Author's Note: Epilogues always take forever for me to write. I think it's my subconscious not wanting everything to end so soon. But I've had fun with this story, and you guys are so awesome! Thank you for your support throughout this fic's run. It went by super fast, didn't it?

Until my next project, my dears, which hopefully won't be as sad as all my others! No promises.

Arthur was beyond exhausted when he finally pulled up in his driveway after three weeks of absence.

He could deal with family reunions. Contrary to what Alfred believed, Arthur held a deep respect and admiration for the majority of his relatives, but he didn't appreciate having to put his life on hold to travel back to Lancaster with his parents and brothers.

Not to mention that hiding the fact that he was married was an adventure and a half. His younger cousins were just too observant, took the lack of a watch and his ring and put two and two together before blurting their findings to the rest of the family. Then came the questions as to who Arthur's soul mate was, when they'd gotten married and why none of the family was invited, and – perhaps most importantly – why Arthur hadn't brought them along.

Pushing past a cloud of fatigue, Arthur killed the engine and pulled his keys out of the ignition. He knew he had a multitude of bags in the back of the car, but he opted to ignore them for as long as he could, wanted to get inside as soon as possible.

The house was cool when he stepped inside, a pleasant contrast to the humid summer air, and Arthur heard the jingling of tags before he even managed to shut the front door.

"There's my girl." Arthur said as Tori came bounding down the stairs, and he stooped over to pick her up once she reached the bottom step. She started to purr, rubbing her head into his chest, and Arthur smiled, nearly sagging with the relief of being home at long last.

He started up the steps. It was oddly silent in the house, which didn't make sense since Alfred was normally home by four thirty on the weekdays. At nearly six, the sun hadn't begun to set properly, so Arthur wouldn't have been surprised if Alfred stayed at the high school to grade papers or tutor one of his students. He probably thought he had time to kill since Arthur hadn't been expected to return home for another week.

There was only so much time that could be spent in the company of Arthur's parents. Frankly, he'd been ready to fly home after the first day.

Either way, it wouldn't hurt to check if Alfred was there or not. If he wasn't, then Arthur would have some time to think up an elaborate way to surprise his husband with his early arrival, though getting the drop on Alfred wasn't easy and never had been.

Arthur checked the study first, which was where Alfred did most of his grading. Open laptop, briefcase, and multiple stacks of papers, essays or otherwise, but no Alfred. If he wasn't downstairs, then there was only one place left to check on the second floor.

The door to their bedroom was open when Arthur walked down the hall, and he peeked inside, bending over to set Tori gently on the floor. She slunk into the room ahead of him, disappearing underneath the bed while Arthur crept forward carefully, being careful not to disturb the old floorboards.

Alfred appeared to be asleep, curled up on what was usually Arthur's side of the bed, his breathing long and even. As Arthur crept closer, what had at first looked like a small pillow laying in the curve of Alfred's back morphed into Clint, their Maine Coon kitten that Alfred had named after some character from a Marvel film that came out years ago.

Arthur kicked his shoes off and climbed onto the bed, ultimately waking Clint, who lifted his head and meowed slightly. Arthur reached out to stroke the black fur of the kitten's ruff briefly before leaning over Alfred's sleeping form.

The man supposed that his absence was the longest they'd been apart since they met. Gazing down at Alfred, drinking in every feature, as was Arthur's privilege, it didn't matter that he was thirty, or that he and Alfred had been together for seven years, married for two of those.

It didn't matter, because despite their ease with one another, Arthur's stomach still twisted with adolescent nervousness when he looked at his soul mate. He doubted that would ever change, no matter how much time went by.

"Alfred." He reached out, placing a hand on Alfred's shoulder and shaking it gently.

Being the deep sleeper that he was, it usually took more to rouse Alfred, but after only a few seconds, his eyes fluttered open. Arthur observed as Alfred's features – half of them, anyway – furrowed in irritation. He'd never appreciated being dragged out of his sleep, but Arthur didn't know if he'd have been able to wait however many hours it took for Alfred to wake up.

A slight groan sounded before a single blue eye was peering up at Arthur, the other squeezed shut in an attempt to grasp at sleep for just a moment longer. The older man smiled, and while it took a moment, Alfred's slightly murderous expression softened.

