A/N : You have three chapters of (mostly) fluff. Enjoy them, for they are the last in the rest of this 40-ish chapter soap opera nonsense.

Chapter 17

Promise

Sunlight.

Not outside, with as pale and overcast as it still was, but certainly the sun was out up in Alfred's head, as the drab world around him lit up. That strange and surreal sensation of being in love, and how it made the world seem more beautiful.

The incredible feeling of going to pick Ludwig up that day, and to have Ludwig smile over at him as Alfred placed a hand on his back. Meeting each other's gazes in the subway, coy smiles and crinkled eyes, as the world shifted and things were different.

And then to get home, Alfred's home now in a sense as well, and to push Ludwig inside and kiss him as soon as the door was shut.

Ludwig's pale hands on his neck.

When Alfred pulled back, Ludwig's icy eyes ran over his face, restlessly, and then Ludwig smiled as he murmured, so lowly, "You weren't lying."

Ludwig must have seen the affection there on Alfred's face.

Captivated by that beautiful smile, Alfred could only shake his head as Ludwig ran fingers through his hair. Couldn't remember the last time someone had been affectionate with Alfred.

Ludwig eventually squirmed out of Alfred's arms, Alfred followed him like a lost puppy, and at some point during dinner Ludwig had stolen Alfred's glasses and tossed them god knew where. Alfred was somewhat hypnotized by Ludwig, and didn't really remember that act at all, nor did he remember how, exactly, they had wound up in a tangled heap on the couch.

Alfred did remember asking, "So, do I have to sleep on the couch still?"

Ludwig's pretty eyes lidded, and he practically purred, "Not if you can promise to behave yourself."

With that voice? The hell did Ludwig ever expect Alfred to control himself when he was fuckin' purring like that, like the goddamn engine of that equally German car, for god's sake he could feel the reverberation there in his chest above Ludwig's.

Surely that was a violation of the Geneva Convention, having to behave himself in a bed with Ludwig.

But Alfred sighed, dramatically, and grumbled, "I'll try."

No promises.

And to be perfectly honest, Alfred had every single intention of getting his hands on Ludwig's long legs and then sneakily maneuvering himself between them, because he hadn't promised not to.

He didn't, not that night, and not because Ludwig was a little emotionally unstable or because Alfred had self-control. What kept Alfred's hands to himself that night wasn't really so much his concern for Ludwig's emotional state, rather than that he had seen a glint of light off of Ludwig's wedding ring, hanging there ever around Ludwig's neck.

Distasteful.

Couldn't have rolled over on Ludwig like that, with that ring there. Woulda felt second-best still, just a stand-in, a surrogate, and that was always one of his constant fears, that Ludwig was just using him for a source of affection while Ivan was gone.

Even if Alfred had been the one on top of Ludwig then, Ivan's ring was still around his neck.

At dawn's light breaking through the window, Alfred stared up at the ceiling, anxiety running rampant in his head, insecurity, as Ludwig came to consciousness with an inhale. A squirm, a wriggle, and then Ludwig suddenly rolled over pressed up against Alfred, throwing an arm over his chest, face burrowing away in Alfred's shoulder.

A burst of confidence.

Had to keep his head up, had to keep pushing. It was one thing at a time, and Alfred had already come so far in such a short amount of time. Soon, Ludwig would take that ring off, and would eventually put those shoes by the door away. Maybe there would come a day when he and Ludwig would take a picture together, and it would be that picture sitting atop the dresser instead.

The clock ticked away, and Alfred turned his head, watching Ludwig expectantly.

But Ludwig seemed in no rush to leave bed, still burrowed there in Alfred's side, and Alfred eventually repositioned his arm to rest it over Ludwig's shoulders, fingers brushing through his hair.

"Sleeping in?" Alfred asked, and Ludwig nodded.

Unusual.

After a silence, Ludwig muttered, "There's nothing to do today."

Alfred furrowed his brow, and pried, "You're not going to Gilbert's?"

Ludwig shook his head.

