The Forgotten One
This cough was hell.
Actually, having Francis in his house was hell and the cough just did not make him feel any better about it. Arthur just wanted to push past it and get on to his usual schedule. He should have been making breakfast. The floors needed mopping and he had been ready to reorganize the linen closet again because everything in this house always seemed to get completely messy. Arthur blamed Alfred. Alfred blamed Arthur. Still, Arthur should have been doing these things.
Not be stuck in bed and fed by Alfred. No, no, no. Arthur did not want to be tended to, he did not like people thinking he could not take care of himself, especially not the boy he had raised from an infant. No.
"I thought I told you to stay in bed!" Alfred exclaimed as Arthur settled himself into his chair at the kitchen table. Maddox looked up from his plate and Arthur was not certain if he really saw the boy raise an eyebrow.
"You–" Arthur was immediately interrupted by a cough. Oh well, all he was going to mention was the fact that every time he told Alfred to stay in bed a lot of the time it was ignored. Now, when he was little, it did not seem to make much of a difference how old he was, he just wanted to be up and doing things.
He was also interrupted by the doorbell. Arthur quickly tried to recover himself but Alfred put a plate down in front of him.
"Who could that be?" Arthur asked as Maddox rose to his feet and went over to answer the door. Alfred swallowed whatever it was he had just taken a bite out of.
"Probably Matthew. I figured no one else actually contacted him... It's his father that almost died, you know." Just like that, Arthur wanted to die. Oh, he should have thought of that! His head connected with the table in an instant. "Mom? Hey, mom! You okay?"
There was no restraining his cough, which hopefully told Alfred he was alive and so to drop the matter. Not that Alfred was likely to. Why would the boy not leave him alone? Not that he was really a 'boy' anymore. Arthur hated thinking about that.
"Good morning," Matthew said as he walked into the kitchen.
"Morning!" Alfred said cheerfully, standing back up from where he had sat down. "Hungry? I think Francis will be out in a minute, getting dressed."
"He feeling well enough for that, eh?" Matthew asked and Arthur was inclined to agree. Matthew was very obviously nervous and Arthur wanted to die again. Why had he not thought of telling Matthew? He had deserved to know about it yesterday, when it had happened! Arthur usually was good at doing that sort of thing when Alfred got busy...
"Yeah. He was feeling well enough for it yesterday, I just kept him here to make sure he would be okay, but after regaining his breath and all he was just a little weak, that's all."
Matthew relaxed. So did Arthur. For the reason that the sooner Francis felt better the sooner he would be out of his house! And it meant he did not have to feel guilty about earlier... What was wrong with him now? Maybe he really was sick, more than this cough.
"Is... is Arthur okay?"
"He–"
"I'm fine!" Arthur quickly established, smiling at Matthew. "Why don't you have something to eat, dear?"
The corner of his eye caught a slight pout on Alfred's face, but he ignored it. "I don't want to be any trouble..." Matthew said, waving his hands down slightly. Alfred shook his head.
"You are trouble whether you sit down or not," Maddox said and Arthur glared at him.
"Don't..." Arthur cut off a cough the best he could. "Don't listen to him, Matthew, it's all right."
Matthew looked uncertain, but sat down. Alfred got up almost at the same time to go back over to the stove. "Pancake?"
"Yes please!"
Arthur tried to understand the process of drowning hot cakes with syrup.
Notes:
Yes, the food that Maddox thought was strange was pancakes. The part he finds the most strange is the way Alfred piles them with stuff. Do not ask.
