Arthur had been sitting around, minding his own business and thankfully not being asked to dance. He hadn't managed to see Alfred yet; he hadn't been dancing either, so it left him feeling a little exposed, right until they showed up.

"Oh, Sir Arthur, there you are." Great. The moment he'd stood up from his bench and was about to grab a drink, he'd had people calling for him. Except that it wasn't either of the people he was friendly with, but rather a gaggle of non holding facility Chosen. Alfonso was standing with them, looking incredibly tense. "We've been looking to introduce you to a mutual acquaintance this evening."

"Who?" Arthur said, rather rudely, but he was beyond caring at this point. He'd barely even spoken to them, though he could pick out a few familiar faces.

"My uncle, the Duke of Wartrett," a girl said, sounding incredibly smug as she gestured to a man behind her, green bangle glittering with the wave of her hand. Her name knocked around the back of his head, but he could not place it. "It's an southern estate in Clubs. Have either of you heard of it?"

"No."

"...No."

"I see. Well, that's to be expected. He also owns several fine art galleries all around Cards. Have you visited a fine art gallery before, Arthur, Alfonso?"

"No-" Alfonso started, but she shook her head.

"That wasn't a question. Of course I know neither of you could have afforded to visit in your dingy little facilities. Neither of you have any sort of connections in this room, I presume?" Titters erupted from the group.

"You didn't truly believe we were going to introduce such rabble to my family?"

"No, but why did you have to air us out like that?"

"We'll be on our way, thank you," Arthur growled, nudging Alfonso's sleeve to gesture for him to leave. Judging by his tight face, he wasn't opposed to the idea either.

"Not so fast," Ian replied, seizing his wrist, something he shook off almost immediately. Nevertheless, it had diverted his attention enough. "It shouldn't be that easy, just to forget how you don't fit in anywhere here. You may have escaped us insofar, but I've seen how every single holding facility kid's danced like they never received any training at all. Want to tell me the truth of whether His Highness actually bothered to teach you?"

His teeth bit the edge of his lip, causing it to pale, resisting blurting out what he knew. They chose to take it the wrong way. "Oh, so he didn't take you out on lessons, after all? I daresay I'm not surprised. Better scurry up to your little rooms to start packing for tomorrow morning – shit, why now-"

Before he could send a fist in his face or something ridiculous to tamp down his anger, all of their tormentors fell into a curtsy or a bow, and Arthur turned around to see Alfred jog up to them, his golden cord bouncing on his chest. The last thing he managed to catch before he did the same was the palpable frustration on the girl's face.

"Hey, guys!" Alfred called, looking fresh as a daisy. He'd even fixed his tie, from what little he could see. Arthur daren't lift his eyes to look at his face. "Enjoying the party?"

"It's been exquisite, Your Highness," someone said that Arthur couldn't see, his voice sugary. "Truly the grandest ball I've ever been to, and I've visited even the largest villas in the Hearts Inner Circle during my first debut!" Clearly another jab at them, but Alfred didn't seem to address it.

There were a few moments of silence before he continued to speak. "Awesome! Erm, I hope you guys don't mind, but I wanted to ask Sir Alfonso and Sir Arthur to dance soon, so I'll be taking them out if that's okay?"

Alfonso's head jerked up. "But, Your Highness, didn't we, uh, j-"

"Yes, of course, Your Highness," Arthur interjected quickly, giving him a nudge. He wasn't sure how, but Alfred had noticed the situation and was doing his best to give them a ticket out of it. "We would be honoured."

Bewildered and relieved, the two of them followed him, trying their best to ignore the glares sent their way.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Alfonso blurted the moment they were clear of the group. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize that you were trying to get us outta that situation."

"Hey, it's no big deal," Alfred smiled, holding up his gloved hands. "I'm sorry that happened. Unless, uh, I got it wrong and you guys were just chatting?"

"No, unless chatting was showing off all your relatives in the room, and them telling you were weaker for not having any here," he bit out, snorting.

"Uh huh. So, uh, rain check on that dance?" The statement was meant for both of them, but Arthur didn't notice Alfred's eyes lingering on him.