That time, Alfred didn't press for more information, because sometimes it was better not to know, but Ludwig took it upon himself to fill Alfred in, by uttering, in that thunderous, husky voice of sleep, "Gilbert told me not to bother anymore. I can't do that right, either."

Anger.

Had Gilbert actually said that, or was that Ludwig's interpretation?

"I feel like everything is falling apart, out of nowhere. Every routine I've ever had is suddenly breaking."

Alfred turned his eyes to Ludwig's hair, his face still hidden, and he wondered if Gilbert said such harsh things to Ludwig to blind Ludwig to the fact that Gilbert loved him so. Gilbert forbade weakness and fear, but Ludwig brought out those feelings in Gilbert, and for that, perhaps, Gilbert was so mercilessly strict with Ludwig.

To attempt to cheer Ludwig up without making an ass of himself, Alfred offered, "It'll be fine. He just doesn't want you to get hurt. He was so worried about you that day."

So worried about Ludwig, in fact, that Gilbert and Toris had demanded Alfred to shoot on sight. Alfred neglected to mention that to Ludwig.

At Ludwig's silence, Alfred gave him a shake, and tried, "You can fix up my clothes today, if you want. They're probably a wreck."

Ludwig snorted, and teased, "I've seen your jeans. I'm not a miracle-worker, Alfred."

Alfred rolled over, grabbing Ludwig up and forcing his gaze, and said, cheerily, "Well, then! Let's just stay in bed all day."

Sounded like a great plan to him.

Ludwig, however, may have disagreed, because Ludwig wasn't a lazy bastard like Alfred and staying in bed all day may not have been high on his list of things to do.

Ludwig lifted a brow, coyly, and began, "If I have nothing now to do on Tuesdays, perhaps I can make this my new jog day."

Alfred grimaced, and immediately offered, "Or! We can go to the beach instead. Or the gym. Or, hey, shot in the dark—why don't we go buy you a treadmill? Huh? Then you can run on those legs all ya want, and I can sit on the couch. Everyone wins."

Fuckin' genius.

Ludwig pushed his lips out thoughtfully, and seemed in contemplation.

"Well," he finally murmured, "I don't suppose that's such a bad idea."

Yes!

That was worth getting out of bed for, after a few kisses here and there and rolling Ludwig around in his arms back and forth across the bed. Ludwig's messy hair and breathless smile were good reasons to get out of bed, too, in all fairness, and Alfred was pretty puffed out in confidence when they went out to get the car.

Alfred did stay alert and on guard, though, looking over his shoulder frequently and down every alley they passed.

Just in case.

Never knew when Ivan would come barging up, and especially now that Ivan assumed (correctly) that Ludwig was seeing someone else. Ivan was possessive, unpredictable, and now had a reason to harm Ludwig when he hadn't really had a clear one before.

Luckily, Ivan made no appearance, and Alfred was happy enough when Ludwig bought a treadmill and they hauled it out together to chuck in the car.

Ludwig not going outside was much better these days. The less opportunity Ivan had to find him, the better.

And, well!

The treadmill had an extra, erhm, benefit.

Alfred lied back on the couch, turned on the television, and smirked away to himself as he watched Ludwig jogging a few hours later. Ah, yes...best idea ever. And not just for the sake of his own ass, but rather the opportunity to watch Ludwig's.

Ludwig jogged away, as Alfred relentlessly channel-surfed, before he finally called, through pants, "Will you make up your mind? You're making me dizzy!"

Alfred snorted, turned the television off entirely, and crossed his arms behind his head as he watched Ludwig's legs. That was a better show, anyway.

Until Ludwig looked back over at him, and threw out, "Maybe you should use this too. Muscles can only get you so far."

Eh—

"Nah," Alfred very quickly grunted, and Ludwig smiled a little.

But his ego had been pricked, just a little, so Alfred did eventually get up. As Ludwig trotted away on the treadmill, Alfred figured he may as well look like less of a lazy bastard, and lowered himself to the floor to do some pushups. Going back to his army days for a second, and although Ludwig wasn't loud and aggressive, Alfred felt very much under the scrutinizing eye of the drill sergeant.

He kept himself in Ludwig's sights, because obviously.

