Heyyyyy I'm back! I'm so so so so so so sorry about the hiatus and not writing and just ugh! DX I've had AWFUL writer's block, not to mention stressing about exams and choosing a college and everything else...
Also, I'm thinking that once I finish this thing, I should re-write it... Maybe make it more realistic, give them jobs and stuff
But for now, a great friend (thank you Emma ;u; ) has helped me come up with the huge plotline hole that I couldn't fill, and I now have the next few chapters mapped out! This fic is still a thing, people! ^¬^
Also, I'm very sorry for having made you wait so long just to get a 'filler' chapter. HOWEVER, the stuff in this chapter will have some relevance down the line, soooo just bare with me, ok? I have my last exam real soon but then it's summer and I have the next 3 chapters all planned out for myself to write! ^¬^
Enjoy~!
Alfred woke up slowly the next morning, to an empty space beside him. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and sat up slowly, squinting in the light of the room. He reached over to his glasses, and put them on, before dragging himself out of bed and downstairs, scratching his bare chest absent-mindedly.
Arthur was sat hunched over a little on the sofa in the living room, a cup of tea in his hands and his eyes glued to the television, which was on the news.
"... police are saying they do not know who murdered her as of yet, but they're doing everything they can to find this cold-blooded-" Alfred grabbed the remote and turned the television off, causing Arthur to glare up at him indignantly and try to snatch the remote back.
"I was watching that!"
"Art, it just stresses you out, there's no point," said Alfred, holding the remote out of the other's reach. Arthur rolled his eyes and took a quick sip of tea.
"Alfred, do you remember last night at all?" He asked, his tone sarcastic. "I think there is a point, thank you very much!"
Alfred sighed, not wanting to argue so early. He took the remote into the kitchen with him, scratching his head. "Did you take your meds this morning, Art?" He asked over his shoulder. He heard the Brit scowl as he realized he wasn't getting the remote back, and he couldn't be bothered to turn the tv back on manually. The report was probably over by now, anyway.
"Yes, actually, I did," he said, sipping his tea again. "And it's Arthur." Alfred paused, putting the remote down on the kitchen table.
"You sure?" He asked, looking over at Arthur, who rolled his eyes.
"Yes, Alfred! Bloody hell, I'm not that bad! You act as if I'm a liar or something!"
"Hey, I'm just looking out for you, man," said Alfred, putting his hands up in a 'surrender' gesture, and turning round to the cupboards. "Hey, have you eaten or do you want something?"
"Do we have any crumpets?" Came the response, and Alfred snorted quietly at how completely English that sounded... crumpets and tea. Ha.
"Uh..." Alfred looked in the bread bin. "Yeah... yeah, we do. How many d'you want?"
"Just two, thanks."
Alfred toasted and buttered the two crumpets for Arthur, and got himself some cereal, before taking it all into the living room and sitting on the sofa next to Arthur, starting to eat.
"How're you feeling?" He asked around a mouthful of Lucky Charms, looking over at the Brit.
"Rubbish," he replied, without missing a beat. Then he sighed, his shoulders drooping. "Sorry, Al," he apologized.
"Hey, no, I mean, I'd be pretty mad too, if I was going through what you are," he said, shaking his head. "But hey, you have your sexy boyfriend to help you." He grinned, waggling his eyebrows. Arthur just rolled his eyes.
"Oh, God..."
"What! If I'm not sexy, then why are you dating me?"
Arthur snorted. "For God's sake, Al..." He shook his head. "You're an idiot."
"But am I a sexy idiot?" He nudged Arthur playfully. "Well~?" The Brit sighed heavily.
"Yes, yes, very sexy, now shut up." He gave the other an unimpressed look, and Alfred just laughed.
Once they had finished eating, Arthur helped Alfred wash up, and the American couldn't help noticing that something seemed off. Of course, it was probably the medication, but he wanted to be sure.
"What's up?" He asked, as he finished drying the last thing up. Arthur ran a hand through his hair, sighing.
"I'm not good enough for you, Al," he muttered. Alfred grinned.
"C'mon, o' course you are!"
"Alfred, I'm serious!" The sunny blond's smile faded, and he frowned.
