What's in a Name

Chapter 15

Alfred sat forward on the sofa, his head in his hands.

It felt like he had just lived the whole thing all over again, seeing Matt get thrown forward by Ivan, being trapped under the car in the fire and then ending up in the hospital only half alive.

He felt sick. All of this really wasn't doing him any good. First he'd tried to confront Ivan again, only to get thrown off only too easily and now he was shaking like a leaf after telling England about why he had left in the first place. He knew that he must have looked pathetic.

Something touched his cheek, turning his head gently. England looked at him, his eyes sad but still just as vibrant as ever. His brushed his thumb under Alfred's eye, wiping away something wet, before smiling rather weakly. Carefully, he moved a little closer to the younger man, pulling his head to rest on his own shoulder.

He hadn't realised that he was crying until England had pulled him closer, placing his hand on the back of his head so that Alfred's face was very much buried in his shoulder. Alfred wrapped his own hands around England's waist, squeezing his eyes shut and half willing the tears not to roll down his face. He didn't want to have to suffer the embarrassment of having to apologise to England for getting his shirt wet.

England shushed him in his usual, semi-impatient tone, but his presence was very much a soothing one, so much so that Alfred could have laughed.

Alfred eventually pulled away slightly, feeling England rest his head on top of his own and nuzzling into his hair. He was humming quietly, which Alfred noted was the same song he had sung when they had gone out together before. He took his glasses off, rubbing them against the hem of his shirt.

"Do you regret it?" England asked suddenly, breaking the silence between them.

Alfred laughed darkly, shifting in England's arms so that he could see him better. "Which part?"

"Coming here." England's voice was stiff and he was all too aware of it. He knew that his face would have flushed and prayed that Alfred wasn't paying too much attention to it.

"England, I-"

"I'm glad you came here." He sat up suddenly, tipping Alfred off of him upon realising what he had just said. His face was beet red and he was obviously flustered. "Don't get me wrong! You're useful to have around, picking Peter up from school all the time, and the kid likes you, and you get on with the others even if you all act like prats all the time and-"

Alfred pulled him back into his embrace, squeezing the smaller man a little harder than he would have normally.

They stayed like that for a few moments, England finding it a little hard to breathe but not fighting the other blonde's hold on him. Alfred was definitely as strong as, if not stronger than he looked and even though he had often tried to boost his own ego by showing off this strength, it wasn't obvious to England until the man had his arms wrapped around him. He could tell that Alfred wasn't crying anymore, his shoulders were stock still, and his breath was steadier than it had been, but still a little raspy.

He eventually moved so that his chin was resting on Alfred's shoulder, the need to breathe finally taking over, but he didn't move out of the embrace. The other's breaths were loud in his ear, and he seriously hoped that his face wouldn't turn any more red than he knew it already was.

"Feeling better?" England asked, feeling the other's grip on his loosen, but not let go.

"Yeah, thanks." Alfred leant back into the sofa, pulling England with him so that their legs tangled together awkwardly.

It was only then that England realised, with the added pressure on his back, that one of Alfred's hands was still clenched into a fist. He would have understood this motion had it been his injured arm that was held fast, but no, it was most definitely the younger's uninjured arm. He moved slightly to attempt to look behind him, seeing a slither of white sticking out from between Alfred's fingers.

"What are you holding?" He moved so that he was free of Alfred's arms, giving him a better view of the piece of paper that he was now very obviously holding tight in his hand.

Alfred opened his fingers, staring at what had been grasped in them, slightly confused by it before realisation sparked on his features. "Braginski said to give it to you." He held it out to England, who took it, if not a little reluctantly. "I don't think it's anything dangerous." Alfred reassured him. "He doesn't work that way."

England nodded, turning the slip in his fingers, wondering what Russia could possibly want to give him. As far as he was concerned, the gang leader never gave anything out of the good of his heart, because he didn't have one, so there had to be some sort of catch to what this was.

The paper was folded neatly, the creases sharp so that they wouldn't open by themselves. It also looked worn, but not old, as if it had been in Russia's pocket for a while and had things continually shoved in on top of it.

