"Art! Art wake up your parents are here!" Alfred whispered, nudging the side of Arthur's face. The Brit's sleep mused head was resting on the American's chest and Alfred took the time to let his hand wandered around to feel the back of the blonde's head, making sure it was whole. He knew it was stupid, but he kept expecting the worst whenever he woke up. Another person to be dead, or for the murders to come back for him.

"Oh very good Alfred! How'd you know we were here?" The classic accent of Arthur's mum drifted through the room as Arthur's head shot up.

"The nurse came in and told me," Alfred admitted with a laugh as Arthur shifted in his seat, attempting to smooth out his clothes and bring his blush under control.

A nurse cleared her throat, "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

The dance of people involved in getting Alfred into the wheelchair relied on Arthur, who was the only person that could convince the stubborn American to do anything, and the only person that Alfred trusted.

Alfred took it all surprisingly in stride, tilting his head back to talk to Arthur as he was pushed around the halls, through the elevator, and out into the open sunlight outside the hospital.

"And what do you think you're doing?" Arthur asked tartly as Alfred fumbled in the wheelchair and stood up.

"Arthur, please," he pouted facing a little to the left of Arthur, "Don't make me do this it's embarrassing. I can walk, really I can. It's just some bruises and a few scrapes I'm fine."

"Oh come here before you get hit by a car," Arthur said taking his stupid best friends hand and leading him across the parking lot. If Alfred was going to be difficult then so be it. His Mum and Dad were lagging behind them, but Arthur had no trouble locating and unlocking the family's car with his key, "Here we are."

"I knew that," Alfred said as he felt for the door handle and pulled it open.

"Alfred stop!" the other shouted, throwing his arm out in front of Alfred's chest and barely stopping Alfred from smashing his face into the top of the door opening.

"The roof is here okay?" he continued, drawing a line in the air from the top of the car to Alfred's chest.

"Oh," the other teen mumbled, cheeks flushing as he duck his head down and got into the car without further incident.

Arthur shut the door for him and walked around to the other side of the car and got in, trying to look at anywhere but Alfred as his parents got in the front and started driving away. Alfred held his injured arm against his chest, hyperaware of Arthur's thigh pressed against his. Arthur placed his hand on the other's knee, causing Al to jump before placing his own hand over it. I'm fine, he mouthed at Arthur, really. He was fine. Arthur shouldn't bother worrying.

Arthur felt his own face heat up in turn. It's nothing, he told himself, Al just needs a little comfort. It's not a big deal.

He couldn't shake the feeling that it was something a little more than that.

Throughout the drive home, Arthur stayed quiet. Most of the conversation that went on was between his parents and occasionally Alfred.

"Say there, why don't you go ahead and show Alfred where he'll be staying," Arthur's dad said as they walked into the echoing foyer of Arthur's house.

Alfred felt a warm hand around his again, gently tugging him forward. "Come on, and mind the stairs," Arthur mumbled softly. Alfred rolled his eyes, "I've been to your house before." And with that remark he took the stairs two at a time, leaving Arthur behind.

"I know, but I just- Oi! Take it slower!" Arthur yelled as Alfred bolted up the right branch of the stairs that led to wing of the house with Arthur's room. Arthur ran to catch up, knocking into a stationary Alfred a few feet from the top of the stairs. Alfred let out a squeak, twisting and trying to cover the back of his head with his arms, bracing for the impact with the marble steps.

Instead of marble, he felt two warm arms holding him about a foot away from the stairs. He could feel Arthur's rapid breath on his cheek, as they both froze, too stunned by what had almost happened to move for a for a few moments. Just a few inches, Alfred's mind echoed, just move your head a few inches. HE'S RIGHT THERE.

Arthur blinked and let out a shaky breath before returning Alfred upright, "Ah, Sorry about that," he mumbled bright red, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

"Stop that! It was my fault, you told me not to and I still did it," Alfred sighed.

They stood in the silent hallway as for a short time, neither of them knowing what to do and every passing minute making the situation worse.

