A/N: This is the first chapter of major overhaul. I believe I ended up rewriting and replacing the entire thing XD

Arthur walked into the kitchen to see Alfred bent over the table, sobbing.

"What's wrong, love?" He asked, allowing himself to use the pet name since his lover was obviously distressed.

(Lover: he shouldn't have used that word. They hadn't had sex and, as far as Arthur was concerned they never would. He would allow hand-holding and snuggling in bed but that was all. Alfred needed to save himself for marriage. Arthur hated the idea of him being objectified like that, but that was just what happened when you were weak but beautiful, or the youngest son, or part of a powerful and wealthy family, and Alfred was all three)

Alfred sniffled and looked over to Arthur, forcing a smile, "The war's over. We won. It's fantastic. Mom sent a letter."

Arthur took the piece of parchment Alfred offered him. The facts were simple: their army had captured a fort and now controlled some area miles away from where he and Alfred were, so Alfred's parents were coming home. Matthew had been assigned to stay for a while longer, but that didn't matter. Arthur was going to be dismissed, which meant that he and Alfred wouldn't see each other anymore.

Arthur bit his lip. He'd have to move back in with his father. (No, he reminded himself, with his brother. James officially owned the farm now. Dad gave it to him when he got married) But what choice did he have? He'd started doing working on improving some magical techniques: purely theoretical stuff to keep him entertained, but it was nothing that would sustain him. Who would buy his plans? They were just ideas, not an actual invention or service he could provide.

"Well," he said, "We knew it would have to end eventually."

"But why?" Alfred asked, "Why does it have to?"

"There's no reason for your parents to pay me to sit around your house while they're here," Arthur said, trying to make the situation lighter, but Alfred would have none of it.

"What do you expect me to do without you?"

"Survive," Arthur said, "Same as I'll have to."

And then it was months later. He'd just woken up to find a single red rose sitting on his windowsill, the same as every day for the last week. He had quite a collection in an extra mug on his bedside table. His brother was teasing him about having a secret boyfriend ("Good thing too. You can get yer arse out of my house.")

"Another one?" Dad asked over dinner, "This is getting ridiculous. And you don't know who's leaving them?"

"No. You know that in spite of your best efforts I've never had anyone."

"Oh," James said, "so you didn't spend all that time corrupting that brat you were baby sitting. Good for you, I was hoping that my own flesh and blood had better standards."

"His name is Alfred," Arthur said, "And he was less of an asshole on his worst day than you are on your best."

"Oh, so you did seduce a little handicapped kid?"

"No! You obviously don't know what you're talking about, so shut the fuck up!"

"Arthur," his dad said, testily, "I can see you're worked up now, but just give it time. You'll get over it and with all the boys coming home, I'm sure someone will-"

"Is that all I am to you? You don't need me so now you're going to throw me out?"

"Arthur," James said, voice more serious than usual, "Give dad a break. He just wants what's best for you."

"I don't care! Do something useful for once in your life and leave me alone!" He looked back and forth between them, "I don't know why I came back. It was stupid of me. I'll go off on my own: build a house somewhere far, far away and live off of fish or something so I never have to see you again!"

He ran back to his room and slammed the door. Then he smacked himself in the forehead. Dammit, why had he done that? James and his father had been so good to him, and then he'd gone and done that. And why? Because they had said something rude about him and Alfred. He wasn't supposed to care. He was supposed to get over the boy and go on with his life.

Fuck, he really did allow himself to fall in love with him, didn't he? Even if he did have an infamously short fuse, no friendship was enough to make him do that.

He threw himself on the bed and curled up in a ball. At some point he'd have to apologize. Even if he really didn't want to.

There was a rap on his window. He got up and opened the shutters, curious.

"Hi!" Alfred said brightly, clambering inside.

"What the- Alfred, what the fuck are you doing here?"

Alfred, who by that point had pulled himself inside and was straightening up, smiled and said, "Just thought I'd pop over."

"Your house is three miles away!"

Alfred shrugged, "I walked."

"You can't see!"

