Hey guys! Sorry that it's been forever since I last updated. I've gone back to college for the year and am taking more classes than I should *despairs*. Updates will probably be erratic.

That said, I hope you enjoy the new chapter. Please give it some love.

Love you all, doze


Alfred had the end of a pencil jabbed between his teeth and lead smeared up his nose. His Calculus notes and textbook were spread across the island of Arthur's kitchen. Midterms were nearly upon him and he was so far from ready.

It felt like only yesterday that he stepped into senior year, peppy and wet behind the ears. One glance at the pudgy lump of his backpack, growing fatter by the day, made Alfred snort. Now he was scurrying to save his ass from imminent failure. As much as Arthur was his favorite person, the guy worked true evil on Alfred's waning productivity.

Admittedly, it wasn't the wisest idea to be studying for midterms at Arthur's apartment. Especially when Arthur seemed to give less than a damn about Alfred's grades. Arthur turned up the television, opened the window, and even started a running commentary on the show while Alfred chewed his pencil to smithereens, his mind boggled in equations.

Alfred was beginning to suspect that Arthur was out to fail him on purpose.

Take last night for instance.

Alfred had settled on Arthur's mildly bacterial floor with his headphones on. Texts from his British Lit class were scattered all around him in lumpy hills and valleys. His music was turned up so that he couldn't hear the sound of Arthur's soft porn cartoon. Occasionally, the fantastic colors of an ice cream ad would cause him to glance at the TV, but for the most part, he was really focused. Lit class could lick his ass.

As he worked, he hummed along to the tune of Sugar by Maroon 5. Pop music was his Achilles' heel. Even if the other guys were into rock and rap, Alfred still kept a surprising list of pop numbers on the ready. This particular song always had him bouncing along. Walking on sunshine in the literal sense.

As he contemplated yet another Tale of Two Cities metaphor, he happened to glance up at Arthur. Arthur could pretend all he wanted that he didn't see Alfred in the corner, but Alfred could usually get Arthur to break character with a couple of funny faces. He was just about to puff out his cheeks when Arthur did something that surprised him.

He took off his shirt.

Other than that one time ages ago, Alfred hadn't seen Arthur shirtless. His mouth dropped open a little bit, and he closed it with an audible snap. The August heat had melted to September breezes to October leaves to November chill and now nearly December ice. It was much too cold for Arthur to be taking off his shirt… wasn't it?

If Arthur noticed him watching he didn't let on to it, dropping his shirt on the floor carelessly and stretching backwards as he reached for his beer. Alfred stared. In the light of the television, it was easy to see the dips and knicks in Arthur's skin from the burns that swathed across his torso. Even so, Alfred could only think about how incredibly handsome he was.

Arthur was slight, and sometimes he forgot about it because Arthur had such a commanding personality. He looked so small, swallowed there by his dingy couch. For a second, Alfred's libido was derailed as he considered how Arthur's ribs stuck out and how he could trace the outlines of bones in Arthur's chest. But then, though his concern remained, that image seemed to glitch out.

Because this was Arthur. Shirtless. And Alfred was eighteen years old and hopeless for him.

From here, he could make out the navy band of Arthur's boxers peeking out from his black jeans. Had Arthur been wearing his pants lower lately? Alfred wasn't keeping count but… this was the third time he'd seen Arthur's boxers this week. Maybe he was just getting hornier? Alfred shook his head in bewilderment and tried to peel his eyes away.

Despite his efforts, he continued to stare and Lit class slipped down the importance list of his life again.

When Arthur stood up, Alfred turned jumpily back to his textbooks, watching from his peripheral vision. Empty beer bottle in hand, Arthur shuffled his way to the kitchen. He pushed the bottle up against the counter, swinging open the fridge door and scratching the back of his head. His pants slipped further down his hips, and in the dim light Alfred could see the beginnings of his happy trail.

Singer Adam Levine continued to croon in his ear the whole while. Sugar. Yes, please. Won't you come and put it down on me…

"Fuck." Alfred hissed under his breath, standing in a rush of dropped books.

Arthur glanced over at him in confusion and he laughed nervously, one hand positioned carefully over his crotch. "Gotta pee."

