A few hours later...
Arthur's POV...
He huffed as he stared at his reflection, pursing his lips. The dress was all white, even the wide crinoline he was wearing underneathe was bleached. The base of the dress was rather wide, and the this cage didn't make him look as if he had a wasp's behind. The crinoline was cone shaped, straight as it got wider the opening. The white cloth was silk-like, and the drapery over it was lace. His corset was far too tight, the seamstress having laced it to the top. His cheeks were quite red as he struggled to breathe, but the ridiculously large white ruffley hat made it hard for the other's to see his face. His sleeves were equally as ruffley, and they loosened into stray pieces of cloth at the openings.
"I hate it." He deadpanned, the queen-mother ignoring him entirely as she began to speak to the seamstress, telling her what to add and what to take away. He glared down at his feet, muttering to himself. None of his friends were available today, so he was stuck with the queen, who was taking Arthur's vision and destroying it. he grabbed the hat and set it aside gently. He hiked up his shirt, ready to remove the crinoline himself.
"What are you doing?" The queen snapped. "Stop misbehaving." Arthur glanced at her in time to see her shoo at him, continuing her grown up conversation with the seamstress. The seamstress looked very old, around 60 the brit would guess. The detailing on this dress was done by a master, however, it didn't suit his tastes.
"I don't want to wear this dress." He was addressing the seamstress directly, who looked at him confused.
"But it looks so good with your pale skin." She wore a slight frown. Arthur bowed apologetically.
"Perhaps you have something more embroidered? I do enjoy the lace drapery." He requested, and the seamstress looked over at the queen-mother, who shook her head.
"Don't listen to him. This dress is fit for a queen." Arthur felt his eyes burn. Was she really going to disregard him? The two had begun talking again, and Arthur stood there awkwardly in his frustrations. He huffed.
"I am the one who has to go down the aisle with a dress." He interrupted, grabbing the attention of the two older women. "I didn't even want to wear a dress, but if I have to, I want to pick it myself." He was standing up for himself, Alfred would be proud. The queen tilted her head.
"No." She said bluntly, catching the brit off guard. "I like this dress, Alfred would like this dress, the royals will like this dress- this dress is perfect. The drapery is the hottest trend of the season." Her eyes looked at him in a way that warned him not to interfere, as if he was the one imposing.
"But-"
"Arthur." She said sharply. "Stop it. Go into the dressing room and have the maid remove your corset. We need to resize it." She ordered, the brit staring at her wide eyed. How... dare she? He walked into the dressing room, the maid, who had heard the entire conversation, smiling weakly at him. She unlaced him without a word. Is the queen just gonna dictate the entire wedding? Arthur groaned loudly. He doubted he could handle this any longer. Once he was undressed he put on his regular clothes, deciding he has had enough. He left the room, ignoring the confused faces of the older women.
"Your majesty?" Asked the seamstress, and Arthur stopped, suddenly feeling guilty. It wasn't her fault... but...
"I don't like the dress." He deadpanned, the queen opening her mouth, the brit cutting her off. "I said I don't like it, so I won't wear it. Until you can provide a dress we both like, I will no longer be in need of your services." He turned with a huff, marching out of the room. He walked down the hall, ignoring the whispers of the maids in the hall. Arthur didn't mind, he was quite used to the secret glares, the quiet snarls, and the sharp insults. He figured it would be better to just pretend it never happened so his self esteem wouldn't plummet.
He made it to his room without any accidents, and he opened the door and walked in, sealing it behind him. Arthur looked the room to be in slight disorder, noises coming from the bathroom. "Alfred?" he asked softly, flopping down onto the mattress.
"Yes. Arthur," Alfred left the bathroom, blue eyes narrowing at him. "Shouldn't you be dress shopping?" He walked over to a drawer, removing a few shirts. Arthur groaned.
