Try everything you can. If you don't like it, then just don't do it again.

Arthur looked around.

The house was quaint and not obvious in any wealth, something Arthur would expect of a newlywed young couple. It was also very plain - the furniture that there was present did not match each other, suggesting that the couple had gotten them from relatives or by cheapest trade. One wall was brick, and that was where the hearth was located. In the centre of the room, a rug was presented, of a dappled black and white colouring, and on that rug was a long and sleek brown table. Arthur turned the corner, and there was another, smaller fireplace made of brick that he assumed was for cooking. In the middle of that small area with the smaller fireplace was a small, rich brown in colour, short table, and then all sorts of kitchen utensils and cooking pans were placed on every shelf and place that they could fit. That was all for what Arthur could see, the only thing not having been explored being the hallway beside him.

Alfred followed Arthur.

Arthur knew that it was reasonable for him to be doing so. A man they had known for roughly two months was being let into their home to live for what could be the next three months. Certainly, that was rather sudden and surprising for Alfred. Arthur got the notion that Elizaveta had neglected telling him about her plans.

"Everything is rather boring," Elizaveta commented from the other room, where she had begun to hang all three of their coats. It had been raining hard all evening, leaving them drenched, so they were unable to keep warm in clothing. She shot Alfred a glare, as the man had neglected starting the hearth in favour of watching Arthur. "You won't find very much to look at. It has not been long since we have this house."

"Really?" Arthur responded as he walked back into the main room, beginning to light the hearth as Elizaveta had been about to head towards it herself. She was surprised at his actions, but said nothing.

"Yes," she answered, brushing off her dress as her hands had nothing better to do. "Since July. I inherited the tavern, but my mother occupies my childhood home with my nephew."

Arthur looked up in interest as he stirred the coals, urging them to awaken. "You inherited? I assumed that it was the man who inherited the most profitable of things."

"I am an only child," Elizaveta commented, and it almost seemed as if she had to force herself to say that. "Alfred's brother inherited what Alfred might have gotten, and I would not have moved from this city."

It seemed like Arthur might have asked more questions, but before he knew it, there was the sound of footsteps on the hallway right beside them and a long haired blonde man approached carefully, clothed in a thick leather jacket and thick leather pants. He rubbed his eyes and blinked curiously at the trio below him. As his sleepy gaze registered Arthur, however, he almost jumped, startled. As he was about to open his mouth, though, the corner of his vision caught the sight of a red coat on the coat hanger, and suddenly, his smile was wide.

"Hello," he greeted politely, and Arthur was clearly taken aback by the warm welcome. "I was not told that there would be more guests so late in the night." Matthew began walking towards the two, emerging from the hallway.

"I wasn't, either," Alfred agreed, and Elizaveta had to put her palm over her mouth in order to stifle her laughter.

"Ah, yes," Arthur said as he cleared his throat, standing and offering a hand to Matthew, which he gladly shook as he reached the other. "I'm Arthur Kirkland of the Royal Army, pleased to meet you, Mr.-?"

"Jones," Matthew filled in, "Matthew Jones."

Instantly, Arthur's eyes filled with recognition - but then, just as quickly, grew confused. He slowly drew back his hand, attempting to make his expression return back to its neutral state. Matthew must have noticed, but he said nothing on the matter, only casting his brother what could only be described as a disapproving look.

Arthur had heard about the different loyalties of families, but he never thought that they could be drastic. Matthew and Alfred did not even talk to each other, it seemed. They did not greet one another, even though Matthew gave Elizaveta a smile and she worriedly asked if they had woken him. Matthew agreed but said that he did not mind and he and his wife had fallen asleep in the other room attending to their child. He offered to show Arthur where the man would be sleeping, but Elizaveta refused and insisted that she was the hostess.

Alfred stared at Arthur's back as the man ascended the hallway with Elizaveta two steps in front. She was pointing to the room in front of them, what Alfred assumed to be Ivan's room, saying something that Alfred was not focused on. He simply wanted somewhere to put his eyes, that and he found himself drawn to staring at Arthur when Arthur was not staring back. He would not look Arthur in the eye, but he had had a long time to think about what Arthur had told him the other day. Why would Arthur tell him what he did? Certainly, it would only alienate people.

Or maybe he had been so caught up in his own thoughts and emotions that he had not realised what he was saying. Alfred knew that that had happened to himself more than once or twice.

Or, perhaps, just maybe, Arthur was tired of having to hold it in.

Arthur did not go out of his way to avoid Alfred as Alfred had been doing to him. He did not only look at Alfred, he stared straight at him, as if judging the younger man's actions and assessing the situation. Alfred wanted nothing more than to be ignored by Arthur and continue on his day, but the younger man found himself struck with an odd sense of what he could only call contemplation of revelation and/or new maturity – and it all had to do with the blasted man. No, instead of forgetting about Arthur and viewing the man as a burden to his tavern day by day, ignoring him when at all possible, he found his eyes seeking him out – though only when Arthur was not seeking him back. Alfred found himself staring at Arthur and wondering just how such a person was possible.

