Ch. 10

The first thing Alfred noticed was that his room was colder than normal. Reluctantly opening his eyes he saw a ceiling that wasn't the smooth, creamy white he was used to but a rough terrain of sickly grey. Sitting up and looking around, he observed that he was in a room that was most certainly not his own if the lack of anything recognizable meant anything. The realization would have been worrying, but as he slowly came into wakefulness everything from yesterday started coming back to him. Sleepily directing his attention to his right, he saw that the other side of the bed was very much empty. Alfred joked with himself that he wasn't the first or last person to be jilted by Francis in the morning. Getting up and stretching, he freshened himself up as best he could and turned on the news when he was done. The roads weren't too bad, but everything was still slow going.

"Well, at least he isn't stuck out there somewhere," he said, sitting on the bed and waiting. By the time the news was over and television people were trying to sell him things again, he started to get worried.

Just as he was entertaining the idea of swinging by the police station and filing a missing persons report, the door flew open. Francis came stomping in, knocking snow off his boots and carrying two drinks and a paper bag. Alfred sprung to his feet and hurried over to him, setting aside the things he carried on the small table by the door and helping him with his coat.

"Thank you," Francis took back his coat before turning his back to him so quickly that Alfred was left blinking for a moment.

"Where'd you go? I was beginning to think you were sticking me with the bill," Alfred joked, wanting to ask about the weird melancholy vibe Francis was giving off but deciding he was overreacting. Maybe Francis just wasn't a morning person?

"You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't have the heart to wake you. So I stepped out for a smoke and got some breakfast while I was at it," for emphasis he threw a pack of cigarettes alongside everything else. Alfred noticed it was freshly opened from the way the cellophane still hung off of it and the crisp edges on the box.

"I thought you quit," Alfred said, picking up the paper bag and peering in at the donuts it held, "Where did you get these?"

"I did," Francis shrugged, sitting at the cramped table and picking up his drink, "I walked to that gas station just over on the corner." Before Alfred could gawk at him braving the elements just for a bite to eat he went on, "The sidewalk was clear and a little exercise never hurt anybody. Besides, the sun's been out and has been melting things pretty good."

"Oh… Well thanks," he made himself comfortable on the floor at the foot of the bed, munching on a donut and sipping at his coffee while watching Francis drink his own.

"Wan' wun?" he spoke around a mouthful of pastry and held out the bag.

"No thank you, I'm not keen on sweets."

"So just cigarettes and coffee for you?" Alfred asked after choking down his food.

"I don't have much of an appetite in the morning," he answered, leaning on his elbows and staring off at the wall.

"Who doesn't like breakfast?"Alfred asked with a cheeky grin that went unseen as Francis refused to look away from what was so fascinating on the other side of the room.

"I might make an exception and enjoy some of that frosting around your mouth if you don't stop interrogating me," he said with a hollow smirk as Alfred hurriedly wiped at his lips before his expression went blank again.

"Something wrong? You seem out of it."

"I get that way when I've been kept up all night," he murmured, but seeing the confused look on Alfred's face prompted him to explain in a less harsh tone, "You're like a heat seeking missile. If it wasn't your arms, it was your legs. If it wasn't your legs, you were hogging the sheets. It was impressive really."

Alfred rubbed the nape of his neck sheepishly, "Sorry, I thought I out grew that. Matt would complain about it too. And Arthur hated when I'd get nightmares 'cause I'd be kicking him all night."

"You were having a nightmare?" Francis snapped his eyes to Alfred again, concern coloring his voice.

"No- well I don't know. It's just a sleeping habit."

"How strange. Actually it makes me sad. Matthew never came to me with any nightmares or anything," he managed to force himself to sound pouty, but his tone fell flat and all Alfred could do was look him up and down appraisingly.

"Don't take it personally. He's not the type of guy to bother people no matter how scared he gets."

The conversation died there. Alfred finished his meal and stared at Francis staring straight ahead of himself. His eyes were glassed over in thought and occasionally his lip would twitch as if he meant to say something. Alfred thought he looked possessed. After a time, and after observing the slight dark rings under Francis' eyes, guilt sunk in on him. Francis was probably only tired, the man practically admitted to it. But it was his fault. Therefore, it was his duty to cheer him up.

"How 'bout I get your car out of the snow? Those groceries aren't going to buy themselves and I'm sure it's buried in pretty deep still." He shot to his feet and placed his hands on his hips in an attempt to look dashing, or at least determined.

Francis wasn't buying it, "You don't have a shovel." Alfred counted his wry smile as a personal win anyway.

"I'll improvise!"

He got up and threw on his coat and was reaching for the door when Francis piped up, "Wait up!"

Alfred smiled as he watched Francis pull on his own coat, "You don't have to. You bought breakfast for me."

Francis shook his head and stubbornly, "Surely you don't expect me to just sit up here while you labor away. I'm not a princess."

"Never said you were. And don't call me Shirley," Alfred started to laugh at his own joke before quickly aborting when he saw that Francis didn't get it.

"Ahem. Shall we?" Francis finally cracked a genuine smile and followed him outside.

They were out there longer than Alfred anticipated. After a half hour of mishaps and no progress the front desk clerk eventually wandered out with a shovel and a bucket of gravel, crowing about the show they had given him. The old man wouldn't stop bringing up how Alfred slipped and set off the horn in an accidental swan dive while trying to push and steer the car out of a slick patch of snow and Francis wouldn't stop laughing every time either. Alfred, meanwhile, sullenly scraped ice off the windows and dutifully ignored them. He would forever pretend nothing had transpired, and Francis would always mockingly swoon at Alfred's 'improvising abilities.'

Despite the methods, the car was finally free to make a slow tumble toward the now bare roads. Alfred leaned up against the car, allowing his wet clothes to dry in the meek winter sunlight. Francis took up the space next to him, waving a friendly good bye to the jovial clerk.

"It feels different," Alfred said randomly, resting his head on his arms folded on top of the car roof.

"What's different?" Francis asked, fumbling a cigarette from his pocket and still giggling like a school girl every time he looked over at Alfred.

"Us," Francis' face became slightly crestfallen and strained at the response, "Now that we've kinda laid it all bare it feels a lot different, dontcha think?"

Francis pulled the cigarette from his lips and contemplated the thin wisps of smoke dancing their way up and out, "I suppose you're right. Can't expect things to go back to how they were." He took a long drag before dropping the cigarette and stubbing it out in the slush. "Not after everything."

Alfred nodded, then leaned over and nudged Francis with his shoulder and said in a sing song voice, "Sorry for ruining your beauty rest. I'll make it up to you."

"It's not even a big deal, I was just being cranky."

"Let me make it up to you anyway," Alfred felt oddly excited at the thoughtful expression that passed over Francis' face before making his offer, "I could drive. You being so tired isn't good for driving, and you're always giving me rides. Let me chauffer you around for once."

Francis looked between the car and Alfred apprehensively, "Do you even have a license?"

"I got it when I was eighteen, not long after-well the thing is I have it."

Francis hooded his eyes as he pulled his keys out of his pant pocket. He fiddled with them briefly before seeming to come to a decision and holding them out.

"I trust you."

Alfred felt elated.

The car thing may or may not have happened to me once in real life in the middle of the night. It's a mystery!

Thanks to everyone for still reading, or even checking it out! I plan on getting another chapter out this week before school starts up again. (Oy vey!)