Quartering Acts
By Ahro

Rated M for sexual situations, violence, and language.

Chapter 4

Twice. That was twice now he had an open shot and didn't take it. What kind of soldier has an opportunity like that and squanders it?

"A soldier who doesn't know what side they're fighting on."

Dad.

The haddock was still sitting on the cutting board in front of him. Ready to be filleted and grilled up for dinner, yet his mind couldn't focus on the simple task.

He swept the floor when I asked. He went out of his way to chop wood without any provocation to do so.

He lowered the gun.

"Hey, Alfred!"

"Micah, you made it back fast." Alfred smiled at the young boy as he bounced around the kitchen table.

"Of course! I'm the fastest boy in my class! It's from all the practice I get chasing Hero around. He loves to be chased out at pasture." He paused a moment, "Oh, I was able to get that apple pie from my mom. She also told me to tell you she wishes you the best, and is happy you're feeling better and-" he paused a moment in his string of repeating his mother's words. "Well-" whispering, "-she said some mean things about Arthur after that, but I told her that Arthur was different, but she still doesn't seem to agree with me."

The boy sat up straight and returned to his boisterous voice, "I think you and Arthur will become great friends! I really like him a lot. He helped me down off of Hero when I didn't have my stool, and he said he'd pay me a shilling if I take good care of his mare!" He gasped with a grin as he covered his mouth. The thought of being paid for his work must have seemed foreign for him, and rightfully so.

He's going to pay Micah for his help? A Brit?

Alfred nodded, his enthusiasm on a much lesser level than the boys. "He does seem cut from a different cloth."

Micah tilted his head in confusion, "What cloth? Oh! Do you need any help preparing dinner? Mom says I'm a good help around the kitchen."

Alfred then realized he was standing stock still, hand holding a knife while hovering above the fish. Noting this he quickly got into his routine and cut the haddock into a few even fillets to place on a waiting plate.

"Go down to the cellar and pour two pints of beer from the keg, and grab yourself some cider. Also, grab a few johnnycakes while you're down there as well."'

The boy turned at this and gave the smith a pout of his lips.

"Sorry, you know wheat has been hard to come by."

The boy nodded in understanding and disappeared down into the cellar. With a moment of peace, Alfred headed over to the grate that was situated above the flames in the hearth. With a towel he dragged it out from its shelf like position and placed the fillets across it, returning it back afterward to begin to cook the fish. He had a few minutes to himself before he'd have to flip the fish over, or continue entertaining Micah, so he wandered over to the window that overlooked the harbor.

It was already past their normal dinner hours, but still well before supper. With how his habits had been over the last few months, he figured having any decent meal, regardless of the hour of the day, was in his better interest. However, today he had caught up, and finally made his quota, so there was no need to rush back to the forge between meals.

Taking a seat by the window, his attention was quickly brought to the British soldier who was still diligently chopping wood. He couldn't help but smirk at the pitiful attempt the Brit had been making before he showed the man exactly how to chop wood.

The way he held his hands far to close together along the handle, his poor posture, and unbalanced swing as he fell through on his second piece. The thought of how Alfred had then walked up to him, seeing that annoyed look on the soldier's face, as he reached down past him for another block of wood. Then circling his arms around the soldier, while positioning his hands in the proper locations along the ax handle.

How the soldier had fit so comfortably in his arms, almost as if the man had relaxed ever so slightly against him, as his stronger arms brought the ax around in a demonstration swing. How the other man's hair held the earthy-sweet smell of cloves.

"Alfred."

"What?" Alfred sprang from his seat near the window at the sudden shock from hearing his name. He had no idea where his thoughts were leading him, and wasn't sure what to feel about them at that time. Realizing Micah was standing there with two pints of beer in his hands, and eyes wider than saucers, Alfred settled his nerves and tried to focus on the boy.

"Sorry, I just seem to be a bit tired, and you startled me is all. Thank you for getting the drinks. I hope you found everythin' alright?" Alfred asked, taking the two mugs from the boy.

"Ahh, yes, Alfred. Your cellar is nice and clean. I found everythin' real easy."

"Glad to hear it. Why don't you go see if Arthur needs a hand stocking the wood he's just cut. Dinner should be ready in fifteen minutes."

"Okay!"