"So," Arthur supplied.

"Where's your room again?" Alfred blurted out.

"Okay. There are two doors on the right side of the hall, our bedroom is the first door. The door next to that is the- well my, although I guess it's our study now. And on the left side, there's the storage room, the guest room which can be yours if you want, and the access room to the attic," the Brit said pulling Alfred to the first door on the right, "you'll be staying in my room for now."

After Arthur explained the layout inside the room and the entrance to their shared bathroom before, Alfred plopped down on his bed, which was underneath the window crammed under the window where Arthur's old desk had been. Not that it mattered much, but Alfred took comfort that could feel the late Autumn sunlight on his face telling him that the curtains were open. It warmed his face and helped him to relax.

He sat back up and turned his head over to where Arthur's bed was against the adjacent wall, it wasn't very far...

"Boys, time for supper," Arthur's mother called from the door. Alfred nodded and jumped to his feet, feeling dizzy but walking forward with purpose, walking right into the side of the open doorway.

"So close," he said regretfully, brushing it off. It was going to be harder to adjust than he first thought thought but he could do it.

"Arthur?" he asked spinning around wildly. He hadn't noticed earlier, but the entire house smelled of earl grey tea, and Arthur's room spelled exactly like Arthur. It was impossible to find him in the darkness.

"I'm right here," Arthur said from the top of the stairs.

"Oh. I thought you were still in the room…" Al said with a frown. He should have at least heard him walking past, the floor in the hall was marble after all.

"Are you coming or not?"


Dinner was simple, much like the room it was held in. Alfred made a particular effort to remember where this room was. No way in hell was he about to get lost and miss out on food. Later, he would have to get Arthur to tell him where the kitchen was… or maybe asking Mrs. Kirkland would yield better results.

Well dinner- no, Supper- as Arthur insisted, was going well so far. He didn't have trouble finding a way to get the food to his mouth without smearing it all over his face (which only happened once). Until of course Alfred ruined it by asking what day it was.

"Sunday? But-" Alfred panicked, "How much school have I missed?" It was Mr. Kirkland that finally broke the nervous tension.

"About school, Alfred. You'll probably have to be pulled from most if not all of your classes until we figure out a way to accommodate for you," he paused with a hum, "As they say these days, maybe there's an app for that."

Alfred's eyes lowered to where he knew the table should be. Until now it hadn't hit him how different his life was going to be than he had originally planned. So many things that he couldn't do now, like go see a movie, or play video games. No more sports, he would definitely have to resign from the football team, maybe even drop out of school completely. It would be for the best... but it still made his heart hurt. So many of the things that Alfred had worked to accomplish in his life… Arthur's knee found his under the table, giving it a small nudge. That too was gone. All the shared looks and subtle gestures that Arthur and he had come up with and used all the time in class to talk to each other without being caught were gone, and that was worse than anything else he had lost. He went back to picking around his plate carefully until his fork found food. "I guess I'll have to learn brail now or something, huh?" he asked without looking back to Arthur.

There was silence at the table, before Arthur's mother spoke up, "I think that would be a wonderful idea. We'll see about ordering you some books and hiring a teacher."

"Say, Alfred, I don't suppose you play?" Arthur's father asked shifting the topic.

"Play what?" Alfred asked automatically, through a mouth full of broccoli he had been tricked into putting on his plate.

"An instrument."

"Oh, well I used to play guitar, I did play the violin in middle school but I haven't touched one in years, and uh..." Alfred trailed off. He absolutely refused to say what his mother made him play when he was little. It was beyond embarrassing and borderline ridiculous.

"Ah- a strings man, always was more of a woodwind fan, but respect all the same. We have a music room on the first floor, under Arthur's room, but I don't think there's a guitar, might be a violin in there though," Arthur's mum said contemplating, and then it dawned on Alfred where they were going with this conversation. They were trying to figure out things he could still do blind.

"Thanks Mrs. Kirkland," Alfred said busying himself with a glass of water.