The need to impress was always there, because he never knew when Ludwig was going to be looking.

He kept at it for a while, until he heard the machine turn off, and he was damn glad because he had worn himself out by then. Hoped Ludwig was aware that Alfred was trying damn hard to be macho just for his benefit.

Perhaps, because Ludwig wiped the sweat from his forehead, stared down at panting Alfred, collapsed on the floor, and then he smirked a little.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were showing off."

"Of course I am," Alfred grunted, peering up at Ludwig from the floor. "Why the hell you think I try so hard? It ain't for my health."

No lie.

Ludwig stared away down at him, and if Ludwig noticed that Alfred was raking his legs up and down then he didn't make it obvious. Must have known, though, the tease, because he kept shifting his weight back and forth from one leg to the other, causing motion intentionally to draw Alfred's eyes.

Damn.

Alfred asked, perhaps pathetically, "Are you impressed?"

"With pushups?" Ludwig drawled, blandly. "Should I be?"

Alfred scoffed, staring away at Ludwig's legs, and retorted, "Hell yeah. Don't see you doin' any. Legs for days, but you can't skip chest day."

"Is that so?" Ludwig monotoned, face perfectly condescending (had learned that from Toris, surely) as he continued to shift his weight, the bastard. "Forgive me, but pushups don't exactly seem that strenuous."

Before Alfred could reply, Ludwig suddenly came sauntering over, using those legs for all they were worth, and damn if it wasn't absolutely mesmerizing. Knew those legs would end up doing him in, just knew it, and it was easy then to see it. Alfred just gawked up at Ludwig, unable to move, and felt the hairs on his arms stand up when Ludwig reached him and met his gaze.

A very deep, sultry whisper.

"Allow me to give you a more...vigorous workout. Then I'll be impressed."

Holy shit! Was he about to get laid?

Alfred lifted up his head, knowing that he must have looked a little dumb and eager, red-faced, and was very quick to say, far more excitedly than he meant to, "Oh, yeah? Well, I sure as hell won't say—"

He was cut off quite rudely with a gasp and grunt when Ludwig suddenly plopped down atop his back, using him as a stool rather easily.

Ludwig crossed his legs without missing a beat, uttering, "Well? Come on. Ivan used to do these with one arm. And I was quite a bit heavier back then."

With exertion, Alfred managed to draw his hands back up under his chest, and somehow grunted, against the pressure, "Not exactly...what I had in mind."

Ludwig snorted, and replied, ever so cattily, "Alfred, I can only imagine what you had in mind."

"Best not said aloud."

"No doubt."

With that, Alfred shook his head, braced his shoulders and feet, and tried damn hard to push himself up off of the floor. Took a second, as his arms shook miserably as he tried to lift Ludwig up. When he was finally, miraculously, in position, Ludwig supplied, cheerily, "Good job! Now, try for ten."

Ten? Like hell. Probably couldn't even manage one.

Ivan had done this with one arm, holy fucking shit—

As he held himself there, Ludwig quite heavy atop him, Alfred only grumbled, crankily, "This isn't fair. I already wore myself out."

"No excuses," Ludwig replied, sounding very much like Gilbert.

"Let's switch off and see how many excuses we come up with," Alfred griped, as Ludwig lounged away without a care in the world, and he knew that it wasn't going to happen, no way, because he wasn't quite strong enough, but he was also aware that Ludwig's posterior was atop his back and the need to impress was very, very high.

Extremely high.

Ludwig scoffed, "I think not. You're the show-off, not me."

True.

So, despite his knowledge that he would fail, Alfred finally exhaled, and tried to lower himself down. To his amazement, he didn't crash down to the floor immediately, held himself up quite well, but when he tried to push back up there was no movement. Just couldn't do it, and when he tried a second time, his arms finally gave out on him and he collapsed, pinned down by Ludwig's weight.

...eh. Not the worst way to go.

Above him, Ludwig sat ever still, and said, "Well. Good effort. Perhaps tomorrow."

"I'm looking forward to it," Alfred grumbled, and he kinda meant that.

He was a showoff, at the end of the day.

