A few days had passed and Arthur was still sick at home. Well, he wasn't really sick, but Francis still thought he was. And that was the important part.
He was truly sick for about a day after the man had first gotten into his apartment, and ever since then he had been taking care of the Englishman and helping him slowly get better. Not only was he giving him water, medicine and the like, but he had insisted on making all his meals for him. He complained at first, but eventually didn't even take the time to say thank you before he inhaled it. Since he was better now too, he could taste the food perfectly; making it more difficult not to exclaim just how wonderful it really was.
"Hurry up you git. Letting you be in my apartment should be enough of a reason to get me some water." He made sure to cough afterwards so that he could keep the illusion going.
"Yes dear, here you go." Francis said with a smile as he gave the blond a glass of water, making sure to brush against his finger as he grabbed it. He finally had permission to touch him so he was going to do anything he wanted.
When Francis' fingers lightly brushed his own, the Briton just glared up at him instead of jumping. He had been doing small little gestures ever since he said it was ok to touch him but not molest him. "You better be sarcastic about the 'dear' comment." He snarled.
"Of course, honey. Totally sarcastic." He rolled his eyes and went back to the kitchen, once again cooking. The last few days had been nice, just spending the time here. He slept on the couch which wasn't the best, but he had slept in worse places. Usually with at least one other body pressed against his, but this still wasn't bad.
Arthur tried unsuccessfully to ignore just how his face flushed from the pet name. Why did he have to embarrass him so much? He could smell the delicious food from the kitchen and his stomach gurgled painfully. Damn that Frenchman for turning him into some sort of a pseudo-gourmet.
Halfway through cooking, the phone rang. "Bonjour?" He said into the receiver. The tone for the ring had been a little strange, so he guessed that it was someone wanting to get in.
"Hey." Alfred said outside, hands in his pockets. "Francis? Whatever, just let me in. It's cold out here."
He shrugged and pushed the button to let him in.
"Why did you answer my phone, frog? Who was it?" Arthur yelled from the bedroom, staying huddled under all the blankets.
"They pressed the wrong button, actually. They wanted the people next door. You should go to sleep, with you being so sick and all. Even if you don't have a fever anymore."
He paused before retorting. "Whatever. Wake me up when the food is ready. Please." Arthur had started becoming a bit uneasy about lying to Francis about being sick, but why would he give up having his personal chef? Sure he looked at the Briton like a piece of meat sometimes, but as long as he didn't touch him inappropriately he could deal with it.
The door opened and Alfred walked in, seeing Francis. He looked at him for a second, and then peeked into Arthur's room, seeing him in bed, sleeping. "So, you guys did it?"
"I wish. He's sick, so I'm taking care of him."
Alfred lifted his eyebrow. "He told me he was sick on Saturday. There is no way he's still sick. You know he's faking, don't you?" He looked in the cupboard and grabbed a piece of bread, gnawing on a chunk.
"Oui, I know. But I don't mind cooking for him, seeing him in bed, sleeping. And having an excuse to touch him is nice as well." He smiled and gave a wink. "But this time I did not give him a hickey."
Blue eyes went wide in amazement. "So that was you! He said it wasn't!"
"Oh, he doesn't remember at all. He was quite drunk at the time. So why don't we keep that as our little secret, non?"
"Sure whatever. I still haven't told him what he's like when he's drunk, so no big deal." He went to sit at the couch and turned on the TV. "So, you plannin' to fuck him?"
Sitting down beside him, Francis laughed. "What do you think?"
Arthur started to stir when he heard voices come from the living room. It didn't just sound like the TV... Was he just hearing random voices? One was definitely Francis', but who did the other belong to? Just who else was in his apartment?
"Whoever else is here, you bloody well get out before I get my shotgun!" He warned, wrapping himself up in the blankets again before he shuffled out of the room. He didn't have a gun, but it was the best thing he could intimidate someone with.
To the Briton's surprise, when he looked into his living room he saw Francis and Alfred sitting on his couch and watching TV like they've known each other for years. Well, they probably did, but that didn't mean they were allowed to use Arthur's living room as a 'hang out' spot. "Alfred! Just what in the bloody hell are you doing here?! Is it 'Let's all bother Arthur' week or something!? Get out of my house!" As an after thought, he threw in a light cough. After all, he was still 'sick'.
