred smiled back and shook his hand. "Nice ta meetcha." Feliciano laughed and yanked on Alfred's hand, bringing him down to talk in his ear.

"Don't let Arthur make you pasta; he burns the water." He released Alfred with another grin and trotted out the door.

"What'd he say?" Arthur asked, turning to Alfred as the door closed.

"Ah, nothin' much," he smirked as Arthur raised an eyebrow, beginning down the hall again.

"Hey," Alfred called, leaning against the arm of the couch. "How come it's all fine and dandy when Spanish boy runs around naked but when I do it you flip out?"

Arthur spun around, floundering for a response as a blush coated his face. Finally he folded his arms and scowled. "Well, first off he's Italian, not Spanish—"

"All the same," Alfred sighed waving his hand.

"Well, no—"

"Quit stallin'."

"I'm just saying Spanish and Italian and very—"

"Arthur," Alfred looked pointedly at Arthur, making him squirm a bit and look away.

"Well…" he mumbled, "it's different."

"How?"

"It just is."

"Why?"

"None of you're bloody business that's why!"

"Arthur."

"What!?"

"Are you thinkin' about dirty things?"

His gaze snapped back to Alfred, taking a step back and furrowing his brows. "What? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well…" Alfred pointed and dropped his gaze to Arthur's belt. Arthur's face burned, quickly covering himself with his hands.

"You twit, don't stare!" he glowered, backing against the wall. Alfred only laughed.

"What's wrong? Italy-boy turn you on?" Alfred bit his tongue, snickering at Arthur's discomfort. Arthur looked back at Alfred in confusion.

"What? No, of course not, why would—"

"It's cool man," Alfred chuckled, smiling and holding up his hands. "I don't mind if you're into guys. It's natural and all that shit. 'Sides, he was pretty cute."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, still thoroughly confused. "What are you babbling about?"

"The fellatio kid!"

Arthur's blush deepened again. "EXCUSE ME?"

"The naked one!"

"Feliciano you bloody twit!"

"Oh. Well, he kinda mumbled..."

"How could possibly you mix those up?!"

"I don't know. What's fellatio?"

Arthur's blushed spread to his neck and burned his ears. "Please, can we just drop this whole thing?"

"Aww, c'mon man, don't deny it. You like him. It's written all over your face. Well, not just your face," Alfred winked and Arthur looked away and bit his lip, his expression caught between fury, embarrassment, and something Alfred couldn't quite place. Alfred stood and stretched. "I can help ya out with that if you want," he snickered. Arthur turned away and half ran down the hall.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much!" he called as he dodged into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Alfred laughed after Arthur, his expression quickly changing to distaste as he looked at the mess of a kitchen. He scowled but began cleaning, hoping Arthur would take it as some sort of apology for teasing him. He emerged just as Alfred was finishing, having showered with a towel around his waist and neck, damp hair brushed away from his eyes. Alfred leaned against the counter and rested his chin in his hand, grinning at Arthur.

"Better?" Alfred purred. Arthur kept his back to Alfred, pulling cereal from the cupboard.

"Thanks for cleaning," he mumbled, bringing down a bowl.

Alfred laughed a bit and hopped up on the counter, swinging his legs. "Hey I was wondering…" Arthur stared daggers at Alfred, daring him to finish that sentence. Alfred smiled innocently. "Just wondering, I swear. Whose Lovi?"

Arthur closed his eyes and sighed, turning around to lean against the counter. "Lovino. He's Feliciano's brother. They live together several doors down."

"Hmm, so he's close."

"Alfred," Arthur snapped warningly. Alfred only smiled. He watched Arthur get the milk before he spoke again, looking up at the ceiling lights.

"I didn't know you could burn water."

"THAT'S IT, OUT OF MY KITCHEN!" Arthur spat, grabbing a broom and swatting at Alfred.

"Ow!—Hey—I'm sorry!" Alfred laughed falling off the counter and scrambling out of Arthur's reach. Arthur raised the broom warningly in Alfred's face.

"You will NOT make fun of my cooking. You will EAT it and be happy, whenever I make it. Understand?" he pouted, eyeing Alfred dangerously.

Alfred smirked and cocked his head. "I don't think it's healthy to eat charcoal."

Arthur's face burned indignantly, hitting Alfred with the broom again. "OUT! OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

Arthur chased Alfred through the living room and out the door, nearly knocking Francis over as they ran into him.

"Allô?" he asked in confusion, looking between the two. Arthur shoved Alfred towards Francis.

"You look after him. I have errands to run." With that he stepped back in his apartment and slammed the door. The two left in the hall looked at the door in silence for a moment before Francis snickered, opening the door to his own apartment.