"When I told her I hated the dress, she told me that the only thing that matters is whether she and the other monarchs like it." Alfred took a seat on the bed, placing a hand on his thigh. "Every dress I found somewhat pretty, she would shoot it down and choose the ugliest dress."
"Maybe you can reach a compromise?" He suggested. "I mean, it's just a dress." Arthur felt his eye twitch in annoyance, but he didn't want to argue over his wedding day attire.
"I did, but she refused." He ran his hand through his head. "So I told her that if I don't like the dress, I won't wear it." Alfred hummed in amusement, the brit feeling his lips tug. "What?" Alfred stood up walking away with a smile on his face.
"She's heading over right now." He put the shirts in a satchel. There was a brief knock on the door, the prince opening the door and stepping to the side to make way for his mother. The queen looked annoyed, and a little angry. Arthur looked up as he yawned.
"Arthur Pendragon III, you are being tremendously irrational." She took a seat beside the brit. "This dress isn't about you, it's about the world. You need to leave a good impression on the world on your wedding day. Besides, it looks beautiful on you." She reasoned, and Arthur pouted.
"I know it's not about me on the grand scale of things," He sat up, lightly twirling his hair. "But on a smaller scale it is about me, because it's my wedding day. On your wedding day, who chose your dress?" Arthur tilted his head to the side, analyzing the way the queen frowned at the memory.
"My mother had chosen my dress." She retorted. "And, unfortunately, since your mother is not with us, I am taking on the role. It's tradition." Arthur scowled.
"Did you like your dress? I hate mine." He mumbled, the queen shaking her head.
"I hated the dress, but there was no point in fighting because it would only be for one night-"
"The most important night of my life. Your highness, please-" He was interrupted by stark laughter from the prince, who was turned around and packing his clothes. There was an awkward silence as he continued to laugh, the brit rolling his eyes, watching the other. The queen also decided to stare holes into the back of the prince's head. After a good 2 minutes the prince stopped, sighing in satisfaction.
"Just compromise." He said sternly. "Find something with lots of drapery," The brit frowned, about to protest when the other continued. "But has a lot of lace, and sheer fabric so Arthur could breath. It's not too difficult, is it? You guys are just so stubborn." He stood up, his bag slung over his shoulder. He approached the two, kissing his mother on the forehead, and kissing Arthur on the lips. "I have to go now, Clarke's probably waiting for me. I trust that when I came back, Chancy will tell me that the dress has a little bit of the both of you in it." He began to walk over to the door, the brit reaching his hand out but slowly, but pulling it back.
"Be careful." He he said simply. "Please." He added, the prince stopping and smiling at him.
"I will, I promise." He kissed his hand, "Goodbye." He opened the door and left the room, never to return until about a week. Arthur deflated considerably, the queen staring at him.
"Why didn't you say it?" She asked, the brit looking up at her in confusion. "You obviously wanted to say something, you reached your arm out but you pulled it back. Why didn't you?" Arthur looked down for a moment.
"I was going to ask him to stay." He muttered. "But, it's been awhile since he's been so excited for something, so I decided against it. It wouldn't have been fair of me." The queen nodded.
"So you can be rational." She teased, the brit smiling lightly.
"I going to miss him." He groaned. The queen patted his shoulder.
"Let's go for a walk in my garden." She stood up, offering a hand. The brit took it gladly, standing up and walking out of the room.
The 1 day later...
"How about this dress?" The seamstress asked, exhausted. They have spent the last two days disagreeing about the dress, the two close to murder.
"I like it." The brit said.
"Well, I hate it. Next!" The queen commanded, the seamstress shuffling to get the next dress. She held it up, the two looking at it for a while. Arthur and the queen looked at each other, a wicked grin on their lips.
"I like the lace." The queen said softly.
"I like the drapery." The brit added.
"It's not too liberal." The queen said, looking at the sheer fabric at the back, which was embroidered with lace flowers.