"Oh don't be silly dear, you can call me Mary and don't you be afraid to call Winston by his name either," Mrs. Kirkland said with a laugh. Alfred hid his laugh by coughing into his arm, saving his remarks for later when he could talk to Arthur alone.

By the time dinner was over, Alfred was relieved. He wasn't sure how the two older Kirklands would take to having a more... permanent house guest. Even then it was no telling how Arthur's older brothers would be like if they came to visit but fortunately he didn't have to deal with that right now.

"Your father's name is Winston," Alfred said doubling over when they got back to Arthur's room.

"What of it," the Brit replied closing the door behind him.

"You know, Winston Churchill, you're British, your dad's name is Winston," Alfred said struggling to stand.

"It's not a bad name!" replied Arthur defensively.

Oh. Oh. "No way," Alfred said with a shit eating grin, "Don't tell me you were supposed to be Winston Kirkland Junior."

"Mum said he couldn't," Arthur muttered.

"I can't," Alfred wheezed. Maybe it was the pain meds, but it was just hilarious. Arthur reached over and grabbed a pillow to swat the blind boy over the head with.

"Hey, no fair! I can't even find a pillow! I'm injured that was a foul!" Alfred said holding his arms up to block the constant barrage, still laughing. He walked over to where Arthur's bed was, and grabbed the first fluffy thing he found and flung it at the Brit. Ripping the quilt off the bed, he got tangled in the mass of blankets along with his intended target.

"Oi!" Arthur shouted, muffled through the fabric as he pulled on the blanket, bringing the American to the floor with him in the mass of blankets as well.

They stayed on the floor, a laughing mess, stopping as they each realised what sort of position they were in. Arthur fought the urge to pull Alfred closer and keep him there; the idiotic teen was actually smiling and it made his heart hurt. A true smile that even reached his sightless eyes. Alfred felt a blush rise to his cheeks and hoped that Arthur would think it was just from running around the room.

"How the hell did you manage this?" Arthur asked from underneath him.

"I was trying to find a pillow hit you with..." Alfred said trying to ignore the way his body loved being so close to Arthur. He could feel the sharp edge of Arthur's hips through every layer of clothing between them.

"Do not believe for a moment that this means you win," Arthur said grabbing Alfred's shoulders and flipping their positions, so that he was positioned over Alfred's hips, keeping him pinned to the floor. Alfred squeaked, he really hoped that it was too dark for the English teen to see his face under the blankets. He was beginning to have a problem that, given their current positions, would be impossible for the other to miss.

The room went quiet, only breathing broke the silence. Tension was burning between them, Alfred could almost see it. It was sending sparks through his body everywhere they touched. Under the warm blanket it was almost like another world. Where it wouldn't be such a bad thing for him to reach up and kiss his best friend. Where it might even be okay.

Alfred's hand started to reach up for Arthur's neck, feeling the other lean away from his touch and in turn, closer to his face. "I- I," Alfred stuttered, breaking the spell. Fuck why did I interrupt that. No. Why why why why? He pleaded internally.

Arthur coughed and rolled off the American, wasting no time in putting the space of the entire room between them. He needed away from Alfred, to clear his head. He needed to think about what had just happened, or what had almost happened. What was happening?

"I'm going to ah-.. yeah shower, right," Alfred said scrambling to his feet and tripping across the room.

When leaving the room, Alfred heard Arthur start to swear.

Fumbling through the shower, Alfred got shampoo in his eyes, and slipped at least twice, but emerged clean without any further injures as far as he could out onto the bathroom tile, his hands grazed the wall looking for a towel rack.

"Arthur," he asked fumbling through the bathroom, finding a small towel, but it almost didn't go all the way around his waist.

"Arthur!" Alfred repeated walking out of the bathroom. There was no answer to his call, just the sound of the TV on in the background.

