(AN:: Wow sorry the pov's are kind all over the place in this chapter also, this is kind of another filler chapter, so sorry. Also, they fuck in this one :3 it's not super sexy fucking though, I feel like I should just make that clear "^^
Also, I'm very sorry for the delay (again!), but as you can see, this chapter is about double the size of all the others, so I hope that explains it and makes up! ;w;)

~ 3 Months Later ~

Things were going well. More than well, in fact. They were going better than they had in a while. Since Arthur had buckled down and began taking his medicine again, Oliver had gone. Of course, there was still the occasional mood swing, and the pills made Arthur cranky in the morning, but it was better than waking up to a fresh murder on the news.

True to his word, Alfred had bought them a little Jack Russell Terrier puppy - they had argued about names at first, but after a long, long debate, they had decided on Pimm, like the alcohol. At first Arthur had suggested Foster, but Alfred had pointed out that Pimm sounded more like a little dog's name - plus, it was cuter.

Antonio, the kind doctor that had treated Arthur at the hospital that time a short while ago, and that Alfred had since befriended, had visited a few times, too. He spoke mainly with Alfred, though he was always polite to Arthur as well, and never declined offers of food, tea, or coffee. During a couple of his visits, he had been accompanied by Francis - a blond, suave Frenchman who eyed Arthur in a way that made him uncomfortable. The man had never actually done anything wrong though, so like Alfred had told him countless times, he had no real reason to dislike the man.

The pills seemed to be tampering a little with Arthur's memory, too. Recently he seemed to have been losing time - it was nothing major, just little gaps in his memory that bugged him a little. He didn't mention them to Alfred, not wanting to worry the other, but they would irritate him when he thought about them too much. He supposed it wasn't really anything to worry about, though; it wasn't as though Oliver was out harming people anymore. The police never had found a culprit - anyone who had caught sight of him at the scenes of the crimes never saw him properly, and could never quite describe his looks. But they all said he was bloody loud - typical Oliver. As far as Arthur knew, the case was still ongoing - a fact which scared him a little - however, interest in the case was dwindling day by day. No one knew what else to do with it anymore. Well, Arthur supposed it was a good thing that Oliver was a clean-freak - there was never any footprints, no fingerprints, not a hair, or a thread. Not a speck of evidence at any of the scenes. Oliver was flawless. Arthur wasn't sure whether it was brilliant or terrifying.

Alfred was happy that Arthur seemed to be getting better, too. The Brit seemed happier, freer, since Oliver had gone back into his hole, somewhere in a deep crevice of Arthur's mind. Three months wasn't long, but it was long enough for them to get things back on track, at least. Long enough for them to try being a normal couple again, and long enough for Arthur to shove Oliver's possessions in the locked drawer at the bottom of their chest of drawers in the bedroom, and to put the key out of sight.

Arthur was slowly relaxing, Alfred could see; he was sleeping in later, he was smiling more, eating more, suggesting that they go out more often. Of course, he would still want to be alone every now and then, but that was normal, right? It wasn't as though Alfred blamed him for not wanting them to be together every second of the day.

Alfred was woken that morning by Pimm having got up the stairs and climbed up onto the bed. He was licking Alfred's cheek, lying on the American's shoulder, and Alfred laughed sleepily, opening one eye. "Hey, Pimm," he muttered, petting the little dog with a smile. Pimm yapped happily, his tiny tail wagging, and he bounced over to Arthur, who was still snoring softly. The Brit grunted quietly, and rolled onto his back, looking up at the dog tiredly.

"Damn dog," he muttered. "You're too cute to shout at and I'm knackered..." He scratched Pimm behind the ear lightly, and yawned widely. "We should get up... What time is it?" He looked over at Alfred, ignoring the puppy as he started to lick at Arthur's cheek. Alfred laughed quietly, and turned his head to look over at the clock.

"Uh, ten am..." He said. Arthur sighed heavily.

"Alright, come on... Come on, get off me." He pushed Pimm to the side gently, and sat up. Alfred chuckled at the other's bed head.

"Sexy," he muttered, amused. Arthur snorted.

