Chapter 24: Crashing Down

Feliciano tumbled down the last few feet of the rock, his knee connecting with an outcropping of rocks, tearing his trousers and splitting his knee. Standing slowly, Feliciano looked around. Light spilled from the opening above him, but there were shadows beneath the small cliffs. Taking a deep gulp of air, he started forward. "Alfred?" He called softly.

Nothing but the rustling of Feliciano's boots on loose rocks and dirt. He kept moving cautiously, looking hard into the shadows. After a while of walking, Feliciano saw a hand print on the rock wall, the print was dark brown and was a tad bit smeared. He pressed his forefinger on the palm of the print, dirt crumbled from the hand. It had been wet at one point. Then Feliciano felt like kicking himself. It was probably blood. Looking back, he realized that there had been a couple drops of blood every few feet. "How did I miss that?" He mumbled to himself.

He sighed deeply then watched the ground. He'd find someone from this blood trail, hopefully they'd still be alive. Suddenly, the blood turned into the shadows, leaving a trail instead of drops. Following it quickly, he called out a shaky, "Hello?"

Feliciano jumped when he heard something moving on the rocks. "Help." The little Italians ears catching the soft voice. "He's dying." The voice sounded defeated.

"I can get you out of here." Feliciano said, moving forward.

He saw a figure stand. "Both of us? He's..." There was a trembling breath. "I don't think he can live much longer."

"I have someone waiting for us. He has a medipack on his plane. He'll be fine." Feliciano moved forward cautiously. "I can help carry him."

"Alright..." There was a grunt and more shuffling. Feliciano saw a flash of platinum hair in the patch of sun. Upon seeing the second man, Feliciano's heart dropped.

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Ludwig was puzzled. First of all, Arthur could not have gotten Alfred's Purple Heart because they were not related or married. Second, Arthur had been leaving after dinner and not returning until breakfast. Every day. Ludwig had become worried. With Arthur acting strange and Feliciano gone for six months, he was getting more and more jittery.

Sighing and rubbing his forehead, Ludwig listened as creaks made their way toward him. He got up slowly and walked steadily to the door of his hidden room. Elizabeta had permitted him to walk about the room, but he could not go downstairs.

Arthur appeared at the door holding a tray. There was hardly any food on the platter and the tea looked watery. That was unusual.

"Something wrong, Arthur?" Ludwig asked, sitting at the rickety table.

"The market was out of good tea so were stuck with this garbage." Arthur dead panned then seated himself across from Ludwig.

"I see." Ludwig mumbled, grabbing a teacup.

Arthur sipped from his own cup and ate his rations silently. Before Ludwig could get halfway through his burnt mean, Arthur was walking down the steps.

"Where are you going?" Ludwig called.

"Out. Watch the cats for me?" Came Arthur's faint reply.

Ludwig sighed and looked at the felines curled together on the couch. York was staring at the stairs and Boston had his head on York's spotted back, purring softly.

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Arthur gulped the rest of his beer then set the cup down harshly on the counter. This was his third drink, yet he was still feeling awful. Maybe he needed something different. He waved to the bartender and asked for something stronger.

When he got his drink, Arthur sipped at it slowly, wincing slightly when it burned his throat.

"Such pretty hair to match gorgeous eyes." Came a sultry voice behind Arthur.

The Englishman turned and glared at the man who had spoken to him, but his glare slipped easily when he saw honey hair and sky eyes. "Alfred?" He whispered, then looked closer. No glasses, no cowlick. It wasn't Alfred. Arthur looked down at the counter.

The man laughed. "Nope, not Alfred." He held his hand out in front of Arthur's face. "I'm Dean."

Not wanting to be rude, Arthur shook the man's hand. "Arthur. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm trying to get wasted." So much for politeness. Arthur turned and took a large swig of his drink, coughing after he swallowed.

Dean laughed. "First time with a hard stuff huh?" He plopped himself down next to Arthur and slapped his hand against the blonde's frail back.

"I've had it before!" Arthur snapped. "It's just been a long time!"

Dean laughed again. Then Arthur realized he was American. Damn Americans are everywhere. It made Arthur's heart ache.

"Next round is on me. Let's get you wasted." Dean raised his hand and the bartender slid two shot glasses down the counter.

Arthur shook his head. "No, I'd rather be alone."

"Aw, please?" Dean pushes his face close to Arthur's and smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. This close, Arthur could see flecks of green in them.

Arthur sighed. "Just one." He said and grabbed one of the small glasses.

A couple hours later found Arthur in the middle of the bar, on a table, wearing an apron Dean had taken from the bartender, and nothing else. Taking a large mouthful from the bottle in his hand, Arthur raised his fist and shouted. "Down with Hitler!" The rest of the bar raised their own glasses and cheered back at the drunk Englishman.