"I love the flower pattern." Arthur stared at the dress, standing up to try it on. He took it gently and went into the changing room, a maid helping him try it on. The corset was quite tight, he had to admit, but the crinoline wasn't too big and he could move properly. The dress had a long train, the brit noticed as he walked out of the dressing room, showing off the dress to the queen. He stood in front of the mirror, analyzing the dress, the seamstress walking over with a smug smile and placing the matching veil on his head. He blushed.
"It's beautiful." They all said in unison, even the maid who helped the brit change. Arthur was blushing bright red, the embroidery, the style, how breathable it was... it was perfect. He loved this dress.
"I want this one." He turned to face the queen-mother with pleading eyes, shocked to see that her eyes were wet. He scrambled over to her as best he could, taking her hand. "What's wrong? Do you not like it?" He was very worried, this dress was the only one they could all agree on. The queen nodded.
"This is the dress I had requested for my own wedding day." She sighed. "Oh, so many years ago. I'm glad someone will finally wear it." She chuckled, the brit smiling. He kissed both her cheeks, in thanks, turning to the seamstress. "We'll take this one."
The next day...
"Believe me when I tell you, the dress was beautiful." He said excitedly, Chancy, Mary and Julia smiling excitedly. One of the palace ward's, Julius, was playing with baby Geoffrey. For the last day, Julius has been accompanying Arthur while Alfred was away, the little boy no more than four years old. The small child had blond curly hair, and warm brown eyes, his tan skin covered in faded bruises. Looking at them made his mood damper a bit. To be a ward of the palace you must be... for the lack of a better word, confiscated from an abusive family. Then, they live in the palace until they are 8, when they are put to be an apprentice to a skilled worker in the capital city. There was a network of professions linked up to this program to help the abused kids, such as bakers, blacksmiths, sometimes even the occasional knight. Julius stood up and limped over to the brit, who scooped him up and put him on his lap.
"This is great." Mary spoke. "The wedding is about week away. Did you choose your coronation dress?" She asked, the brit shaking his head.
"I've left that up to my father and the queen. They know me well enough." He said softly, Julius touching his hair. Arthur's been growing out his hair, which grew unnaturally fast. "Besides, I don't want to argue anymore, it's my father's turn." The circle chuckled, Geoffrey laughing the loudest. He was crawling on his mother's mattress, the group deciding to convene in his room. When his father wasn't around, Geoffrey proved to be quite the wild child, laughing at anything and refusing to sleep. He didn't cry though, which was nice. But because both his parents worked, he was often babysat by Julia, Mary and Arthur. However, Chancy was feeling a bit ill today, so he took the day off.
"The boys need to come home soon. The kids miss them." Julia changed the subject, the brit nodding. Arthur didn't have any kids, yet, but he did miss Alfred terribly. They all missed their husbands, with the exception of Mary, whose husband stayed behind. After the first night, they all just decided to sleep in Alfred's room, deeming it the most comfortable way to sleep when their husbands weren't there.
"I'll go call for lunch." Arthur said, standing up. Geoffrey had somehow latched himself onto his shirt, the brit scrambling to grab him before he fell. He did, miraculously, the baby giggling wildly. Arthur just decided to go with him, the walk not going to take a long time. However, he made Julius stay behind and take a nap, his limp making him unable to go.
"Be careful." Chancy said nonchalantly, the brit nodded, knowing full well, Chancy wasn't nonchalant about it. "Oh, and can you ask, for seedless grapes. And eggs."
"Yea."
"Oh, and coffee." Julia added.
"And some dessert." Mary added, the brit nodding. He left the room, making his way down the hall. He made his way to the kitchens, quite the endeavor when the palace of this size has no directions. He placed the order, and requested it to be sent to Davie's room. He made his way back, ignoring the throb of his cheek as he was slapped by the baby continuously. He sighed heavily, knocking on the door as he began to tickle Geoffrey, the infant squealing. The girls let him in, the brit carefully passing the baby to Mary. She lifted him and began to sing to him in spanish.
