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Alfred didn't know how to explain it.
He was hopeless alone, that he knew for sure.
But with Arthur, it was different.
It was weird. Alfred was the one who was supposed to be leading, who was supposed to be dominant and in control. But even though he was physically leading Arthur, he felt like Arthur was the one leading him. Through support, subtle gestures...
It was really weird. But not in a bad way.
It had been two weeks since Alfred started lessons with Arthur, and he had come almost every day to the mansion.
Progress was...well, definitely slow. Alfred couldn't turn into a superstar over night.
But Arthur was extremely, unbelievably patient, even when Alfred was getting sick of himself.
"Shoot, sorry!" Alfred exclaimed, stepping on Arthur's foot for the fourth time that lesson as a result of his reminiscing.
"Pay attention, you twat!" Arthur scolded, wincing as he groaned. "You cannot step forward twice."
"I know...sorry...and we were doing so well, too!"
Arthur sighed, shaking his head.
"From the top."
They moved back to the center of the room.
Over the past week, he'd gotten used to the feeling of Arthur's body.
Okay, not in that way.
But the way Arthur moved, how he carried himself, his perfect posture and his slim waist...
Alfred shook his head vigorously as Arthur stared at him.
He needed to stop getting distracted.
"Are you all right? Do you need a water break?"
"Nah, I'm good."
"Okay," Arthur said cautiously. "Then let's try putting everything together. I want you to take me around the room."
"Got it."
"But not me as in me," Arthur went on, and Alfred stared at him in confusion.
"Let me explain. Up until now, you've been dancing with me, correct? Hopefully you've understood some semblance of my style and character."
Alfred nodded, his thoughts drifting again before he pulled them back.
"Good. And you've been careful around my foot, choosing movements that allowed for the least strain. Again, I'm impressed with that."
"Aw, shucks."
"Shut it. But you're not going to be dancing with me forever. So, utilizing the information you've given me so far about your betrothed, I'm going to pretend to be her, and I want you to treat me like her."
Arthur tried to step away then, but Alfred didn't let go of his hand.
Arthur looked up at him, confused. Was Alfred imagining that small blush?
"Alfred?"
"Oh! Sorry."
He let go, and Arthur looked away briefly before clearing his throat.
"Okay," he said, looking up at Alfred with a newfound coolness in his eyes. "Begin."
"U-Uh...okay."
"Do not stutter," Arthur cut in immediately. "Be sure of your words. Think before you speak."
"Okay."
"Good. Let's start again." Arthur took another step back. "Begin."
"Natalia," Alfred said in his most gentlemanly voice possible. He saw Arthur's eyes widen for a split second, but he maintained his cool, ambivalent expression. "May I have this dance?" He noticed that his voice was lower than normal, even though it wasn't intentional.
He was two seconds away from cracking up, but he didn't, focusing on Arthur instead.
Gotta channel my inner Arthur.
Did he really just think that?
"You may," Arthur said curtly, turning up the volume on the CD player before he approached Alfred, holding out his hand.
Alfred took it in his own, noticing it was warmer than usual.
Alfred felt his heartbeat speed up slightly as he drew Arthur closer to him, and he put his arm on Arthur's waist as Arthur put his hand on Alfred's shoulder. He tried to be as gentle as possible - he noticed sometimes that in past lessons he held Arthur's hand like a lifeboat - and he looked down at Arthur, a small smile on his face.
Arthur usually gave him a look that prompted him to start, and sometimes a small smile if he was lucky, but this time he just gazed up at Alfred with a slightly bored expression. It was also slightly hostile.
Exactly what Natalia would look like.
He felt a bit intimidated, but slowly took his first step forward.
Compared to how they normally danced, Arthur was a bit slow to respond, almost as if he were surprised by Alfred's step. They quickly dropped into a rhythm, albeit being somewhat jerky.
Because Alfred was alone. All the support, the help from Arthur was gone. Alfred was alone, trying to please Natalia.
What would she like?
Alfred figured she might like something fast, so he tried to speed up and vary his movements more with the music, and he found that Arthur began to synchronize more with him as he increased the difficulty of his moves.
He made the correct decision.
But it felt wrong.
He wanted Arthur. He didn't like trying to impress a girl he never liked.
He wanted to dance with Arthur.
Okay, wait. What was he even thinking?