He scowled, "I'm not blind! Besides, I had Hana bring me over. He missed me while mom and dad were gone."

"But you- you can't just-"

"Why not?" he walked over and took Arthur's face in his hands, "I wanted to see you."

Arthur was overtaken by the sweetness of the gesture, "You've been the one leaving me flowers."

Alfred smiled, "Yeah. There's a bush in the woods nearby and I've been cutting one every day."

It was dizzying to be this close, to see his eyes shining brightly in the dim light of the bedroom, to feel his hot damp breath on his face-

"No," He shook it off, "This isn't a game, Alfred."

Alfred smiled and knelt before him, "It never was to me." He pulled a small pouch from his belt and gave it to Arthur, "Before you say anything, I want you to know that I earned all the money myself. I don't know if you've heard around town, but I've been sort of doing a little bit of business."

Arthur opened the bag and found something smooth and metallic, oh no, Alfred, no. He felt like he would cry as he pulled out the little gold rose with the small emerald in the middle suspended on a fine chain.

"I've been fixing a lot of stuff." Alfred continued, "Little things mostly, but people have brought be farm equipment too. I'm pretty good with my hands when I put my mind to it. It's taken a lot of time, but I know roses are your favorite flowers and the emerald reminded me of your eyes, so when I saw it I knew I had to get it."

"Alfred, I can't accept this. I just can't."

"Please, even if you don't want to marry me, just take it. I want you to have it."

"I do, though!" He said. He felt the tears running down his face, but he just couldn't stop, "Dammit, Alfred, I want you, it's just-"

"We'll be fine," Alfred said, standing, "Trust me. Trust us." He took Arthur's hands in his, "Please, I know it'll be alright. We'll find a way."

And, dammit, he couldn't look at that face. Fuck, he really believed it, didn't he? Every single word he was saying. Maybe… maybe that was enough to make Arthur believe too. He smiled, just a little bit. His lips were twitching, threatening to make him sob. He leaned forward and-

Arthur sat bolt-upright and papers flew everywhere. He looked around, confused, only to see himself surrounded by the familiar sight of his study.

Oh, that was right. He'd just set his head down for a moment not long after lunch, just to rest his eyes. He must have drifted off. With the dark orange hue of the light spilling into his room it must have been late afternoon. He stretched and worked the kinks in his neck. He'd been so tired lately and it felt like no matter how long he napped it was never enough. Even now he wanted to drag himself to bed and curl up for another snooze. But no, he had to stay awake. Alfred was going to have supper ready soon.

Hmm, supper and Alfred. He didn't know which of the two sounded more appealing. On the one hand he was rather hungry (it seemed all he had time for these days was eating and sleeping. He usually didn't eat much, but recently he had been sneaking downstairs to snack between meals. He blamed the healers for getting him into the habit of eating too much and Alfred for thinking it was cute when he came over and would stare plaintively at whatever he was cooking until he gave him some) but on the other… He smiled as his hand went for his necklace, rubbing the little gold pendant Alfred had given to him. He wanted to cuddle, he realized to his slight disgust, to hold his husband for no purpose other than to enjoy holding him.

Arthur stood and started the trek down to the kitchen (because at this time of day both food and Alfred would be down there).

He looked down at the rose and wondered if his affectionate mood had something to do with the dream. He'd had such vivid dreams recently, all so crisp and real and every single one of them had either revolved around Alfred or danger or both. At least this one was a real memory, even if a bit distorted. His arguments with his family had been smaller and less direct, the roses had been more intermittent (probably whatever nights that Alfred could sneak away), and the proposal was all wrong. However, he tucked the rose back under his tunic so that it sat heavy against his breast, he couldn't help but think he liked this way better. He still regretted that he had turned Alfred down the day he marched over in the mid-afternoon, even if they did have a huge emotional reunion one night when Arthur couldn't live with the guilt and loneliness anymore.

As he reached the stairs, though, Arthur realized that something wasn't quite right. He didn't smell anything cooking, and at this hour Alfred would have to have started the fire and probably would have something in the oven. Maybe he had gotten distracted.