"Hey." Arthur said softly, taking in Alfred's bedhead, the drool on his pillow and the corner of his mouth.

"Hi." Alfred murmured, still slightly disoriented as he lifted a hand to wipe the spit from his face. "Sorry I'm not more appealing. I thought you were coming back next week."

Arthur didn't know why Alfred was apologizing. Whatever the man beneath him believed, Arthur had come to adore his disheveled appearance in the morning. It was evening now, technically, but the effect was still the same.

"My family drives me up the wall." Arthur said as Alfred reached back to wedge a hand between his back and Clint's body. Gently, he nudged the cat away and rolled onto his back, pulling his right arm out from underneath his pillow to raise it above his head in a stretch, pressing the palm flat against the headboard. Arthur took the adjustment and swung one leg over Alfred's body, waiting for Alfred to settle before sitting back on his hips. Alfred grinned lazily in response. "Peter and I decided to leave early."

"Yeah? Shoulda left after the first day, if you ask me. Did Mummy ask about me?"

"Of course." Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "Wanted to know if you'd packed up and stolen away in the night like she always said you would."

"I was tempted." Alfred's expression was completely serious, but then he yawned and started to giggle, his façade shattered. "What more does that woman need to be satisfied? I asked you to marry me, didn't I?"

"That you did." Arthur said, amused, because he knew that his mother's approval wasn't something Alfred gave a rat's arse about.

The two of them had never gotten along, especially when Alfred was seventeen and at the peak of his "No Fucks Given" faze that hadn't faded almost entirely until he was nineteen. Alfred had never said so outright, but Arthur could only assume that his soul mate hated his mum because of the things she'd told Arthur about almost having him aborted.

It was the main reason Alfred hadn't accompanied him to Lancaster, never mind that Alfred wasn't able to take that much vacation time with the school year coming to a close. Putting Alfred Jones-Kirkland and Lucie Kirkland in the same room together was quite literally begging for chaos to ensue, though in that situation, Arthur would be more worried about his mother than Alfred.

Arthur didn't see much of the emotionally scarred teenager he'd agonized over all those years ago, but Alfred had no qualms with dragging that boy to the surface on occasion, especially when it came to putting Arthur's mum in her place.

If he were honest, Arthur would admit that he'd shared a few of his mother's worries in the beginning, though he never considered giving up as she used to so often suggest. In the beginning stages of their relationship, Alfred was just too unpredictable. He accepted their affections for one another and had no problem acting on them, but having never had a stable, emotional relationship before Arthur, Alfred scrambled for purchase in a world where he couldn't hide behind sarcasm and aggression as he'd done in the past.

There was an adjustment period – Arthur had known there would be even before Alfred showed up at his house that day – and once they were clear of that, everything seemed to fall into place. Of course, Arthur still had his worries where Alfred was concerned. He tended to act out when he was cornered, rather violently at that, and Arthur had been uncharacteristically passive from the moment of their first meeting until he and Alfred confessed their feelings.

It had taken a great deal of self-control to not strangle Alfred in the beginning. He'd been hell bent on making their interactions as difficult as possible, and even if Arthur had decided by then that he was going to make his best effort to attain Alfred's trust and affections, it was exceedingly difficult.

He'd grown up in a house of brutes ruled by two people who were as forgiving as a pit of tar. Arthur had never taken kindly to being pushed around, and while it wasn't enjoyable with Alfred, it somehow felt different. There was always a reason behind the madness, especially where Alfred was concerned.

Arthur had known from the start that something was wrong, so he'd opted to stand back as much as he could and let Alfred work things out on his own. Arthur probably would have made a different decision if he'd known that Alfred would take his bloody time, though it all worked out in the end.

But again, he'd had his doubts. Alfred himself had described his previous lifestyle as a day-by-day, promiscuous, whirlwind of suppressed feeling type of affair. He'd promised Arthur the random shags with various men would stop, and although Arthur had never doubted Alfred's conviction or loyalty, he'd never been certain of his soul mate's happiness, if Alfred had any lingering feelings of bitterness for ultimately falling into what he used to call humanity's greatest flaw.