"Ah, did you mock 'is food?" Francis laughed and putted an arm around Alfred's shoulders. "Ne vous inquiétez pas, mon ami, 'e just needs to, how you say, blow off a bitter seaman."

"Uh, I think the expression's 'blow off a bit of steam'."

"Vraiment? Hmm…well, I like mine better. Probably better for the nerves too." Alfred looked sidelong at Francis as he held the door open for him. "Well? Come in, you can't stand in the corridor for the next couple 'ours."

Francis' apartment had a similar layout to Arthur's; it was nice, ignoring the various naked portraits on the wall that made Alfred feel a bit strange. Francis pulled a bottle of wine from one of the cupboards and poured two glasses before handing one to Alfred. Alfred brought it up and peered through the glass.

"Never been a big fan of wine," he mumbled. Francis scowled.

"You are displeased with your 'ost's gift?" he scoffed. Alfred shook his head, a bit embarrassed and took a sip. It was pretty good, for wine.

"What else did you say to 'im?" Alfred looked up to meet the Frenchman's suspicious gaze. "It 'as to be more than cooking."

"Well I said he liked fella—Feliciano and he started spazzin'." Francis threw his head back and laughed.

"Petit Feli? Why would you think that?"

"Well he came over naked and when I bugged Arthur about it he got hard," he shrugged as he sipped his wine again.

Francis furrowed his brow. "For Feli? Tu es sûr?"

"What?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I said 'hey how come it's cool when he runs around naked but I'm not allowed to'."

Francis smirked into his wine glass. "Ah… so that's it."

Alfred nodded, swirling his wine around in its glass. "It was super obvious. I don't know why he even tried to hide it." Francis seemed to be struggling to hold back a laugh.

"Bien sûr, quite obvious. I'm surprised 'e hasn't noticed it 'imself," he scoffed, biting his lip as he tried to keep a straight face.

"I know, right? Well, he didn't get all blushy until after Feliciano left, but still he was all nice to him and stuff. Y'know?" Alfred asked, gesturing with his glass.

"Ah, oui, quite strange."

"Yeah, I told him it's cool to be gay and all, I don't have a problem with it. I think he just doesn't want people to think he's weird. I never woulda guessed him for a closet one though."

"Ah, trust me mon ami, 'e left the closet long ago," Francis snickered. When Alfred looked confused, Francis sighed and placed his wine on the counter, wagging his finger at Alfred. "I think 'e's in love," he explained. Alfred's face lit up.

"That must be it! How cute!" Alfred laughed, spilling his wine as he threw his arms around. Francis didn't seem to notice; instead he laughed with him, nodding in agreement.

"Oui, très mignon. But Arthur is very stubborn. 'e'll never tell 'im on 'is own. So you, mon ami, will need to coax it out of 'im."

Alfred cocked his head in confusion. "Me? Why me?"

Francis leaned closer to Alfred, saying, "Well, between you and me, I think Feliciano would be the top."

Alfred eyes widened, not really sure what that had to do anything. "Really?" Francis nodded, struggling to keep a straight face.

"And I think Arthur is too embarrassed to tell Felibecause 'e's afraid of being the bottom. So,'e's going to need practice and you're 'is roommate, oui? Who better to practice on?"

"Ohhhhhhhhhh," Alfred nodded in understanding and Francis bit hard on his lip as laughter bubbled in his chest. "What do I gotta do then? To get him used to it and stuff?"

Francis couldn't contain himself; he laughed and clapped Alfred on the shoulder. "Ah, I have much to teach you, mon cher. But first, 'ow about another glass of wine…"

"An' lemme tell you 'bout dis complete SHITHEAD. So I was walkin' down da road right? An'—" Alfred hiccupped and immediately lost his train of thought, staring at the ceiling for a minute before shaking his head and looking back and Francis and his two friends, Antonio and Gilbert, who lived further down the hall. One was Spanish and the other German, but in the haze Alfred's mind was in, he couldn't remember which was which. They all listened intently to Alfred, amusement painted on their faces. "Ah, fuck, I don' 'member." He went to take another drink of wine, only to find it empty. Francis quickly refilled it.

"Why don't you tell us about the delivery boy?" Francis offered, pursing his lips as his smile grew.

"Oh, this little fuck. So I was jus' chillin' at home like whatever, right? And then some kid knocks on my door like 'Hey I have books' an' I'm like 'I don' wan' no fuckin' books' an' he's all 'They're fo' you' an' he kept tryin' to give 'em to me but I was like 'Noooooooooo take 'em back' an' he wouldn't so I decked 'im." The three howled as Alfred took another drink of wine. "An' THEN he was all 'I'm callin' the cops' an' I was like 'No. Stop it.' So I took 'im an' threw him in da pool." Gilbert laughed and fell out of his chair, gripping his sides as though they might tear in two.