Alfred laughed at the pathetic cough. "Ya, you're not making anyone believe you're sick. You would have to be a total idiot to believe that you're sick, and that's coming from me; a total idiot."
"Well..." He started off, trying to think of a way he could respond so Francis would stay and make him food. Not that he still wanted him in his apartment or anything. "He believes me. If he didn't why would he still be nice enough to take care of me? If anything your just jealous because he was acting the part of a 'friend' better than you." As he finished, he sat down on the couch, making Alfred move over so he didn't sit on him.
Francis laughed. "I'm not stupid enough to believe something like that, Arthur." He put his arm around the blond's shoulders. "But if I still take care of you, can I still do this?"
"Get your bloody hands off of me!" The Englishman yelled, all but ripping the arm off of him and accidentally hitting Alfred in the process. "I didn't say you could touch me like that!"
"Can I touch you like that?" Alfred said jokingly, leaning in. Well, maybe it wasn't as much as a joke as he let on, but Arthur would never know that.
Arthur seethed. "Keep your hands off me too Jones. Why do I even bother with you two imbeciles? I'd be better off in a bar somewhere getting drunk right now then trying to keep you two in line. If you have the need to act immature, why don't you two go out and do so alone? Leave me here to drink and never come back! Actually... I like that idea." He concluded, standing up from the war against him and walked towards his kitchen. There was a nicely aged bottle of rum he brought over from England and he hadn't had the chance to have a glass. Now would be perfect.
"Well, I might as well leave now, so au revoir, Alfred." Francis got off the couch and walked to the door, making sure to go through the kitchen and passing Arthur on his way. "Don't worry, I will go back to not touching you now."
"I would expect that." Arthur grumbled as he poured himself a generous glass of alcohol. Not only now was Alfred here to bug him about everything and anything, but the bloody frog wasn't going to be here to make every meal for him. He was back to fish and chips and scones: his two precious stand-bys.
Nursing the glass between his hands, he didn't look up as Alfred sat in the chair beside him.
Alfred sat silent for a minute, taking the occasional sip from Arthur's glass. Then he looked up at the blond. "So, you plannin' to fuck him?" He asked in a perfect imitation of his earlier question to Francis.
After just taking a sip, Arthur spat part of the rum out and choked on the little bit he managed to swallow. 'Just what are you trying to get at?' was what he wanted to say, but through both choking and trying to breathe, all he could say was, "What?"
"Well, from the look on your face when he said the thing about not touching you, the fact that you lied to get him to stay here for a couple days, and the fact that he's really hot, I'm guessing you want to fuck him." He said matter-of-factly. "The only question is if you will let your pride go enough for it or not."
"The question has nothing to do with my pride and everything to do with my morals. I completely refuse to sleep with anyone with a record such as his." Arthur stated determinedly. "What I want to know is why you're so adamant about me being with him. Did he pay you or something?" Despite his harsh words, his gaze has slipped from his friend's face to his glass. Even though he asked, he didn't want to know if that was the truth.
Alfred shrugged and stole the glass from the slender hands and drank it all in one gulp, ignoring the burning feeling and the shout of outrage as he did so. "Maybe I just want you to be happy." So what if he was happy with someone else? At least he wouldn't see him in a depressed slump like he was prone to get into sometimes, and that was all that mattered, right?
Another few tense seconds passed between them as neither said anything. Eventually, Arthur got up and grabbed another glass, pouring both of them some more rum. Sure Alfred was underage, but neither of them could care less at the moment. "Sorry... It's just... I really don't know what it is, to be completely honest." Mumbling, he continued to stare at his glass and thus missing the forlorn look on Alfred's face. It was rare for the American to act so mature, and for once he was somewhat enjoying the others company.
"Just... give him a chance. I hate seeing the lonely look you get on your face sometimes, and I haven't seen that for a while. I doubt that's because you moved to New York, so I'm guessing it's cause of Francis." It wouldn't be because he moved closer to his friend. They were just friends, after all. Thanks to the Internet, they didn't really have to be near each other at all.
