Over the next eight hours, the blond finally cleaned up his house. The bottles and cans were disposed of, he scrubbed, vacuumed, did the laundry and dishes, and even cleaned the toilets. He stocked up on tea and Arthur's favorite foods, along with some other things he needed. When he was finished, he showered and changed his clothes. He didn't sleep a wink, but he looked nice, besides he was too anxious to drift off.

He pulled on a red v-neck tee, a pair of dark jeans, and a pair of black Chucks. He shoved his cell and wallet into his pockets and grabbed the keys off the counter. As he strolled out of the house and drove to the airport in silence, he looked over at the passenger seat as he thought about the man who would occupy it later in the day.

It was around five in the morning when Alfred pulled into the airport parking garage. He hopped out of the car and walked down a couple of flights of stairs before walking out of the garage and toward the building. The blue-eyed man walked through security and waited out in the terminal, wandering around the small shops and peering at the arrival times anxiously.

When they announced Arthur's arrival on the loud-speaker, Alfred didn't know whether he would jump for joy, or pass out on the spot from sheer excitement. It takes about fifteen minutes for them to lead the plane away from the tarmac and link up to the building. The blond bounced from foot to foot as he watched the first few passengers trickle away from the gate.

Near the end, he saw another blond man step away from the gate, pausing a few feet away from the stream of people to switch his phone on. His eyes were green, matching the t-shirt he was wearing under the black hoodie that he'd always worn before he left. The man only wore it because it sported a circular, white patch featuring a black mask; the Heroes sign. A girl who'd gone out with Francis had sewn it there, along with several other things that had belonged to the group, like bags and shirts.

A wave of relief passed over Alfred as he approached the unaware man, a bright smile on his face. Before he spoke, he shoved his twitching hands into his pockets, trying not to think of how much he wanted to pull Arthur close and keep him pressed to his body forever. "Hey, Artie," the blue-eyed man said, using one of the many nicknames that had become permanent fixtures of the British boy's life.

Arthur's eyes flicked up, taking in the sight of his best friend for a moment too long to be considered platonic. He launched himself at the American man, his hands clinging to the blood-colored fabric that adorned Alfred's torso as he embraced him. Alfred's hands came out of his pockets so he could hug back, smiling into Arthur's slightly lighter blond hair as he heard little gleeful, slightly nervous, laughs escape from his friend.

"I'm so glad to see you!" Arthur announced as they parted, his eyes shining with delight.

"It's great to have you back, if only for the summer," Alfred responded.

"I'm s-"

"If you try to apologize again, I might just hit you," the taller man said, looking partly serious, partly joking. "Now let's go get your stuff."

Arthur elbowed him in the stomach, trying to scowl, but failing since he's riding high on the excitement and happiness that was rolling about in his head. "Lead the way, git."

"With pleasure. Right this way, Mr. Kirkland," Alfred said, flourishing his hand out like a butler and bowing slightly. He righted himself, grinning, and took the shorter's hand to lead him through the crowd.

They were quiet as they walked, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Alfred checked signs as he led the other through the airport, letting the rumble of the crowd around them fill his ears as he thought about all the things he wanted to do with his friend. Arthur was staring outright at the hand that was holding his, his face pink as Alfred's thumb rubbed the back of his palm absently when they'd stopped to look at yet another directory. All he could think about was that hand, and how he hoped his own wasn't too sweaty.

When they finally reached baggage claim, Alfred watched the green-eyed man pick up his dark duffel bags and carry them back to where he was waiting. Without being asked, Alfred took one from him and waved off a thank you before it could be formed. He didn't need to be thanked. That bag he was holding was something tethering Arthur there for almost three months, so damn right he was going to carry it. Arthur didn't need to know that though.

I'm finally home, Arthur thought as the two of them walked to the parking garage. And home is with him. Alfred, whom I love, couldn't possibly know this though, since I've been away for a year. Fuck, why did I leave him in the first place? All for a bloody education...is it even worth it?

