Chapter 3

They met once more a few days before they were to leave. It was a quick visit between Alfred's afternoon classes. Alfred was grinning as usual, but there was something nervous about it. He was holding a sheaf of papers in one hand.

"Good morning," Arthur said pleasantly. He was making progress with the newest of his poems.

"Hey," Alfred said, and then promptly took Arthur's hand and dragged him under the bridge.

"What are we going down here for?" Arthur demanded, though he was more curious than irritated.

"It looks like it might rain," Alfred said.

"It always looks like it might rain."

Alfred chuckled. He ducked under the bridge and sat down, pulling Arthur down next to him. He turned to Arthur and looked at him seriously. "I finally finished one of my screenplays the other night." He took a deep breath and held out the stack of paper. "I know you're busy and stuff, but I'd love it if you'd read it."

Arthur took it curiously. The working title was "Aliens and End of the World, Take 1," which pretty much told him all he needed to know, but he flipped to the first page and started reading. Interestingly enough, the dialogue was quite good, save for some blatant grammatical errors. The opening scene was certainly dramatic and would likely make for a riveting story, if only he had left out that extra expository bit . . . "I'd love to," he said idly.

"You don't have to read it all right now," Alfred said with a blinding grin that betrayed his relief that Arthur hadn't rejected him. "You can give it back to me whenever you're done."

"Hmm," Arthur said, still frowning over the first page. "Would you mind if I made some notes? This bit here . . ." He tapped the line with his finger. "You've misused the semi-colon."

Alfred grinned nervously. "If you want to make corrections, go for it. Just don't be too harsh?" he asked, only half joking.

"Of course." Arthur closed the manuscript. "I should be able to return it to you when I pick you up."

"Thanks!"

Arthur sighed. "I suppose that's all you want to show me."

Alfred smirked and leaned a little closer. "Well . . ." His breath was tantalizingly warm on Arthur's lips. "I'd like to, but sorry, but I've got to run."

"I know." Alfred caught him in a lingering kiss and Arthur relished it. Alfred leapt up and ducked back out from under the bridge. "Don't make us late!" Arthur called after him before Alfred was out of sight. Alfred merely laughed and waved goodbye.


On Saturday, Arthur showed up at Alfred's address at 9:48 am. The door opened to reveal a grinning Alfred with mussed hair who was wearing a t-shirt and American flag themed boxers. Arthur blanched and nearly didn't come inside. "Haha, sorry, just got out of bed," Alfred said as he let Arthur in. "Make yourself at home. I'll be ready in a few." Alfred disappeared and it wasn't long before Arthur heard the sound of water running. Arthur huffed a little and looked around Alfred's flat. It was extremely messy, though he had expected no different. He found a small clear space on the couch and settled down to wait.

To Alfred's credit, he showered and dressed quickly. He came out of the bathroom with his shirt slightly unbuttoned and his hair newly combed, still damp from the shower. Alfred grinned and Arthur's breath hitched. "Can you help me with my tie? I haven't worn one in forever."

"Of course." Arthur rose smoothly and approached Alfred. Alfred obediently handed him the tie. It was navy blue with tiny white stars, Arthur noted as he tied it. It took him a moment to realize it had probably been chosen because of its resemblance to the American flag. Arthur rolled his eyes. Did Alfred have no sense of style? At least it was subtle, he supposed.

He stepped back and admired his handiwork. Alfred buttoned up his suit jacket and saw Arthur watching. "Like what you see?" he asked with a wink.

"Aren't you in a good mood," Arthur said dryly, but he wasn't able to turn away fast enough to completely hide his smile. "Hurry up or we're going to be late."

"Yeah, yeah." Alfred grabbed his wallet and keys and laced up his shoes.

"Oh, I finished the manuscript, by the way," Arthur said, and picked it up from where he had set it down on the couch. Alfred's eyes lit up. He took it eagerly and began flipping through the pages. "Er, I might have gone a bit overboard," Arthur said lamely. The pages were covered with sticky notes and barely legible things scrawled in the margins. "I thought you could look over it in the car, if you get bored."

"Sure," Alfred said. He was already frowning slightly in concentration as he tried to decipher the first few of Arthur's notes.

"Come on, then," Arthur said impatiently, and ushered Alfred out to the car.


An hour and a half later, they were nearly at their destination.

"You really think I should make the aliens friendly?" Alfred asked with a slight frown. "That's a pretty big change as far as the story goes . . ."