"Arthur, I'm serious too," he said, wrapping his arms around the other's waist. "You're awesome. You're more than awesome - ok, you have flaws, but doesn't everyone?"
Arthur shook his head, frowning. "Alfred, open your eyes! Not everyone's bloody 'flaw' is that they have a fucking homicidal maniac inside their head! If I was normal, maybe both our families wouldn't hate us. If I left, maybe you'd have your family again."
Alfred cupped Arthur's face in his hands gently, forcing the man to look at him. "Arthur," he said, a little sternly this time. "Listen to me, man. You are normal. So, you and Oliver share an body. I don't care, Arthur - I love you. I love you whether Oliver's a psycho or not. And so what if my family's gone, and they don't approve? If they don't like the man I love, then they can go fuck themselves. I'm serious, Art. I know what's good enough for me, ok? If you weren't good enough for me, I'd know. I'd know, and we wouldn't be living together. I wouldn't have called you after we first met, and we wouldn't have gone on those dates. But I've stayed, Art. And I'm not leaving you, because you are good enough."
"But, Oliver-"
"Oliver's insignificant. He doesn't matter. I don't love him, I love you. I deal with Oliver when he comes out, and I help you get through it. I just want you to be happy, ok?" He kissed Arthur's forehead gently. "No matter what Oliver does, I want you to be happy."
Arthur swallowed heavily, and nodded. "A-alright..." He looked at the ground, and Alfred wrapped his arms around the Brit's waist again, squeezing him gently.
"Hey, how about we do something to help distract you?" He suggested, smiling.
"Like..?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, looking up at the other cautiously.
"Well, we always have that game we haven't played yet, for the PS2," he pointed out.
"Oh, that fighting thing?" Asked Arthur – he wasn't a big video game geek, evidently. "What was it called again?"
"Tekken! C'mon, it's great!" Alfred pulled Arthur into the living room.
"Isn't that the game I got you for your birthday that one year?" Asked Arthur.
"Yep, now hang on while I set it up.."
"Alright, I'm being Heihachi Mashima."
"... Who?"
"The bald dude with the weird hair and the moustache!" Alfred pointed to the character on the screen.
"Ah... He could do with some new clothes."
"Really, dude?" Arthur looked at Alfred.
"Well, look at what he's wearing, he looks homeless! I mean, apart from the muscles.."
"Artie, it's a video game. He's just supposed to look cool, it's not supposed to be practical!" Alfred rolled his eyes, laughing. "Oh, you should be Ling!" He added, pointing to the character. Arthur frowned.
"... Alfred, I am not playing as a bloody little Japanese girl!"
"First of all, she's obviously Chinese – look at her dress! And she's not a little girl, she's awesome! I mean, she's sixteen, but still awesome."
"If she's so awesome, why don't you play as her then, idiot?"
"But I'm being Heihachi, he's the coolest one! Oh, you could be Hwoarang, he's pretty awsome."
"Who's he again?" Alfred pointed him out. "Oh, well he doesn't look so bad.. Alright, I'll be him."
"Cool~"
Not ten minutes later, Arthur had already lost three battles. He groaned as he lost the most recent one, and Alfred snickered.
"Remind me why we're playing this again?" He asked. "Why did I ever buy you this? It's awful!"
"Hey, don't hate on Tekken just because you keep getting destroyed," said Alfred, grinning. "It's not the game's fault."
"Yes it is..." The Brit grumbled, as Alfred started yet another battle. "How long are you planning on forcing me to play this thing?" Alfred snorted, laughing.
"Dude, I'm not forcing you to do anything! C'mon, don't be such a sore loser!"
Arthur glared at him. "Fine, we'll play until I beat you," he snapped, holding his controller a little tighter. Alfred grinned.
"You know that means that we're gonna end up just as skeletons sat here in about a hundred years, because you couldn't beat me," he teased.
"Oh yeah? Ok, fine. Best of five – I'll bet you five dollars."
Alfred's grin widened a little – well, this was certainly effective for distracting Arthur, at any rather. "Just five? Come on Artie, let's make it interesting. Best of ten games, and we'll bet twenty dollars."
Arthur smirked. "Fine. Any other conditions?"
Alfred thought for a moment. "Hmm... How about... Hey, if I win, can I dress you up in one of those little French maid dress things?" That earned him a slap on the arm.