Arthur was just some British dude who happened to have a connection with his father, of all people. Well, to be more accurate, Arthur's father had a connection with his father.
There wasn't anything more, was there? Well, they had gotten to know each other fairly well, but...
His lapse of concentration resulted in a stumble and a quick save as the two detached, Alfred breathing hard.
"S-Sorry, I..."
"You're learning," Arthur commented, a small smile on his face.
"Arthur, I..." Alfred stopped. Would he think it was weird for him to say that?
"Yes?"
"Can we take a break?"
"Of course."
Arthur walked towards the door, and Alfred followed him, a brooding frown on his face.
Alfred slowly drank his coffee, saying nothing as Arthur read through a magazine casually.
Arthur looked up at him, slightly concerned.
"Alfred..."
"Mm-hmm?"
"You're usually done with your coffee in 0.2 seconds. Is something the matter?"
"No, I'm fine. Just been doin' some thinking."
"About Natalia?"
Damn, Arthur was perceptive.
"Yeah," Alfred admitted. "I just...I dunno...I really don't think we're a good pair."
"And why is that?"
He noticed Arthur's eyes were curious, but there was something else in them that Alfred didn't understand.
Pain? That probably wasn't it.
"I just...like, she's a bit much for me, you know?"
Arthur snorted.
"Seriously! She's way too pushy and bipolar and I really don't..."
"You barely know the girl."
"Yeah, but I know enough. You said yourself, before, that she sounded crazy!"
"I never said that," Arthur defended, frowning slightly. "I merely said she could be too much to handle. But of course, I've never met her, so I don't really know."
"Okay, why are you defending her?"
Arthur put his magazine aside, holding Alfred's gaze.
"I'm not supporting her. Alfred, I'd be unbelievably grateful if your parents would drop this arranged marriage idea permanently. But you yourself told me there was nothing you could do about it, and you don't see any path of action you could take."
"I-I did say that...so help me come up with something?"
Arthur stared at him, blinking.
"Pardon?"
"Help me get out of this! I'm all out of ideas, and you're the only one who can help me!"
"..."
Arthur looked down, his eyes focused on the floor as he frowned.
A couple of weeks ago, Alfred would never have thought that he'd get along with Arthur, that they'd even be friends, or at least friendly enough to ask for advice.
"I-I can't come up with anything practical," he said after a while, averting his gaze. "Especially because of Ivan."
Ivan. That name always made Alfred's blood boil.
To be fair, he only met him twice.
But twice was way more than enough.
Alfred groaned, holding his head in his hands.
"I just don't know what to do..."
He heard a shuffling noise, and then silence. He looked up to find Arthur standing in front of him.
"I said nothing practical."
Alfred stared at him.
"I have a...er...friend, if you will. Who happens to be very into...women. And he..."
Alfred laughed. "Dude, who isn't into women?"
Arthur gave him a peculiar look.
"A-Anyway," he continued after a while, and Alfred frowned slightly. "Do you see where I'm heading with this? It would be completely awful for Natalia, but if she's truly in love with her brother and hates you anyway, I doubt it would be an issue. If your side of the marriage is set in stone, perhaps she could convince her father to break it off if she falls for him."
Alfred's eyes widened.
"Dude. You're a genius."
"As I said, it isn't practical. If she has a brother complex it's unlikely Francis can seduce her, but..."
"Francis, huh? Where is he?"
"In the area, actually," Arthur said, and frowned immediately. "I really didn't want to meet up with him, but it seems I have no choice..."
"In a fight?" Alfred asked curiously.
"O-Of a sort," Arthur said, coughing into his hand. "A-A bad...err..." He began to blush slightly, and Alfred tilted his head in confusion.
"Yeah?"
"Fight, a bad fight," Arthur said hurriedly. "Never mind that. He was telling me about how he wanted to meet someone new, anyway. It works out perfectly for him. And if this plan does succeed, well then...you won't be needing these lessons after all," he said, with a small smile to Alfred.
But Alfred only saw sorrow in Arthur's eyes, as much as Arthur tried to hide it.
"Hey, I'm still gonna come over here! We're friends now, and I like dancing with you!"
He said it.
Arthur's eyes widened slightly in shock as his face grew even redder, and he immediately furrowed his eyebrows, turning away.
"You're just saying that."