"Vhere'd you find zis fucker?" he laughed, jerking a thumb at Alfred. Francis only shook his head, laughing too hard to form a proper sentence.

"I live nex' door," Alfred clarified, draining his glass.

"You're livin' with Zwingli?" Antonio laughed, surprise running across his features. "The trigger happy Swiss cabrón?"

Alfred shook his head. "No, the other next door."

"Ze hall ends, dummkopf" Gilbert snickered, trying to contain himself. "You livin' vith ze pigeons?"

"Well, I tried ta but Arthur got mad an' made me put 'em back outside," another hiccup and another howl of laughter. The sound of a door slamming echoed from behind them and Alfred turned to see two Arthurs in the entrance, moving in unison.

"Francis, just what the hell have you done?" they asked, pinching the bridges of their noses. They seemed to waver between one person and two and Alfred squinted trying to find the real one.

"Quoi? We were only having a bit of fun, mon cher," Francis smiled and sat forward, offering Arthur his glass. "Care to join?"

"I'll pass," he scowled tugging at Alfred's arm. "Come now, time to go home."

"Ah, c'mon hombre, don't take our entertainment," Antonio scowled.

"Sorry 'mi amigo', but I'm going to have to cut this show short." Boos and jeers followed them as Arthur dragged Alfred out the door. Once they were back in their own apartment Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his hair, turning to face Alfred. "Sorry, I was out longer than I thought. I won't leave you with Francis that long again. I suppose I should get you a key so you can…Alfred are you listening?"

Alfred had been staring blankly at Arthur, his words just a dull buzz running by his ears. "I didn' know' you spoke Spanish," he slurred, stumbling a bit as he tried to keep his balance. Arthur sighed.

"Right. Sure. Well, do as you please; I'm off to bed. If you're going to stay up try not to make much noise," Arthur turned down the hall when though his haze Alfred remembered what Francis had told him earlier. Alfred stumbled up behind Arthur, wrapping his arm around his waist and bringing him close against his chest, making Arthur jump.

"W-what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" he gawked, looking back at Alfred.

Alfred hummed and pressed his lips against Arthur's blushing neck. "What? You said 'Do as you please'. Mind if I come with you?" he purred through his slur. Arthur's mouth flopped open and closed, a strange strangled noise escaping as he searched for a response. Alfred smiled drowsily and kissed his cheek, nothing but a peck but more than enough to give Arthur a jolt.

"Why…wha…has Francis put you up to this?" he asked breathlessly. Alfred only grinned, running his nose along Arthur's neck. "He did, didn't he? What's he told you? If he—ah!" Arthur squirmed as Alfred trailed a hand up his shirt, teasing the soft skin underneath. Alfred chuckled.

"You're so soft, Arthur," he mumbled, "like a little kitty-cat. Hehe, meow, meow."

"You're drunk," Arthur stuttered, squirming but hardly making an effort to get away. "Release me. I'm exhausted and I'd like to go to bed."

"Then let's share. It's cold tonight. Will you keep me warm?" Alfred lulled, nipping at Arthur's ear. Arthur bit his lip in a failed attempt at suppressing a moan.

"You sound like a Valentine Card."

"Then will you be my Valentine?"

"Well, no, considering it's the middle of November…"

"I'm making a reservation. Will you let me?"

Arthur only turned his face away. "Let me go, you wanker…"

"Are you saving it for someone else?"

Arthur looked back to scowled at Alfred. "Why the bloody hell would I—"

Alfred cut him of with a kiss, gentle and sloppy with his drunken tongue playing at Arthur's lips. Arthur went rigid, a shiver running down his spine. Alfred laughed against his lips, tracing circles against Arthur's hip as he slowly began to relax, meeting Alfred's lazy tongue. A light, bubbly feeling began to build inside Alfred's chest as the heat from Arthur's face reflected onto his cheeks. He felt like he was floating and between his spinning head and his pounding heart he couldn't help but giggle. It wasn't until Arthur pulled away that Alfred realized he hadn't been breathing, suddenly gasping for air.

"Alright. You've had your fun," Arthur blushed, wiping his hand against his mouth.

"Wait! You have to practice!" Alfred mumbled, reaching out for Arthur again. Arthur held him back with a hand against his chest.

"Practice? Practice kissing?" Arthur asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.

"No," Alfred shook his head, holding the hand against his chest. "Cuz Francis said your shy about Feliciano on top."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "What are you babbling about? This is about Feliciano again?"

Alfred widened his eyes. "How'd you know? Who told you?"