Arthur sighed exasperatedly. "I'm not saying you have to, I'm just saying that if you don't completely destroy the aliens or make peace with them, it's not going to be a very satisfying conclusion."

"But if they only think they've destroyed them, it leaves room open for a sequel," Alfred whined.

"Well, you'll just have to think about it later, because we're here." Arthur pulled into a parking space and turned off the car with a sigh. He was only half concentrating on what Alfred was saying; the rest of his attention was elsewhere. He tapped the steering wheel with nervous energy.

Alfred finally closed the manuscript. He looked at Arthur with serious eyes. "What did you think of it as a whole, really?"

"Really?" Arthur took Alfred's hand and gave it a little squeeze. "I thought it was engaging and well-written. I think you have a very good chance of getting it made into a movie."

Alfred relaxed and grinned. "Awesome. You're the best." He leaned over and kissed Arthur lightly.

Arthur blushed a little. "Yes, well, we have other things to focus on now." He licked his thumb and attempted to smooth down the little bit of hair that was sticking up above Alfred's forehead.

"Don't bother," Alfred said. "It never stays down." He caught Arthur's hand in his own and held it there for a moment. Arthur met his eyes. "You don't need to be nervous," Alfred said softly, shocking Arthur with his insight. "You look beautiful, and they're the ones getting married, remember? They'll be too busy being lovebirds to notice if you fall flat on your face."

"Good to know you have faith in me," Arthur said dryly, but he couldn't help feeling a little better. "Let's go, then." They opened their doors and stepped out.


The wedding was held outside. Arthur had repeatedly lamented this choice since the wedding had been announced, but no one had listened to him. Surprisingly, as the remaining clouds of the morning burned away, the day revealed itself to be sunny and clear. The guests sat in rows of chairs in front of a flower garden. A white carpet led between the chairs to a small raised platform crowned by a white arbor. A climbing honeysuckle turned the arbor into something magical. Arthur insisted on a seat next the aisle. While they waited for the ceremony to start, Alfred looked around curiously.

"Who are these people that are getting married, again?"

"Their names are Elizaveta Héderváry and Roderich Edelstein. She is keeping her name, so please don't call her Mrs. Edelstein if you value your life."

"How did you meet them?"

"I met Elizaveta a few jobs ago and we became friends." Arthur sighed. "I don't know how we've managed to keep in contact."

"How come she wanted you to come with someone so badly?"

Arthur winced. "She's . . . a bit of a matchmaker. She's been trying to set me up on dates for as long as I've known her."

Alfred chuckled. "She's probably going to want to know all about me now that you finally have one."

Arthur stared at him in horror. The thought had not even occurred to him. Just then, the music began warming up. Arthur tensed and sat up straight. "Of course there's a live orchestra," he muttered.

"Why?" Alfred asked too loudly.

"Because Roderich's a musician. Now be quiet."

Everyone gradually settled down. The priest took his place. Alfred could see Arthur picking nervously at a stray thread on the cuff of his suit jacket. The groom walked up the aisle. He was dressed so nicely he could have been a prince, and his stately posture and apparent lack of emotion enforced that image. The wedding march began and the bride appeared. Her long, light brown hair was loose except for a bit of it that had been knotted at the top of her head. Her veil was held in place by a crown of flowers. Her matching bouquet was of geranium, tulips, and edelweiss – the Hungarian and Austrian national flowers, Arthur later explained to Alfred. The bride took her place and beamed at her husband-to-be.

The music struck its ending cord. The priest cleared his throat. "We are gathered here today . . ." Alfred immediately tuned him out. He had been to enough weddings (one) to know the drill. Then, however, the priest said something which jolted Alfred back to the ceremony.

"As part of the ceremony, the bride and groom have requested that one of their close friends read a poem he has written for the occasion."

There was polite applause and then silence. Alfred found his eyes drawn to Arthur. Arthur had gone very pale. He stood and began to slowly walk up the aisle. Everyone watched him, and judging from Arthur's tense posture, he knew it. He stepped up onto the platform and took the priest's place slightly behind and between the happy couple. He swallowed and took a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. He unfolded it and began to read.

Alfred had never heard Arthur read his poetry aloud before. He had not thought that it would make a difference, but it did. Arthur's voice was loud and clear, and he pronounced each word with such preciseness and such careful timing, yet such fluidity, that the poem felt like a song. Alfred was hardly aware of what it was about: love, and seeing such love from the position of an outsider, but knowing that it was true and timeless just the same. When Arthur had finished and finally raised his eyes to the audience, everyone was silent for a moment, as though taking a breath, and then they broke into enthusiastic applause. The bride caught Arthur's eye and murmured something to him. Arthur smiled slightly. Roderich also said something. Arthur nodded and replied, and then returned to his seat.

