Quartering Acts
By Ahro

Rated M for sexual situations, violence, and language.
Chapter 5

"My mother's pie!"

Arthur looked over his shoulder from his sentinel position at the window upon hearing the small, distressed voice behind him.

"That bastard! My mother made this pie, and now it's ruined."

Arthur finally pulled his gaze from the window to walk over to the boy. They had righted the table a few minutes before, but the sound of a gunshot had diverted the soldier's attention from cleaning to the much more pressing situation outside. His heart had pounded, expecting to see the smith, collapsed on the stairs as blood pooled out around him. Seeing the man still standing had given him some relief; however, even after they had entered the forge Arthur could not look away. This general, who he was not familiar with, really gave the British a bad name. How he had risen to that rank was beyond Arthur's understanding.

"It will be alright, Micah. Perhaps we can find some time to go apple-picking and make our own." Arthur tried, hoping to cheer the boy up.

"I don't know. No one can make a better apple pie than my mom," he said sadly as he stared at the smashed pie in his hands. "Oh, but maybe we can pick some fresh apples and give them to my mom to make a pie with! That way she won't be spending her money for more apples."

Arthur smiled as he ruffled the boy's hair. "Sounds like a good plan."

A few moments passed in silence as they cleaned up the kitchen. Arthur's senses were on point as he listened for any signs of a fight or additional gun shots. He wished he was back at the window... or better yet, standing next to Alfred, giving him support against an enemy he had never thought to consider.

Is this how its been over here? Constant discrimination and abuse from my own countrymen? These people are our brothers, yet we treat them like tools, and these bastards feel they can get away with it due to our leaders remaining in Parliament.

"Why did you stand up for us?"

The question made Arthur's heart seemingly stop in his chest, as the young boy looked up at him. His eyes, though serious, showed fear of repercussions... or the truth.

Why did I stand up for them? I've been in America for no more than two days, and I've spent even less time with Alfred and Micah. Yet, even with my predisposed ideas of the colonists, these two seemed to have erased what I felt were the only truths.

The boy continued on when Arthur remained quiet, his feet shuffling together where he stood. "Alfred said you were cut from a different cloth. I don't know what he means by that, but I don't think you're anything like those other British soldiers outside. You wouldn't hurt my mom, and make her cry like the soldiers who have stayed at my home have. You want to help us, don't you?"

"I-"

Braying laughter suddenly ignited from outside, and before Arthur could come up with a coherent reply, he was on the porch, watching as the general and accompanying soldiers rode off to town with the muskets in tow.

There was a groan.

A muddied white form on the ground.

Cold rain pelting down.

Time seeming to slow.

The other man was in his arms.

Agony. Pain.

Blood.

"Alfred! Alfred, look at me!"

Those blue eyes, just barely opening before being winced shut again. Arthur could only make out that Alfred had been hit on his shoulder, and then struck in the head as he had fallen. Blood ran down the smith's face from where it had stained into his blond hair, and a large bruise was already forming around his collar bone.

"Shit! We need to get you inside." Arthur grit his teeth as he attempted to maneuver the larger man. He couldn't help but wince as each movement, regardless of how slow and cautiously planned they were, caused Alfred severe pain.

Damn them! What could Alfred have done to deserve this?

"Ar-thur? It's alright... I can... walk."

Arthur scoffed. "Are you that thick-skulled?"

"Heh- I must... not be... if... I'm bleedin' from it."

A smile actually flitted across the man's face at his own joke. Arthur rolled his eyes, but couldn't help smiling himself.

He's in and out of consciousness, yet he still manages to make a joke at his own expense.

"Yes, and people who are bleeding from their skull, generally need help to walk. Many, in fact, cannot even do that."

"Then I must... not be so bad."

"Ugh- you really can be insufferable."

"Then don't... bother with me- AHHH! Dammit, Arthur!"

Arthur smirked. "Insufferable, yet somehow I can't seem to dissuade myself."

Arthur caught a slight smirk from the injured man at his remark, and they both went silent as they made their way back to the house.

"Oh no, Alfred! Quick! Arthur, I already got his room ready for him. I have clean water and towels and bandages and beer and-"

"Good, good, thank you Micah."