Alfred watched through the window as the boy bolted across the lawn to where Arthur had stopped to wipe sweat from his brow. Micah must have explained why he was out helping the soldier, as the boy turned back to the house and quickly waved his small arms back at the window Alfred stood at. The smith felt his face warm when the older man sent a casual wave in his direction as well.

Unsettled, Alfred moved away from the window to tend to the grilling haddock.

A man who does not know what side they're on.

"Teh- of course he knows. He's in the British army." Alfred scoffed as he flipped the fish over on the grate. "He'll be off to war the minute his commander calls."

"And where will you be?"

"Along side the colonists, fighting those English dogs back to that spit of land they call home."

"A man who does not shoot to kill has already been robbed of that choice."

"But, Dad, I didn't mean to miss the deer. Does that mean I'll never be able to hunt and kill for my family?"

"You didn't miss, you chose to miss. I just hope for your sake you find a good wife that can handle a musket."

He had laughed.

"Dad! I'll show you! I can shoot and kill a deer! Honest, just take me out again."

"Dammit, Dad!" The clatter of cutlery and plates jumping on the lone wooden table echoed through the small kitchen. Alfred's fist had punched down hard on the table in his anger as the memories flooded back to him.

How did he know from that day on I would never be able to shoot and kill a living creature? How do I expect to join the colonists in rebellion if I can't even shoot an animal to put food on my table?

"Is the fish burning?"

"SHIT!" Alfred jumped from his seat and ran to the hearth, quickly grabbing up a towel to pull the grate out from its pocket above the fire. The fish was slightly on the crispy side now, but was still edible. Cursing at himself again for being so caught up in his thoughts, he picked up a spatula and lifted each piece of fish to rest on the plates.

"I'm sorry, I think I've just overworked myself recently." He tried, the laughter in his tone sounding extremely forced.

"Perhaps you should call it an early night after dinner. I can clean up here." Arthur's sincere offer sent a sudden strange pang through Alfred's chest as he fumbled his way into his own seat. Perhaps it would be a good idea to get some extra sleep tonight. So long as he could get sleep with thoughts of the man continuously coursing through his mind.

"I'd appreciate that. Thank you-"

"A-Arthur, is fine."

Alfred nodded, "Thank you, Arthur. Oh... and, you cleaned up last night. Thank you for that as well."

"Hmm?"

Alfred cleared his throat, "Ah, you cleaned up the broken glass and spilt tea while I was still outside before you retired."

"Oh, right. It was my fault, after all. I should have asked your permission prior to making the tea. I had forgotten about the boycott the colonies had against British goods."

An agreeable silence fell over the table as bread was shared around and silent prayers of thanks were given. It then dawned on Alfred they were missing something very important he had been saving.

"Wait! I forgot something!" Before anyone could speak, Alfred was up and in the cellar rummaging amidst his cold storage until he found them. He had a small bundle of lemons that he had saved for and purchased at the market one day. They were extremely hard to come by and were highly expensive, but they were worth waiting for. Taking one and storing the other two away, he flew back up into the kitchen, making sure to hide the fruit behind his back. He moved over to Micah who was now eying him suspiciously.

"Okay, Micah, which hand?" He asked, noting Arthur's amused grin from the corner of his eye. An odd warm feeling fluttered in his stomach from those green eyes that were staring up at him, and he almost didn't hear Micah call out a hand.

"Alfred, I said you're right." Alfred laughed and brought out his right hand, opening to reveal nothing. Micah pouted and tried to lean around to look at Alfred's left hand, which he then brought around as well to show nothing.

"What are you doing, Alfred?" The boy whined.

"Ahh, wait, I think I see something..." Alfred leaned forward and reached behind the young boy's ear, "What's this?" Alfred then leaned back, holding the bright yellow lemon in his hand. "So do you always hide lemons in your ears?"

Micah burst out with a laugh as he grabbed for the fruit, waving it about in the air like an award. "How'd you do that, Alfred? You're really good! Can you teach me?" He exclaimed excitedly as he jumped at him now, asking for Alfred to cut the lemon.

Arthur had remained quiet during the exchange, but that warm smile never left, and a youthfulness seemed to light his eyes as he watched the young boy bounce around Alfred. Alfred never even realized he was staring when their eyes met, neither moving away as if a silent exchange that neither of them knew about was being made.