Arthur saw Dean coming to his stage and grinned. Bending down, exposing himself to the crowd behind him and grabbed at Dean's shirt. "Deeeaaannn... I'm almost out'a drink!" Arthur slurred.

Dean simply smiled and wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist. "I think I got you a bit too wasted." He said, though his words were also mushed together.

"No! I only drank..." Arthur tried to count his fingers but gave up when he saw a fairy. "Doesn't matter." Arthur shrugged and felt his head loll onto Dean's broad shoulder.

"Upstairs. You ain't goin' home like this. Yer parents will kill me." Dean said, heading to a staircase behind the bar counter.

Parents? What the hell? Arthur shrugged to himself and let Dean lead him to the staircase. When they were out of sight, Dean turned and kissed Arthur harshly. Too drunk to care, Arthur kissed back, pushing his tongue forward.

Dean pulled back and chuckled. "For a teen, you sure are forward."

Teen? Arthur blinked slowly, then got an idea. He lowered his eyes and willed a blush onto his already flushed cheeks. "I-I'm sorry... I'm just..." Arthur shrugged and hiccuped.

Smiling, Dean brushed some hair from Arthur's mouth. "Lets just sleep tonight. When we know each other a bit more, I can teach you some stuff."

Arthur looked up and nodded silently. Dean showed him to a room and closed the door behind them.

While Arthur walked to the bed, Dean pulled at the loosely tied knot on the apron and watched it fall to the ground. That's when he noticed Arthur's back.

"What happened?" He asked softly, following Arthur.

Realizing he was stark ass naked, Arthur looked over his shoulder and lowered his lids. "I'll tell you when we know each other more." He said, throwing Dean's words back at him. Then he climbed into the bed.

Dean laughed and settled himself behind Arthur, wrapping his arms around the Brit's waist and holding him securely to his chest.

"Good night, Arthur." He whispered lewdly in Arthur's ear before licking the shell.

Arthur didn't reply. To the words or to the gesture.

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The next few days found Arthur hung over every morning, getting drunk after dinner and getting touched more intimately by Dean. But, Arthur didn't care. When Dean pulled him off the counter or table, Arthur didn't fight him. And he didn't push the man away when hands began getting daring. Dean had not gone far enough for Arthur to consider it sex, but it was coming damn close.

Ludwig had voiced his worries to Arthur when he arrived home in the middle of the afternoon. "What are you doing every night?"

"Moving on." Arthur mumbled, even though every time Dean touched him similar to how Alfred would, Arthur would moan out the wrong name. That then caused Dean to be... harsh.

"I don't think this is moving on, Arthur." Ludwig leaned across the table between them and pulled down the Brit's shirt collar, revealing the newest bruises along his neck and collar bones. "What are these?"

Arthur fidgeted under Ludwig's gaze. "They're just love bites." Arthur mumbled, picking up his passing cat.

"Love bites don't look like that, those are bruises."

Pulling away, Arthur fixed his shirt. "Dean was just excited."

"I don't think Alfred would want this, Arthur." Ludwig said, not without kindness.

"Alfred is dead!" Arthur stood, holding York tightly to his chest. "I don't care about what Alfred thinks! He's not coming back! And neither is Feliciano!"

Ludwig stared wide eyed at Arthur. He had never heard an outburst from the Englishman, and it was...shocking. Not to mention what he said about the little Italian.

"Take that back." Ludwig whispered dangerously.

"You hardly know him! How could you be so infatuated with him?!" Arthur shouted, releasing his cat to clench his fists.

Ludwig stood quickly, glaring daggers at Arthur. "You have no right to say is that! You're out humping some stranger every night who thinks you're in high school!"

Arthur ground his teeth together. "Alfred is dead."

"You said Feliciano is too, why don't I go to the bar with you?!"

"Because you'll tell me what to do! I don't need someone to watch over me! I'm a grown man!" Arthur shouted.

"Making stupid choices! Your going to hurt yourself! Just because Alfred is dead, does not mean everyone who cares about you is gone!" Ludwig advanced on Arthur, glaring over the Englishman.

Arthur tilted his head up and narrowed his eyes. "If you care so much, why don't you try harder?" Arthur turned on his heel and stomped down the stairs. Ludwig let out a rough breath and followed slowly, due to his ankle.

"Arthur! Don't go to the bar!"

"You are not my mother! She's dead too!" Ludwig got to Arthur's room when he heard a door slam. He sighed and rubbed his head. "Oh Arthur..."

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When Arthur arrived at the bar, he was surprised to see that Dean was already there. The American seemed to sense Arthur's frustration and stood quickly. "What is it Arthur?" He asked going to the blonde slowly.

"Stupid Ludwig thinking he can tell me what to do." Arthur said, going to the bar.

Dean chuckled quietly and followed Arthur. "Is Ludwig your older brother?"

'Does this idiot really think I'm in high school?' Arthur stared at Dean, then realized he needed to answer. "Yeah. He can be a real arse." The Brit mumbled, sitting in a torn barstool.