"Could I get a pint now, Mica-Ahh! Shit- Arthur!"

"That can wait till after we get you looked over."

Alfred sulked, but silently agreed as Micah opened the door to the bedroom to allow them entrance.

Arthur had to admit the kid did a good job. Everything that could have caused a hindrance was pushed far to the wall. The sheets on the bed had been replaced with clean linen. While a table was set out of the way with all the amenities that Arthur needed.

"Arthur! What else can I do?" Micah bounced in behind them as Arthur gently rested Alfred onto the bed, and turned to face the boy once he was satisfied with the smith's positioning.

"Yes, could you ride into town and fetch the doctor?"

"No."

Arthur was caught off guard as his arm was suddenly jerked backwards, causing him to stumble, and brace himself on the bed from falling. A muddled curse later, and he was suddenly looking into those fierce blue eyes. They bore into him, and he had to wonder what sort of strange power they had that made him feel so weak.

Arthur's face warmed yet again, "You git, I almost fell on top of you! Are you looking to get injured again, because I can certainly oblige."

His face must have reddened then even more, as Alfred had suddenly moved closer to him. Those eyes, never leaving his own, as their breath mingled together only inches apart.

"Forget the doctor."

"W-what? Why?" Beads of sweat had begun to collect on Arthur's forehead from their close proximity. He couldn't even pull away, as Alfred still held his arm in a vice like grip.

Do I even want to pull away?

A bizarre urge seemed to come over Arthur then, as he felt himself slowly leaning forward, his eyes growing heavy before snapping to reality again once Alfred quickly released his arm. resting back against the pillows as he did.

"I was taught first-aid when I was a boy. I can talk you through it." Alfred's gaze had left his, and was now looking out the window at the rain. The sun was setting through the dark clouds, and the few rays it gave off lit Alfred's face with an auburn blaze. His expression was stoic, even the few hints of pain from breathing were just barely visible.

Arthur was still in the same awkward position he had been pulled into before realization struck, and he quickly stood back up. He then began straightening his still wet shirt to try to hide the obvious flush in his cheeks. Not that it would do any good. He had to have been as red as a tomato, and Alfred had been staring directly at him from mere inches away.

What just happened? He was joking while in extreme pain, and then he pulls me towards him like that. Those eyes...as if they were pleading with me to do something. Then he just pushes away, that expression completely gone, and I'm left flustered not knowing what to say.

"Ahh... do you find that wise?"

Alfred shot Arthur a piercing glare in defiance before turning his gaze to Micah, softening some for the boy as he did, as Micah had remained quiet during their whole exchange.

"Micah, in the cellar you'll find a medicine box. Bring that here, please."

Micah nodded quickly, and Arthur caught a glimpse of fear in the boys face before he rushed out the door. Did he think the exchange between Arthur and Alfred was something he shouldn't have been witness to? It couldn't have been over retrieving the medicine box Alfred had requested. Alfred had been far from mean to the child when he had asked.

"What has gotten into you all of a sudden? You go from joking about your bloody arm and still bleeding head, to a sudden resolute expression! Dictating commands like we are your puppets!" Arthur couldn't help the rise in his voice. He was a British soldier, and he certainly did not need to assist the smith in recovering. For all he knew, the man could have antagonized those soldiers for them to retaliate in such a way. He had gotten his pay. Why push his luck?

Alfred looked at him now, slight pain in his eyes, but still focused, "You act as if you know me when you've only been here for less than forty-eight hours. Who are you to say I've changed?"

"Who are you to say I don't know you? We have far more in common than you realize." Arthur's eyes widened as a gasp escaped his lips. His hands were quickly over his mouth as if in a futile attempt to catch the escaping words.

Arthur watched as Alfred's eyes narrowed.

"Get out."

"You still need to be treated."

"Get OUT of here you British PIG!"

"Absolutely not! You will bleed to death!"

"As if you even give a shit whether I live or die! I'm just another worthless colonist that you can mandate outrageous orders to, and we haven't a say in any of it!"

Alfred had begun to get out of bed, and before Arthur even realized it, he was moving towards the man to stop him out of concern for the smith's health. Completely forgetting for the moment they were in a heated row.