He knocked on the door to Alfred's study. Even if nothing had been started, he was sure that they'd be able to throw something together to feed themselves. He just let himself in and found Alfred facing away from the door, dusting off a bookshelf. Arthur smiled. It was so cute how hard he would try.

"Hello, there," Arthur said.

Alfred jumped and turned around, "Uh… hi," he said.

Arthur frowned. Alfred was smiling, but it was one of those smiles that were covering sadness.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked.

"N-nothing. Nothing at all."

"Alfred."

"I'm fine, really," He forced his unhappiness further back, "I was just thinking really hard."

"Oh yes, about what?" He walked inside and shut the door behind him to signal Alfred that he wouldn't escape.

Alfred shrugged, "Ya know, life. The universe. Everything. Just those stupid little tangents that never did anyone any good."

Arthur frowned. Normally during those rare times that Alfred was philosophical he would be exuberant to have someone to share his musings with. And the way he was talking about himself… But Arthur couldn't attack directly. Arguing with Alfred was every bit as useful as trying to kick down a brick wall and not nearly as satisfying. Well, the best way to Alfred's mind was through his heart, so when he turned back to his work Arthur snuck up from behind and embraced him.

"Come on," Alfred said, "I've got work to do."

"It's plenty clean, dear," Arthur leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

Alfred looked back at him with confusion, picking up on the unusual tenderness, "Look, I told you nothing's wrong."

"And I believe you," a lie for a lie, "Can't a man just appreciate his husband?"

"Are you in one of those lovey-dovey moods again?"

Arthur scowled, "You weren't so dismissive of my 'lovey-dovey moods' when I was spread-eagled on the bed last night."

"Yeah, because I wanted it then. I'm just not feeling it today."

"You're right." Arthur let go and turned him around before pressing Alfred up against a wall, "You're not feeling it today, but you have felt it every day since you started fancying me five years ago. You're not yourself and I need to know why."

"Look, I'm okay. No, no, don't give me that look! It's just dumb."

"If it's made you like this it's certainly not dumb."

"Yeah it is and-" he suddenly looked at the window, "Shit it's late, I have to go make dinner!"

"Don't you dare."

"Come on, aren't you hungry?"

"Not enough to let you go. I'll live the five minutes extra it takes for you to tell me what's bothering you."

"As if you don't know. You started it." He ducked under Arthur's arms and escaped.

"You're acting like a child!" he chased after Alfred, "And I started nothing. You seemed perfectly content at lunch, and I haven't seen you since then!"

Alfred stopped in his tracks and glared back at him, "Look, I'm trying to be useful for once in my life and now you're stopping me?"

Oh, bollocks, is that what this was about? Hell, Arthur thought that they were done with all this. "I've told you a million times Alfred, you do plenty! Besides, weren't you going to talk to some of the peddlers that were in town to see if you could sell some of your glasses? How did that go?"

Alfred looked at him like he was an idiot, "I told you that once I let one of their kids try it on to make sure it was the real deal they promised they'd pay me a silver per pair."

"See? You're not useless. Even if you don't believe me that's proof."

"You said that I didn't know what I was talking about and told me to shut up."

"Alfred," he said very slowly, "I haven't seen you."

"Arthur," The idiot was copying his tone exactly, "I came in to talk to you and you were hunched over your desk working."

Arthur stared at him for a moment before it clicked, "Alfred, I was asleep."

"You didn't sound asleep."

"But I was. Just after lunch I set my head down and I've only been awake for maybe five minutes."

"You fell asleep at your desk? Why'd you do that?"

"I didn't mean to!" His voice was rougher than he thought it would be and he felt a tightness in his throat, "I've just been so tired lately and I just wind up sleeping. Yesterday I fell asleep behind the counter, and the day before that I was reading an old book at the kitchen table and slept for two hours." He sniffled, "And whenever that happens I always have these striking dreams that terrify me or completely entrance me. But I'd still rather sleep because whenever I'm awake I feel dizzy and queasy and I keep getting headaches and I'm crying aren't I?" He touched his cheek and felt tears.

