"...and the kids wouldn't stop laughing when they realized that it was my ring tone," Alfred said, smiling into the phone as he slipped the graded homework assignments into his briefcase. His cereal bowl sat forgotten on the kitchen table, nearly empty except for a bit of milk at the bottom.
"Well, they probably expected you to have better taste in music," Arthur said playfully. "By the way, did you see my email?"
"Yep! If you don't mind sticking around the airport for another hour, I can come pick you up after school."
"Actually... if it's not too much trouble, I'd rather like to see your class."
"Really? That would be awesome!" Alfred held the phone between his ear and his shoulder he slipped on his boots and a thick coat. "Want me to dress up like a Catholic school girl so you can spank me for being naughty?"
There was a short intake of breath and then a thoughtful silence on the other end of the line. "I really don't know where you came up with that idea."
"Pfft. Isn't it obvious? I've been reading your books," Alfred teased as he closed and locked the door to his apartment behind him. "It gives me something to think about when you're not around. Can't blame a guy for wanting some release."
"Well, I can blame you for being tardy. Shouldn't you be heading off to work?"
Alfred laughed. "Already on my way. See you in eight hours!"
"See you soon," Arthur promised.
Alfred sighed happily as he drove the short distance to his school. It had taken less than two weeks for Arthur to make arrangements to visit him, but even that short wait had been unbearable. They talked on the phone as often as they could, discussing everything from embarrassing childhood memories to their favorite ways to spend a rainy day. Despite their many differences, Alfred felt a deep connection to the other man. In all of his lives, he had never fallen in love so hard and so quickly.
Not since Edward.
Unfortunately, thinking about his former English lover left a queasy feeling in Alfred's stomach as he walked into his classroom and began preparing for the day. He still felt guilty for moving on, and then he felt ridiculous for feeling guilty.
He also began to worry about what would happen if Arthur wanted to meet his family. During all of their discussions about Edward's and Theodore's lives after the end of the war, neither of them had mentioned any wives or children.
There was a reason for that. Alfred wasn't sure how he was going to explain that Theodore wasn't actually his grandfather. It had been an easy lie when he had decided to go visit the grave, a quick way to explain why he was so interested in Edward Wright's life. But now that Arthur was coming to visit... he wasn't sure what to do if the other man discovered the lack of family connection.
Despite his concern for maintaining the lie about his 'grandfather', Alfred couldn't help but spend the day filled with giddy happiness. He would have Arthur in his arms again!
The last class before Thanksgiving break should have been torture for both Alfred and his students. Many teachers, recognizing a pedagogical sink pool, decided to show movies to their restless students. Alfred, however, made the time fly by choosing a topic close to his heart. As class began, he wrote a single phrase on the blackboard:
I only regret, that I have but one life to lose for my country.
He turned and grinned at the class. They stared at him with rapt attention. Alfred, with his good looks and easy smiles, never had trouble reeling students in with his charisma and keeping them intrigued with his obvious love for the material.
"Can anyone tell me the source of this quote?" he asked.
"Nathan Hale," someone suggested from the back of the room.
"That's a good answer!" Alfred's grin widened. "But I'm going to spend this class explaining why it's probably not the right answer. You see, this particular quote was first credited to Nathan Hale in Captain William Hull's memoirs, which were published 72 years after Nathan Hale was executed for being a Revolutionary War spy hero. That would be like trying to pin down FDR's last words based on something published today."
The class followed along eagerly as Alfred described all of the various sources that described Nathan Hale's final words, writing each version up on the board as he explained to the students why some sources were more credible than others.
"What did he look like?" a girl asked eagerly.
Alfred smiled. "We don't really know. Blond hair, blue eyes. Fairly tall. I imagine he was handsome. He was a schoolteacher after he graduated from Yale at the age of 18."
A few girls sighed and Alfred resumed his lecture. About halfway through, he heard the door open. Alfred turned around and beamed when he saw Arthur step hesitantly into the room. "Hey, Artie! Just take one of the seats in back. We've got about 20 minutes left to solve one of history's mysteries."
He returned to the blackboard and scrawled another quote in chalk.
What pity is it that we can die but once to serve our country.
"Now, here's another clue. See, this quote is from a famous English play called 'Cato' written in 1712. It was very popular among patriots during the revolution because it's all about resisting tyranny. In fact, George Washington had it performed for his army while they were camped at Valley Forge. And we know that Nathan Hale had seen the play because he mentioned it in some of his letters to his brother. I would bet dollars to donuts that he was referencing this line, and I'm sure many people listening recognized it."
Alfred turned around and paused for dramatic effect. His smile widened when he noticed Arthur watching him from the back of the room with equally rapt attention.
