Life is not a love song that we like.

We're all broken pieces floating by.

Life is not a love song, we can try...

To fix our broken pieces,

One at a time.

Six months.

Six months had passed since one of the worst things Alfred had ever experienced.

Six months had passed since one of the best things Alfred had ever experienced.

He was glad to have met Arthur. So, so , glad.

Old scars were healing, one at a time— slowly, but surely. Alfred could feel it, and goddammit it was one of the best feelings in the world.

Arthur had moved into his place and out of his older brother's apartment about two months ago. Surprisingly enough, Alfred didn't get an earful of complaints regarding the patriotic (or, as some might claim, downright chauvinistic) wallpaper or the presence of instant tea in the cabinets.

Despite the fact that there were multiple bedrooms inside Alfred's house— far more than what was necessary— Arthur and Alfred shared a room.

Now, they hadn't done anything too intimate just yet. They simply slept in the same bed, exchanging the occasional chaste kiss or hug.

Another thing Alfred learned was that Arthur wasn't exactly a prude, either.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"It's kind of hot in here, don't you think?"

"Is it?" Alfred wondered aloud, oblivious as always. "Maybe I should take a look at the thermostat."

Arthur rolled his eyes, setting down his cup of black tea. "You're a bright one, aren't you?"

Alfred beamed. "Hell yeah, I am!"

Arthur chuckled and ruffled his partner's hair, tousling the sandy-blonde locks in a way that should have seemed patronizing but wasn't. "Of course."

However, what was supposed to be an innocent little action turned into something different very quickly. Arthur's finger got caught on the strange cowlick, evoking an unfamiliarly familiar feeling inside of Alfred.

He was oblivious, yes, but not that oblivious.

"W-wha—" Alfred's entire body heated up.

He didn't understand.

Was that supposed to be an accident?

But— the cowlick isn't even an erogenous zone, anyway. That doesn't happen when anyone else touches it, so why…

Unfortunately, the blush wasn't the only thing to rise.

Arthur's eyes widened as he fought (and failed) to keep his gaze from dropping to Alfred's lap. "Holy shit."

Alfred pursed his lips, eyes darting back and forth.

I could just go to the bathroom. Go to the bathroom and take a long, cold shower.

Or I could just take care of it by myself.

But…

That doesn't sound very fun.

"So…" Alfred trailed off, praying he didn't have to explain and Arthur would be able to take the hint. "Now?"

Arthur stared for a few more seconds before nodding. "Now."

Suddenly, they were kissing again.

It was hot and sweet and magical — just like their romantic interlude back at Empire 103.

It was everything he wanted. Everything he needed.

And he absolutely adored it.

They broke apart for a brief moment to catch their breaths.

" God ," Arthur moaned between pants. "Alfred F. Jones, I love you ."

"You wanna know what the 'F' stands for?"

"Well, then, allow me to try again." Arthur cleared his throat. "Alfred Fucking Jones. I love you. "

Alfred laughed and hugged Arthur even tighter, feeling an overwhelming sense of euphoria wash over him. " Freedom ," he whispered. " It stands for freedom. "

Arthur responded, not hesitating for even a moment. " I think it's safe to say you've found your freedom, now. "

Alfred nodded. " I think so, too. " He scooped Arthur up into a bridal carry and practically ran to the bedroom.

"Wait," Arthur said.

Alfred waited.

"Consent?"

Alfred nodded, his smile about a mile wide. "Granted."

A/N:

Okay, now it's actually done.

I really enjoyed writing this little epilogue! I'll leave the rest of it to your imagination because I am physically incapable of writing smut.

Check out some of my other stories, if you're interested:

Aces High (A Kakegurui-inspired Cardverse fic centered mainly centered around Romano): s/13755786/1/Aces-High

Danse Bacchanale (An orchestra AU fic set in Paris that involves lots of denial, pining, and PruAus. Also, yes, I know how to spell. 'Danse' is French for 'Dance.'): s/13739109/1/Danse-Bacchanale-A-Tale-of-Passion-and-Music

Swing! (A fic in a modern-day AU centered around America and his perspective on the election and other major events in the American political sphere): s/13738542/1/Swing-It-s-a-choice-to-make