Chapter 5

For the rest of the night, Alfred had not slept. He continued to think about what had happened. Where had that come from? Did Arthur actually have feelings for him, or was he just so plastered that he had no idea what he was doing? Alfred figured the latter. He sighed, sitting up in his cot and resting his forehead to his palms. He sat like that for several moments, not thinking or moving. He knew that he had to do something, but what? He would have to speak with Arthur in the morning about this. That was the only thing to do, right? Alfred figured that Arthur wouldn't even remember what happened. For some reason, that was the thought that unsettled him the most.

Only moments after returning to his cabin, Arthur promptly passed out, halfway on his cot and halfway on the floor. He slept like that, snoring loudly while dreaming. In his dream, he and Alfred had, after their long voyage together, finally found Allaura. The two men shook hands and decided to rule the kingdom together. They sat side by side in thrones bigger than they'd ever seen in their entire lifetimes, surrounded by their loyal subjects offering to them various goods and services. As the dream neared its end, Alfred and Arthur had both looked at each other, each with a small smile on their face, and began leaning in…

Arthur awoke. Where in the hell had that dream come from? Suddenly he felt angry. However, his anger was quickly replaced by confusion as he realized his place in the room. His lower half was on the cot, covered by a sheet, while his head rested on his arms on the wooden floor. How he had managed to fall asleep like this, he didn't know. He just remembered being drunk. He tried to sit, when he was hit with a wave of nausea. The only downside to drinking, he thought, was the damn hangovers. His were worse than anyone else's; he figured it was to make up for his high tolerance level.

Sluggishly he forced himself all the way into his cot. He used the sheet to cover his head to avoid being blinded by the morning sunlight that streamed into his room. He groaned, never wanting to get up. Within moments he was able to fall back asleep.

When the dim sunrise began peeking its way into Alfred's room through the small window, Alfred decided to get up. He had noticeable dark spots beneath his eyes as he'd only slept for around an hour, but he didn't care. He knew what he needed to do. He didn't want to waste a second, as he was sure this would last a while. He shrugged on his coat and buttoned it about halfway, not bothering to put on a shirt underneath. It didn't even matter. Arthur had seen him shirtless last night, so what was the harm now? Of course, Alfred had no idea how Arthur would react or if he would even recall the events that occurred. All he wished was that Arthur would not feel differently towards him, at the very least.

Alfred walked to Arthur's room, entering and shutting the door behind him quietly. Arthur was asleep, but Alfred knew for a fact that he was a light sleeper. He began creeping over to Arthur, but before he was even halfway there, Arthur sprung up in his bed like a spring, then grabbed his head in his hands with a loud groan. Alfred had to resist the temptation to crack a smile. It served Arthur right for getting so drunk.

"Hey." Alfred stated lamely. "We need to talk."

"What do you want?" Arthur groaned, not even bothering to look at Alfred as he spoke. "This had better be important; I think you can see that I'm in a lot of pain. Having you yammering on will only make it worse." As the insults streamed from his mouth almost involuntarily, the previous night slowly began to come back to Arthur's memory. Oh God, what exactly had he done? He knew it involved Alfred, and he figured that was why he was here. Shit.

Alfred's mouth twisted into a slight scowl. "Just shut up, okay? I came to talk to you. Can we please for once have a normal conversation without one or both of us acting like a complete asshole?" He nearly slapped himself in the forehead, downright exasperated. Arthur was silent. He laid back down in his cot, his back facing Alfred. Alfred sighed; Arthur had always been so damn difficult. He assumed he was listening, so he stood by the side of the bed awkwardly and began to speak without thinking.

"Do you recall what happened last night?" he asked slowly, letting the realization dawn on Arthur. A stream of curse words flew through Arthur's head. Though he knew it incorrect, he had sincerely hoping that Alfred was speaking for anything other than that. He'd rather Alfred come to tell him it was his turn to be executed. He'd literally rather die than have this conversation. He sat up quickly, face red.

"I was drunk, alright?" Arthur nearly shouted. "Everyone does stupid things when they're drunk! It can't be helped! You can't blame me for a stupid mistake that happened when I was plastered off my ass!" Alfred could tell that Arthur was angry, regretful, but mostly embarrassed. He felt awkward wanting to comfort him, because they had always been enemies. He didn't even know what they were anymore.

Alfred let out a loud, angry groan. "Damn it, Arthur!" Alfred leaned forward and in a single fluid motion, entrapped Arthur's lips in a heated kiss. Arthur made some muffled noise of protest at first, but soon gave up, not even caring. He kissed back with equal force; both men were rather dominating so both wanted to be the one to lead. Alfred pushed Arthur so his back was against the wood of the cot's headboard and put his hands on the mattress on either side of him, though he was still standing at the side of the bed. Arthur raked his nails down Alfred's back, knowing he would leave long, red marks. Alfred hissed into the kiss, enjoying the slight pain as he identified as somewhat of a masochist as well. Both pulled away slightly for breath, then dove back in, kissing one another hungrily and sloppily. Arthur's hands tangled themselves greedily in Alfred's hair, tugging.

It was unexpected; this strange pattern of actions, but in no way was it unpleasant. If either man said they knew it was coming, it would have been a lie. They loathed each other, and even now, in the midst of their passionate display, they expressed all of their pent up anger on each other, though both knew it didn't matter anymore. This was the turning point.