His "pee" took a lot longer than it usually did. Waiting for an arousal to fade was just about the most depressing thing, but he didn't dare attempt to relieve himself in such close proximity. Even if he and Arthur were friends, he wasn't sure friends let friends jerk off in each other's restrooms.

As he fake-washed his hands, Alfred figured that was that. His Lit exam still loomed on the horizon, and there were plenty of other things that called for his attention back in the real world. He didn't have time for alluring fantasies about his best friend. With a steady head on his shoulders, he returned to Charles Dickens.

Or at least that's how he had planned it.

Alfred didn't so much as glance at Arthur as he settled in his spot again. Shoving his headphones back on, to find Adam Levine still cruising at top volume. Damn, his phone must have got set on repeat. …down on me? Yeah, I want that red velvet. I want that sugar sweet…

Alfred quickly flipped it out, all prepared to stop that train before it got swinging. Unfortunately, a particularly colorful ice cream ad drew his attention upwards and he got a full view of the couch and its occupant. Adam Levine continued to sing unhindered, because Alfred figured he must be dreaming.

Arthur's navy boxers were new. He thought distantly that they looked pretty comfortable. Soft and pliant fabric molding to the shape of… well.

Alfred made a strange noise in the back of his throat that even Arthur couldn't ignore.

Beer halfway to his lips, he asked blankly, "What?"

"Where are your pants?" Alfred said slowly.

Arthur smirked, pinching his boxers. "Right here."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. Where are your jeans?"

Arthur shrugged. "I'm ready for bed." He took a swig of his beer. "And I sleep in my boxers. Why are you acting strange?"

"Uh. Sorry." Alfred cleared his throat, ducking his head. Arthur was right; he was the one acting weird about it.

Needless to say, he got no studying accomplished that night.

Also, needless to say, he really shouldn't be studying at Arthur's. But Alfred wasn't one to learn from his mistakes.

The next day, he sighed over his many Calculus papers, glancing at Arthur (thankfully fully-clothed) on the couch. He knew he was young, but he didn't think his heart could take it again if he looked up like magic and saw Arthur's legs crossed together, bare all the way to his mid-thigh.

Pushing the book away, Alfred went to scrounge himself a beer from Arthur's fridge. His mom would have a heart attack knowing how much he actually drank at Arthur's house. It was far from the partying his friends got up to, but every once in awhile he and Arthur happened to get pleasantly buzzed at the same time. Arthur's jokes were funnier then and he tended to be a lot touchier… It sounded good, so Alfred swung the fridge door open.

The usual host of beers crowded the top shelf. Arthur's favorite brand was almost gone. Alfred could have sworn he'd taken Arthur to the store just the other day. Besides the beer, there was an expired jar of mayonnaise and a single pickle. Hadn't he just taken Arthur to the store? He was certain that... Of course, Arthur hadn't bought much. He never bought much…

Frowning, Alfred moved his investigation to the freezer. Empty. Ice clung to the walls, but that was it. At home, he couldn't even make out the back of his freezer. Growing worried, he checked the pantry. Nothing.

"Arthur," he called. "Want me to order a pizza?"

Arthur's response was more or less instant. "If you want. The number's on the counter."

"You wrote out the number?" Alfred raised his eyebrows incredulously.

"We eat it often enough." Arthur shot back without looking away from his program. "I'm surprised you don't have it memorized."

"Oh, and I guess you just assumed I didn't forget my wallet."

This time, Arthur did look, smiling like an angel. "You paid for petrol on the way here. Don't forget to tip the man."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Alfred muttered. He usually would have smiled at Arthur's antics, but the scarily blank fridge still flickered in front of his eyes.

On the counter, a ripped sheet of notebook paper had the number for the pizza place. Like Arthur had hoped he would ask...

Alfred bit his lip. He knew better than to approach the situation head on. If he asked Arthur outright, he would be shut out. Asking was bound to turn into a fight. Arthur still hadn't found another job. Everyday, he would meet Alfred after school with the same surly shrug. No luck. He didn't seem to mind Alfred paying for their pizza most days. In fact, today Arthur was depending on it, it seemed.