That's it? "Rain check?" he asked, still intent on avoiding his gaze, for he knew all too well the sensation of his mouth pressing against his would return full force. Oh, brilliant. Pillars. The pillars in the room looked wonderful, meaning that he had to observe them.

"Basically, uh...still want that dance?" Fates, why did he sound so embarrassed? It was so cute it was unseemly.

Alfonso observed at how Arthur was furiously looking at a pillar at the corner of the room, and how Alfred's fingers kept on scrabbling against his pockets, and fought back a knowing chuckle. "Your Highness, you have already danced with me this evening, and I believe my friend here," he nudged Arthur cheerfully, "Is more than happy to take you up on that offer. Thank you for assisting us back there. Best of luck, Arthur, okay?"

"Wait, Alfonso-" he started, but before he could keep him in the conversation he'd wafted away, leaving the two of them alone in the middle of the massive crowd.

"So?" Alfred asked softly, jerking out his gloved hand to his so quickly that his sleeve fell away once again. If it wasn't for their closeness, he couldn't have heard him over the din of overlapping conversation about the prince standing with only one member of the Chosen. Arthur's eyes caught on the faint blue lines in his exposed inner wrist, sharply turning his gaze away after a few moments. "D'ya wanna? It's a simple one, I promise. Much less of a group dance and stuff."

He was about to take his hand when he noticed a tiny bit of string pressed up against his watch, the untied ends practically crying out for Arthur to remove his glove and segue it up his wrist to pull at it. A tug forward was all it took for him to see that it was his dance card, staring up at him tauntingly as if it could sense his envy of wanting to be pressed against Alfred's skin. There was Matthew's name written on it, Officer Steillson's, Emma's, and...

"Alfred, what-" he started, pocketing his glove as he saw Alfred's name being etched onto it not once, not twice, but three times. What in the Fates did that mean? Had he written it on there as a joke? To play a prank on him? There was no reason he'd want to dance with him so many times. Hadn't his capacity for affection been used up already? Did he even have one? "What is the meaning of...what is this?"

Three dances is far more than anyone else has received tonight, he panicked, not sure what else to say out loud that would deter him. One dance would be regarded as normal, but two would be...then again, it's not like I don't want to dance with him or anything, but it'll single me out more. Is it truly worth it?

Pale light that covered the backdrop of his memory of dancing with Alfred in that small practice room threatened to overshadow the glamour of the ballroom they were currently standing in. Yes, he'd experienced a near fall that would probably be on the news around Cards, making him even more of a laughingstock, but he was moving in unison with Alfred, being steadied by his arms. Some terribly traitorous side of him that had been awoken with the boy who'd accepted the prince's bomber jacket on a freezing night wanted more, wanted to be close. Naturally, he could never say that out loud, but he couldn't keep on denying himself everything.

He wanted to dance with him, possibly including all those dances that he'd written out on his card. Then again, whoever had said that violent delights had violent ends was correct. Dancing with the most eligible bachelor in Cards might not be a violent delight to most, but to someone who had been putting up walls since he was a child, it felt far more scandalous than anything else he'd ever known.

Instead of answering, the idiot reached forward and hooked out Arthur's glove from his inner pocket, haphazardly wrapping it over his slender fingers and unhooking the dance card from his own wrist, looping that over Arthur's. All the angry words that were about to be hurled at him disappeared at Alfred's hand brushing against the skin of his sides, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. "Tell ya in a sec. Next song's starting," he said, lifting Arthur's hand and leading him to the floor, tearing himself away from his own thoughts.

I'll have to answer that later.

"You shouldn't have taken it away from me," Arthur hissed as soon as the dance had started. Alfred could see his chest rapidly rising and falling as he moved, the action so short that he ended up closer to him than he intended.

Where's the bloody idiot looking? "W-What could happen if someone wanted to ask me to dance?" he demanded again, doing his best to get back to the topic. "It would look bad, as if I'd ripped it off! I'm sure you're aware of my poor reputation already-"

"No one would ask you to dance," Alfred retorted, a fierceness in his eyes offset only by his pink cheeks. They ducked underneath a couple that he barely noticed before they joined once more. Not even the simplest dance could be free of ridiculousness.