Alfred pondered over whether or not the other was upset about what had happened earlier as his fumbling hands knocked his clock off the side table looking for his bed where he had left his suitcase earlier. Arthur meanwhile had gone to the guest bathroom to take his own shower, hoping to beat the the other blonde out. He opened the door to his room without knocking. There was no way that Alfred was done with his shower... He stood in the hallway gaping at the American, who was bent over to pick up the electronic dialog clock, his flushed pink ass in the air, the towel doing nothing to cover it. Slamming the door behind him, Arthur could only gape as the American jumped and fell face forward into his bed.

"ARTHUR WHAT THE HELL MAN," he shouted grabbing a pillow to hide his junk.

"WELL I DIDN'T THINK YOU WERE OUT OF THE SHOWER YET. WHAT ARE YOU EVEN WEARING?" Arthur yelled back ignoring the red that stained his face.

"YOU DID'T SHOW ME WHERE THE FUCKING TOWELS WERE MORON," Alfred said burying his face in the pillow to hide his embarrassment.

"THEY WERE ON THE SHELF, I THOUGH YOU WOULD SEE TH-" Arthur's words died in his throat. Alfred's face shot up from the pillow, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes while he held back a sob. Arthur didn't think as he crossed the distance of the room and threw his arms around the American, holding his head to his chest as the other broke down. Wetness seeped into Arthur's pajama shirt, whether from tears or Alfred's still wet hair he didn't know. Frankly, he didn't care.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Arthur repeated smoothing Alfred's hair. Tenderly, Alfred reached his arm around Arthur and returned the hold. "I forgot, I'm an idiot, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that this happened to you and I'm sorry that I can't fix it," Arthur kept talking. He couldn't get rid of the guilt that was churning in his stomach. He was supposed to be watching out for Alfred. Not making him feel worse about the situation.

Silence filled the room after a while, Arthur was still cradling the other to his chest, not ready to let go.

"I'm going to get dressed," Alfred sniffed working his way out of Arthur's hold, trying to recover his calm he held onto so well since waking up in the hospital.

Arthur just nodded and slid off Alfred's bed and walked to his own keeping his eyes to himself and sliding back the covers before turning off the light. It wouldn't affect Alfred getting ready for bed and the light was provoking the baby headache Arthur felt behind his temples.

"Goodnight Alfred," Arthur said rolling over.

"Yeah."

Sleep was not soon in coming for either friend, Alfred fell asleep first due to his medication and overall exhaustion. But his steady breathing didn't help Arthur, who was doing his best to get the teen off his mind. Whenever he closed his eyes he would see flashes of what happened when he opened the door. Alfred's butt and the blush on his face… "Fuck," Arthur sighed rolling over to escape his guilt. What kind of horrible person was he? Alfred was hurting and scared and here he was thinking about his ass.

He was almost asleep when a scream jolted him back to reality. Tumbling out of bed, Arthur rushed to his side of the twisting teen, "Alfred. ALFRED. Wake up it's a nightmare you're okay! You're safe." Eye's jolting open in terror Alfred froze, "Arthur?" he asked in a small voice.

"I'm here," he answered finding Alfred's hand in the blankets and giving it a squeeze.

"It was terrible," he whispered sitting up.

"I know."

"I couldn't stop it."

"I know Al," Arthur soothed.

"Arthur… Can I- can I sleep in your bed?" Alfred asked, his hands reaching out to find Arthur's face, making sure it was really there. That this wasn't just another dream.

"Sure," Arthur said standing back up and taking one of Alfred's hands away from his face to lead him over to his bed gently. He stopped and grabbed a pillow off Alfred's bed before using it to get Alfred settled on the right side of his bed.

"Okay?" he asked turning to leave and get a drink of water, maybe some aspirin when Alfred's hand closed on his wrist. "No! I mean… Stay with me please. I can't sleep alone."

Arthur almost considered refusing him, but his resolve melted away when he looked at Alfred. His eyes were wide open and were staring off in the wrong direction a frown fixed on his face. "Okay," Arthur sighed climbing over Alfred and joining him under the covers. He had expected Alfred to let go of his hand, but the other boy curled up around it and scooted into the crook of the Brit's arms. "Goodnight," Alfred whispered. Arthur didn't pull away or reply. He only held the other closer to his chest.