He opened the first fold, trying not to damage the slip any further. Some ink had seeped through the white surface, bleeding out slightly from the neat curved line that was on the other side of the sheet. England froze. The line was shaped in an all too familiar way, stylised to fit his own tidy tastes.

Unfolding the paper fully he could only stare at what he held in front of him.

"What is it?" Alfred asked, not really paying attention, his head still throbbed slightly from the night's ordeals. It was only when England pulled away from him, sitting up fully on the sofa that he actually looked at him properly.

He had drawn his legs up in front of him, hugging his knees to his chest. The older man's shoulders were obviously shaking, even though he tried very hard to supress them with his head buried in the crook of his arms. The piece of paper was now screwed up in his fist like it had been in Alfred's.

"Hey." He shuffled closer to England, wrapping his arm around the bunched up figure. It briefly crossed his mind how comfortably England fit in his arms, but he had more important things to concentrate on and quickly shook the thought away.

"He gave this to you?" England's voice was muffled under his arms and broke as he spoke, making it evident to Alfred that the older man was indeed crying. Alfred nodded, murmuring the affirmative. "Why?" England lifted his head so that Alfred could see those bright green eyes shining with tears.

"I don't know." Alfred tried to keep his voice steady, giving England a quick, reassuring squeeze.

Suddenly England had flung himself at Alfred, his arms tight around the younger man's shoulders. Taken aback and unsure of what to do, Alfred found himself resting his arms around England's waist, holding him softly. His shoulder was slowly becoming damp with the other's tears, but thought better than to mention this to him.

He still didn't know what had gotten England so worked up in the first place. It obviously had something to do with the paper Ivan had passed to him through Alfred, but it couldn't be something that bad, could it? The gang leader had always been one to torture people through more physical and painful acts, not by sending them little notes written on scraps of paper.

England sniffed, choking back a sob in a rather undignified manner, clutching to the back of Alfred's ruined shirt. "Thank you…"

He had raised his chin to rest on Alfred's shoulder again, making his voice clearer though he spoke in barely over a whisper. He repeated the statement, this time a lot quieter, as if to remind himself that he had said it. "We must both look pretty pathetic right now." He leant back, still resting his hands on Alfred's shoulders and looking both himself and the other man over with a small smile present on his face. "Two grown men crying like this. Honestly, what would people think?" He breathed out a laugh, relaxing back into Alfred's hold again.

"I got you covered in blood." Alfred sighed, closing his eyes as the gap between them was closed once more. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise, git. I'm the one who jumped on you." He glanced up to look at Alfred's face, meeting the gaze of his blue eyes. "Besides, I think you're a bit worse off than I am." He pulled on the ripped hem of Alfred's blood stained shirt, frowning at the damage that had been done to it. "This is a bit beyond repair."

"Nothing your magic sewing skills can do this time." Alfred's tone had lightened at bit, remembering when he had caught England getting annoyed with Peter when the boy had returned home with his school blazer ripped after getting it caught on someone's garden railings.

"Unfortunately." The corners of England's mouth twitched up into a smile, resting his head Alfred's chest.

Alfred brushed his hand through England's hair, dislodging it further from its usual messy state. The older blonde raised his head into the touch, looking up at the younger. He wasn't crying anymore, though the tear streaks were still visible on his cheeks. Alfred's hand moved under England's chin, lifting it so that he could see his face fully and leaning in until they were only millimetres away from each other.

And then they kissed. Quickly at first, the touch not lasting more than a couple of seconds before one of them deepened it. England's hands moved up from Alfred's shoulders to the back of his neck, one combing through his hair while Alfred's travelled up his back, stroking down his spine and around his waist.

A small moan travelled up England's throat at the other's touch, causing his blush to deepen as he broke the contact briefly to look sheepishly at Alfred, who looked just as surprised as he was sure he did. Alfred's hand traced the shape of his cheek, smiling at the slight frown he received in return for the touch before the older man just shook his head and went back to leaning against Alfred's chest.

Alfred continued to massage England's back in circles, comforting the man while enjoying the small shivers that occasionally made him twitch in his arms, settling further into the embrace. England's hair tickled the younger man where he leant on his chest, the ripped open shirt not helping the matter, and he moved slightly, as if he was teasing Alfred each time his hair brushed against his bare skin.