"Arthur–" Alfred began, but Arthur shook his head.

"Later," he said. His hands were trembling slightly in his lap. Alfred took one and gave it a squeeze. Arthur did not look at him, but he smiled, and he did not let go of Alfred's hand for the rest of the ceremony.


By the time the reception came around, Arthur had relaxed considerably. However, he did seem to be rather taking advantage of the champagne, and Alfred tried to steer him away from the alcohol and towards the food. After the cake and speeches, the new husband and wife began to make the rounds. Thankfully, they reached Alfred and Arthur before Arthur got too drunk.

"Arthur!" Elizaveta exclaimed and tackled him with a hug. Roderich merely nodded in greeting from behind her. "You look well! And this must be him." Her eyes latched onto Alfred with a scary intensity. "You can call me Liz. What's your name? I'm so sorry, but he hasn't told me anything."

Alfred laughed easily and took the offered hand. "Sounds like Arthur. I'm Alfred."

"So nice to meet you," she said, her eyes shining. "How did you two meet?"

"By chance," Arthur said in a long-suffering tone.

Liz seemed to be used to such vague answers for she took it in stride. "How long have you been together?"

Alfred and Arthur exchanged a glance. "About a month," Arthur said slowly. Alfred supposed that was about right, so he nodded.

"Well, you have to keep track better than that!" Liz squealed. "Are you doing anything special for your one month-versary?"

The two men looked at her blankly. Roderich sighed from somewhere behind her. "Not everyone cares as much about these thing as you, Elizaveta," he said.

"Nonsense, Roderich," she said with a smile, turning to him. "You're the only one who doesn't care. Stuff like that is super important! They have to do something romantic to confirm their love!"

"Er, I really don't think we need to do anything like that," Arthur said with a raised eyebrow.

Liz huffed. "Maybe you don't think you do, but I'm sure Alfred agrees with me, don't you?" She turned to Alfred with a bright smile. He froze.

Roderich decided to intervene. There was a warning in his voice and for some reason his accent had thickened.. "I don't believe he appreciates being singled out in this way."

"Roddy, I'm being nice."

"Elizaveta," Roderich began, and then said something in a language which sounded very much like German. Before he was finished, Liz responded heatedly in something which was neither German nor English.

Alfred stepped a little closer to Arthur. "Are they–?"

"Speaking in two different languages?" Arthur sighed. "Yes. They always argue like this. Elizaveta is Hungarian and Roderich is Austrian. They're both very proud of their heritage."

The argument increased in volume. Alfred began to nervously inch away from the couple. "Should we–?"

"Get out of here? Quite."

Arthur and Alfred had hardly taken a few steps before the arguing stopped, Liz said, "Oh no you don't," and grabbed hold of Arthur's sleeve. She grinned at them. "I still haven't had a chance to talk to your boyfriend at all." She released his sleeve and, before Alfred knew what was happening, had grabbed his hand and was pulling him away from Arthur and her husband. "Come on, let's go somewhere where we can chat in peace, shall we?" Alfred gave Arthur a terrified look. Arthur managed to look nervous and resigned at the same time, but he nodded. With that, Liz whisked Alfred off to another corner of the room. She settled herself on a chair with little regard for her dress and patted the seat next to her. "I want to hear everything."

"Um . . . I'm sure there's much to tell?" he said questioningly, wondering if she was going to start yelling at him in Hungarian. However, she seemed perfectly happy.

"How is he? I would ask him, but he'd make something up."

Alfred shrugged and relaxed. "He's fine."

Liz leaned closer, worry showing itself in her eyes. "Is he still writing?"

Alfred nodded. "Yeah, a lot, I think."

She smiled. "Good. So tell me," she said in a secretive tone, "Have you had to deal with his temper? How many fights have you had?"

Alfred chuckled a little. "We haven't fought at all, I think."

Her eyes went wide. "No fights in a month? That has to be a new record!"

"Is he really that bad?" Alfred asked curiously.

"He's just very fussy," Liz said with a wave of her had. "He always has been. That fiery temper of his doesn't earn him too many friends, I'll say that."

"How long have you known him?"

"Oh, for years," she said. "We had the same job while he was working his way through university. When he dropped out, we worked the same full-time shift until the company collapsed."

"So he did drop out," Alfred said quietly.