"That's what I'm going for," he replied sleepily, stumbling out of bed and to the dresser, pulling out the clothes he wanted and tossing them onto the bed, before shutting the drawers and getting dressed into simple dark jeans and a shirt. He did the buttons up wrong at first, since he was still half-asleep, before he frowned, and sat on the bed to try and do it up properly. All the while, Pimm was jumping up at him excitedly, yapping loudly. Alfred grabbed the hyper puppy, pulling his close for a hug.

"Hey, calm down dude," he laughed, kissing the top of the dog's head with a smile. Pimm's little pink tongue was lolling out of his mouth happily, his eyes bright as he watched Arthur, barely able to sit still. Alfred rolled out of bed, picking the dog up.

"I'll go see if he peed anywhere," he announced, taking Pimm downstairs. He wasn't house-trained yet, but they were getting there, slowly.

Alfred headed downstairs, putting Pimm out in the back garden and cleaning up any mess he'd made. He decided to make breakfast for himself and Arthur, and he hummed to himself quietly as he got out pans and food. Arthur wasn't the only one who was feeling happier about Oliver being gone; Alfred had been feeling much better about everything too - much safer, and much less on-edge.

The two ate breakfast together happily - it was strange, thought Alfred. It was starting to feel like they were a proper little family, with Pimm and all. Antonio and Francis were coming over later on, to tell them about a stag party they had been to at the weekend. Alfred knew Arthur wasn't really bothered, but he also knew the Brit would pretend he was bothered, for their sakes. Arthur always tried to be so selfless - well, most of the time. But Alfred liked that about him - the sarcasm, the swearing, and the selfishness - so it wasn't a problem.

Around two, Antonio and Francis knocked on the door. Alfred let them in with a smile, and Arthur made himself busy with making tea and coffee - whenever the Spaniard would visit, and especially with his friend, Arthur would just try to spend as much time as he possibly could away from them, in the kitchen or in the bathroom. He hoped they didn't think him rude, but he just couldn't stand that Frenchman, and he hated the sheer awkwardness of it all.

"So wait, who's party was this again?" Asked Alfred, as they all sat down. Antonio smiled.

"Oh, it was for a friend of ours. Gilbert, he's getting married next week."

"Oui, but I have no idea what's going through his head," added Francis. "She's as prissy as they come, you know?"

Alfred gave a nod. "Ah, she stuck up?" He asked.

"Well, she was nice to me," said Antonio, shrugging. "I don't remember her name, though - she's rich, though. Great at the piano~" He smiled.

Francis sighed. "I just fear he's there for the money," he said, shaking his head.

"Don't be silly, of course he's not! Gilbert knows what he wants." Antonio's tone was almost scolding, but he was still smiling that bright, friendly smile that he somehow always wore.

"I wonder how good she is in bed..?" Muttered Francis. Alfred chuckled lightly.

"Well, maybe he's genuinely happy, you know? People like different things, it's not impossible." He shrugged, and Francis raised an eyebrow.

"Non, you don't know Gilbert," he said simply. "She's just... She's not his type. Too posh - I don't even think she drinks beer... Maybe she's a witch?"

Antonio sighed. "Gilbert, she's not a witch," he assured the man. "I'm as sure as I'll ever be."

"Come on, who else do we know who has violet eyes?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, actually, my little brother did," Alfred chipped in. "Or does.. I mean, I haven't seen him in so long, so I don't know. But last time I saw him he did." He shrugged. "Doesn't mean he's a witch."

"See?" Antonio gave Francis a look. The blond sighed heavily.

"Alright, alright... That doesn't mean I like her, though."

"You just have to get to know her, sí?"

"I don't want her ruining my friend's life," he said firmly.

"Francis, dude, seriously, you're taking this way too seriously," said Alfred. "Just leave them be. If they get divorced, so be it, but it's heir life, you know?"

Francis sighed. "I suppose... I mean, usually I'd be happy for them - I'm happy for anyone getting married - but Gil's my friend, it's different..." He frowned.

Antonio smiled at him. "It's still his life, Francis," he pointed out. "And you're still his friend. He's not just going to forget about us, you know?"

Francis gave a small nod, before he smiled, looking over at Arthur who had just entered with their coffees, and a cup of ginger tea for himself. He sat beside Alfred.

"Nice to see you again, Antonio," he greeted the Spaniard, who smiled at him.