Eventually Alfred heard England's breath even out, taking on a calmer rhythm. Looking down Alfred could see that the man's eyes were indeed closed, and his face was relaxed, making him look several years younger.

"England? Are you-?"

"Arthur."

"What?" Alfred sat further back on the seat so that he could look at the other man properly, the green eyes now open and staring back at him.

He smiled, his entire face lighting up with it. "My name" he swivelled around so that he was facing Alfred, "is Arthur."

Alfred gaped at him, his eyes wide. And then he pulled the smaller man forward, capturing his still smiling lips with his own and feeling the grin on his own face grow as the kiss was returned.

"You really know how to surprise a guy."

Alfred stretched under the sheets, looping his arm under the other's shoulders.

It had been an experience to say in the least. His shirt had finally been discarded, along with the rest of their clothes, and they had somehow made their way to the smaller man's bed. And now they were a tangle of limbs under the bedcovers and all Alfred could remember was the touch of the other man underneath him as they had held each other.

Arthur was now lying on his side, one arm drooped across Alfred's chest while he smiled aimlessly up at the younger man. He toyed with the slip of paper which he had discarded on the desk next to his bed with Alfred's glasses. He picked it up, hovering it in front of his face, eyes flicking over his own neatly scrawled handwriting.

"It's been a while since I wrote this." He sighed, letting the paper fall on top of Alfred's face.

Alfred moved his hand back out from under his own head, picking the slip off of his nose and squinting at it in the dark of the room, finally being able to make out the curly lettering.

I, Arthur Kirkland, hereby relinquish my name and identity

to the person of my choosing, for them to return to me when they choose.

And until that time, I will use the name I am given until it is no longer

fit for my use.

A signature was scribbled at the bottom of the note, sealing the promise the man had made to the gang leader, and thereby giving up his identity to him.

Alfred rolled onto his side, lifting Arthur's chin and pecking a kiss on his forehead. "You've really made an ordeal for yourself, haven't you?"

"Didn't give myself a choice at the time." Arthur sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into Alfred's touch. "I wasn't exactly going through the best of times."

"No." Alfred ran his thumb over the other's cheek, sweeping the hair out of Arthur's eyes. "No, Francis told me before."

"Damn frog doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut." Arthur muttered, frowning at the idea the Francis had taken the job of revealing his past to Alfred before he had deemed it fit for the younger man to know. "But I suppose it can't be helped. Though I would have preferred for you not to know how much of a nut I was back then. I mean, what was I thinking joining a gang? How was that going to solve anything?" He rolled onto his back, closing his eyes, a small frown evident on his face. "Must've been mad. Still, the actual biking bit wasn't so bad. It kind of makes you feel like you're-"

"Flying?" Alfred cut him off, tracing the patterns the shadows made on the ceiling with his finger. "I know what you mean." He smiled, remembering the sensation. "It's the reason why I joined in the first place. Just a bit of freedom, you know?"

"Then we were both mad." Arthur chuckled, pulling on the other's cowlick.

"Damn right!" Alfred laughed, batting the hand away.

He moved so that he was positioned back over Arthur, grinning down at him before leaning in to graze their lips together once more, then ran a thumb over one of the man's oversized eyebrows.

"Get off!" Arthur snickered, pushing the hand to the side.

"But Arthur! They're just too cute-!" Alfred was cut off by the other pulling him back down towards him, feeling the heat from his mouth and the arms which had looped tightly around his neck once more.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Arthur babbled, suddenly bright red after letting go of Alfred, the realisation of what he had just done catching up with him. "It's just… It's been a while since anyone called me by my name."

Alfred grinned, leaning his forehead against the other's and staring straight into his eyes. "Then I'll say it a million more times 'til you're used to it, Arthur."

He rolled to one side so that he and Arthur were facing each other, stilling grinning from ear to ear. "It suits you, y'know? 'Arthur'. Even if it is a bit old fashioned."

"Oh yeah, and guys are called 'Alfred' all the time." Arthur scoffed, poking the other's cheek hard.