"Pardon me?" He could barely hold back his indignant sputter. It was true, but at the same time, he'd be loath to hear it from him. "That's a preposterous idea!"

He could already hear whispers in the crowd – were they there before, when the others were dancing with Alfred, or was it only because a commoner – a nobody like him – was?

As the next step dictated, he shifted his body forward, accidentally brushing his exposed wrist against Arthur's, the skin contact amplified much more than he'd expected it to be. Since that tryst hidden behind layers of darkness and blue curtains, things he would have brushed off became magnified a thousand times – the softness underneath Alfred's jaw, what the echo of his heartbeat felt like underneath his white shirt, the colour of his eyes hidden behind his wheat blond hair, the heat of his shoulder against his fingertips.

"No one would ask you to dance," Alfred repeated, placing his mouth close to Arthur's ear, "Because everyone in the room understands that your next dance belongs to me, and me only. My hand is yours for as long as you want."

What sort of game are you playing in front of the world, Your Highness? "What if I wasn't willing to share with the others?" he challenged, trying to ignore how Alfred's voice sent shivers up his spine and weakened him, almost in the same way he'd melted him down in the unused room. "Would you indulge my selfishness in front of everyone, Your Highness? Dance after dance?"

A bolt of excitement ran up his spine as he said it, daring him to retort. All the dancing and banter had gotten to his mind, leaving him with a headiness that seemingly defied his usual rational thinking. For a moment, cameras and scandal be damned, he wanted himself to be Alfred's in public.

The blue in his eyes darkened, overpowering the chandeliers that hung above them as they moved. "Haven't you noticed how I've saved my dances with you near the very end of the night? You know my answer," his voice lowered, not moving his head away from Arthur's. There was something behind that mask of formality, one that was half playful, half something that was deeper, something that he'd never felt before. Arthur wanted to take it off to see what was underneath, not to mention his coat, and possibly more.

Whatever rational thoughts left untouched by his closeness were setting off alarm bells with every step they made. Though a pair of gloves blocked their direct contact, their hands were clasped so tightly together that he could still feel the residual heat of the other's body, and there was no escaping Alfred's deep gaze from this distance. Fully intending to defy him, Arthur tilted his chin higher to meet it, daring Alfred to deny him.

"I do not, Your Highness." The slow, dramatic music called for their bodies to entwine for a moment, practically chest to chest, as they danced. If they hadn't kissed earlier, he would barely be able to force back the urge thrumming in his ribcage.

Neither of them spoke again within the next few minutes, Arthur allowing him to lead the dance. There were plenty of moments where he felt his steps were misaligned, due to whatever emotion simmering in his blood that only seared longer he was in Alfred's arms, but he steered him around expertly. He'd swiftly become the confident dancer he'd longed for all throughout the night. Alfred's grip lay unbroken on Arthur's waist, keeping him close at all times, all semblance of proper distance being maintained tossed away. Really, he should acknowledge all the people watching them throughout the room, but the only thing he wanted to see was Alfred's undaunted expression.

There was something in that gaze, something in that unfettered stability in guiding Arthur's body that made his desire flare up even more in his throat, causing it to close up. The landscape the music painted, the lavishness of the entire party, the cameras trained on the ballroom floor, the countless people with their owlish eyes and whispers all faded into the background, leaving just the sensation of him and Alfred behind.

It could not have been more different than the darkened room they'd rendezvoused in, yet the sensation was similar. The closeness, the sparkle in his blue eyes and the muscle and bone of his body pressing against his was enough to invoke it. Worse still, it made him want to stop them in their tracks, smack dab in the middle of the room, and re-experience the passionate elation of kissing Alfred once again.

Alfred could barely wait to speak – judging by the feeling of his chest moving rapidly against his – until he'd positioned them a little farther away from the rest of the crowd. "Arthur Kirkland," he murmured roughly, his full name spilling out of his parted lips as if he couldn't get enough of it, "Just say the word."

Standing outside, Francis still looked troubled. "Surely, dear Yao, you mean to reveal it eventually."

"It's just a dalliance, as you said," Yao replied flatly, folding his arms, the feather in his cap bobbing.