Alfred stumbled and hissed at each movement, blood still dripped down his face while his right arm hung limp at his side. Arthur reached towards him instinctively to get the man to sit back down, but was swatted away.

"So you want to nurse me back to health? Will that make you feel better after knowing your own damn people killed my father in cold blood! An unarmed, harmless old man! Like hell you deserve that right." He spat, still wincing at every move, yet towering to his full height to glare down at Arthur.

Again, this man had made him speechless. Completely and utterly speechless.

"Wha- I never had the intent-"

"You never had the intention of what? Make me see the British aren't the thugs that they are? Why don't you tell that to Micah, who has seen his mother raped and beaten repeatedly by one redcoat after another that has been quartered to stay with them. I've heard them talk amongst themselves about her. How they lie to her saying they're a new soldier being quartered to stay with her, and how the other man before him was reported for having abused her. Only to go around and do it all to her again." He paused, "You know what they do to men who confront them?"

With one arm, Alfred grabbed at the buttons running down the front of his shirt and tore the fabric off. Gritting his teeth, he let the shirt fall off his good shoulder, and turned so Arthur could see his back.

Arthur struggled to not blanch at the sight, as an overwhelming feeling of shame and guilt, washed over him.

Alfred's back was lined with scars from having felt the lash. They hadn't been properly taken care of so the scar tissue was grotesque in the way it had healed. A matted look, raised and puffy, in thick lines from his shoulder blades to the small of his back. Crisscrossing here and there, while some had gone so deep that grooves had been dug into his skin.

"This is the punishment for telling so called lies about British soldiers."

Arthur's heart felt like it had plummeted out of his body as he stared at the scars. Never had he heard of such ruthlessness. Such stories never made it back to England. How could he have known?

"I-I didn't realize-"

"That those men you idolize are nothing more than thugs! This is a playground for them!" He then turned back to face the soldier, "and you have the audacity to say we have more in common than I think?"

"I-" Just as he was about to attempt to stammer something out, Alfred's good hand quickly grabbed at Arthur's shoulder as he rocked on his feet, quickly losing balance as he slumped towards Arthur. His head coming to rest in the crook of Arthur's neck. His breath, warm and tickling against Arthur's skin, was quickly becoming a major distraction as Arthur tried to brace himself under the weight of the heavier blacksmith.

"Micah! Micah, I need you!"

No response.

I need to get him back into bed.

Trying his best to not worsen his injuries, Arthur held the man in his arms just long enough to rest him back in the bed, taking as much care as he could.

Arthur looked him over quickly, noting that blood had continued to trail down his face while the foolish man had ranted. Adding in the pain from his broken collar bone, it was amazing the man had been standing on his own moments earlier. It just showed how strong his will was. To live alone in solitude for four years certainly paid its due on the smith. Perhaps that was reason for his mood swings? Had he grown so socially inept over that period of time?

Realizing he was delaying, he quickly turned and ran for the door, only to practically fall over something resting just outside it. Looking down, he found the medicine box that Alfred had sent Micah to fetch. A small note, having been scribbled with some haste, was attached to the lid.

I had to go see my mom. Please help Alfred get better. He needs a friend right now.

Arthur leaned against the door frame.

Had he heard?

Looking down at the box at his feet and back to the form on the bed, he folded the small piece of parchment, tucked it away in his pocket, and reached down for the box. It was rather light which concerned him slightly as he took up a seat alongside the bed.

His gaze drifted across Alfred as he absently opened the box. The man's chest had remained bare, and Arthur couldn't seem to pull away from admiring his well toned and tanned abs. There were other scars, he noticed, but not from a whip. These were more likely burn marks from his work.

Arthur licked his lips as they had gone dry as he stared, before he realized he was wasting even more time. Turning his attention back to the box, he lifted it open only to be brought face to face with hardly the correct supplies necessary for the job.

This fool doesn't even have the most common herbs stocked. Nothing but linen bandages, adhesives and alcohol.

His gaze wandered back to the smith, shaking his head as he did.

It can not be helped.

Taking a pad of linen, he soaked it with the alcohol and moved in closer to the man's head. Thankfully, Alfred's face was turned away from his, allowing perfect access to the large laceration above his temple.