Their pizza arrived in a waft of greasy smelling heaven. Alfred confined himself to eating only two slices and watching Arthur. Arthur took to the pizza eagerly, finishing three pieces in the space of a heartbeat. He even discarded his cigarettes to use both his hands. If Alfred had any doubts, Arthur's large appetite laid them to rest.

Between the two of them, there usually weren't leftovers. But Alfred was determined to leave some for later.

If Arthur wouldn't ask for help directly, then he would just have to get creative.

0 0 0

Over the next few days, Alfred found increasingly inventive ways to leave food at Arthur's house. One time, he 'forgot' his Subway sandwich. Another he stole two loaves of bread from his mother and convinced Arthur to make experimental French toast with him, leaving Arthur with enough French toast for at least the next century. The next, he borrowed some of Matthew's workers comp from the bakery and nonchalantly gifted Arthur with a dozen bagels that would have been thrown away.

He was pretty sure his mother was on to him, when she caught him smuggling their entire branch of grapes into his car. But she accepted his, "I'm hungry!" excuses and let him be.

He brought popcorn and ice cream and candy and chips and anything he thought he could get away with bringing to a movie night when he convinced Arthur to watch The Exorcist with him. Arthur stared with a slightly dazed expression at the bag of food Alfred emptied onto his counter. Candies, and chocolate covered raisins, crackers, cookies. Alfred crumpled up his shopping bags and set to work, throwing the mound onto Arthur's pantry shelves.

"Do you expect to be snowed in?" Arthur asked with a weak chuckle.

Alfred met his green eyes and shrugged. "I just eat a lot, you know that."

"But you haven't been." Arthur accused softly. He played with the edge of a popsicle box.

Alfred ignored him. "Look. My mom made cookies, too. And they're really good. I'll bet you haven't had homemade stuff in ages. Try one." He shoved the cookie into Arthur's non-cigarette hand expectantly. Arthur didn't fight him, raising the treat to his lips. But he still had an odd look in his eyes.

"I don't even like white chocolate." He muttered around it, running his fingers through his hair. His shirt slipped up again, and Alfred had to reboot his brain to respond.

"Not all of it's for you."

Arthur merely raised his thick eyebrows, before snorting and rolling his eyes. "Whatever." He grabbed a bag of Lay's and stalked off to his couch, ripping into the bag and starting the movie without so much as waiting for Alfred to follow.

Sitting beside him, Alfred believed Arthur knew exactly what he was up to.

Yet… Arthur said nothing about it.

Alfred considered it to be sort of a victory? He had gotten Arthur to accept help from him. Albeit in the most convoluted way possible. It didn't matter. Arthur wouldn't starve on his watch.

Unfortunately, the feelings of victory wore off quickly. Damn! He had forgotten how scary The Exorcist was. Arthur watched him more than the movie with unrestrained amusement, laughing every time he jumped or shrieked.

"You didn't tell me you were such a baby." Arthur teased with a smirk, as he carefully peeled Alfred's death grip off his bicep.

"Don't be mean, Artie." Alfred howled. "God! Why did I pick this m-movie?"

"You were trying to find a film I wanted to watch as well." Arthur reminded him. He tapped his chin thoughtfully, with his cigarette hand. At the moment there was no cigarette there, just a hunk of Hershey's (milk) chocolate. "You know, you didn't ask but I was willing to watch that stupid Marvel movie if that's what you wanted to see."

"What! Why didn't you say so?"

"You never asked." Arthur rolled his eyes, sounding a bit perturbed. "You couldn't succeed in driving me off with only Captain America."

Alfred glanced at him, before smiling shakily. There was always some irrational part of him that insisted he wasn't cool enough for Arthur. "Would you sit through a Pixar movie too?"

"I like Pixar movies." Arthur said, astonishing him. "Have you seen Monsters Inc?"

"Of course!" Alfred chirped enthusiastically. "But that one's old. Have you seen Up?"

"Up? It's just called that?"

Alfred's eyes widened in disbelief and he grabbed Arthur by the hand in his enthusiasm. "What others haven't you seen? Do you know Nemo? The Incredibles? Ratatouille?"

"I've heard of some… yeah." He said, sounding shocked by Alfred's excitement. "You really like them?"