Once the food had arrived they ate it quickly, sipping on tea silently afterwards. Arthur opted to sit on the ground now, resting his head on Mary's lap as Julius rested his head on his breast. Julia was holding Geoffrey and Chancy was in his bed, yawning, obviously tired. However, none of them had the energy to excuse themselves and leave the other to sleep peacefully, the trio just talking in soft whispers. "I can't wait for the coronation, the prettiest people are going to come." Julia said softly.
"Have you guys met any of the foreign aristocrats?"
"Do you count?" Mary snickered, and Arthur shook his head. "Well, I've met one of the Italian princes and his Spanish husband, the king of spain. They were hanging out with King Francis and the Prussian Prince, Gilbert. Of course, that was before the whole... marriage situation." She shivered. "It all happened so fast."
"What really happened? Were you there?" The two women nodded.
"It happened at Alfred's private birthday dinner." Mary answered. "Gilbert sat beside Prince Ivan instead of his friends and brother, and his father came in and formally announced the arrangement. Ludwig was livid, drinks were thrown, and Alfred had to personally escort the Russian prince out of the room. It was awful." Arthur frowned, never knowing Alfred was there. He never asked, though, so it was on him.
"I doubt Prince Ivan initiated the engagement." Arthur said, knowingly, running a hand through Julius's hair. "I never met him, but I think most people want to choose who they marry." The girls nodded, Julia scratching her head.
"He looked just as shocked, if I remember correctly." She yawned. "He had this whole back and forth with his father, only Gilbert seemed calm. I mean, he was trying not to cry, but I think his father had told him beforehand." Arthur narrowed his eyes. He could never really know the full story.
"Well, eventually I'll make acquaintance with them within the week." He shrugged. "Maybe we could be friends..."
2 days later...
The coronation was in 5 days, the wedding was in 6. However, Alfred and his companions were nowhere to be found. Arthur can't remember asking the prince how long he'd be out at the most. He frowned, pacing the solar nervously. Alfred needs to be here, really, he does. The brit didn't want to stress out, or exhaust himself for the baby's sake, or Julius's, but now he was very worried. Was he safe? Is he lost? Arthur shook his head. He needed to stay positive. Arnold and the queen-mother were watching him walk, Arthur unsure of whether they found this amusing, or pathetic.
"Your highness," The brit spoke breathless, rushing over to her, stumbling and falling to his knees. He didn't bother picking himself up. "How long was your husband's bachelor getaway? Was it this long?" The queen pursed her lips in deep thought while offering the other a hand. The englishman took it and pulled himself up, looking at her desperately.
"His lasted almost a week and a half." She answered. Arthur sighed, so Alfred was okay. "But," She continued. "He had been home days before the coronation, almost a week. Alfred should be back by now." Arthur took a deep breath, exhaling shakily.
"I think i'm gonna be sick. I'm going to my room." He said suddenly, rushing out of the room and down the hall, not even greeting his friends as he passed them. When he got into his room, he slammed the door shut, making his way into the bathroom. He thought he had needed to vomit, however, the urge was no longer over taking him. He walked over to his bed and buried himself within the blankets, wallowing in self pity. Where was he? He should be here by now. Arthur couldn't even sense him, he was miles away. There was suddenly a soft knock, Arthur huffing as he stood up. He walked over to the door and opened it, only to find no one there. The knocking noise was still happening, so he looked down the hall, perhaps it was knocking on the other door. None of the doors had anyone by them, so Arthur closed his eyes, deeming it his imagination.
However the knocking sound kept happening, and now it was annoying. He looked around the room. "Where on earth can it be co-AHH!" He jumped onto his bed, backing away from his window. "Wh-what? What d-do you want?" Arthur panted, panic rising. It was the minotaur from many weeks ago, the one who broke down the door and had mail. He was currently on the other side of his window, only his face visible because of how big he was. The creature was probably heavy, how did he climb up to the 6 story window? The minotaur's black eyes stared at him.