"You too, Arthur. How have you been?" The Brit shrugged.

"Good.. Same as usual, really. But no, things are good." He gave a small smile.

"Are you not going to say hello to me?" Asked Francis, raising an eyebrow.

"Hi." Arthur's tone was monotonous, and he didn't even look at the man, sipping his tea instead. Francis frowned, but didn't reply, simply carrying on the conversation with Antonio and Alfred.

It seemed like they stayed forever, to Arthur. For Alfred though, it seemed like just ten minutes later that Antonio looked at his watch and said. "Well, we had better be going. It's nearly five."

Alfred let them go reluctantly, before he ordered some fast food to be delivered for them - he didn't feel like cooking, and it was nearly half five. Their guests had stayed a long while, playing with Pimm and talking about what seemed like everything. The good thing was that now Pimm was worn out, snoozing over in a corner, on a puffy cushion. So cute..

"Thank god," muttered Arthur, as he went to wash up the several cups they had all drank from. He came back into the living room after a few minutes, to find Alfred curled up on an armchair, playing on his PSP. Arthur snorted.

"Honestly Al, you're like a big child," he said, amused.

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it," he replied, his eyes on the screen. "It's better than most things on tv, so I don't see what's wrong with it."

Arthur just rolled his eyes. "What are you playing?" He asked.

"Uhhhh Spider Man," came the distracted reply.

"Right... Er, so, what food did you get for us?"

"Burgers, fries, soda..."

"What kind of burger do I have?"

"Double cheese, no pickles, with, like, a little bit of lettuce."

"Good boy."

Alfred grinned, as he concentrated on his game. "Woof."

Arthur snorted, rolling his eyes, and decided to just wait for the food to arrive - hopefully it wouldn't be long.

When the food did arrive, Arthur had just finished putting Pimm's food in his bowl. Alfred answered the door, and Arthur got out plates for them to use, since he disliked the greasy paper the food came in. Arthur liked English cuisine over American any day, but he had to admit, he was rather partial to some of the junk food there. It wasn't exactly something he liked to brag about, though.

The couple ate quietly, since neither of them could think of a good topic. Alfred didn't mind though, not really. It wasn't a bad silence, after all. It wasn't stuffy or awkward; it was peaceful, nice. That was the thing about Alfred - he spoke a lot, but then when he was silent, it was never awkward. It was just... Right. Relaxed.

The only real 'activity' while they were eating was when Alfred decided to feed some of his pickles and tomatoes to Pimm.

"Alfred, you really shouldn't do that... It's not good for him."

"Oh, he'll be fine! Look at him, he's happy as anything!"

Once they were finished with their meal, Arthur cleared everything away, and made sure Pimm hadn't left any food on the floor. He yawned, and stretched out his back.

"I'm going to take a shower," he informed Alfred, who nodded.

"Alright, well I have something I gotta do down here, so I'll see you in a bit." He stood, and headed into the living room, little Pimm at his feet, his tail wagging like crazy. Arthur smiled fondly, before heading upstairs.

Even though it had been three months, that didn't stop Alfred from worrying about Arthur and his health. The American still made sure to watch the news everyday, listening to stories of any strange murders. To his relief though, there never was one. Oliver as always kept perfectly in check, by the pills Arthur took each morning. Neither of them had heard a peep from the alter, and they were both happier than ever. Alfred turned on the television, flipping the channel into the news, and sat down to watch, leaning down to scratch Pimm's belly gently as he did.

The American let out a heavy sigh of relief once the reports ended; once again, there had been nothing of interest. No sign of Oliver, no nothing. Maybe this wasn't a false alarm, he thought to himself. What if Oliver genuinely had gone? What if they could finally be free of the alter? Well, as long as Arthur took his meds, anyway. But what if this would finally give Arthur a chance at a happy, normal life? They could go on holiday sometime, they could train Pimm properly, they could go out to parties, meet people - a whole world of possibilities seemed to open up before Alfred's eyes. The blond smiled to himself - maybe he would be able to slip in a little proposal, sometime. After all, they had been together an awfully long time by now. And it wasn't as though Alfred didn't want to marry Arthur. It was just that things had been complicated - sure, Oliver hadn't been out for nearly five years before, but there had been other issues, with Arthur's brothers, and his mother... Definitely not the right time to propose marriage. Plus, Alfred had been worried that Arthur might say no. But now he was sure. He was sure he wouldn't get rejected by the other, if he asked. But he would need to get a ring, and it would need to be special - Arthur wasn't a huge romance sap, but Alfred sure as hell was, and he was going to make his proposal as romantic as possible. Only the best for his Arthur, of course.