"No, I'm not! That's why it felt weird earlier. Because I like dancing with you, not her!"
"You've only danced with me, you fool. It's the only style you're used to. You'll change your mind soon enough."
Alfred frowned, standing up.
"Hey, you don't know that!"
"I do."
"No, you don't!"
"Alfred," Arthur said, looking up at him. "It's all right. You can still come here, whenever you'd like."
"Really? Sweet! Wait, don't distract me! I mean what I said!"
"If you still believe that when all this is over, then I will believe you," Arthur said with finality. "Deal?"
"Fine," Alfred sighed.
He didn't understand why Arthur was so bent on thinking negatively of himself. He had noticed in his lessons, too - occasionally a self-deprecating comment or two would slip out. Why did he talk of himself that way when all Alfred ever heard of Arthur was how perfect he was?
Arthur smiled slightly at him before his eyes fell to the table.
"You know, that plan was uncannily clever for a perfect gentleman like you," Alfred teased.
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, I would say the same."
"So, uh...you said your father taught you everything?"
"I believe I did."
"So...so who were you before that?"
He had been wondering for a while. Because underneath everything, all of the shallow labels and stereotypes, he felt that there was a lot more to Arthur that he couldn't understand. That Arthur hid from him.
"A teenager," Arthur responded with a slight smirk. "A stupid, stupid teenager."
"What did you do?"
"What did you do when you were a teen, Alfred?"
"Uh, well I was one until last year...uh. I dunno, a lot of really awesome things and not so awesome things."
"Exactly."
Alfred decided Arthur didn't want him to press further.
And he was okay with that.
For now, at least.
"So Francis is coming here?"
"Yes, I asked him to meet me here."
"Great!"
They stood by the door, and Alfred practically jumped when he heard a knock.
Arthur walked over slowly and opened the door.
"Arthur, mon ami et la douleur!" Francis exclaimed histrionically, and Arthur seemed to regret his decision.
He sighed heavily.
"Hello, Francis."
"You sound as dreadful and depressing as always. And, ah, who is this?" Francis asked as he moved a bit to look at Alfred.
"Alfred Jones. Your client."
"Client? I'm not a gigolo, you know. No payment is expected if I fall for the lovely lady," Francis smiled.
Alfred had a look of shock on his face.
Francis was...a lot to take in.
"Come in," Arthur said, moving so that Francis had space to walk in.
"Lovely place," Francis noted. "It has a certain...modern flair, don't you think?"
"Yeah. Uh, I'm Alfred," Alfred decided to introduce himself quickly.
"I've gathered," Francis said, a small smile on his face. "American?"
"Yep."
"I'm surprised Arthur let you into his house. So? How did you two meet? Tell me everything about your histoire d'amour!"
"Francis!" Arthur hissed, blushing slightly. "It's not like that!"
Alfred didn't understand the French words he had said, but he knew it had something to do with love. He also didn't understand why Francis insisted on talking in French when he was pretty sure this was America and he knew that he and Arthur didn't know French.
Well, Arthur probably did. But Alfred didn't.
"Oh, is it not?" Francis looked baffled. "Then why are you helping him escape his arranged marriage?"
"Because the poor man doesn't want to get married!"
"So what is in there for you?" Francis questioned.
"I...I won't have to see his life fall to shambles," Arthur said honestly, frowning. "Honestly, not everything has to be for profit."
"Very well, very well. You're touchy on the subject, aren't you? Well, Alfred. Tell me about this Natalia."
"She's, uh...well, she's pretty. Elegant. Uh...she's very passionate. And kinda...weird. And scary."
Francis looked taken aback.
"How can any beautiful lady be scary?"
"Uh...she's...I mean, sometimes she acts like she's okay with me, but sometimes she goes totally berserk and clings to her brother."
"Perhaps she doesn't trust you, then? Maybe she's clinging to her brother for support, because she doesn't think you'll give her that?" Francis offered, frowning slightly.
"Hey! I can totally give her support -"
"Yes, support in the form of another man? She knows you don't love her, Alfred. That's probably why she prefers her brother over you. Because her brother will unconditionally love her, while you..."
Well, he hadn't thought about it that way.
But he didn't want to show that he loved her because he didn't!
"But I don't love her," Alfred admitted. "See the issue?"