"I have a message from the council." He said politely. Arthur slowly walked over to the window, hand shaking as he opened up the window. The minotaur tilted his head forward, as he was about to jut forward. Arthur scrambled back, a scream at the back of his throat when he noticed a package tied to his horn. "Please take it. I have more mail to deliver." Arthur took it gently so not to hurt the other.
"Thank you." He said meekly. Before the Minotaur can leave, Arthur rested his hand on his head, out of sheer curiosity. It was soft, like yak fur, and it was tangled. The beast made a surprised noise, but he didn't pull away. "What's your name?" Arthur asked softly. The creature's black eyes looked up at him slowly.
"I do not have one." He said flatly. Arthur frowned, everyone should have a name.
"Do you want a name?" The brit asked nervously, the minotaur staring at him for a moment before clearing his throat.
"I don't care for one, but if you would prefer to call me something, you can." He deadpanned. Arthur hummed. Arthur breathed in deeply with his nose, his nose bombarded with the smell of tea. His favorite tea. Arthur smiled devilishly.
"How about Earl Grey? Or just Earl." The minotaur hummed.
"That's my favorite tea." He said flatly. "Alright then. My name is Earl Grey, what might yours be?" Arthur blushed.
"Oh, how rude of me! My name is Arthur Pendragon, or Kirkland. But... you knew that already, didn't you?" Arthur smiled, and the beast nodded.
"How else would I deliver the mail? I must be off. Excuse me." Arthur was about to invite him in, so he could take the stairs, but the creature just jumped, passing through the canopy and landing somewhere the brit couldn't see.
"Earl." he whispered to himself. He turned his attention to the package in his hand. He read the label.
Arthur Kirkland,
From Salvator Fulgur.
"Hmm" Arthur sat down on his bed, analyzing the box. It was fairly large, about 1 foot by 2 feet. It was quite heavy, about Geoffrey's weight. It was black, and there were markings on it. Most people wouldn't be able to read it, but Arthur could understand. 'I wish you well in passing' it said over and over again. There seemed to be no way to open it. No lid, no nothing, it was completely seal. Now how was he supposed to open it? A hammer?
~~~Wounded Knight~~~
After hours of tugging on it, hitting it, and just holding it, the box remained closed. Arthur sighed, defeated, putting it under his bed. He'll just ask Chancy about it later. Arthur stood up, walking towards his door, planning to go for a walk with Julius. As he swung it open he was greeted with John, who looked as if he was poised to knock. He cleared his throat, chuckling slightly. Arthur narrowed his eyes at him.
"I was just going for a walk. Would you like to accompany me?" The brit offered. John nodded. The two walked in silence for a while, making their way to the public garden. "You were coming to see me, yes?" Arthur asked. John pursed his lips.
"Ah, yes e-er..." He hesitated. Did he come with bad news? "The prince's company came back." Arthur gasped in excitement, about to turn heel and run to the main entrance. However, John grabbed him by the wrist to stop him. "Alfred's been sent to the infirmary."
"What?!" Arthur pulled away from the other, about to rush off again, until john stopped him once more.
"It's nothing too bad, it's just... Davie suspects he has gone insane. Alfred doesn't recognize him. He had woken up in the middle of the night confused as to who they were, and why he was out there. I don't think he'll recognize you." John looked pained. "And I think he'll be scared if you came to him suddenly referring to yourself as his mate." Arthur was at a loss for words. How should he react in a situation like this? Can he even do anything?
"Why...?" He didn't finish, but John knew what he meant.
"The boys said nothing traumatic happened, and that he had just woken up that way. I don't know why, no one does." Arthur began to pant.
"Does he recognize his mother? Anyone?" He was so confused. Why was this happening? All of the pieces were finally falling into place, why was this happening? John shook his head slowly.