Two of the most senior Cards royals had stepped outside from the party and were walking down a hallway side by side, their shoulders tense and mouths occupied with politics and bitterness.

"You two have been involved since your internship all those years ago. Quite long for a supposed dalliance."

He didn't turn to face him, abruptly stopping to cross the room and stare outside the window. "But that was then, and Fitz and Piper were here to take care of both the boys. I'm all they have now. I cannot abandon my duty for him."

"I understand," came the reply, and Yao opened his mouth to interject before shutting it sharply. "They have the rest of us, you know it," Francis insisted. He took a step forward towards his fellow royal. "There's not a single one of us that don't love them."

"Except one glaring exception," Yao's shoulders didn't even flinch from their rigid state. "And you know who will be most devastated by the news if I told him. With everything on his plate now, I fear that it would have worse results than what was actually intended. Fates forbid, even cause him to turn on me."

"Alfred loves you as if you were his parent, if you were concerned about that, which is preposterous. Nothing would make him turn on you." He shook his head, blond locks tumbling as he did so. "And Matthieu has no argument with Ivan, and cares for you in the same way, so you can have faith in that as well."

"...Frankly, if I didn't trust you all so much, I wouldn't have told anyone about it. It's unimportant."

"A Jack loving a King is hardly unimportant, not to mention your happiness. It's not easy to disguise these things."

"The only pair of King and Jack that truly matter together are Feliciano and Ludwig," Yao exhaled, "And they're married. Not to mention we know how much Cards adores them, and how well Hearts is doing."

"As expected, you haven't lost your edge. Regardless, even loving a monarch from another nation is no longer a scandal as it used to be." Francis exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So why? You don't have to be with him all the time."

This seemed to take Yao off guard, and he paused, feet shuffling uncertainly once to the left, and once to the right. Save for the two senior monarchs, they were alone in the corridor. "The advisorship, for one. Knowing them, they'd jump at any opportunity to blow any issue up in our faces."

"But I thought you were popular with the people? Has that not only grown greater with Alfie's Deciding?"

"Personal popularity does not necessarily directly translate into support for the monarchy as an institution, I'm afraid," Yao admitted. He didn't turn away when Francis walked to his side, both now looking outside the windows. "We've been just Ace and Jack for two, almost three years, now. The bare minimum, meaning that we're weak."

"You and Matthieu are hardly weak as royals."

"As a Primary Suit, we are. With the open disdain they showed the previous royals, I doubt their enmity will leave just because they've all…passed on."

"Well, it isn't a secret that none of us enjoy your advisorship's presence," he adjusted the flower in his lapel, "That's for sure. Are you sure you don't need assistance?"

"For what?" he said humourlessly, shaking his head. "They haven't made any blatant moves other than trying to undermine all of our authority countless times, and operating that awful kangaroo court. Our hands are tied. Francis, you and Vash have been incredibly kind in even offering aid."

"Vash?" Francis raised one manicured eyebrow. "Has he-"

"Earlier, in the Jacks' Meeting. He didn't even take me aside, since it was just the four of us in the room."

"What did my Jack offer, exactly?"

"Military aid, the usual," he replied. "Under the guise of true neutrality."

"It's true neutrality if there's thirty of them against three of you. Did you take his offer?"

"I settled for asking him to do some work with me on my swordsmanship."

Francis winced. "We're here to have a Meeting, not spar. It feels horribly unglamorous and medieval. I don't understand what he's thinking most of the time. At times like these, I wish that our Fate would follow Hearts's example, and just anoint that Mark by themselves without consulting us."

"Perhaps," Yao said, coolly moving his head slightly backwards to meet his miffed gaze. "But wouldn't you agree that he has been Lili's most steadfast protector? If he hadn't worked tirelessly to defend those mines for her amplifier, even fighting at the front lines himself. She might not have lived to see her coronation. Clash or not, you cannot argue he hasn't made Diamonds stronger."

Watching his fellow royal squirm temporarily took off his mind off the question around the King of Clubs. "F-Fine. As long as he doesn't turn Lili into a vassal of war. She begs him to teach her to wield a lance more every day."