It was a sin for a man to love another man. So why did Arthur live so comfortably?

Yes, of course, Arthur was a soldier, but he perhaps had it better than most other soldiers. Once, Alfred had even found a bible on the side of Arthur's desk. For days, as Arthur had lain sick in bed, he had not gotten up, and soldiers were not uncommon to be seen coming to the tavern to be sure of the man's whereabouts; so Alfred would have to lead them into Arthur's room to prove where he had been. Whatever punishment Arthur had received for skipping out on training was unknown to Alfred, but it seemed as if Arthur was hardly missed – or remembered about at all. Yet, Arthur had gotten up every day that he could and left as if he were the most important asset to the world.

It was not egotistical – no, it could have only been a sense of duty. Each night that Alfred had checked, Arthur's bible was in a different place. Sometimes, it was on his face, as he had fallen asleep reading it. On those nights, Alfred had walked in and placed it face down on the desk, then left without telling either Elizaveta or Arthur. And Arthur never mentioned anything about it.

But Alfred never spoke a word to Arthur, and as Alfred soon found out, that only made the British man that much more mysterious. Unknown. He was new and undiscovered territory, and Alfred did not know what to do with it. He did not know what to do with the fact that he would then be spending the entire winter living in the same household as the soldier – he would be spending Christmas with the soldier.

"Can you not be more polite to the soldier?" Matthew demanded all of the sudden, snapping Alfred out of his thoughts. "It is his duty to be here and protect you, and what do you do? You rudely cast him off without as much as a goodnight."

"I was not being rude to anyone, and especially not Arthur – considering I said not a word to him," Alfred countered back.

"Exactly," Matthew protested, reprimanding. "Mr. Kirkland deserves more respect than that."

Matthew's words went as a shock to Alfred, and not because of what he said. No, it was because of what he called Arthur by. Mr. Kirkland.

That was when Alfred realised that he had, at some point in time, stopped calling Arthur by any formal name. First names should have been reserved for only those who were close.

"A man intruding on my household deserves none of my respect," said Alfred, and he felt like he was repeating something that he had already said.

The taste of a coming argument was on the air, but it seemed it was just in time that Katyusha emerged from the hallway with Elizaveta, holding Ivan in her arms. She cast the two an apprehensive glance and did not seem the least bit startled when Alfred practically stormed past her and into his and Elizaveta's shared bedchamber.

Elizaveta sent an apologetic look before she followed.

But as Alfred lay awake that night, there was only one thing he could think before he fell asleep, even after that entire month of thinking and thinking.

What would it be like to love another man?

Elizaveta wanted meat. Katyusha wanted vegetables. Matthew was needed as their company. Arthur was somewhere Alfred would rather not know.

So, basically, Alfred was left alone.

Before Matthew left with the women to the market, however, and the women conversed near the horses, Matthew sat pulling on his boots and staring strangely at Alfred. Alfred had decided not to go with them, and for whatever reason, Matthew did not know. Nor did he care to know. He blamed it on his younger brother being a lazy, selfish child who knew not when he had work to do.

"Are you so irresponsible that you've left Elizaveta and your household with little winter food?" he asked, reaching over to grab his other boot. Alfred tensed at his brother's voice.

"Do you believe me to be irresponsible?" Alfred asked, and Matthew rose his eyebrows.

"Not usually, no, but it appears to be so," he responded, and Alfred grit his teeth.

"Oh?" he said conversationally, staring into the fire of the hearth. "Really? Then tell me, why would you leave an irresponsible man with your woman?"

Alfred was not turned to face Matthew, but he could hear as Matthew harshly tugged on his boot and roughly stood up. Matthew's normally gentle demeanour always turned to have a little more force when he was tense or angry. It was never displayed in his voice, as he had never had the loudest voice in the world, but rather, in his actions. "That matter has long been done with, and it was entirely your choice to marry Elizaveta."

"And what would have happened if I did not? Shame our name and leave the woman a widow?" Alfred demanded. "Only for you to run off with Katyusha?"

"That is enough," Matthew commanded suddenly, his voice soft but his words speaking of respect. "It was your—," suddenly, however, he stopped. He seemed to take a step back in what he was about to say, and instead closed his eyes and released a breath. "Thank you," he said, "For upholding what honour I could not. All I ask is that you take better care of your family."