Liz nodded. "He wanted to write poetry, always did, and he wasn't learning anything in his classes. It was a waste of his time. He had planned to work for a while to save some money while he tried to get published, but he kept getting rejected and then the company went under." She shook her head. "It was so hard on him. He kept writing, but I think he gave up on ever doing it as a living. Actually, I think he stopped for a while right after." She sighed. "I have never seen him more miserable. Poetry is his life, Alfred." She took his hand and looked at him earnestly. "He has so little that's steady in his life. Jobs are hard to come by right now, and it seems like he's always trying to find new work. I am so grateful he has you now. I hope you two last, for both of your sakes." She patted his hand.

Alfred looked at her sincerely. "I will do everything in my power to make sure he is happy."

She smiled, and for a moment, Alfred could see genuine relief in her eyes. "Thank you. I'm so glad."

He smiled too. "I just hope I can."

She stood and brushed off her dress. "I'm sure you will. I can tell already, you're off to a great start."


They ended up staying longer than they had intended. It seemed like every time they were about to leave, Liz would corner them and convince them to stay just a little longer. Arthur ended up drinking too much champagne, so then they had to wait for him to sober up because neither of them trusted Alfred to drive anywhere on the left side of the road. By the time they left, it was dark. It was therefore only appropriate that halfway through the drive Arthur's car should come to a grinding, spectacular halt. So, approximately five hours after they had planned to leave, they were both standing in the freezing night air on the side of the road.

"Look, Arthur–"

"We're 45 minutes from home and in the absolute middle of nowhere. Why did the car have to break down now?" Arthur growled.

"It's not a big deal," Alfred said in his version of a soothing tone. "We can just find a hotel somewhere and spend the night."

"Spend the night?" Arthur practically screeched. "Why would we need to do that? You're supposed to say that once we call them and they get here they'll be able to fix it. Telling me it's not going to get fixed is not helpful."

Alfred gave him an incredulous look. "Okay, not to be a pessimist here, but judging from the noise it made–"

"Alright."

"And the burning smell–"

"Alright!" Arthur snapped. He whipped out his cell phone. "I'm giving them a call. Now just be quiet and we'll see what they say. Hello? Yes, my name is Arthur Kirkland . . ."

It took the tow truck almost an hour to reach them. By the time it did, Arthur had already gone through about five different kinds of anger and finally settled into a very quiet seething state. Alfred had long since given up trying to talk to him. Unsurprisingly, the mechanic informed them that the car was going to need to go to the shop, but there was some hope it would be fixed by morning. "Where would you like me to take you?"

"The nearest hotel," Alfred said promptly. Arthur gave him a glare.

"Of course." So, after a long drive in the very slow tow truck, that was exactly where they went.

Arthur seemed to have lost all his energy except for his own special reserve he kept for sarcastic comments, so Alfred decided it would be best if he did all the talking. The lady at the front desk gave them a long, unreadable look. "Would you gentlemen care for two rooms, or a room with two singles? I can also offer you–"

"One room, one bed," Alfred said. "Better make that a Queen. Or a King."

The lady blinked and couldn't help smiling a little. "A Queen it is. Breakfast and tea are included. Here are your room keys. It's just upstairs and on the right." Arthur seethed silently in the background while Alfred smiled and expressed his thanks.

They stumbled up the stairs and into their room. "What time is it? 11 at night?" Arthur snapped. "Perfect. I haven't eaten since lunch."

"Me neither," Alfred said with a sigh. "You just stay here and I'll go try to scrounge up some food, okay?"

"Nothing's going to be open, it's almost midnight!"

"I'll find something," Alfred said, finally sounding a little irritated. "I'm hungry too, you know."

"Yes, yes. Get on with it then." Arthur shrugged off his coat and threw it carelessly onto a chair.

"I will."

Alfred left. Arthur listened to his receding footsteps as he settled into the chair to wait. Fifteen minutes felt like an eternity. The smell of food that preceded Alfred was the only thing that kept Arthur from snapping at him the moment he opened the door. Alfred shoved a bag of McDonald's at him.

"It was the only place open, and the hotel wouldn't give me any food because it's not tea hours or whatever." Alfred settled comfortably on the bed and pulled one of several hamburgers out of his bag. They ate in silence. After a while, Alfred stretched and said he was going to go to bed. Arthur made a noncommittal noise, licked the grease off his fingers (which he would later deny) and waited until Alfred had shucked off his pants and crawled under the covers before doing the same.