Ludwig, for his part, seemed quite content to stay put there above him, and Alfred wasn't complaining about that anytime soon, glancing up at Ludwig from time to time and feeling pretty content himself.

When Ludwig finally considered the punishment well and complete, he looked down at Alfred, and asked, "Finished?"

"Guess so."

Hadn't wanted Ludwig to move, but he stood up then all the same, and Alfred raised himself up onto his knees, looking up at Ludwig a bit heatedly.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're kind of an asshole?" Alfred asked, very shamelessly staring at Ludwig's legs.

"Yes," Ludwig droned. "You. Just now."

Asshole, alright, and Alfred was quick to reach out, wrap his arms around Ludwig's legs, and drag him forcibly down to the floor.

Being humiliated wasn't so bad when Ludwig was warm underneath him, and they spent the next hour or so just lying there lazily on the floor, running hands over each other and murmuring.

Nothing else to do.

Alfred was gathering up the courage to forcibly remove that wedding ring from around Ludwig's neck, so that he could actually climb on top of Ludwig and not feel like he was some kinda home-wrecker.

He just didn't want Ludwig to melt down. He had seen that awful collapse of everything in Ludwig when Alfred had merely put out the vague possibility of removing the ring, let alone actually do it.

He gave himself a million reasons up in his head to take the ring from Ludwig, had a thousand wonderful, convincing arguments, so many, and yet every time Alfred opened his mouth for the rest of that day, he choked. Something held him back. His own insecurity, no doubt, because he knew that Ludwig was still in love with Ivan and was only with Alfred because he couldn't have his husband anymore.

When they were in bed that night, on their sides and staring at each other, chest to chest and hands running down sides, Alfred tried once more to find the nerve.

Once more, he failed, and merely stared at the silver chain visible there on Ludwig's neck, poking out from beneath the collar of his shirt. Ludwig may have known what he was staring at, for he suddenly pressed his face into Alfred's neck.

Couldn't do it, and so Alfred could only try to sleep, as Ludwig steadily drifted off there beside him.

His mind was racing far too much for him to sleep soundly. Just that unpleasant, restless sleep, awake one minute and asleep the next. Exhausting.

Cold air, lingering above the warmth of the blanket.

Could hear sleet suddenly falling outside, soft plinking against the glass as Ludwig slept.

That ring.

He was drawn from the edge of sleep several hours later, when the clock was close to midnight, by a strange sound. He sat up with an inhale, and looked immediately to the window, but there was no one there. He turned his eyes to the door. Nothing. Dazed and confused, Alfred reached out for his gun, instinctively, but was stopped short by a movement beside of him. It took Alfred a moment to focus through the fog and realize that it had come from a writhing Ludwig.

That sound that had awoken him had come from Ludwig, as he twitched and deep noises of distress came from his chest.

Took a bit longer for Alfred to figure out that Ludwig was having a pretty vivid nightmare, without his pills to sedate him.

Oh, damn—

That old protectiveness reared up, as ferociously as always, and he leaned over and reached out, resting a hand on Ludwig's shoulder. At the touch, Ludwig cried out and bolted upright at the waist, eyes shooting wide open and breathing through his mouth. Alfred reached out again, and when he touched Ludwig's shoulder once more, Ludwig jumped terribly, flinched, braced, and immediately lifted his hands up to shield his face. Because he was used to being punched.

Fuck, that hurt.

Couldn't stand seeing that, and Ludwig all but buried his face in his arms as Alfred whispered to him and ran a hand down his back, trying to bring him back to reality.

A few seconds of distressed noises, erratic breathing, before Ludwig finally opened his squinted eyes and looked around. A long, shaky exhale, as Ludwig realized he had been dreaming, and his shoulders suddenly slumped. He looked over, blearily, and met Alfred's eyes in the dark.

"You alright?" Alfred asked, dumbly.

Ludwig nodded, in a blatant lie, but Alfred accepted it because it had been a stupid question.

He twisted at the side, wrapped his arms around Ludwig's neck, kissed the side of his head, and could feel Ludwig's hammering pulse. Didn't even wanna know what that poor bastard dreamed about, although Alfred had probably had many similar nightmares over the years.