That all changed, however, when Arthur was twenty-eight, Alfred just twenty-two. He'd been filing taxes at the kitchen table, completely submerged in his task, but he was all too aware of what was happening when Alfred sauntered into the room and placed a red velvet box down in front of him.

"You're not getting any younger." Was all Alfred had said, and when Arthur relayed it to his coworkers and family, saw their confused or aghast expressions, he reveled in the knowledge that they didn't understand Alfred the way he did.

Any lingering insecurities Arthur had evaporated after that, and it was somehow satisfying when he told his parents that Alfred was now their son-in-law and that they needed to be civil.

The look on his mum's face. Alfred had actually taken a picture and made it his phone's wallpaper, not to be changed for another seven months.

"Anyway." Arthur said, rising up onto his knees and leaning over Alfred's body, bracing his hands just below the pillows Alfred was resting on. Alfred's eyes darkened, though it had nothing to do with Arthur's shadow cast over him. "Enough about that. What have you been up to while I was gone?"

"Grading the last batch of tests for the year. Lecturing on the wonders and oddities of Poe's writings." Alfred murmured, eyes fluttering shut as Arthur leaned down to place an open-mouthed kiss to Alfred's throat, tasting his skin, feeling his steady pulse. "The usual."

"I still can't believe you decided to be a teacher." Arthur said casually, lifting his hand to pull the collar of Alfred's shirt aside. He licked a trail from Alfred's collarbone to the start of his jaw, mostly so Alfred could feel his tongue piercing. He would probably never understand the depth of his husband's fixation with it – with any of his piercings or tattoos, really – but he was hardly complaining.

"Jesus fuck." Alfred said into the air, and Arthur laughed. "But please. I'm the only one who can keep those little fuckers in check. None of them are nearly as difficult as I was when I was in high school. They don't know who they're dealing with."

"I'm sure your former teachers love having you around now that you're putting your skills to good use."

Alfred hummed slightly, cracking an eye open when Arthur moved his administrations from Alfred's neck to his right arm, still stretched above Alfred's head. Arthur really couldn't help doting on his husband like this, no matter the occasion. "They still tease me, but at least they stopped being scared of me. Apparently being picked up from school by my soul mate damaged my fearsome reputation even before I graduated."

Arthur actually didn't see how something as mundane as that could injure an entire high school career's worth of a fierce attitude, but he did remember picking Alfred up from school on occasion and feeling the majority of the courtyard's occupants staring at them. Alfred always clambered into the car quickly, usually with a scowl on his face, and Arthur never questioned it.

With all the shit Alfred apparently pulled while he was attending that school, Arthur was surprised the administration even considered him for the position in the English department. It had probably all boiled down to the fact that Alfred was passionate about literature and writing and – even newly graduated – was exceedingly good at what he did. Plus, Alfred was the firm hand needed to keep more of the unruly students in line, a teacher Alfred himself would have benefited from if there had been such a teacher while he was in school.

Alfred hadn't doubted he would get the job at all. He was so self-confident as an adult that it was hard to believe it was an acquired attribute, not ascribed.

"I slept a whole bunch." Alfred sighed. "The cats kept me company."

"Why is it that they don't sleep in the bed when I'm around?"

"Um, maybe because you snore like a fucking bear."

"I do not!"

"Sorry, honey, but you do so." Alfred said, feigning sympathy. He only used that particular pet name when he wanted to be patronizing. "Pretty sure the universe made me a deep sleeper so I wouldn't be as bothered by it. Don't tell me that Catarina didn't complain."

Arthur rolled his eyes, though he didn't stop kissing his way up Alfred's arm. His interactions with his childhood friend had diminished over the years as they both took their lives in different directions. Cat had moved back to Portugal shortly after Arthur and Alfred were married, and they corresponded via email regularly. Arthur still thought of her fondly, but whatever affections he'd had for her growing up paled in comparison to how he felt about Alfred.

"It's not that bad." Arthur insisted stubbornly, acutely aware when Alfred slid his legs up to bend them at the knees, and he readjusted his lower half so Alfred could worm free of Arthur's imposing figure slightly, caging Arthur's hips with his legs. "Don't exaggerate."