"Iggy? Your bag?" Alfred pointed at the other bag, the one in the shorter man's hand. They were back at the car, a car that had seen a lot of gore, anger, sadness, and crippling depression. The trunk was open, showing that Alfred had already stowed the first duffel inside. Arthur tossed the other one in, then walked around and hopped in the passenger seat.

When Alfred got in, the emerald-eyed man pointed to the dash and rolled his eyes. There, carved into the dash, was "AK" and "AJ". They'd taken a knife to the dash back in junior year when Alfred had finally been able to drive his father's old car around. The initials had been put up near the corner of the dash, close to the window. When a few of their friends had seen it, they'd teased and said that maybe they should have encased those four little letters in a heart. Both of them secretly wished that they had.

The two of them drove for a while, and Alfred let the other flip through the radio stations, something that he'd been known to get pissy about if anyone even tried. As they pulled in the American's driveway, a navy blue SUV parked across the street. Arthur saw an angry look pass over his friend's face for a brief moment before he reached across the console and opened the glove box. The driver's manual, a dozen or so napkins, and Alfred's Glock were stowed inside, and the gun was the one thing that was taken.

The Brit's eyes glanced warily over at the driver seat, where Alfred was already pulling himself out of the car and turning to look at the SUV. Arthur followed suit, curious to who the visitor was. He stood on the other side of the car, letting the vehicle act as a shield for him. The green-eyed man watched as a somewhat-scrawny, blue-haired man exited the car and approached as far as a foot away from the curb in front of Alfred's house, six or seven yards away from them. Two men flanked him, both in blue sweatshirts. Arthur thought they looked rather ridiculous with all the blue, but he bit his tongue.

The man in the center pouted like a toddler and whined, "Alfreeed! You said! You said you wouldn't try to get the Heroes back together!"

Arthur looked over at his friend, wondering if he was only allowed back so that they could restart the gang. His mind was soon eased as Alfred rolled his eyes and replied, "Shut up, Ian. Arthur's just visiting."

"You say that, but you'll-" The man identified as Ian began.

"I said I was done with all that, didn't I? Now why are you here?"

Ian blushed and fiddled with the hem of his shirt like an embarrassed teenage girl. "Well, I, um, just wanted to see what you were up to. I heard you'd left your house earlier than usual today...I, uh, actually, I was wondering if you'd like to..." Ian mumbled, biting his lip as he trailed off.

"Spit it out," Alfred replied disinterestedly. Arthur could plainly guess what the blue-haired man was going to ask, since he'd been wanting to ask since he met Alfred in high school.

"Doyouwannagoouttodinnerwithmesometimemaybe?" Ian rushed, then stared at his crush pleadingly.

"No."

"What? Do you not swing that way, or-?" One of the men flanking Ian started to say, but was cut off by a wave of Alfred's hand.

"I just don't like you," the armed man said, looking bored.

A wave of rage crashed over the scrawny man, and he advanced on them, a gun being pulled out of his coat. He passed the curb, now officially on Alfred's property. He waved his gun furiously at Arthur and yelled, "It's because of him isn't it? Maybe I should kill him, if he's gonna get in the way?"

Before Arthur could register it, a gunshot went off. For a moment, he looked down at himself, expecting to find a red flower blooming on his green shirt, but he found none. So when he looked up, he saw that Ian was on his knees, clutching his shoulder and whimpering a little. Ian's gun was on the gun a few feet away, the safety still on. The two other men scrambled forward, grabbed their leader, and backed away to their SUV.

It was then that Arthur looked over to where Alfred was clicking the safety back on his gun. He had that sort-of resigned look on his face as he put the Glock back in the glove box and walked over to the hose, at the side of the house. He pulled it over to where Ian had left a puddle of blood, dropped it, then walked back over to the house and turned the spout on. For a few quiet moments, all they heard was the rush of water washing the blood off Alfred's driveway, and into the sewers.

When the taller man finally met Arthur's eyes, after turning the spout off and walking within a yard, the shorter exclaimed, "What the bloody hell was that?"

((I really like how this is turning out. I think I just needed to write it three times, you know? Anyway, please review! Love you guys!))