Very abruptly, out of nowhere, Ludwig murmured, "I'm glad you're here. I hope— You'll stay, won't you?"

Ludwig turned his head so that they were nose to nose, and Alfred tried to nod but found himself rather paralyzed.

Instead, he offered, "Yeah. I'll stay."

Ludwig stared at him, and Alfred didn't realize at first that he had started holding his breath.

Silence.

Pale moonlight, breaking through the curtains and lighting Ludwig's eyes up silver.

The sleet battered away on the window.

Alfred finally moved, and reached out to grab the chain around Ludwig's neck and pull it off. Ludwig watched, anxiously, but Alfred merely set in on the nightstand. Where that nerve finally came from, he couldn't say. Just seein' Ludwig like that.

Maybe it was that ring that brought those nightmares to Ludwig, as much as the glasses brought Alfred his.

Before Alfred could turn back fully around, Ludwig snatched out and grabbed Alfred's arm in both hands, leaning in and asking, yet again, "You'll stay?"

Alfred met Ludwig's wide eyes, and held strong then, because he had known all along what he was doing by making romantic moves on a man so emotionally and mentally damaged. If Ludwig clung to him as desperately as he was yet clinging to Ivan, then Alfred was prepared for that. He hadn't started this with the intention of leaving halfway through.

Ludwig was vulnerable, Alfred was taking advantage of him in that state, and for that Alfred was ready to deal with the consequences. If those consequences involved a paranoid, insecure Ludwig clinging to his every breath and word, then so be it.

The bruise over Ludwig's eye, though faint, was still visible.

Alfred closed the gap between them, and affirmed, "I won't leave."

A strange, strangled inhale, and then Ludwig was the one to press forward and kiss Alfred, throwing his arms around his neck and knocking Alfred back down with his exuberance. Alfred's hands flew to Ludwig's waist instinctively, and that was that. Wasn't letting go of Ludwig now that he had him in his clutches.

Luckily for everyone, Ludwig offered no resistance whatsoever when Alfred rolled him over, and raised his hands up to Alfred's shoulders as Alfred ran his own (at long last) down Ludwig's legs.

Finally.

Had eyeballed these pin missiles since day one, and being able to drag his palms down them was one of the more remarkable moments of his life. Seemed miles long, they really did, swear it took him minutes to go from heel to thigh, but that have been all relative up in his head.

He then remembered that Ludwig's legs would probably be better without the lounge pants. Come to think, Ludwig was just better without clothing in general, and was quick to remedy that.

Ludwig was quiet and rather still beneath him, but his hands were moving, over Alfred's shoulders and chest and arms.

Wondered—

Nah.

Had to stop thinking all those dreary damn thoughts, he really did, fuckin' mood killer. Had to stop wondering if Ludwig was so still because he was afraid to move, when doing so before had likely earned him a good bit of violence. Had to stop thinking about those claw marks on the wallpaper and wondering if the bedroom had been the final destination. Had to stop contemplating how many awful things had happened in this bed, long nights with Ludwig half-conscious and bruised.

Hard not to let those notions creep in, even then, warm under the blanket with a handsome man he was falling in love with.

For just a moment, there in between Ludwig's legs, Alfred fell still.

A million things in his head that he wanted to say, wanted to express, and he could have never vocalized a single one of them. Wanted to explain to Ludwig how he felt, that Alfred wasn't using him, and, above all else, that Alfred wasn't going to hurt him and so Ludwig could have said 'no', if he really wanted. That Ludwig was the one with the final say, in the end, that he had a choice for once.

Nothing came out, so he stared down at Ludwig, caught immobile.

Ludwig was sharp and astute, and so perhaps even in the dark he could see Alfred's hesitations there on his face, for he suddenly pressed up and kissed him. Alfred could only assume that that was Ludwig's way of silently consenting. That was good enough for him.

Could easily say that that was the most loved he had ever felt in his miserable life, when he pushed forward and Ludwig's arms wrapped around his back to drag him farther in. Being as close as possible to someone that he cared about, someone that he would have done anything for.