Alfred did not want to respond again as Matthew left, and he did not. He was silently uprooted in his emotions that his older brother dare live at his home as a guest and then tell him he was an inattentive husband. But Matthew was not finished speaking, and it showed as he opened the door and moved to leave. "And that includes not fighting in a battle that cannot be won," his look was hard as he said that, searching for Alfred's eyes in order to hold his gaze. "In every action you take, think of your family before your own pride."

And then the door was shut.

Alfred thought that everything was hilarious.

No, really. The table sat weirdly, the fire had such an odd arrangement of colours, and look, a brick was missing from the right of hearth. Oh, and not to forget Matthew's serious face when he closed the door earlier that day! How serious. It was hilarious.

Alfred thought that his giggling would surely awake the five year old child in the room down the hall, but it did not appear to be so. Elizaveta would get so angry if he woke her child and made the boy have to witness a man drunk out of his wits.

Wait, no. Alfred squinted, attempting to focus his brain. That child was not Elizaveta's, it was Matthew's. But Elizaveta was married to Matthew, was she not? Oh, no, she was married to Alfred, because Matthew was selfish and did not want to live in the city and used love with Katyusha as an excuse. Right, right.

So Alfred was kind of stuck in a marriage before his 'childhood' truly ended.

Did that make Evan – was that his name? – his child?

Funny, Alfred did not know he had a child!

Deciding that he did not want to wake the child who had unknown parents, Alfred gave out a bark of laughter and stumbled onto the porch step. There was no wind that night, but there was a cold that bit at his jacketless skin. He did not care, he was having too much fun. It was a clear, pretty night out and Alfred had his very own bottle of vodka in his hand – he felt warm, so there was certainly nothing to lose.

Arthur was a funny bloke.

Definitely a funny bloke. A funny bloke who liked other blokes! Now, was that not a real kicker? But there must have been something special in liking another bloke. It was so out of the ordinary that something must have made Arthur decide that men were the better choice.

Were men the better choice? Well, certainly, a man did not get paired in an arranged married with another man. Perhaps, that meant men were the wrong choice.

No, that could not have been right. Arthur would not have gone out of his way to be special like that.

Clearly, that settled it to Arthur being a freak of nature, then.

But again, no. Alfred frowned, not liking how hard it was to think rationally under the influence of vodka. He giggled some more.

Arthur was a completely normal man. He was a normal redcoat-wearing man with normal emotions and a normal mind, in a normal-for-the-British situation. To be a freak of nature by not being able to love the right gender could not have been right.

But was it the right gender? Technically, it was the opposite gender, so it should have been the opposite of right, which was wrong, and—wow, the stars were really pretty.

Laughing, Alfred tilted his head back and grinned lopsidedly at the stars, holding up his bottle of vodka. "A toast!" he cried loudly, thrusting the bottle to the sky and having some spill over the edge. He glanced down to where the alcohol had landed, over the cold and matted brown grass. "Is it cold, my pretties?" Alfred slurred, and then proceeded to pour more vodka onto the ground. "Another toast!" he shouted again.

He began to walk, and fell onto the ground. Odd, he did not remember being pushed. Alfred rolled onto his back instead of attempting to stand back up, but as he was about to laugh again, he groaned. Suddenly, he was nauseous. Maybe rolling around had not been such a good idea.

Where was his brother and the women? Surely, they should have been back by then. How long had it been dark? How long had he been laying there? Somehow, the bottle suddenly seemed so away, and he reached almost desperately for where it lay about a foot from his outstretched finger tips.

Oh, look, there was a foot.

"Alfred?" came the sharp, alarmed voice of someone Alfred could only vaguely recognise. As he dragged his eyes upwards, though, his vision stumbled upon messy blonde hair and an acidic green gaze that was fixated only on him.

How sweet. The man was only looking at him. Alfred thought that he should feel special.

As a delayed reaction, it finally occurred to Alfred who the man was, and he began to awkwardly scramble onto his feet. "You're the funny bloke!" Alfred cried, far too loudly for a quiet autumn night, as he pointed an accusing finger at Arthur.

Arthur took a confused step back.

"Nono, don't go away," Alfred protested, attempting to walk forward, but as Arthur saw that he was about to lose his balance, Arthur lunched forward to catch him. Alfred ended up with one arm awkwardly held up and his other arm dangling to his side as he stood lopsided. Quickly, Arthur righted him.

"Bloody hell," Arthur breathed, his warm breath ghosting over Alfred's face in contrast to the cold. "How much have you drank?" Then, suddenly noticing Alfred's completely unfit attire for the weather, he ran his fingers over Alfred's arms to check their temperature. It gave Alfred goose bumps, but the sensation was pleasant to his numbed skin. "By God, you are coming inside," Arthur demanded, grabbing Alfred's shoulders and looking prepared to haul the man into the house.