"Yes, I do," Francis sighed. "Very well. Francis will see what he can do," he said, turning and winking at Arthur.
Arthur glared at him.
"Just...just, if she isn't interested, don't pursue it, Francis."
Francis chuckled.
"We'll see."
It had been a week since Francis had promised to meet Natalia.
Alfred and Arthur were sitting together in the living room, as per usual.
"So what if this plan doesn't work? Then what?"
"Then you pretend to love someone else," Arthur sighed, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. "Unless you want to break from the scheme entirely."
"I mean, I dunno how my parents would react to that. Besides, there's not really a girl that I'm close to enough to ask her to pretend to be in love with me."
Arthur sighed heavily.
"Honestly, you've gotten yourself into quite the mess."
"Hey, you're in it, too!"
"I am not. I can back out anytime I want. This doesn't have anything to do with me, after all," Arthur said, slightly smug.
"You promised to help me!" Alfred gasped. "When the going gets tough, you just leave?"
"Idiot. I did...say I'd help you. But not for you. It'd be a pain for me to have to see you suffer through that," Arthur said, averting his eyes. "Do you understand?"
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," Alfred said, grinning.
He wished Arthur could be honest.
But he was cute like he was.
...what?
Wait...
He turned to Arthur, his eyes wide as an idea formed in his mind, and Arthur faced him, puzzled.
"Arthur...you..."
Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, so suddenly and so instantly defensive that Alfred burst out laughing.
"Never mind."
"Never mind what?"
Nah, it was a crazy idea. And there was no way Arthur would agree to it.
If anyone was straight, it was Arthur Kirkland. He was too perfect not to be. And he definitely wouldn't want to pretend; it would ruin his image.
His image that he was so concerned about for some bizarre reason.
"Forget about it," Alfred grinned, winking, and Arthur instantly fell silent, looking down again.
"Are you ready to begin again?" Arthur asked after a while, standing up and stretching.
"Oh, uh, yeah, sure -"
The phone went off then, alarmingly loud, and the two exchanged glances before Arthur hurried over to pick it up.
"Hello?" Arthur began, a bit hesitantly, and he instantly winced. A deep frown cast a shadow over his face as he paused for a couple of seconds to hear whoever was on the other end. Alfred frowned, walking a bit closer.
"No, I...yes...fine, really...no, no I didn't...no, not yet...no, I...the lessons? I'm sure I've told you..."
Alfred frowned. It couldn't be Francis, and besides, that reaction was too extreme for Arthur to have if it were really Francis.
"American...yes, your friend...yes, I -"
Suddenly Arthur broke off, a shocked look on his face and clear hurt in his eyes. Alfred always thought Arthur a rather guarded person, and his heartbeat sped up at seeing Arthur look so clearly pained. He frowned as he moved a bit closer, and Arthur instantly looked up to Alfred with wide eyes before biting his lip and looking down again.
"I understand. Yes. I apologize."
More silence. Arthur's lip quivered slightly, before his whole body went rigid and his expression blank.
Alfred felt anger flare at whoever was causing Arthur to become like this, but he knew he had to wait.
"Busy...I apologize, yes, I know...yes, I've told...yes...bloody hell!" Arthur burst out suddenly, his face suddenly livid with rage. "Why in the world would you even begin to think something like that, you complete -" Arthur clamped his mouth shut, reddening slightly as his eyes widened. Whether it was in shock, regret, or fear, Alfred didn't know.
"...Yes. Yes, I accept...all responsibility. Yes. Yes, I understand."
More silence. Alfred inched closer to Arthur, worried.
"Goodbye -" Arthur's eyes met Alfred's then, and he quickly turned around and mutter something inaudible into the phone. He put it down softly.
"I apologize," Arthur said tiredly, his back still to Alfred's. "For the intrusion in your lesson time."
"Who was that?"
Arthur turned around, his eyes dark. "Shall we continue the lesson?"
"A-Arthur, I..."
"Or would you like to go home for today? I'm fine with either, we've made decent progress - for you, at least - today."
"Hey!" Alfred pouted as a smirk grew on Arthur's face. "What does that mean?"
"Do you want to continue or not?" Arthur asked flatly, his eyes slightly narrowed.
Alfred knew better than to question him further, and nodded several times.
But wanted to find out who Arthur was talking to. Who had made him...who had made him look like that.
He just had to.