"That's what youngsters do to people they look up to. Didn't Gilbert do the same with you?"

"Yes, but..."

"Matthew did it when Alfred was preparing for service. And there's nothing wrong with a queen wielding a weapon that's not magic, though it is unusual." Like her mother, but he tactfully left that part unspoken. Francis knew more than anyone how closely she resembled Jeanne.

"I suppose. Anyways," he started to speak, but paused. "Wait, Yao. Are you sure you were safe in that room with the other Jacks?" His azure eyes marred with concern, but Yao was already a step before him.

"Don't worry, Roderich was very thorough in his examinations. There weren't any magical devices that we wouldn't be able to detect. No detectable magical traces, either. If you're worried about the advisorship, they're not one for using magic."

"Ah, at last. Something for our colleague to actually do." Yao snorted, the first time he'd laughed since Francis had asked him to step out. "What? It's true. You're just too determined to be a good role model to Matthieu and Alfie to not badmouth him."

"Says one of two actual fathers in Cards. Honestly, what would you have done without Eliza? And Roderich and I get along quite well, thank you very much. Still, Lili has become exquisitely accomplished in her work. I heard nothing but praises from the others at the ball tonight."

Francis's eyes softened as they did anytime anyone spoke highly of Lili. "I suspect that number will be doubled sooner or later, actually," he said. "I heard from Gilbe that Ludwig and Felci are considering a child."

"Oh? Following with the tradition of having children straight after a Deciding, are they?"

"Four years isn't really straight after, is it? Though, speaking of a Deciding, have you been paying attention to I-" The moment his tone shifted, the word soured in Yao's ears. "…Apologies. I should not have brought it up." Even the light coming from the ballroom seemed to dim.

"No, no, Francis, don't apologise, it's just that…I don't understand why. And I don't understand why Roderich and Eliza indulged him with a pointless Deciding."

"They still need their Ace."

"They don't need a Deciding to decide that with an almost full Primary Suit, do they?" Yao bit out, his fingers curling against the cold glass surface. "He comes calling the night before they arrive for the Meeting, begging me to give up Alfred and Matthew's care to come to Clubs for his sake."

"It won't be pointless if he does find an Ace to work with," Francis reasoned, but even he sounded troubled. "Though I sincerely doubt that will happen before Hearts's Fate chooses their queen and Alfie chooses his queen. Rod and Eliza must believe in him a great deal. And you would never abandon your duty."

Yao's head turned. "So you believe that he just...said it? For the sake of saying it?"

"Rod and Eliza aren't his caretakers; they run the kingdom alongside him. That's it. In affairs of the heart, his decisions are rightfully his own. But I doubt it was a hollow plea."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he released a breath he'd been holding. Francis started pacing, trying to tune out the cheer of the ballroom behind them. "He still said that, knowing fully well that if I left the country, Spades would fall to that advisorship."

He stopped his pacing, left foot lifted slightly in a half step. "Yao, we know his mind's not stable enough to keep that in mind. They're barely keeping Clubs together through their recovery as it is. They need a distraction. Isn't that part of why a Deciding's hosted?"

"The campaign's still fresh in their minds. What sort of grand story wouldn't solve it?" he said bitterly. "Though I do wish they'd at least planned it better. Three Decidings in one year, with two searching for queens, makes the Deciding looking for an Ace much less exciting. What were Roderich and Eliza thinking-"

"Both of them know better to pamper him like that," Francis said. Fates knew they should be getting to the party, but it was rare for Yao to speak so openly, and even rarer for senior royals to speak alone. "The hope that he'll will fall out of love with someone he's been pursuing for the better part of a decade, and that some perfect Ace will be dropped on their laps just like that isn't enough. They're doing it because it's a mostly painless way to cheer up the people."

"And they're rich. If there's one thing Ivan's uncle did that was good for Clubs, it was filling their coffers with war funds."

Yao nodded once, sleek ponytail brushing past his shoulders. No poor servant had dashed out of the ballroom to drag them back inside, so nothing should be awry. "Perhaps. I don't doubt their ability to keep Clubs running, that's for sure, but with Ivan still being so unstable, especially when it comes to the situation in the Easterns…I can't blame him."