Alfred walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Uh, there there?" He said, "I donno, this is kind of weird."

"Exactly! But I love you, I really do, Alfred. You're a wonderful human being and I don't know what I'd do without you, so don't leave me. And I… I… I need a fucking hug."

Alfred wrapped his arms around him but still seemed really confused. Arthur didn't care. He just needed a shoulder to cry on, and so he buried his face in Alfred's and started sobbing.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, words muffled in Alfred's shoulder, "In my dream I was telling Dad and James off for not letting me marry you."

"It's okay," Alfred patted him gently, "I can't blame you for what you do in your sleep. Really, Artie. You're fine."

"I just wish-" He rubbed his tears away on Alfred's tunic, "I just wish that I knew what was going on."

"What do you mean? Isn't this just because you're pregnant?"

Arthur took a step back and looked down at himself, "D-do you think I am?"

"Well, with how much sex we've had over the past month and the fact that you haven't started bleeding yet, I would think so."

"But," he pressed his fingers against his belly. It felt no different than he had the day they'd gone to see the faeries, "Shouldn't I know? It's happening to me after all."

Alfred shrugged, "Maybe you were looking too hard, or maybe you just have to go through it once to know. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it. So… uh… are you gonna be all teary and tired and stuff until the baby's born?"

"Oh God, I hope not."

An awkward silence filled the room. This wasn't like Arthur had imagined, where Alfred would come home and Arthur would be waiting for him wearing only a cloak. He would go and whisper "I'm pregnant" in his ear and Alfred would let out a groan at those words. Then he'd lead them back to their room and they'd make love, with lots of kissing and whispers of words of devotion and Alfred would stop now and then to rub and kiss at Arthur's still-smooth stomach. Then they would fall asleep sated and so very in love.

Instead, they were just both standing there, and Alfred had been the one to figure it out. There probably would be no sex either. Alfred was probably still secretly upset. Arthur was a mess mentally and he probably looked terrible too. Also, he was starting to feel queasy again and Alfred touching his stomach would probably make it worse. He was certain that even if there was a mood, throwing up during sex would kill it.

Finally, Alfred opened his mouth.

"Well, let's just try to get you more relaxed. I heard that helps." He took Arthur's hand and led him back up to the bedroom, "Why don't you call over Flying Mint Bunny? I'll give you a massage and we can talk for a while. Now that you know this is all 'cause we're actually gonna have a baby you don't need to freak out. And-"

"Holy Shit," Arthur said, the weight of the revelation finally hitting him, "I'm pregnant. In eight months we're going to be parents. God, Alfred, we have so much to get ready! We're going to need to get a cradle and clothes and we're going to need to turn something into another bedroom and-"

"Ssh," Alfred said, pressing a finger to Arthur's lips, "We can worry about that later. For now, let's just worry about you, okay? You're important."

"Okay," Arthur said, giving up, but only because that massage sounded really good. He'd have plenty of time to think about the child he was carrying. After all, now that he knew what his symptoms meant he wasn't likely to forget about him any time soon.

Once they reached their bedroom, Arthur eased himself face down on the bed. It was so soft and warm. He centered himself on his pillow and closed his eyes. If he hadn't just had a long nap he'd want to go back to sleep. Alfred crawled on after him and sat on his thighs. He started rubbing Arthur's shoulders gently.

"Holy hell you're tight. No wonder you were crabby."

"Mmm."

"Don't worry, I'll get it for you."

"Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"You're not just doing this to feel like you're useful, are you?"

Alfred shifted uncomfortably but didn't answer. That meant yes, which wasn't want Arthur wanted. Arthur wanted to tell him to stop, that he didn't need to worry about being useful, that Arthur loved him and always would love him. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and hold his husband and remind him of the fact that Arthur had picked him for a reason and a damn good one at that.

But he couldn't. His throat closed up and he couldn't say a word. He gently petted Alfred's leg, hoping that he somehow miraculously understood.