"...I'll try, but I can't give you any promises. He is insanely flirtatious and he has a sadly impressive list of one-night stands." Arthur admitted, running his pointer finger in random designs on the table top. "Plus he just has the attitude like he can get anyone he wants; the worse thing is that he can!" Taking another sip, he finally looked up at Alfred's face with glossy green eyes. He was sober enough to realize what he said, but not necessarily the weight of it.
"Well, he is pretty hot." Alfred smiled his old smile, not able to deal with the serious atmosphere. If it continued, he could end up saying things he would regret.
Arthur took another long drink. "Oh really? I hadn't noticed due to trying to protect my vital regions from his wandering hand." He half growled, a small smile on his lips.
"Yeah, I'm sure that's what you have been doing." Alfred rolled his eyes. "So, when are you gonna fuck him?" He took a swig of his alcohol, liking the fuzzy feeling it was giving his brain.
"And why, pray tell, does the conversation continue to gravitate to that? Maybe I never will; then what will you say?" Arthur was slowly but surely becoming more and more inebriated. Each sip made his grin widen and his mouth loosen.
"The conversation is like you, and sex is like Francis. They always gravitate together." Alfred smiled, proud of himself to be able to come up with that considering the booze.
He waited until he refilled both of their glasses before continuing. "So if opposites attract, what about similar things? If I became more like him, would that mean he would let me be? Maybe I should start with you." With his last comment, Arthur let out a rare laugh. "Just kidding. But honestly, do you think he would lose interest in me then? I can be happy by myself after all."
So used to comments like that, Alfred hid the twinge in his chest perfectly. "Like you could ever be a slut. The only times you sleep with random people is when you're really drunk, and that hardly ever happens."
"It was worth a shot though." He muttered from behind his glass. Just like every other time he had alcohol, he had gradually started to open up and express just how he felt. There was a small part that liked the Frenchman, but when he was sober it was completely shut out. "...Alfred?"
"Yeah?" He said, unused to this open Arthur, but not hating it.
"Obviously since you're here you have no where better to be, so why don't you just stay here tonight? I'd feel terrible letting you drive your twisted death machine drunk." He muttered to his glass, too shy to look Alfred in the eye. What if he took it the wrong way based on his last comment? Arthur just wanted to have someone around. It was strange, but having Francis around had been somewhat addicting because he was so used to being alone.
Crap, why was Arthur doing this to him? "Yeah sure. I get the couch, I guess?" He better not say bed. They were both drunk, and Alfred knew that if they were in the same bed he wouldn't be able to control himself.
Arthur shook his head. "No, I couldn't do that. You can take the bed and I'll sleep on the couch. God knows how uncomfortable the bloody thing is." Even though he was the one to say it, it gave him a weird feeling in his chest. Was it because he made Francis sleep on it despite that? No, he could never feel more then contempt for the Frenchman... Right?
With a sigh of relief, Alfred smiled. "Alright, well I hope you don't change your mind, cause I don't wanna sleep on that lumpy-ass couch." He got up and went to the bedroom. "I don't have any PJ's! Is it alright if I sleep in my boxers?"
"Whatever. Just as long as you don't do anything that either of us will regret later, I don't care if you sleep naked." Arthur responded, finishing off his glass and then doing the same to Alfred's. "Just let me get one of my pillows first if you're going to do that."
Waiting for the blond to get his pillow, Alfred stood in the room. He wouldn't get naked when Arthur was there of course. It wouldn't be as bad as the other way around, but especially when he was drunk it wouldn't be a very good idea.
After he grabbed the pillow, Arthur walked back to the door. He was already in pyjamas so he didn't need to get changed. "Good night Alfred, I hope you have a good sleep."
Yeah right, like that was going to be possible. "K, night." He mumbled, acting tired. Arthur left the room, and Alfred lay down in the bed, only to find how much it smelt like the blond. Damn, now he definitely wasn't going to get any sleep.
As soon as he lay down on the couch, the first thing Arthur noticed was that it was covered with Francis' smell. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it felt somewhat awkward at first before he slowly fell into a gentle sleep. Somehow, having the smell had made it easier to fall asleep on the uncomfortable couch.