"Alfred! The fish will be cold by the time you cut the lemon!" Snapping back to reality Alfred chuckled and picked up a knife to slice the small fruit into three equal pieces. Micah snatched up the first piece, and quickly ran back to his place, squeezing the tiny slice with both small hands to wring every last ounce of juice from the slice onto his fish. "This is going to be so good!" He cheered as he set the sour wedge aside to dig into the fillet.

Alfred chuckled and picking up a slice and looked to Arthur, "Lemon?"

His smile brightened as Arthur's hand reached across the table. Fingers ghosting across the smith's own. Lingering slightly. Another silent exchange, before he accepted the slice and returned to his meal.

Alfred snatched his hand back, noticing he had left it hanging in midair oddly, and looked to his own food. Under his gold bangs he eyed the soldier to see the man's face had grown slightly scarlet, which he couldn't deny that his own felt similar.

"Arthur, could you pass me the cider?"

"Oh. Ahh, of course, umm, Micah." Just as Arthur reached for the pitcher of cider, a loud banging on the front door interrupted them, almost causing Arthur to spill the drink in the process.

"The hell is that about?" Alfred yelled, extremely offended and angered by the rudeness of the caller.

Pushing his chair out from the table with a loud screech along the wood, Alfred headed for the door, knife in hand. Arthur must have picked up on Alfred's awareness that this was not a common occurrence for the smith, so he followed as a form of back-up, pistol at the ready as he crowded behind Alfred. Feeling the heat and closeness from the other man seemed to warm Alfred some at the added security as he opened the door.

"Alfred F. Jones."

It was a statement. They knew who he was and Alfred bristled upon seeing the bright red coat in front of him.

"Yes, and we're in the middle of dinner. Come back some other time." A foot quickly interposed between the door and frame as Alfred attempted to shut it in the officer's face, inciting a gasp from Arthur; much to Alfred's dismay.

"Really now, is that anyway to treat a British officer?" The man pushed into the home, walking past both of them into the foyer while wrinkling his nose and pulling out a handkerchief to cover his face.

"What a stye. It's a shame you must dwell in a place such as this, Lieutenant Kirkland."

Arthur stood up straight, "I am grateful to Mr. Jones for putting me up here, sir." Arthur saluted, as he then stepped in front of Alfred.

The man laughed, "You act as if he had a choice."

A low growl escaped Alfred's lips at the intrusive man.

"Now then, I'm here on business. Mr. Jones, you have an order of thirty muskets that were to be delivered this morning at ten o'clock. No shipment has arrived, and I am under orders to find out why."

"Ten o'clock, today?" Alfred bellowed now pushing in front of Arthur to size up against the Brit. "The contract ordered no later than Friday by five in the afternoon! I still have three days!"

"Well, I'm afraid matters have changed since then. Do you have the muskets or not?" The Brit was swelling with excitement, surely believing by Alfred's outburst that he had caught the smith without the number of muskets, and was ready to write off his fee. Little did the Brit know, Alfred had been ahead of schedule for a reason.

Still glaring down his nose at the officer, who stood only an inch shorter yet owned a round belly compared to the smith's chiseled abs, Alfred turned to the door and opened it. "Let me show you to the forge." His voice dripping acid with every word.

The officer eyed him suspiciously, but silently walked back out until he stopped momentarily to look back at Arthur. "I'll send a man to see you to your route for the evening. Have a good night, Lieutenant."

Arthur saluted, yet his expression was one of disdain. Alfred couldn't help but smile slightly that one of their own was just as turned off by an officer's actions towards the colonists.

"But Alfred hasn't finished eating his dinner yet!"

Alfred's eyes widened in fear as he turned quickly to Micah to silence him, but it was too late. The officer had heard the raucous cry and had turned on his heel.

Feeling the man size up behind him, Alfred turned and reached to his full height, his hand protectively keeping the small boy behind him.

"The boy finds it alright to keep a British officer waiting, does he?" Alfred stared the man down, daring him to try anything. Alfred's fists clenched ready for anything the man would stupidly do. However, his intimidation seemed to work as the officer thought differently of instigating anything with the smith, and pushed past the three of them back into the house.

He approached the table, and eyed the food still spread out and untouched. "So this is what the boy calls dinner?" And with two hands, he reached under the side of the table and heaved it, sending the plates of food smashing to the ground.

"No!" Alfred knelt down and clutched at the boy as he tried to run, hushing him as he did. Arthur then stepped forward to block both Alfred and Micah from the overweight general. Arthur's glare was like ice as he met the general on the porch. Alfred couldn't help but question Arthur's motives. Was he going to stand up for them? He might as well have held out his hands ready to be shackled.