"None of us can," Francis echoed, adjusting his collar and following his gaze back to the party. "Fighting in the bitter cold, sent there to die by his uncle. That would change any one of us."

He understood what story he'd stopped just short of recalling, the story of how he'd barely managed to rescue Alfred from the same fate by sending him off to the military whilst they'd been assigned somewhere else. But instead of a singular tyrant, there were a whole council of them, one that he was near powerless to protect him from alone.

Francis watched his expression carefully, attempting to figure out whether he'd pushed him too far. When Yao simply exhaled, hugging his folded arms closer to his chest and lifting his chin to face him, he spoke. "Yao. You should allow yourself some happiness. You've kept Alfred and Matthew safe these five years. They've both grown into wonderful young men by your guidance."

"I have everyone to thank for that." He didn't move, but he noticed his downcast expression lift somewhat. "You, especially for Matthew, by taking him under your wing so quickly."

"I suppose you could say we have a duty as senior royals, no?" Francis smiled. "Still. Allow yourself to be with him, at least for tonight. It's simple to hide affection underneath the guise of dancing, at least for the sake of your boys."

Yao met Francis's lighthearted gaze with a rueful smile. "You don't have to spare me. We've been doing a poor job of keeping the relationship under wraps from the other royals, have we?"

"It's not exactly the best kept secret in Cards, but there are more important ones to keep. Regardless. I doubt Rod or Eliza will let you two go without at least one dance, the way you've been chasing each other."

"Fates save us from their happy matrimony." He snorted, adjusting his sleeve. "With the way they carry on, they barely have any right."

"There's no need to sound so bitter about love, dear Yao. If you'd like some pointers," he couldn't resist winking, which was met with an unamused gaze, "Well. Your favourite Diamonds king is at your disposal. Regardless, we should get back to dancing."

"Seems as if that's the preferred way for everyone to socialise," Yao said, but nodded once. "Thank you, Francis. It's good to speak in person."

"The same here."

Turning back to the ballroom, they walked together side by side.

"Though before I forget," he said before he pushed open the back door where they could slip back inside with relatively little fanfare. "I'd prefer you, Gilbert and Antonio to not do that bizarre three way dance again."

The music ended, and with it their first dance. Clapping echoed around the vast hall, and Arthur followed suit, maintaining eye contact with Alfred whilst he did so. He found that not a single word would pass from his mind to his mouth, stubbornly shying away when he tried to talk.

One little word could make him his for the evening. It was an immense amount of power to have over a future king, immense power he wasn't comfortable with having. If they hadn't been in a midst of a Deciding, Arthur would have taken him up on his offer without hesitation.

It had been two and a half months, and he'd shared three kisses with him, something that seemed forbidden to even think about, not to mention he hated counting those acts of affection as if they were a tangible thing. Yes, he liked him very much. He wouldn't even allow himself to manifest the other l word to describe his affections. How would Alfred know he was worth spending all this time with so soon? Taking away everyone else's chances to dance with him would be reckless and unfair, not to mention making him a clear target. The amount of attention he'd get was enough to make him want to break out of the palace.

And yet, the idea of having someone like Prince Alfred Jones belong to him, even if it were just for the night, was intoxicating.

"Thank you, Sir Arthur, for the dance," he said, back to his usual cheery self, almost like their exchange hadn't happened. Still, there was an unbridled yearning in the way he lifted his gloved hand to his chest, unwilling to break their contact. Quietly, Arthur watched as he slipped his glove off his hand, even the white fabric seeming to stutter at how meticulously and slowly he removed it. Before he could take it off completely, though, Arthur mischievously curled his fingers inwards and held onto it for a moment longer, causing Alfred's gaze to meet his.

What happened next completely upturned his plans for taunting. Skipping a beat, Alfred raised his hand to his mouth, dragging his lips against the smooth whilst he tugged off Arthur's glove sharply. "I hope it wasn't too exhausting for you, and that you'll seek out another one with me." With that, he pressed his lips into the back of Arthur's hand, the sensation betraying more intimacy than he'd expected from a pair who were supposed to be keeping the extent of their relationship secret.