Arthur sighed and shook his head, dropping his hand. "Alfred, I don't like Feli. Not in that way. I like someone else."

Alfred gasped and pressed his palms against his face. "Really?! Who?!"

Arthur laughed. "Why don't you take a guess?"

"Is it Francis?"

"Ew. No. Been there, done that."

"What?"

"Nothing, guess again."

"Lovino."

"No."

"The Spanish one."

"No."

"The German one."

"No."

"Is it someone I know?"

"Yes."

"Is it someone on this floor?"

"Yes."

Alfred furrowed his brow, biting his lip and scowling at the ground in thought. "Who else lives on this floor…"

Arthur grinned and turned down the hall again. "Let me know if you think of someone."

" 'Kay," he mumbled, still staring at the ground. After several minutes of thought, Alfred forgot what he was initially thinking about and sat on the couch, turning on the TV. It wasn't long before he passed out.

Light pierced through the window, burning Alfred's eyes. He grunted and rolled over, covering his face with his arms. The movement made his head throb and his stomach churn, biting his lip to keep from vomiting over the side of the couch. After several minutes of turmoil, he managed to push himself up, gazing around the apartment with misty eyes. The last thing he remembered was Francis offering a drink. Everything past that was a strange sort of blur. He couldn't even remember how he got home. Was Arthur still mad? He'd have to ask. He vaguely remembered talking to Arthur, but it may as well as been a dream, nothing but a hazy recollection.

His burning throat finally forced him to his feet, stumbling towards the kitchen. On the counter sat a glass of water and a note. Alfred quickly drained the glass, half laying across the counter as he brought the note close to his face.

Good Morning Alfred, or is it afternoon by now? Not that it matters. Have you figured out who yet? I thought about waking you to ask, but I doubted you'd be much for talk. If you still can't get it through your thick bloody skull, I'll give you a hint when I get home. Anyhow, I'm off to work, and I realize you may not be in much of a mood but I need you to grab a couple things I missed from the store; I won't have time on my way back. The list is on the back of this note. Thanks, dear.

-Arthur

Alfred rubbed his thumb and index finger against his tired eyes. Guessed who? What was that supposed to mean? He'd talked to Arthur…but wasn't that a dream? He couldn't even remember what they'd talked about. Alfred examined the note again. The first two letters on the word dear were rather shaky, as though he'd hesitated on writing it but decided on keeping it.

Alfred dropped the note and straightened, stretching as his nose was met with a horrible odor. He brought his shirt up and gagged; he didn't get to shower yesterday between Arthur kicking him out and his mysterious voyage to the couch.

About an hour and several Tylenol later, Alfred was out on the city street, dodging between buzzing crowds and honking cars, studying the list in his hand. His hood was pulled over his head, a futile attempt at blocking out the ear shattering sounds of the world around him. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and swore never to drink again. The light of the sun faded and Alfred looked up to see dark clouds on the horizon, enveloping the sun in their cloak. The last few days had been fairly clear, a stubborn cloud or two hanging in the sky but always light and pure. Nowhere near as dark as these monsters. A sudden gust of wind blew his hood back, making Alfred shiver under its icy breath.

He stood at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change when a heavy hand came down on his shoulder, Alfred jumping at the sudden contact.

"O, moy, what have we here?" laughed a sickly sweet voice, far too light for the heavy accent, speaking directly into Alfred's ear. "It looks like our little khitrets has evaded us again."

Alfred kept his gaze transfixed on the other side of the street, pretending not to notice the man. However, it was hard to ignore the heavy hand on his shoulder. He tried to shake it off. The man laughed, no humor in his voice, only the enjoyment of watching Alfred squirm.

"May I have word with you kollega?" His hand tightened around Alfred's shoulder. "I very much miss our little talks together. Perhaps you will go to have a coffee with me?" Alfred was only silent as the Russian spun him around, that ever present sadistic smile plastered across his face.

khitrets=fox, dodger, slyboots

kollega=colleague, counterpart, associate, friend, brother

At least that's what google translate told me ~(^_^)~

My apologies if my definition for Russian words is a bit off. I don't know Russian and used what I thought fit best with the options I was given. Please don't hurt me ;_;

I just love this little emoticon ~(^_^)~ It's so cute :D Anyway, from this point on in the story there is going to be rape and yaoi present. Probably should of put that at the beginning of the first chapter, but at that point I was still figuring exactly where I was going to go with the storyline. It's my first fic I'm sorry I'm still learning ;_; I've got everything figured out now though! No worries mon (⌐■_■) be cool. I will put a warning at the beginning of each chapter that will include rape as little warning for those who would rather not read (^_^')