Dean laughed again, sat on his own stool then pulled Arthur into his lap. "Yeah, being the youngest can suck. Maybe I can let you move in with me." He whispered the last sentence lewdly in Arthur's ear.

Without reacting, Arthur just leaned against Dean's chest and closed his eyes. Just for a moment. Just for a moment, Arthur could pretend he was with Alfred.

Arthur's eyes snapped open when he felt a hot hand on the inside of his thigh. He looked up at Dean, large greens blinking slowly. "Yes?" He asked, always polite.

"I think we're pretty close know, don't you think?" Dean whispered,

It had been a week. "Yes. I think we are." Arthur tried on a smile and kept it there.

"Maybe... I can teach you some... things?"

Arthur stared at the tan hands clasped together at his hip. He would forget Ludwig and the pain of missing Alfred... but then he would be giving his body to another man. Arthur bit his lip.

"Come on, Arthur. It won't hurt a bit." Dean murmured.

Liar. It always hurt with Alfred, but he apologized and was slow and easy. Arthur took a deep breath. "Let me get drunk first."

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After seven shots of vodka, a glass of wild turkey and some cheap American beer, Arthur found himself pressing up against Dean's leg. The American just grinned and held the blonde close, his breath ghosting on Arthur's neck and jaw.

The Englishman didn't want to give himself to this man, but right now, he was to drunk to care, think rationally or feel anything in his heart or gut. Arthur dropped his head to Dean's shoulder and nipped the skin he found exposed. He heard some shuffling and felt arms under his legs, then he found himself looking up at Dean, moonlight casting a shadow over his strong features. Dean was looking over Arthur with a hungry glint in his eyes, so much unlike Alfred who only looked at Arthur with love. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. Don't look at him. He isn't here.

Dean made quick work of Arthur's clothes, and before he knew it, Arthur found his legs up on the other man's shoulders. Squeezing his eyes tighter, Arthur somehow managed to think of Alfred. Beautiful, gentle, loving Alfred.

As Dean pressed a finger to Arthur's entrance, the Englishman remembered how Alfred had laughed good-heartedly about the bottle of lotion on Arthur's beside table. How the sweet American was slow and allowed Arthur to get used to the feeling. By now, Dean had two fingers in and was scissoring Arthur roughly. Then he realized, that he hadn't used lube. Arthur was being fingered dry, and it felt like he was being torn. He let out a pain-filled moan that Dean mistook for pleasure and the American pushed a third digit in, making Arthur arch and writhe.

Arthur felt breathing on his neck and flinched away. Then a sultry voice invaded his ears. "Is this your first time, Arthur?"

"Gonna answer me, Artie?"

"N-no. I haven't." He blushed, ears turning pink. "Have you?"

"Well," Alfred hesitated. "I wasn't in love then."

And suddenly, Arthur couldn't stop himself. "Alfred!" He wailed, tears pricking his eyes and already spilling. "Alfred. H-he's..." Arthur trailed off, cheeks flushed and his legs in the air. The man between his knees was the wrong man. He wasn't Alfred. "Alfred..." Arthur whispered.

That did not go over well with Dean. "Who is Alfred?" He snapped, yanking his hand out of Arthur.

The Englishman cried out and kept his eyes closed tight. He didn't answer. He couldn't. His throat was tight and he was practically sobbing.

Even more angered, Dean shoved himself into Arthur, fully sheathing himself in one thrust. Arthur tried to twist himself away, but the American was stronger and held him in place. "Have you been cheating on me, Artie?"

Arthur felt something in him snap. "Don't call me that." He said, teeth clenched.

"What was that?" Dean flipped Arthur on to his stomach and lifted the Englishman into his lap, back against chest.

Arthur tried to push Dean away, but the American just lifted the slim arms above his blonde head, lifting the Englishman just to be dropped back on to the hard cock beneath him.

Crying out, Arthur twisted this way and that, trying to get away. "Alfred!" He shrieked, wanting his American to come save him. Dean cuffed him sharply against the back of his head and Arthur slumped forward onto the bed. "Alfred..." He mumbled, his lips cold and numb.

Blue eyes."I'll be back before ya know it, Artie!"

Sunshine. Alfred laughed loudly and hugged Arthur close to his chest.

Arthur closed his eyes and he was pounded into, tears soaking his hair and the pillow beneath him. Good-bye.

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Author's note: Hory shite. Sorry I was late! So... that's Dean. Bitch. Anywho, thanks always Hannah-fish~ and I hope ya'll come back! Love da reviews!
MUDCAT: I know it was serious but I wasn't expecting it. Thank you always for the review, and they will go home. It'll tie in with Miss Rosa's story and Peter~ Stay tuned!

Hannah fish says: Would anyone mind if I kicked Dean in the shin? No? Mkay.