He put Pimm in his dog bed, and headed upstairs as he thought about what kind of ring Arthur might like. Silver, probably... With a sapphire? Maybe an emerald? A diamond was too boring, and he wanted it to be a cool ring, after all. One that wasn't forgettable or dull or generic.

Upstairs, Arthur was sat on the bed, dripping wet from the shower and wrapped in a towel. He was sat with his back to the door, so he didn't see the other watching him. Alfred smiled to himself for a moment, standing in the doorway of the room.

"Hey."

Arthur jolted in surprise, and turned to look at him, glaring. "Bloody hell, Alfred! You nearly gave me a heart attack, what are you doing? Announce yourself or something when you come in, let me know you're there!"

Alfred gave a laugh. "Well sorry dude!"

Arthur exhaled, frowning. "Right, well, could you wait outside or something? I'm still getting dressed, if you hadn't already noticed."

Alfred rolled his eyes; Arthur was always so weird about privacy, even though at this point, there really wasn't anything body-wise that the two didn't know about each other.

"Artie, I've seen your dick a million times," he said simply, going to lie on the bed and grin over at the Brit. "C'mon, I mean, it's not a bad dick."

Arthur just stared at him. "What is wrong with you?" He asked. "Really, were you... Were you dropped at birth?"

Alfred snorted. "Come on, you know you love me~"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Right, right... So, are you going or not?" He asked, not smiling.

"Aw, can't I just stay here?" Asked Alfred. "I got comfy now."

Arthur's eyebrow twitched slightly in annoyance, and he gritted his teeth. "Right, fine, do what you like," he muttered, sounding irritated. Alfred reached over and pulled the other into a hug.

"Hey, come on babe, don't be like that," he said, grinning.

"Oi, get off!" Arthur struggled for a moment, before he seemed to just accept it, and lay there while Alfred bear-hugged him. "... You done?" He asked after a moment. Alfred sighed heavily, looking down at the other.

"Ok, what's up?" He asked, tilting his head to one side slightly. Arthur exhaled.

"Nothing, I'm just... I don't know, I'm naked, this is awkward. Plus, now I'm just getting all the bedsheets wet with my hair. And I'm cold." He frowned, and Alfred gave an amused smile.

"Aw, bless." It was hard not to sound patronising, but Arthur really could be cute sometimes

"Don't you 'aw bless' me," the other grumbled. Alfred grabbed a blanket on the bed, and wrapped Arthur up in it, cuddling him close.

"There, you feeling better now?" He asked. Arthur snorted.

"A little. Not that I can move or anything.." He shook his head, amused, and rolled his eyes at the other.

"Eh, moving's overrated." Alfred grinned, and leaned in to kiss Arthur, who pulled away.

"If you're going to be kissing me, then I at least want to be able to move my arms," he said firmly. Alfred wasted no time freeing Arthur's arms, and pressing his lips back onto the smaller male's.

Arthur's lips tugged into a small smile as he kissed Alfred back, running a hand through the American's hair and holding him to himself.

Alfred stroked Arthur's cheek lightly, and bit down on his lower lip, earning him a soft groan from the other, whose hand moved to clutch Alfred's t-shirt tightly. It didn't take a genius to work out that they were both getting rather turned on, and Alfred broke the kiss after a moment to pull off his shirt, tossing it into the floor. Arthur took the moment to kick off the blanket around him, and froze when he accidentally caught Alfred in the stomach, with the ball of his foot, winding him.

"Shit, sorry!"

"S'ok," came the slightly wheezy reply. Alfred was still for a moment, wincing, before he gave a small laugh, and leaned back to kiss Arthur again. Their warm breath mingled, their soft panting broken by the occasional laugh and smile, as they pressed their bodies together, holding one another like they needed each other to breathe.