"I think you'll like them." Alfred smiled. "Tomorrow's Friday. How about we have a movie marathon at my house after school? It'll be fun. I've got that big TV, you know. One that doesn't fuzz out." As if on cue, The Exorcist blinked out again.

Arthur cursed light-heartedly at him, before sighing. "If that's… what you want to do."

"Is it what you want to do?"

Arthur lowered his head a bit, so that Alfred couldn't quite see his expression. "Whatever. I don't care."

Alfred grinned, dragging Arthur into a hug. The other man grew stiff enough that it would have deterred anybody else. But Alfred knew Arthur. And recently, more often than not, Arthur did care.

"You're getting chocolate on my shirt, idiot!"

Alfred pulled back with a lopsided grin. "Give me some."

"No."

"Not all of it's for you!"

"Don't lie to me."

Alfred swallowed nervously. "What?"

Arthur shoved the rest of the chocolate in his mouth, bending to retrieve a pack of Chips Ahoy. "You really have a warped view of nutrition, you know that. And I don't even like white chocolate."

Smiling tentatively, Alfred accepted a cookie from Arthur. "Uh, okay, King Arthur. Would you rather I brought over vegetables?"

"My teeth are going to rot out. Will you be paying for my dentist too?"

"You don't have to eat it!"

Arthur sighed over dramatically. "Well, I can't let it go to waste."

"Shut up." Alfred shoved him in the side, causing him to grunt. Admittedly, he hadn't thought farther than bringing Arthur food. Junk food just happened to be the easiest excuse.

"Why do you go through so much effort, honestly?" Arthur asked pompously, throwing his feet up in Alfred's lap. "For me?" He acted like the answer wasn't important. His eyes on the television screen.

Alfred glanced down at Arthur's feet and fiddled with his toes. "I can't have you starving," he whispered, feeling his voice catch. "I'd miss you too much."

"You're such a sap." Arthur grumbled.

And only much later when Alfred was falling asleep to the credits did the slightest of smiles slip past Arthur's guard.

0 0 0

Alfred was bouncing on air all seventh period. A movie night watching Pixar with Arthur. It sounded just about like a date to him, and he was willing to pretend that it was, even if it wasn't. This also provided him a chance to stuff Arthur full of burgers and movie snacks. By the time he was through with Arthur, Arthur wouldn't want to eat for a week.

Matthew complained light-heartedly that their living room would smell like a tobacco plantation again, but overall his brother seemed to find Alfred's antics amusing.

"Did he say 'I do', Al?" Matthew dared to ask under his breath as they walked out of the school together.

Alfred scowled at him. "Make a joke at your own peril, Matt. If you say anything like that around Arthur, I will kill you."

"And what if he reciprocates?" Matthew challenged.

"He doesn't."

"How do you know? Have you asked?"

Alfred shuddered at the very thought. "Look, Matt. We're barely friends as it is. I don't want to ruin it by telling him I want in his pants."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Alfred, I'm not stupid. There's more to it than that. For whatever bizarre reason… To be honest, I think it's cuz mom dropped you on your head as a baby. But you really like Arthur."

Alfred shrugged. "He's my best friend."

"I thought you were barely friends?"

"Yes, I mean, no, but it's complicated. I don't want to ruin things by opening my big mouth, okay? Drop it." Alfred frowned as his car came into view in the parking lot. Arthur wasn't sitting on it. He jogged up, his breath fogging around them from the cold.

Matthew wisely stopped making jokes. His eyebrows furrowed together. "Where is he?"

Even people they barely knew a couple cars down were watching them. Arthur was a fixture in the school parking lot whether anybody liked it or not. It was extremely noticeable that he wasn't there.

"You think I know?" Alfred spat sharply, already dialing Arthur's number on his phone. He flinched as the phone connected. This was a bit clingy, wasn't it? He should have texted. That would have seemed less desperate. But something could have happened to Arthur… something could have…

"Ah, Alfred." Arthur's familiar voice greeted him over the speaker. "I was hoping you'd call."

"Where are you?"

"At the apartment. Actually… outside the apartment."

"Why? What's happening?"

"I just need someone to pick me up." Arthur answered vaguely, sounding unconcerned. "Can you do that? It's okay if you're busy."