Someone who cared about him.

Ludwig was very quiet, breathing heavily through his nose but stifling all other noises, and Alfred was happy not knowing why. That crazy bastard's sensitivity to sounds—

Dammit.

Hated those thoughts, and couldn't escape them.

Alfred just clung to Ludwig the entire while, praying to god that Ludwig wouldn't suddenly whisper Ivan's name as he had when he had overdosed. Alfred still couldn't really tell who Ludwig thought he was, and more than that he didn't know who Ludwig wanted him to be. All of the evidence stated that Ludwig should have been happy to be rid of Ivan, but everything in Ludwig seemed to say the opposite.

Please, just wanted someone to see him, him, even if he wasn't worth seeing, didn't want Ludwig to think that he was Ivan.

When Ludwig suddenly raised his hands to Alfred's face, Alfred panicked a little, and was quick to flip Ludwig over and push his face down into the bed. Didn't want Ludwig to feel him and maybe realize he was just Alfred.

A nobody.

Alfred was as pitiful as he had ever accused Ludwig of being.

With no range of motion and pinned down, Ludwig was still and quiet, as Alfred attempted to keep his imaginary world intact.

That hour was long, felt like eternity, and for once Alfred couldn't exactly determine if that was good or bad.

He pressed his damp forehead into Ludwig's back when he finally saw stars, and it was his own restless insecurity that finally opened up his vocal chords, for him to utter, huskily, "I swear— No matter what, I'll keep you safe. I swear it. On my life."

And he meant that. Wanted Ludwig to know how much he meant that, even if expressing it was hard.

Wanted Ludwig to realize that Alfred could rise up and be better than Ivan, if Ludwig really let him have the chance.

Ludwig reached back, grabbed his hands, and when their fingers intertwined, Alfred felt for the first time as if he belonged somewhere. Would have done anything for Ludwig, anything at all. Anything Ludwig had asked of Alfred, he would have done.

But Ludwig merely whispered again, over the heavy breathing, "Just stay."

Wasn't going anywhere.

Alfred swore, "I'll always be here. I promise."

Ludwig was terrified of being left behind. Mourned Ivan endlessly, and didn't want to mourn again. Ludwig attached himself to someone who loved him so ardently, blindly, furiously.

Everyone wanted to be loved.

Alfred swore to stay by Ludwig's side, for as long as Ludwig would have him, and he meant that all the way and without waiver. Would gladly have given his life for Ludwig, and didn't ever want to leave him.

Maybe Ludwig knew that somehow, for when they woke up in the morning, Ludwig kissed Alfred's nose and stared for quite a long while into his eyes. A hand trailing down his cheek, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. A look of adoration. Whatever Alfred had given of himself to Ludwig the night before, Ludwig was in turn giving Alfred a little of himself in that moment. Could plainly feel it. And then Ludwig stood up, grabbed his wedding ring and dutifully put it back around his neck, and quickly vanished. Before Alfred could really come to, Ludwig came back in and opened up the closet. He set something down, and left again.

When Alfred dragged himself out of bed shortly after, something caught his eye. Or, rather, the lack of something caught his eye.

He turned his gaze to the front door, and realized that Ivan's shoes weren't there.

A thrill of adrenaline, and Alfred went back into the bedroom and opened the closet door. There, in front of an unused guitar, sat Ivan's shoes, put away at long last.

Alfred smiled then, the widest he had smiled in a long damn time.

Astounding.

That ring may have yet been slipped over Ludwig's neck that morning, but it was only a matter of time before Ludwig simply sat up one morning, stood up, and entirely forgot that it was there.

When those shoes were put away, that was when Alfred stopped thinking of Ivan as Ludwig's husband. Stopped calling him that up in his head, stopped thinking of him in that specific manner. He was just Ivan, just that man, just someone Ludwig had once known. As far as Alfred was concerned, in that moment Ludwig no longer had a husband, divorce papers be damned.

Ludwig was his, and it was really as simple as that.

Hope.

Alfred had promised to stay, and to that he would hold.