"He doesn't even recognize Matthew." Arthur stared at the older man, eyes watering. He shook his head wildly.
"I'm going to see him." He declared, walking off.
~~~Wounded Knight~~~
He knocked on the door and opened it himself, not caring for formalities. Alfred was looking up at the ceiling bored as people shuffled around him. His mother was in tears, Davie just about everyone else seemed depressed, shooting Arthur sympathetic looks. Oh god, this is really happening. Oh god, oh n-
"Hi dude!" Alfred said suddenly, everyone looking at him in shock. His features were suddenly animated, a bright warm smile, and bright eyes. The queen-mother stood up suddenly, rushing over to the prince.
"Do you remember him?!" She shrieked, Alfred shooting her an uncomfortable but cheery look.
"Of, course, ma'am. And can I request you keep your voice low, you're kinda killing the vibe." He whispered the last part, and Arthur released a relieved cry as he rushed over to his mate. He threw himself onto the other, who hugged him back, a little confused. "Are you okay?" He asked suddenly. Arthur sat back, confused.
"Are you?" Alfred chuckled.
"Of course dude!" He laughed loudly, playfully punching Arthur's shoulder. Arthur stared at him in silence. He was more than out of the ordinary, he was the complete opposite. 'Dude' and 'hi' and the play hitting? Where the hell was the actual Alfred? This man was way too happy, too cheery, too- "You're kinda creeping me out, Artie. Stop staring at me." He ordered, a bit of his normal tone coming back. Arthur ignored him though.
"What's your name?" Arthur asked suddenly. If he didn't remember his mother, then did he really know who he really was? Alfred looked at him in confusion, a small smirk gracing his lips.
"Oh C'mon!" He laughed. "There has to be a harder question you can think of." He tapped Arthur's head for emphasis. The brit grabbed his hand and held it, dragging it toward his chest. He shook his head as his eyes watered. Alfred stopped smiling looking at the other in concern. "It's me... Alan."
1 day later...
Arthur was no longer feeling as if he was about to die, but he was this close to killing Alan. "I won't repeat myself," Arthur threatened. "Where's Alfred?" Alan rolled his eyes, smiling widely as he took hold of Arthur's hips. The brit found the act a little inappropriate considering it wasn't really Alfred, but at the same time, it was the real real Alfred. His subconscious. His most concentrated form. Alfred was authentically annoying. Alan kissed his forehead, Arthur feeling a little guilty. Alan seemed to sense this, and he pulled away.
"I said it already. He's digging around for his memories." He paused, holding onto his side in pain. Arthur held onto him, walking him over to the bed to sit. The other has been feeling random pains for the last day, but they had a reason. The more Alfred unlocked about his past, the more he absorbs Alan into his personality. In turn, Alan is essentially being eaten alive, but he didn't seem to mind. "He'll be a whole new man when he comes back." He groaned. Arthur sat next to him.
"If you had spent majority of your time with me," Arthur started to blush, the other looking at him with a small smile. "How do you think it would have gone?" He mumbled, Alan smirking.
"I think it would have gone smoother." He admitted. "Alfred did his best, but with key instincts missing, he had a few blind spots. I would have also spoiled you more, laughed more, had waaaayyyy more sex with you." Arthur blushed, looking down at his lap. "But I think the result would have been the same. We would be getting ready for our wedding. We'd be in love." He said softly. Arthur felt his heart throb for the entity. His life was a mystery, and his only experiences outside was spotted with pain.
"Wanna go on a date?" Arthur offered, and Alan shrugged.
"Will it end in sex?" Arthur bit his lip. He was Alfred, and he and Alfred were going to become one... "Is that a Yes?" Arthur sighed.
"I dunno, will Alfred remember it ever happening?" Arthur didn't want to be so near sighted. If this really was considered cheating... He groaned. "Actually, I don't care. It probably won't end in sex." Alan sighed, disappointed.