"Oi, over my dead body!" Arthur snapped. "We're betting normal things. Like, I don't know, if I win, you have to... Er... You have to clean the house for a month."
Alfred gave a slow nod. "Alright, deal.. And if I win, you have to, uh, clean the car for a month. Inside and out side. And the birds really like that car, so it's a lot of work." He grinned.
"Alright, fine." He shook Alfred's hand firmly. "So best of ten, right?"
"Uh huh."
"Alright, hand it over."
"I hate you." Arthur shoved the twenty dollars at Alfred, frowning. The American laughed.
"Aw, you love me really~"
Arthur shook his head. "Nope, just hate you." Alfred snorted, grinning.
"Suuuure." He pecked Arthur on the cheek, and the Brit huffed, standing up and turning the PlayStation off.
"Ok, that's enough video games for this year," he muttered, putting the controllers away. "I need a brew... Want me to make you some coffee?"
Alfred smiled, and nodded. "Sure, ok. I could make us some sandwiches, if you want?"
Arthur shrugged, and nodded. "Alright, yeah." He headed into the kitchen, and filled the kettle with water, whilst Alfred got out food to make their sandwiches with.
"Hey, you know what we should do?" Said Alfred, as Arthur was filling their mugs with water and stirring them.
"Hm, what?" He asked.
"We should get a dog. Or a cat. Or maybe one of those really big rabbits."
Arthur glanced over his shoulder at the American. "You want to get a pet?" He asked.
"Yeah! Wouldn't it be fun? We could get a really cute puppy, it'd be great~"
Arthur gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Well, what breed are you thinking of then, if we get a puppy?" He asked, deciding to humour Alfred.
"Uhh... Well, I like Golden Retrievers," he said. "And Bulldogs, they're cute when they're puppies. Oh, we should get a Shar Pei!"
Arthur laughed quietly. "I didn't know you liked wrinkly ones..." He said, amused. "Well, regardless, I'm not having a dog that's going to drool everywhere. Ugh." He wrinkled his nose. "No. I like Jack Russells, though."
"Oh, they're the little ones, aren't they? They jump around alot." He smiled.
"Not sure where you got the jumping part from, but yeah, I suppose." He shrugged, amused.
"I don't know, they just look kinda springy," came the response. Arthur snorted, laughing softly. He shook his head. Alfred was ridiculous...
"Well, alright then... So, when did you decide we should get a pet?" He asked, curious. "At what point did it cross your mind?" He was finding it difficult to see how the events of the past few days could lead to Alfred to thinking they should get a pet. The older male shrugged.
"Just now, really," he admitted. "But come on, who doesn't like puppies? We should totally get one!"
Arthur was silent, frowning as he finished making their drinks. "What about... I mean, what if Oliver hurts them, though? I'm not having a dead dog on my hands too, Alfred. This has already gone way too far, I-I can't put anyone or anything else in danger..."
Alfred sighed. "Alright, listen, don't worry," he said softly. "We'll just wait a bit, ok? We'll make sure Oliver's long gone by the time we get a pet. I'm not gonna let him hurt a dog, or any animal. I promise. Trust me on this, Art."
"Arthur," he muttered automatically. He exhaled, turning and setting their drinks on the table and sitting down. He scratched his head. "Alright..." He muttered. "I mean, of course I trust you, but I'm just, you know, worried..."
"That's understandable," said Alfred, nodding. "It's fine, Art. Really, it is. Just maybe try to relax. As long as you're taking your meds, you'll be fine. And we won't get a pet just yet anyway. We'll prepare properly, and we'll make things as safe as possible, promise." He smiled at Arthur, and handed him a plate with his sandwiches on, sitting beside the Brit and taking a bite of his own sandwich. Arthur gave a small nod.
"Ok, love," he muttered, starting to eat slowly. "Thanks.." He was grateful to Alfred for doing this for him, he really was. He still didn't understand how he deserved the American. He didn't understand how someone like him deserved the kindness, and the love, and the care that Alfred showed towards him. It was stupid, really; Alfred could do so much better, and yet here he was, stuck with Arthur. Arthur sighed softly, smiling over at Alfred as he sipped his tea slowly.