That didn't stop Alfred from pulling away to get Arthur prepared, though. He made sure to be gentle; he always disliked the look of discomfort of Arthur's face, at the first feeling of the cold, slippery lube, and the feeling of being stretched. It wasn't pleasant, there was no doubt about it. But it was something that needed to be done, so Alfred just tried to be as swift and as gentle as he possibly could.

Arthur reached down to fumble with Alfred's belt, his brow furrowed in concentration as he pulled at the stiff material, managing to unbuckle it after a moment.

"Can you do it?" Asked Alfred, sounding amused. Arthur felt his cheeks heat up slightly.

"It's undone, isn't it?" He retorted. Alfred chuckled lightly, and climbed off of the bed to pull his jeans off properly, almost falling over in the process.

"For fuck's sake, Alfred!"

The American just laughed, as he climbed back onto the bed. This was one of the reasons he preferred this comfortable, long-term relationship, as opposed to dating. There wasn't all the pressure to be cool, and perfectly hot and great in bed - of course, Alfred was amazing in bed, no doubt about it, but he knew that Arthur happily put up with his silliness, too.

"Get over here," Arthur muttered, reaching out to clasp his hands behind Alfred's throat, pulling him in for another hard, passionate kiss. Alfred felt Arthur's hands roaming over his chest, over his shoulders and down his arms, which were wrapped happily around the Brit.

"You know," Arthur murmured. "If you don't do something soon you're going to have to prepare me again..."

Alfred pulled a face. "Alright babe, lie back," he muttered, pushing Arthur gently to lie back on the bed. He positioned himself carefully, and pushed into the smaller male slowly, letting out a groan.

"Fuck..." He muttered. He couldn't tell if it felt good to Arthur or not; the man was panting lightly, his expression almost pained.

"You ok?" Asked Alfred breathlessly. Arthur nodded quickly.

"I'll be fine..." He muttered. "Just... Nnh... Move..."

Alfred did as he was told, starting to thrust slowly. Arthur was always so good and tight - Alfred had almost forgotten how good this felt. They really needed to do this more often.

It took a few moments, but after a little bit, Arthur seemed to adjust to the thrusts, and his uncomfortable grunts became soft moans.

"Ahh... F-faster..." He panted, looking up at Alfred lustfully. The American happily obliged, upping the pace of his thrusts to please his partner and groaning in pleasure, his eyes shutting briefly. Sweat was breaking out over his body by now, and he could feel exactly how Arthur's muscles flexed around him, clenching down on him and sucking him in deeper. Why hadn't they done this in so long again? He grunted softly as he thrust a little harder, jolting Arthur's form slightly with the force of his movements. Arthur didn't seem to mind, though. The Brit's mind was clouded by the electric pleasure pumping through him, his back arching as he drew closer to that edge, that climax which would make him go crazy...

"F-fuck..." Muttered Alfred, who too was getting close. He sped up his thrusts, wanting to make Arthur feel as good as he possibly could. It didn't take long.

Soon enough, Arthur came, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the bedsheets, and his skin flushed and red as he let his head fall back, his back arching off of the bed as he moaned loudly, his eyes tightly shut. Alfred leaned down to kiss and nip at the man's exposed throat as he also climaxed, groaning against Arthur's neck, his body tensing and shuddering as he filled the Brit with his seed.

Alfred pulled out quickly, and moved to lie beside Arthur, who was panting heavily, his eyes closed and his face relaxed. Alfred rested his forehead on the man's shoulder, as he slowly came down from his high, his breathing deep and heavy and his body warm and sweaty. After almost a minute of silence, Arthur spoke, his voice breathless.

"Ugh, I... I need a shower..." He muttered.

"Yeah, sorry about that..." Alfred replied, still slightly out of breath.

"'T's fine.." Came the reply. "But shit, I just showered..."

"You need an ass cleaner," suggested Alfred, snickering. That earned him a punch on the arm.

"Al, don't be gross," complained Arthur, as he sat up. Alfred watched him go to the bathroom, smiling lazily. He then stretched, and stood up, gathering their clothes and shoving them into the laundry basket in their room, before he got into the bed and waited for Arthur, who came out of the bathroom five minutes later to find the American snoring into the pillows. He chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"Idiot," he muttered, smiling lovingly.