"Well then, why not? I'll go on a date with you."
~~~Wounded Knight~~~
"How did it all happen?" Arthur asked, and Alan sighed.
"Well, it all started about a month ago. I came to him one night and told him the truth." He paused. "About everything: his memories, his accident. I knew from the beginning, but he couldn't remember because he was still actively suppressing it. When I told him, he didn't want to believe me, he didn't like the truth and so he deemed it a lie. However, last night, and I made sure to do it after he had bought all his stuff," He smiled and Arthur smirked. "I told him again. This time he was waayy more willing to comply because... what did he say? Something about not being able to learn how to cope with you. I don't know, but I guess it makes sense to you."
Arthur smiled. It made sense to him indeed. Arthur had just thought it was just another of their bizarre conversations, he didn't know Alfred was serious about developing together. He suddenly felt grateful. "Continue."
"That's it." He shrugged. "He accepted, so now he is briefly reliving the memories. He should be done by morning. He and I shall be one by morning." He humphed. "Sounds weird when I put it that way. In a sense, I'll remain out here, but it'll no longer be a fight between a more dominant conscious and a more submissive one." Arthur nodded, kind of understanding.
"This doesn't happen with normal people." Arthur said softly. Alan laughed loudly.
"Blame the palace sorcerer for tearing us apart." He said dryly. Arthur's eyebrows shot up.
"The palace sorcerer did this to you?!" Alan nodded calmly.
"It was the only way to save us at the time. We were supposed to reunite naturally, later. However," he said darkly, "She didn't take into account how domineering Alfred was. He had majority of the mind, and majority of the traits. She performed whatever she did incorrectly, and we were, as a result, unequal parts." Arthur nodded, understanding.
"I still haven't met this sorcerer." He said sweetly. Alan shrugged.
"She's probably in India right now, finding some more herbs." The brit nodded.
"Well I'm sorry you went through... whatever it was you went. You deserve better." Arthur said solemnly. Alan shrugged.
"The pieces are falling into place now, so it's okay." He said lightly. "I can't wait for the merger, I want to become one again." He genuinely looked excited. His eyes were bright, his smile was wide, and his just came across as hopeful. He was hopeful about the future. Just like Arthur.
~~~Wounded Knight~~~
That night...
The pair snuggled in together, Arthur sighing. He was going to miss the constant happiness of the other. Alan was so carefree and fun, he almost wished he and Alfred were two different people so he couldn spend more time with them. Arthur gave the other a parting kiss on the cheek, knowing that by morning, the other wouldn't be there. It was the least he could do. "AWW. You are so cute!"
"Shut it, you git." Arthur muttered, Alan laughing slowly before coming to a stop.
"You almost never call Alfred that." He said suddenly. "Do you even insult him? I think you've insulted me more in the 2 days we've had together than the 7 months you've known Alfred." Before Arthur could argue, the other continued. "I'm flattered. You should try being this casual with him though. Us, really." He went on. "We'll appreciate the sincerity. It'll never get old." Arthur stared at him for a while before smiling, blowing out the candle and snuggling in.
"I promise, for your sake." Arthur whispered. Alan sat up suddenly, Arthur gazing at his figure in confusion. The man suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder and pressed his lips against Arthur's. The brit was shocked, to say the least, but he didn't pull away, a sense of urgency washing over them. The other seemed desperate, a little needed, but not to the point of insinuating sex. He just wanted the experience, Arthur guessed. It was innocent. They eventually pulled away from each other, panted, Alan burying his nose in the other's glands. Arthur couldn't help but flinch, momentarily doubting his earlier assumptions. However, it went no further than scenting, Arthur scenting the other back. To his shock, Alan didn't smell exactly like Alfred. In addition to the ocean and steel, he smelled like... fresh grain? Why did he smell like oatmeal? Arthur decided not to dwell on it.
No need to.