"I wasn't saying you're old fashioned!" Alfred flinched away when he was jabbed again. "I just meant that it fits your image, 'cause you're British, right? And there's all those 'King Arthur' legends over there, so it works."

"You're babbling." The older man rolled his eyes, sighing and flashing his pirate-like smirk in Alfred's direction. "I grew up in London before I moved here with my parents when I was nine. And yes, while there are the legends of King Arthur and Excalibur in England, not everyone called Arthur is named after some king who didn't necessarily exist."

"You believe he was real though, don't you?" Alfred snickered, returning the expression Arthur had shot at him.

"Wha-! What makes you think that?" Alfred couldn't help but laugh as the other blonde spluttered, his blush spreading across his cheeks once again.

"You were the one who was defending fairies earlier."

"I was defending Shakespeare you dolt!"

"Yeah, yeah- hey, hey! Ow! Arthur!"

Alfred ducked under the covers, shielding his head from the man who was now showering it with his fists, though these actions were very obviously all for play. It was only when Alfred yanked on Arthur's ankle, effectively pulling under the bedclothes as well, that the older man ceased his mock violence in favour of claw his way back up the bed again, objecting to younger's joking.

"Just go to sleep, already!" He finished, pushing the covers back down so that Alfred's head was visible on the pillow once more. "It's nearly four!"

"Okay, okay." Alfred stretched, looping his arm around the smaller man once more and pulling him closer. He pecked Arthur's lips quickly, smiling at the flustered splutter that escaped from him.

He watched as the other man slowly drifted off to sleep, marvelling at how much his expression changed into a blissfully peaceful one, then let his own eyes slide shut, tiredness finally catching up with him.

It wasn't yet dawn when Alfred woke, a cold glimmer shining in through a small gap in the curtains bathing the room in a pale grey light. The room was blurred without his glasses on but he could still make out the form of the digital clock on the desk reading '6:49'. He'd only gotten a couple of hours of sleep but he was already wide awake. The days were starting to get shorter as winter got closer.

Arthur was still asleep next to him, huddled up against his side in more than a slight awkward position. Alfred had to stifle his laugh when he saw that the older man had somehow managed to tie the bedcovers around himself and had one leg sticking out on top of them, having already pulled the under sheet off the bottom of the mattress. It was surprising just how much this man moved around in his sleep.

Carefully slipping out from under the covers and pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, Alfred rearranged the sheets where Arthur had pulled them off the bed and untangled the duvet from the mess of limbs, placing it over the older man's form in a more comfortable looking position.

He found his jeans in a heap on the floor and pulled them on quickly before exiting the room and letting the door click shut behind him.

Arthur's apartment felt surprisingly different when it was only the two of them there. The living room was void of any bodies lying all over the floor. There were no empty beer cans littering the area where Gilbert would normally be unconscious close by and there was no sign of the struggle where Antonio had caught hold of Lovino and dragged him onto the sofa with him. Peter's door was still left open from the previous night and was equally as deserted. If was just quiet.

He left the flat as silently as he could, not wanting to wake the sleeping man in the next room, grabbing his jacket from the sofa as he passed it.

A slight chill blew through the corridor as Alfred climbed the stairs back up to his own room, the steps clacking under his footsteps as he padded up them in his old trainers. He could hear murmurs coming from inside Kiku's apartment, signalling that the teacher and his older brother were already up and getting ready for the day ahead, which Alfred had always considered to be a weird habit of the two Asians, to get up just as early as they did during the week at the weekends.

His own room was still in the same state as he had left it when he had gone out the night before. His papers strewn over the desk and coffee table and the book that Arthur had been reading was still balanced on the arm of the chair, open to the page that he had finished on.

He threw his jacket to one side, mentally noting where it had landed so he could pick it up again when he left. Disappearing into his bedroom and grabbing another shirt and pulling it over his head before running his hand through his hair so that it settled back in the right place. He briefly searched the room for another pair of jeans but gave up after a minute of tossing his things over the bed.