"So what does this all mean? Well, I know I stand up here all day telling you dates and names and locations, but you should spend some time thinking about how we know what we claim to know. History is like playing a game of telephone across time, trying to figure out which facts might have gotten distorted along the way."
He glanced over at the clock and blinked in surprise when he realized he had less than a minute of class time remaining. "Anyway, have a great Thanksgiving! Your only homework for Monday is to pick a historical figure and come up with some awesome final words for him or her. We'll vote and the winner gets a prize."
The students chattered happily to themselves, streaming out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang. Alfred passed by them to reach the back seats. As soon as Arthur stood up to greet him, he pulled the Englishman into a tight hug. In their warm embrace, he could feel Arthur's tense shoulders began to relax. It felt so good to hold Arthur again. After another moment, they drew back and gave each other fond looks.
"Bit of a morbid assignment, isn't it?" Arthur chuckled.
"Yeah, but it'll give them something historical to do over break that doesn't feel too much like homework."
"Mr. Jones?" a voice interrupted from behind and Alfred turned around to see a tall brunette watching him and Arthur with a sly smile. "The school newspaper wants to publish articles on all of the teachers and I was wondering if I could do you."
Arthur coughed while Alfred continued to smile, oblivious to the innuendo. "Have you written articles on anyone else yet?" he asked.
"No." She shook her head. "I wanted you to be my first."
Arthur's coughing fit intensified.
"Sorry, Liz. I'm a little busy this weekend, but let me know when you've published a few other articles and I'll think about."
She sighed and turned to look at Arthur. "Are you a new teacher, Mr...?"
"Kirkland," he replied, finally gaining control over his flustered coughs. "And no, I'm just here for a brief visit."
"Yep!" Alfred chimed in. "I'm showing him the World War II monument and Arlington Cemetery. Our grandpas fought together in the war."
Liz's eyes widened. "Oh my gosh, that sounds like an amazing article. Please, Mr. Jones! Let me write about you two and your soldier grandfathers."
Arthur quickly shook his head; he looked surprisingly worried about the simple request. "Oh, no, I really don't have the time."
"I wouldn't need much," she begged. "Just ten minutes right now?"
"I really couldn't."
"Please?"
"Lizzie, some people don't like talking about that sort of thing, and you've just got to respect that," Alfred said gently, moving to stand between her and Arthur. He knew from their conversations that Arthur was a deeply private person, and he didn't want the poor man to be overwhelmed by Liz's journalistic gung-ho.
"Fine." Glancing between Alfred's stern gaze and Arthur's worried expression, she sighed and left the room with a dejected slump to her shoulders.
Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "My, she's certainly persistent. And I think she's rather sweet on you," he added, carrying his duffel bag to the front of the room while he waited for Alfred to gather up his coat and briefcase.
"Nah," Alfred laughed. "Liz is also the vice president of the GSA. She likes to ask me if I have a boyfriend and if I need help finding one."
"I hope you tell her no."
"Well now I do," Alfred replied, taking Arthur's bag and slipping his arm into the crook of Arthur's elbow. Arthur blushed, but he didn't protest.
As they walked outside in the cool November air, Alfred reveled in the warm contact he felt from walking side by side. Every where they touched, his skin grew hot and tingly. And even though he fully intended to show Arthur the sights, he could tell from Arthur's heavy-lidded glances that they would be spending the rest of the evening in his apartment.
"Ah..." Alfred writhed in pleasure on the bed, gasping each time Arthur popped out another bead. He gripped the sheets and moaned as the last and largest bead slipped through his sphincter, sending a wave of delirious bliss through his body. He was grateful that Arthur had decided to bring along some of his sex toys, although he wondered what airport security had thought of the anal beads. Hopefully they didn't recognize them.
"Ready?" Arthur murmured, the Englishman's breath hot and heavy as he pressed his mouth against Alfred's ear.
"Two whole weeks," Alfred groaned as he snaked around and rolled on top of Arthur. "Of course I'm ready!" He pinned the other man against the bed, covering his chest with kisses. He worked his way up and down the toned chest, twisting Arthur's nipples in his mouth as he straddled the man's slender hips.
"I... oHHhh... rubbers in my pocket."
Understanding the message despite the incoherent moans, Alfred stretched to reach Arthur's discarded trousers. He pulled the condom from the back pocket and ripped the package open with his teeth. Rolling it on to the Englishmen's erect cock, he pumped his hand up and down to coat the latex with a thick layer of lube.
Arthur watched him with heavily-lidded eyes. "How do you want...?"