Alfred looked at him expectantly, but Arthur turned over so his back was to Alfred. After a moment, Alfred turned off the light. He rolled back and forth, sighing and shifting the sheets every now and then, but Arthur kept a firm hold on his half of the blankets to make sure Alfred didn't steal them. He was determined to remain angry at Alfred for at least the remainder of the night – why, he wasn't entirely sure – but Alfred was making it increasingly difficult by shifting around like that. He gritted his teeth and tried to will away his desire to just turn over and curl up against Alfred. Finally Alfred settled down. A warm arm snuck around Arthur's waist and he felt warm breath on his neck. "Goodnight," Alfred said softly.

"Goodnight," Arthur returned gruffly. They both knew he was faking it, and he could almost feel Alfred's smile pressed into his neck. It wasn't long before Alfred's arm became dead weight and it became clear that he had fallen asleep. Perhaps it was because of the late hour, perhaps the stress of the day, or perhaps because of something else, Arthur felt his eyelids becoming heavy and soon feel into a deep sleep.


Arthur woke to warm sheets and a dim but clear light from behind the curtains. He titled his head a little to the side and was met with the sight of Alfred sprawled out beside him. He lay on his back but his head was titled towards Arthur, and Arthur could feel his faint and gentle breath on his skin. He looked very different asleep. His eyebrows were relaxed in a way they never were when he was awake, because he used them whenever he smiled. His mouth was slightly parted and even the laugh lines had been smoothed out of his face. Bits of his hair stuck up, but for the most part it draped over his forehead and touched his eyelashes. He had pushed off most of the blankets and the cream sheets had become wrinkled and folded around him. His hand rested near Arthur's shoulder, the fingers relaxed but slightly outstretched as though they had fallen asleep touching. It was the first time Arthur had really seen Alfred when he wasn't wearing his glasses. He looked younger without them. Arthur's heart squeezed painfully. Alfred looked beautiful in the morning.

There was poetry even in the wrinkled sheets and the creases in his fingers. The little shadows; the warmth of his breath; the way Arthur thought he could feel Alfred's heartbeat even from this distance. Arthur wanted to touch him, but he was sure that if he did he would ruin it.

Alfred shifted, rolled over onto his side, and his breathing changed. Blue eyes opened to meet Arthur's and Alfred smiled. It was not a lazy grin, but something soft and sweet. Arthur's heart thudded in his chest. Without a word, Alfred reached over and kissed him.

"I haven't brushed my teeth in over 24 hours, you know," Arthur said when they parted, because it was the first thing that came to mind that wasn't all poetry and things he didn't want to say aloud.

Alfred grinned this time. "Don't care. 'Morning, Artie."

"Good morning yourself," Arthur returned easily.

Alfred looped an arm around Arthur's waist and buried his head in the crook of Arthur's neck with a sigh. "Should do this more often."

"We should do what more often?" Arthur asked as he tentatively stroked Alfred's hair.

"Sleepin' over. Just you an' me."

"It's always just you and me," Arthur said dryly.

"Mmm," Alfred said into his shoulder. He finally raised his head and yawned widely.

"You're not still tired, are you?" Arthur asked. He could see the clock now; it was after nine in the morning.

"Just don't wanna get up." Alfred rolled back over onto his back and his hand somehow found Arthur's.

"Well, we should," Arthur said fondly. "Breakfast is only served until 10, you know."

Alfred looked at him with a smile that made Arthur's stomach do odd things. "We've got time. What do you say to some kissing beforehand?"

"I thought you were tired," Arthur said dryly, but he let Alfred pull him closer.

"I just said I wanted to stay in bed." Alfred grinned and kissed him again. Arthur sighed a little into his lips. He didn't realize he was smiling until Alfred pulled back and gave him a funny look. "You're in a good mood."

"Hmm?" Arthur's lips twitched, but he didn't stop smiling. "I slept well."

Alfred's eyebrows drew together slightly in concern. He raised a hand to Arthur's cheek. Arthur only tensed slightly. "You haven't been sleeping well?"

"I never do."

"But you did last night." Alfred grinned and pulled Arthur on top of him, which startled laughter out of Arthur. Alfred gave Arthur a kiss, long and lingering this time. "I'm glad."

Arthur grinned down at him. "Maybe we have a little time before breakfast starts after all."


Author's notes: I realize that Elizabeta/veta/beth and Roderich should be getting married on June 8th to be totally canon, but that doesn't really work within the timeline of this story, sooo let's say that was when they started dating?