Finally standing up straight again, Alfred pulled his jacket back on over his clothes, ignoring the stiffness in the sleeve where the blood had soaked into it. He was going to have to buy a new one at some point, but hated the idea of throwing it away after having it for so long.

It had gotten lighter in the time it had taken him to get changed and while he was walking back down the stairwell Alfred could tell that it had warmed up slightly, though it was still very obviously a late autumn morning even if the sun was shining through the window of the front door.

"What's gotten you up so early then?"

Alfred started at the heavily accented voice drifting out of the nearby door as he had turned the handle on the front door.

Francis stood in the doorway to his basement flat, one thin eyebrow raised. His hair hung around his shoulders limply and dark shadows framed his lilac-blue eyes, making him look drastically older than he usually did.

"How's Peter?" Alfred turned to face the landlord, keeping the door held slightly open behind him.

"He's fine, staying with Berwald and Tino at their house." He yawned, making his sentence even harder to understand through his accent. "Where were you off to then?"

The look the Frenchman gave Alfred was strangely stern compared to his usual laidback nature. It was the first time Alfred had thought of the man as being the intimidating landlord that were usually associated with these sort of apartment blocks.

"You're giving me a lot more trouble than I had anticipated." He eventually sighed, rubbing his temples. "When I was told about your record I was hoping that they were right about you giving all of this up, but I am guessing that I judged you too soon, non? I am right in my assumption in who you are going to see?" He waited for Alfred to reply, but when none came continued, his frown deepening, "I am not stupid, Alfred. I have had to live with knowing what that man does for over a year now and watching my friends deal with him. It does not require a great genius to guess what you are going to do and I do not see why, when you are in my care, I should allow you to-"

"Give it a rest, Francis." Arthur's voice echoed as he appeared at the top of the first flight of stairs. He had pulled his jeans back on but had left them unbuttoned, allowing his underwear to show slightly above the waistline. "It's far too early to have to put up with your poor attempt at speaking English."

His eyes traced the gap between the two other blondes and then to Alfred's hand still resting on the door handle. He rummaged in his pocket quickly before pulling something out and tossing it to the younger man. "Here."

There was a jangle as Alfred caught the metallic object Arthur had thrown to him and it took him a few seconds to realise what it actually was.

"Your bike?" He looked up at the man, his expression all the more puzzled.

"Take it." Arthur nodded shortly, descending the final few stairs. "I'm not going to try and stop you. Not when you've got your mind set like this. We both know that I'm not the only stubborn one." He smiled, chuckling at the look on Alfred's face. "Did you honestly think that you wouldn't get caught sneaking out? Who wouldn't wake up when you pull the bedcovers off them?" He shot Francis a violent look at this, knowing how the Frenchman would react to the last statement.

"Arthur, I-"

"This is something you need to do for yourself, right?" He placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder, fixing his eyes on Alfred's. "Go on. Before I come to my senses." Clapping him on the back, Arthur pushed Alfred the rest of the way out the door.

It was just what Alfred needed, even if he did stumble through the doorway after Arthur had encouraged him. He gave the man one last glance before tossing the keys over in his hand and turning to sprint over to the three bikes, one of which definitely hadn't been there the night before, that were parked nearby, swinging onto the dark green vehicle and kicking it into gear.

Arthur watched as Alfred's figure on the bike disappeared around the corner, speeding down the next road, obviously knowing where he was going. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Francis's sly smile stretched across his lips.

"So you had a good time last night?" He tossed his hair back over his shoulder, his tiredness seemingly evaporating.

"Shut up, frog." Arthur brushed him off, rolling his eyes at the older man. "Peter's alright?"

"He'll be fine." Francis leant back against his own doorframe, still smiling, but softer now.

"Good." Arthur sighed, rubbing his hand over his hair and yawning.

"Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"Good to have you back."

Arthur turned back to look at Francis, returning the small smile, rolling his eyes again.

"Well this is all nice and lovely." A sarcastic voice emanated from Francis's room as Gilbert poked his head around the door, "But I, being as awesome as I am, am not a fan of letting our dear friend Alfred have all the fun." He sniggered, opening the door to the flat fully, showing the two other figures sat inside. "What do you say Artie? Search and destroy?"