Alfred snorted. "Seriously, Arthur? I'm coming. Don't go anywhere."

"Where is he?" Matthew sounded very wary after Alfred hung up. Like he expected Arthur to be in jail again. It was hard to get offended when Alfred still worried about it, too.

"He's just at the apartment. He said he needed someone to pick him up. I'm sure he's fine."

Matthew didn't look convinced, but he nodded. "I'll tell mom you guys will be later."

As Alfred pulled up to Arthur's apartment complex, he realized why Arthur had needed someone to pick him up. And why Arthur had said "outside" the apartment.

Arthur was sitting on his couch in a frosty bit of grass, surrounded by all his belongings. The thin wisp of his cigarette drifted calmly up through the winter gray, and Arthur exhaled a patch of white.

Alfred got out of his car, frowning. "Did… did you get evicted?"

Arthur fiddled with his cigarette a moment before answering. "It would seem so."

"Why?"

Arthur shrugged. "Renters are like that. They expect to be paid for their accommodations."

"Oh." Alfred looked at his feet. "Do you have somewhere to stay?"

"I'll find somewhere." Arthur said, getting to his feet. "So? Pixar?"

Alfred just looked at him in disbelief. "Let's get your stuff out of the snow first."

Arthur shrugged. "It's all shit anyway."

Alfred managed to cram all of Arthur's belongings, bar the furniture, into his car. He examined Arthur's couch in dismay. Matthew owned a small pick-up truck. If they found some ropes, it might do. He was just about to ask Arthur when he saw the steaming pile of cigarette butts glittering in the frost on the ground.

Arthur had his back turned and his shoulders hiked up. All his concentration was on the cigarette in his mouth. His green eyes were distant and faraway, like glass. Alfred sighed. He had thought it was weird for Arthur to act so nonchalant about all this. Really, Arthur was only hiding his worry.

There were lots of frustrating things about Arthur. Like how he paid for cigarettes and not for food. For beer and not for transportation. How he blew up about little things, but pretended that big things didn't faze him. Alfred exhaled a thick cloud of white, coming to stand beside him.

Arthur jumped, jerked abruptly from his thoughts. "Almost through?"

"Yeah, thanks for helping." Alfred said sarcastically. His fingers were going blue with cold. Little white snowflakes were gathering friends, thickening in swirls around them.

Arthur shrugged. "I don't care about any of that stuff anyway."

"It's all you have." Alfred pointed out, to which he received an even surlier shrug. "I'm sorry, Arthur."

Arthur looked away. "About what? It was inevitable."

"I wish you would have told me sooner. I want to help you, Arthur."

"I don't want your help."

Alfred bit back an angry retort, groaning. "Why not? You need it."

"I don't." Arthur disagreed sharply. "I've made it fine on my own this far. I don't need your help at all."

Alfred glared at the ground until he trusted himself to speak again. "I'm sorry, Arthur."

"Stop apologizing!" Arthur exploded. "It isn't— None of it's your fault!"

"I know." Alfred responded and then shrugged. "I'm not apologizing like that. I feel sorry for you. That's why I say it."

"I don't want your pity." Arthur snarled, hurling his cigarette at the ground and facing Alfred with flames in his eyes. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You couldn't possibly know everything that's been going on."

"You're right." Alfred said in exasperation. "But that's not my fault. You won't tell me anything, Arthur. What do you expect me to do about that? Do you want me to give up?"

The words seemed to genuinely confound Arthur because he took a wary step backwards like a caged animal. "Well, I can't just tell you. What do you even want to know?" He said in a haggard whisper, watching Alfred through his wild fringe. His shoulders drooped a little as he fished for another cigarette. But the pack came up empty. "I can't just tell you."

"Why not?" Alfred murmured. "Its going to take more than this to drive me away." He smiled sadly at Arthur, watching him fling the empty cigarette pack into the snow and produce another one from his jacket pocket. "Arthur, I'll ask my mom if you can stay at our place. I just… She'll want to know that you're really trying. You have to keep going to your counseling, and I don't think she'll let you smoke. And if you don't find a job—

"I found a job." Arthur interrupted in a curious voice. He didn't quite meet Alfred's eyes. "I found a job. They… they called me this morning. I start n-next week."