Arthur bit his lip, worrying if the impending sting from the alcohol would wake the smith, but he had to move on. He had made a promise to Micah.

Moving the bloodied strands of hair out of the way, he gently dabbed at the gash only to quickly pull his hand away upon the immediate flinch from Alfred's body. Holding his breath while he waited to see if Alfred would open his eyes, he let out a sigh of relief when the man settled again and remained unconscious. He then went back to wiping away the blood and disinfecting the wound the best he could.

Sighing to himself at the lack of certain herbs, he took out a new bandage and pressed it against the gash to staunch the bleeding. Taking a roll of linen, he then gently lifted Alfred's head to wrap the bandage around it to add constant pressure to the wound.

I can do this.

Satisfied that the blood had stopped. He then looked over to the man's shoulder and collar bone.

He was pleased to note the bone had never protruded through the skin. It had sunken inwards slightly, but would mend so long as he could keep the smith from over exerting himself in the coming months.

Now, though, was the challenge. Standing up, he leaned forward to gently hoist the smith against the back wall under his good arm. A groan left the man's lips at the disturbance, but he remained asleep.

Letting out his held breath, Arthur picked up more of the linen roll and gently straddled the man's lap in an attempt to wrap the bandage around his back and across his injured collar bone. It wasn't going to be easy, as the small bone was delicate, and he didn't want to make it worse than it already was.

Bringing his arm around the smith's back, he cautiously pulled the man away from the wall to rest against himself so he could use his hand's freely to wrap the bandages.

Alfred's face rested in the crook of his neck once again, and his steady breathing, dancing across his skin, had Arthur at the man's mercy once more. Focus didn't seem to be forthcoming as he swallowed the excess saliva that was building up in his mouth.

His hands were growing clammy as they shook to try and secure the bandages. He was doing a terrible job as it was far too loose to do any good. He just couldn't seem to bring himself to pay attention.

Why am I getting so worked up over this man? After everything he just said, and for me to be reacting in such a manner is ridiculous. He'll be badgering me in the morning over what a shitty job I have done.

"This is stupid." He rested the linen down on the bed, "Such a simple task and I can hardly manage it."

"Arthur."

The voice was a whisper. A puff of warm breath on his exposed skin. Arthur went stiff as the breath was replaced by soft lips, gently kissing under his jaw, and a moist tongue flicking slowly out to paint a circle in the same area.

Arthur moaned at the sudden contact, chills running through his body only inciting Alfred's lips to claim the spot once more, sucking now, as his better hand gently brushed up under the back of Arthur's shirt to run along his spine.

Control seemed like a foreign concept now, as Arthur arched his back at the soft touch, Alfred's lips now beginning to trail up to his earlobe which he claimed with a gentle nip.

It wasn't until Arthur moaned Alfred's name did he feel the other man's growing erection against his own, causing him to quickly realize what was going on, forcing Arthur to push away.

Their eyes met. Blue to green.

Alfred's held a lust in them he had never seen in anyone's eyes before, and it confused and excited him at the same time. What was happening?

"I-"

"Get out of here, red."

He ran.

A/N: Mind. Blown! Congratulations! You have just read my FIRST EVER smut! :D I hope it was good for you. ;P There is much more of this to come.

Oh- just a quick note, Quincy is a city in Massachusetts. I'd assume most of you would have picked up on that but I just found out Quincy is also the name of a group of beings/people in Bleach (Sorry, I know nothing about Bleach). So, that may have sounded strange if you were unaware of the city to begin with yet are familiar with Bleach. lol Although if you're into history, Quincy is a big city to know about. :)

Also, I'd like to say 'THANK YOU SO MUCH' to my lovely beta-reader "Tobi" who has been helping me fix previous chapters and correct ones to come. So here's to fewer grammar and spelling errors and better flow in my writing. :D

Again, big thanks to all those who have reviewed, faved and alerted to the fic! I love reading all the reviews you have taken your time out to write. They really inspire me knowing how much this story is being enjoyed. ^^

Also, I have started illustrating scenes from this story. Check out my Tumblr for the artwork: ahro .tumblr . com (minus spaces of course).

Thank you for reading! :D *heart* *love*