"Ahh... Lieutenant, my apologies if that meager meal was also meant for you. Why don't you come out with us after I check on those muskets for a pint and something more sustaining." The man laughed as he walked down the steps and began heading for the forge. Arthur never said a word, but just by standing before the two colonists, he was able to turn the general's attention onto himself.

Alfred stood from his kneeling position next to the boy to lay a hand on Arthur's shoulder. The soldier looked back at him and exchanged a knowing glance. Alfred had to show the general the muskets, or the man would never leave, and Arthur needed to protect Micah in case the boy had any other plans to entice the officer.

"Come on, Micah. Inside." Arthur's voice was stern but sent the boy a clear message. The boy complied, solemnly, still sending a glance back at Alfred. Apologies screamed from those sad eyes as he was ushered back inside by Arthur. Alfred felt bad the boy had to see such a display, but there wasn't much any of them could do. He was just happy none of them were hurt, or taken away in chains.

"Come on then, Yank!" The general bellowed from the middle of the yard, and just to emphasize his meaning a shot rang out as a musket ball imbedded itself, and cracking the wood framing on the porch directly next to where Alfred stood.

Alfred looked back to see Arthur standing in the window now, concern etched in his eyes. Alfred put up a hand to silently say he was alright, and then turned to head to the forge.

As he passed the general, he was sickened by the man's deep laugh, as he was handed another pistol from one of the two soldiers that had been waiting by the horses. With a replaced and loaded weapon, Alfred had to keep in mind each step he took over the next few minutes.

The smith, unnerved by the display, headed into the forge, the general not far behind, and made his way to a far wall where two long racks rested. One on top of the other and each holding fifteen, beautifully crafted iron muskets.

The general, his gaze now irritated by the sight of the completed quota, picked one up and weighed it in his hands.

"What is this rubbish?"

Alfred looked at him strangely, "Problem?"

"These are too light. They'll shatter the moment you fire them." The general argued.

Alfred grumbled as he picked up a different musket, prepped it, and aimed at a glass bottle opposite the lot of them and fired. The bottle shattered as the shot hit it square on. He then turned to see a brief impressed look on the general's face before it turned back into a scowl.

"They're modified to be lighter for better accuracy and for travel. You will not find a better made musket than here,... sir." He added the last part with contempt as he rested the musket back on the rack.

The general eyed the musket still in his hand, "We'll take them, but they will be tested by our gunsmith for any signs of sabotage." The general nodded to the two soldiers waiting by the door to move in and start loading up the muskets.

Alfred stood there as the soldiers worked, never making eye contact with them as they did.

Once all the muskets had been loaded onto a cart they had brought along, and the general and soldiers had mounted, Alfred ran out to them now enraged, "What about my fee?"

The general paused and smiled down at him, "Well, you didn't have the muskets delivered by ten this morning. I'm afraid your contract has been voided."

Anger bubbled up inside Alfred at the general's words, as the man's laughter drowned out any sound around him. Even the gentle pattering of rain as it began to fall on the soft soil, as well as the quiet hoof beats that approached him from behind were drowned out.

Then, Alfred's world went black as pain engulfed him. The approaching soldier had taken the butt of his musket, and rammed it down on the smith's collarbone, breaking it, and sending the smith to the muddy ground.

Laughter, hoof beats, and wagon axles slowly retreated from where he lay. Then the sound of sloshing mud from quickened steps neared him. Something being called out. His name maybe?

"-fred! Al-fred! Alfred, look at me!" The smith's eyes opened slightly as his name grew more distinguishable, only to then be caught in the fierce emerald gaze that looked down at him, wide with fear... and anger.

A/N: This is by far my favourite chapter up to this point, and I don't believe it will be my last.

Thank you all again for the reviews, alerts, and favs! They really do fill me with encouragement to continue writing. I'm so happy everyone is enjoying this little story of mine. I know I've read lots of USUK fics here and I'm happy to finally be able to contribute something of my own. I have been fixing mistakes in previous chapters so if you see anything here, by all means, let me know. I really appreciate the help and it makes the reading experience that much better for new readers as well. :)

If you're interested on updates on how the writing is going, I update my tumblr with updates. Also, I post artwork and WIPs on there as well (lots of USUKUS): ahro. tumblr. com

Thank you for reading! :D