"You did?" Alfred's eyes widened and then he grinned in sheer relief. "Oh, Arthur, that's really good news. I'm so happy for you."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably under Alfred's smile. "She'll let me stay with you, then?… Just until I have enough to find another place, of course."

"I think so," Alfred nodded. "I have to ask her, but let's get out of the cold first, okay? Your lips are blue." Despite himself, he put an arm around Arthur's shoulders and led him to the car. Once again, he was struck by how small Arthur was, standing against it all. After the loss of his apartment. He opened Arthur's car door, but he stopped Arthur from getting in, insisting on another hug.

Arthur scowled at him, breathing smoke in his face. But this prickly shell wasn't enough to drive Alfred away. It wouldn't ever be. Arthur stepped into Alfred's embrace when he realized resistance was futile. This was different from last night's embrace. Arthur rested his head hesitantly against Alfred's chest, one of his hands splayed out against Alfred's bicep. The raw skin of Arthur's inner wrist was looking bruised again. For a second, a barely discernible second, he felt Arthur relax against him.

Then the moment was passed and Arthur smoked his next pack.

0 0 0

Ratatouille was playing on the big screen as Arthur worked his way through a mammoth bowl of popcorn some time later. Behind him in the kitchen, Alfred and his mother had a quiet discussion in the kitchen, which included a lot of begging.

"Please, ma." Alfred whispered. "He doesn't have anywhere to go. He said he just got another job. It'll only be for a little while. He promised not to smoke indoors. Please?"

"Slow down, Alfred." She murmured back, watching him as he played anxiously with his hoodie strings. "I'm not going to leave him starving out in the cold. He already looks thinner than when I last saw him."

Alfred perked up hopefully, but his mother only met him with a stern expression. "If he agrees to the rules I lay down, then I'll allow him to stay. It's my house, and he needs to follow my rules."

Alfred nodded earnestly. "That's what I told him. He will, ma. He's a good guy."

She sighed. "I'm willing to try this, Alfred, but this isn't a free-for-all. Arthur needs to be responsible to stay here."

Alfred frowned. "Ma, he is responsible. I promise he—

"No, he isn't." She interrupted. "He let himself get evicted from his apartment without seeking any help. He seems to place more weight on his tobacco addiction than on paying rent. Alfred, I know you care about him, but this is a lesson for you. He's been very irresponsible. If anything, he needs to seek help, so that he can get this under control."

Alfred lowered his head a bit. She was right, but she didn't understand. There was more to Arthur's story than that. Surely there was a reason he had such a difficult time. He opened his mouth to say so, but she interrupted again.

"Don't look at me like that. It takes more than chance for a person to end up in his situation. Not all of it is his fault." She sighed. "I just don't want you to get hurt, Alfred. Arthur won't mean to, but he doesn't know how to be in the sort of relationship that you want. I'm afraid he's really going to hurt you."

Alfred balked, feeling his cheeks turn bright red. Was he really that obvious to everybody? "I don't—" He sputtered, glaring at the ground. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She looked like she would push him, but something over his shoulder caught her eye and she fell quiet.

"Alfred?"

Alfred turned to see Arthur standing awkwardly at the edge of the kitchen with an empty popcorn bowl.

"Are you coming to watch the rest of the film?" Arthur's ears were beginning to turn red. He tended to act strange around Alfred's mom.

"Yeah," Alfred gathered his enthusiasm and smiled. "Here for your popcorn fix?"

Arthur held up the empty bowl.

"So do you like it so far?" Alfred asked as he threw another bag of popcorn into the microwave.

"It's cute." Arthur yawned suddenly and scrapped a hand across his face.

Alfred gently bumped his shoulder. "Rather take a nap?"

"No, no, I have to know how it ends now."

Alfred's lips twitched. "Me too. Let's see how it ends."

"Don't you already know how it ends?" Arthur asked around another yawn as they settled on the couch together.

"Kinda. But you never know when things will take a turn." Alfred unpaused the movie and relaxed back.

Arthur was silent for a few minutes, before he agreed. "Yeah. Maybe things will take a turn." And then he rested his cheek against Alfred's shoulder, and Alfred didn't know what to say.