Two could play at that game.

"The pleasure has been mine, Your Highness," he answered, waiting until Alfred had released his hand with deliberate slowness. Furrowed eyebrows told him that he was sick of him using the honourific, which only spurred him to want to do it more. "Though I must say," he reached out and grasped his tie before his self doubt could stop him. "That your tie has come loose once more. Might you allow me to adjust it for you?"

Before Alfred could stop him, a smirking Arthur expertly fixed his tie, fingers deft after years of wearing the holding facility uniform. Unlike all those other times he'd helped Kiku or his siblings with their ties, though, this was different. Alfred's starched collar and the expensive material of the tie caught on every crevice of his fingers, making the action seem far too intimate, so much so that he almost glared at his neck in concentration.

That had the unfortunate side effect of giving him a undisturbed view of the dip in Alfred's collarbones, the shadows standing out amongst his white shirt. The silver beads of his dog tags shone dully against the chains of his golden clock, dislodged from their prim position from the way he'd fixed his tie.

Before he could stop himself, Arthur nudged it back to its normal position with his bare fingers, the effect of Alfred's skin on his immediate. All at once, the babble of the room, the lilting music of the orchestra, the sound of glasses clinking, the elegant footsteps and the hushed gossip of the attendees around them threatened to overwhelm him, and he stepped backwards as if he'd been burned.

Silently finishing with it, Alfred still wasn't even making any steps to pull away. Any moment now, the cameras would swoop in and make a huge fuss over it, but the knot in his chest had morphed into an anchor, causing him to be rooted where he stood.

Though at the same time, he knew if Alfred were to walk away, he'd follow his path, which left only one thing to do. "I hope you enjoy the rest of the party, Your Highness. Thank you very much for the dance. I wish, if I may be so bold, to have another one with you later." Bowing once, he balled up his hands into his pockets, making himself move away from him as hastily as possible.

An enveloping sensation made itself known around his bare hand, making him realise that Alfred had wrapped a thumb over his fist. "Hey, you kinda forgot your glove," he said, handing it to him which he urgently reached out for. Boldly, Alfred moved closer as Arthur was putting it back on, resting his cheek against his hair. Are you going to touch me again? At least give me some leeway to recollect my thoughts if you are, idiot...

"Don't forget. You can just say the word whenever." Arthur swallowed once, focus dropping to Alfred's throat, and how it moved vulnerably whilst he spoke. He had to retreat immediately, before he took him up on that offer.

As expected though, he wouldn't even be allowed to do that without another bold move. Watching with baited breath, Arthur felt Alfred's fist relax to cup his forearm with a firm grip, pinching the top of his glove to slide it back on for him. Whilst he did so, his index and middle fingers dragged slowly over the exposed skin of his palm, the two of them making eye contact as he did so, leaving his hand tingling. The strange sensation of his roughened fingertips against satin coupled with their body heat made him feel that much more sensitive.

"You need not worry, Sir Arthur. Enjoy the rest of the party, okay?" he beamed, his voice lifting from its previously husky tone, probably for the cameras that had just convened on their interaction. "I'll see you around for sure!"

With that, Arthur forced his shaking legs to stand properly and bow in greeting before he walked away, seeking refuge within the nearest bench which he collapsed on. Quickly taking a glass of water from a passing waiter, he gulped it down, doing his best to clear his mind of what had just happened. The clock hanging on the wall opposite where he was sitting read one in the morning – had it really been that long? The dance itself felt like it had only been a few minutes of being unravelled with each step he took in his arms, unable to resist each other when they'd finally been able to be seen together in public for a valid reason.

Unconsciously, Arthur started hunting for him, something that only took a matter of seconds, given that he was surrounded by a bevy of cameras and people and was babbling off at his usual top speed. The moment he did notice himself staring, though, his expression shifted quickly into a scowl, and he looked away. It was a dangerous game, and he had to remember that.

But how could he expect his walls to protect him against a radiance that rivalled the sun?

Across the room, in the midst of socialising and incessant conversation, Alfred rubbed his thumb and forefingers together where they rested at his side, feeling Arthur Kirkland seep further into his skin.