"Nope!" Alfred declared, stomping on Arthur's foot and causing the Brit to curse mildly. "I want to figure out why you," he pushed his entire palm against Arthur's chest, "are such a funny bloke."

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, opening his mouth to ask what could have only been a puzzled question, but it appeared as if Alfred had other intentions. As Arthur moved his foot, he had to kick Alfred's own foot away to give his own more room, as it had landed right beside his. Thus, the drunken American colonist was forced to lose his balance and tumble straight into Arthur. He did not trip, he only stumbled, and quickly grabbed the other man's shoulders to make sure that he did not fall.

"What in the hell has gotten into you?" demanded Arthur again, looking none too pleased at the situation. Alfred grabbed his shoulders and shook it, though he stumbled awkwardly again by doing so.

"You cannot be such a strange freak if the world has offered you to begin with," Alfred slurred, and he swore that the words had made more sense in his head. Ah, well, they were already out. "Why," he leaned in closer, staring, as if that would make any difference at all. Arthur leaned his head back a little to avoid being so close. "Why do you find men better than women?"

Arthur's eyes widened, and he quickly opened his mouth again to ramble out some sort of half-thought through response spurred by anger and bitterness, but Alfred did not give him the chance. "Is there something special?" he demanded suddenly, silencing whatever Arthur might have said. "Is there something that women cannot offer?"

Then, before he could change his mind, Alfred grabbed the back of Arthur's head and nearly smashed their heads together. Their mouths connected, and it was not neat in any way. It was messy, led by a drunk man, but as Alfred tried looking for whatever he seemed to be looking for, he turned his face in an attempt to be in a more comfortable lip lock and Arthur did as well – only in the opposite direction. Alfred opened his mouth in a search for air, some sort of breath, as talking right before kissing the other man had not left him time to breathe, but then Arthur had grabbed his bottom lip with his teeth, just ever so lightly, and scraped it over the inside of his skin.

Alfred had never felt so breathless - even more so than before. It was as if the feeling from Arthur laying on top of him, hugging him, gripping him, was amplified so much more. It was addictive, and Alfred could have sworn that he almost did not want to breathe ever again.

Alfred's hands spread out over Arthur's shoulder blades, pressing Arthur closer and closer until he was practically hugging the man and kissing him both at once. And when Arthur finally reared his head back in shock at what had happened, eyes still wide but with cheeks aflame and breath unsteady – Alfred was out cold.

A/N: I actually got this chapter out faster because there is something that I'm eagerto address.

Yes, Alfred is 18, and no, 18 year old men did not normally get married off because 18 year old men usually were still living with their parents and had nothing but inheritance to their name. Fathers wanted to marry their daughters off to someone with profit. Clearly, an 18 year old hormonal boy is not going to cut it.

However, Elizaveta was supposed to marry Matthew.

Elizaveta is the one who inherited the tavern.

Elizaveta's father died before he could marry her off. It was her mother who decided, and her mother picked someone who could 'balance' Elizaveta out.

Matthew and Alfred aren't twins.

For sake of not having to repeat myself, I'm just going to copy and paste what I sent a reviewer who asked this question here:

"Ahah, but Matthew isn't Alfred's twin. Matthew is older than Elizaveta, roughly 22 or 23. Katyusha is even older. I should have explained this all during the first chapter, but I completely neglected doing so, and for that I'm very sorry! Elizaveta is the one who inherited the tavern, because it belonged to her father and he died, and she's an only child. Matthew and Elizaveta were the ones that were supposed to be married, but Matthew didn't want to go to the city. He isn't a city boy. On top of that, he had also fallen in love with Katyusha, who had been a childhood friend. Matthew's parents wanted Matthew to marry Elizaveta because Elizaveta was the one with the profitable living, but Matthew wanted to marry Katyusha and stay on the farm, which was a life he knew. So Matthew tried running off, but Alfred found him and made him stay on the deal that Alfred marry Elizaveta instead. It was a large dishonour to Matthew and put his name in shame for the family to have his younger brother marry what should have been his wife, but it would have been worse if Matthew had run off and left Elizaveta alone. Matthew and Katyusha ended up inheriting Alfred and Matthew's farm after both parents passed away, and Alfred went to live with Elizaveta. The reason Elizaveta and Alfred don't have children is both because they married in July, meaning to consummate their marriage they would have had a child in winter (which was dangerous), and because Alfred had literally just then turned 18 and Elizaveta didn't think he was ready for that responsibility. Alfred and Elizaveta actually haven't consummated yet, but they don't tell anyone that because they should have." The reason couples have children so young is normally because they get impregnated on their wedding night.

Why does Alfred have to be so young for this story? You'll see.

Oh, and about that last part in this chapter: I could tell I was boring the hell out of my entire audience with absolutely nothing happening, so here, have some sexuality confusion.

And thus, I look forward to your reviews!