"Just like this," Alfred purred, positioning himself above Arthur's hips. His eyelashes fluttered and he moaned as he lowered himself onto the wonderfully thick cock. The slight burning sensation paled in comparison to the heady feeling of being completely full. He paused to adjust to the stretch, taking the time to admire Arthur's flushed red cheeks. The Brit's mouth opened and closed with breathless pants, the lust coursing through his body was clearly enough to rob him of his eloquent words.
After adjusting to Arthur's girth, Alfred began to move, grinding up and down on Arthur's hips. He shuddered as he hit his sweet spot again and again, feeling Arthur's hips roll up to meet him halfway. The sounds of moans and breathless names filled the room and their rhythm grew harsher and more ragged, driving them both to the heights of ecstasy.
"God! Alfred!" Arthur cried out, as his body shuddered and went limp. Feeling the cock pulse inside of him, Alfred came a moment later, gasping out Arthur's name as he collapsed against his chest.
When the haze of pleasure ebbed long enough for rational thought to return, Alfred lifted his weight off the other man's body. As he raised himself up on his elbows, he noticed that Arthur wasn't responding to his movements. Alfred brushed Arthur's blond hair to the side and gave him a look of concern. "Artie? You okay?"
The Englishman's mouth hung open and his head lay where it had lolled to the side of the pillow. Alfred gently gripped Arthur's chin and moved his head back to the center of the pillow, as he waited for the other man to stir. He didn't have long to wait. Green eyes flickered open and Arthur gave him a relaxed grin.
"How you feeling?" Alfred asked.
The eyes blinked lazily. "Fine."
"Just fine?"
"Mmm... wonderful, really."
"I think you passed out for a second there."
"Oh?" Arthur mumbled.
"Do I need to call an ambulance?"
"No," Arthur shook his head as his eyes began to look less glazed. "I'm fine. Let's just say there's a reason 'die' was a Shakespearean euphemism for orgasm."
"If you're sure." Alfred laughed and shook his head fondly. "Do you always give literary lessons after sex?"
"Only if the need arises," Arthur mumbled, letting his head fall back onto the soft pillow as he closed his eyes.
Alfred laughed again and plopped back down onto the bed. After two weeks of waiting, it had been everything he had wanted and more. He couldn't wait to have another go. "Hey, speaking of need rising, do you think the kitchen table next or the bay window?"
A snore from Arthur's open mouth was his only response.
"...or I guess you might be tired from your flight." Giving the Englishman another kiss, Alfred wrapped Arthur into his arms and pulled a blanket over their naked bodies. The cuddling was also nice, and he smiled happily as sleep claimed them both.
Alfred would have been happy to spend the entire holiday in bed with Arthur, but he had promised to show the Brit some of the sights. And going out into the cold weather would give them a reason later to do something to get warmed up again. Not that either of them needed an excuse. As they arrived at the hallowed grounds of Arlington Cemetery, Alfred tried to keep the dirty thoughts out of his head.
Despite its ties to the Civil War, Thanksgiving wasn't a traditional holiday for honoring the deceased, so Alfred and Arthur had the cemetery almost entirely to themselves. This time at least, Alfred didn't have any trouble finding this grave. He had been there before. And in a sense, he was still there now. He tried not to think about it.
They walked in silence past the grey headstones lined up in perfect rows. The brown trees and cloudy skies added to the somber atmosphere.
Alfred stopped in front of the grave marked 'Theodore Wilson' and watched as Arthur placed a rose in front of the headstone. The Englishman then reached into his coat pocket and set a small box next to the marker as well.
It was a pack of Chesterfield cigarettes. Recognizing the brand, Alfred felt a chill run down his spine. He remembered Edward snatching a pack out of his rations just before battle. 'Hey, those are mine!' he had protested. Edward had smirked at him. 'Make it back alive, lad, and I'll consider returning them.' It had ended up being the final battle that their regiments fought together. He had never seen Edward, or his cigarettes, again.
Alfred was still staring at the cigarettes when Arthur finally stood up and turned around. The Englishman noticed his expression and smiled apologetically. "Just keeping an old promise," he explained.
"I'm... I'm sure he would have liked that," Alfred replied, trying not to choke up as he remembered all of the fruitless years he spent wondering what had happened to Edward.
They stepped closer together as the wind picked up, blowing gusts of leaves across the graveyard. "Nineteen years," Arthur said, staring at the gravestone as he did the math. "You must miss him terribly."
"Yeah." It was true, in a sense. Of all his lives, Theo's had been his favorite.
"Time never erases the grief," Arthur replied, his gaze focused on the distant horizon. "But I feel like they never truly leave us, not so long as we remember them."
Alfred turned his head towards Arthur. "Do you really think so?"
"Yes, and he will always be remembered."
Alfred felt Arthur's hand grasp his, and it filled him with warmth. It was a nice way to think about his time with Edward. It had been far too short, but at least Edward would attain a sort of immortality through the American's memories. After a moment of silence, they walked together hand-in-hand to the edge of the cemetery. Alfred was glad he had Arthur by his side. He had never liked graveyards or ghosts. He was always worried that the people who only lived once would despise him for his multiple lives.
In the spirit of the season, he squeezed Arthur's hand and smiled at the Brit. "I'm so thankful that I met you."
Arthur returned his smile with equal warmth. "Me too."
At that point, climbing into bed together wasn't a matter of warming up. It was a way to express the warmth he already felt in the center of his chest.
Alfred's extremely pleasant mood the next morning lasted until he checked his email and noticed one from Liz with the subject line 'Arthur Kirkland.'
He was tempted to skip it, but curiosity got the better of him. The email itself was remarkably short. Just a simple 'I think you should read this,' followed by a link to a newspaper article from five years earlier.
TEEN CLAIMS SOLDIER'S FORTUNE
The article described how Arthur Kirkland, then 18, had stepped forward to claim the fortune of a life-long bachelor and World War Two veteran named Edward Wright. Although no one knew the precise details of the soldier's bequest, his solicitor confirmed that the teenager had satisfied the rather peculiar requirements by arriving at his office on a date set in Edward's will and delivering the correct pass-phrase. Arthur had ignored all requests for interviews and set about living the life of a reclusive writer.
Alfred stared at his screen in silence. He read the article twice more, wondering if the words would change into something he could understand. But the truth remained the same. Arthur wasn't related to Edward Wright. He had never even met the man, if the article was to be believed. Alfred felt so angry at himself for being taken in by a sophisticated fraud.
He confronted Arthur in his kitchen. "Why didn't you tell me that Edward Wright wasn't your grandfather?" he demanded, balling his hands into fists.
Arthur blanched and some of his tea splashed onto the table as he set down the cup with a heavy thud. Despite his pale face and worried eyes, his tone was calm when he replied, "I never said that he was."
"That's a shit answer and you know it!"
"You're one to talk. How old were you when your grandfather died?" Arthur scowled at him. "How could you possibly know him as well as you say you do?"
"I..." Alfred floundered for something to say.
Arthur pressed his hands flat against the table as he stood up. "And I don't appreciate you snooping around in my personal life."
"I think I have a right to know who I'm sleeping with."
"Maybe you should have thought about that before you slept with me!" Arthur shouted. "You don't know... I'm not..." His shoulders slumped as he squeezed his eyes shut, the anger on his face suddenly replaced with sadness. "I'm sorry, Alfred."
Alfred stared dumbly, feeling a sense of guilt wash over him. The gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach reminded him that he didn't have the right to be mad at Arthur when he had also lied. He tried to think of something to say, some way to explain his own lies and omissions without going into the unbelievable details of his past lives. The last time he had told the truth, they had threatened to send him to a mental institution.
"Goodbye, Alfred," Arthur said, brushing past him before he could open his mouth to speak.
"Wait!" Alfred chased after the Englishman, catching him as he pulled on his coat at the apartment door. "Where are you going?"
Arthur yanked his arm out of Alfred's grasp. "I'm getting a hotel room. And a drink," was his only explanation as he walked out the door.
Barefoot and still in his pajamas, Alfred nevertheless followed him. He made it only a few feet onto the frozen sidewalk before realizing that he really needed his shoes if he wanted to race after the Englishman. Unfortunately, by the time he had found them and pulled them on, Arthur was out of sight.
Alfred tried calling Arthur's phone and checking the local drinking holes, but it wasn't until hours later that he received a call back.
"Arthur?" he said, picking up the phone with a sigh of relief.
A woman's voice responded. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm calling from St. Elizabeth's Hospital. Could I ask your relationship to Mr. Kirkland?"
Alfred felt his stomach drop to the floor. If the hospital was calling, it had to be serious. And if they were getting contact information from Arthur's phone, instead of Arthur himself, that meant that Arthur was unconscious. If he wanted information, he needed to pretend to be a relative. "Artie's my step-brother," he lied, feeling his throat go dry. "He's visiting me in D.C. this weekend. Is he okay?"
"I'm afraid he's in critical condition," she replied, giving him the hospital location and Arthur's room number. "Come quickly."
Author's Notes
'Die' is an Elizabethan euphemism for 'to orgasm'. Which makes Juliet's final words pretty interesting: "O happy dagger, this is thy sheath. There rust and let me die." Especially when you know that a dagger is a symbol for a penis and the word vagina literally means sheath in Latin. This is why I'm always so amused that we cover Romeo & Juliet in middle school.
Anyway, one more chapter left to find out if 'Arthur dies' is going to be a euphemism in this story or not ;)