"'Kay." Alfred said mirthfully, turning his head to kiss Arthur's cheek. "Anyway, I hung out with Elizabeta a few times at the bar, skyped with Kiku a bunch… oh, and I went out to dinner with Matt and Francis. You shoulda been there. We could've had a double date."

Alfred was joking. He had to be. Arthur frowned at the mention of Matthew's soul mate, Francis Bonnefoy, who hadn't been in their lives long but had still managed to get on Arthur's bad side. Matthew had taken an impromptu trip to Paris with a few of his friends from college just last year, and he brought more than cheap trinkets back with him.

Francis's English was atrociously poor – on purpose, Arthur suspected – and he refused to pick up on social cues. Arthur hadn't minded him all that much until the four of them went out for drinks at the bar where Elizabeta worked for Alfred's twenty-third birthday. At nearly midnight, Francis had been the most pissed of the bunch, and Arthur had found his drunken, French rambling amusing until the man mistook Alfred for Matthew and kissed Alfred far too deeply to be considered friendly.

Arthur had wanted to start a bar fight. It wouldn't have been the first time. Instead, he landed a solid punch to the Frenchman's nose and let the matter drop. Alfred may have been strangely immune to jealousy, but Arthur wasn't born with the same gift. Thankfully, Alfred had found the entire spectacle arousing – Arthur's furious defense of his claim to every part of Alfred's body, that is – and dragged Arthur from the establishment while Matthew nursed an injured and disoriented Francis.

Arthur had gotten a gratifying if not slightly uncomfortable round of car sex out of it, so he didn't regret a damn thing.

"I would have passed if I'd been here, as I shall for every invitation in the foreseeable future." Arthur said, pausing to stare at Alfred's wrist. The skin where his watch used to be had tanned and toughened up with time, but Arthur was still prone to nuzzling Alfred there. However, it still made his heart ache, looking at the jacked scar just below Alfred's palm, a souvenir from when Alfred had tried to cut the clock out of his skin when he was a freshman in high school.

He'd had to go to the hospital. They put him on suicide watch, though all Alfred wanted was for the watch to be removed, not to end his own life; but he'd lost a fair amount of blood. It always struck Arthur how close he'd come to losing Alfred if Matthew hadn't been home that day. Their future together had been precarious right from the start.

Arthur pressed his lips to the scar and closed his eyes, exhaling deeply against Alfred's skin.

Alfred's fingers flexed. "What's wrong?" He asked, voice hushed, so close to Arthur's right ear.

"Nothing." Arthur replied, entwining the fingers of his left hand with Alfred's right. Then he ducked down once more to take Alfred's lips in something that wasn't meant to arouse so much as comfort, probably himself more than Alfred.

The man beneath him took everything in stride, and Arthur felt his hand being squeezed before Alfred's free arm was twining itself about Arthur's neck, legs wrapped around his waist and locked together at the small of his back. Alfred took on all of Arthur's weight, sensing his urgency but not quite understanding it.

When Arthur pulled away, he said, "I love you."

"I love you, too." Alfred replied, though he was frowning. "Don't be weird. I'm still tired so I can't properly help you if you're sad."

Arthur smiled wolfishly, jutting his hips forward and enjoying Alfred's surprised moan, though he quickly cut himself off. "I'd say you're doing a wonderful job of helping me."

"Never leave my side again." Alfred breathed, letting his head fall back against the pillows. "That stupid dildo Elizabeta bought me when you were too scared to fuck me doesn't do the job anymore."

"I was not scared." He really hadn't been. Arthur had been attracted to Alfred emotionally and physically, yes, but after thinking of only women in that light all his life, Arthur was a little dubious when it came to physical intimacy between him and his soul mate. Alfred hadn't pushed anything, and when Arthur finally worked up the nerve to go through with it – after Alfred had turned eighteen – he was astounded he'd held out for so long.

"Sure you weren't. But it's okay. My sexual prowess is intimidating, even back then." Alfred was teasing him, and Arthur lay still as Alfred extracted his hand from Arthur's own only to wrap both arms around Arthur's neck, burying his face against the skin there. "Fuck your mom. Next time, I'm coming with you. I missed you, Artie. So much."

His voice was quiet and muffled, but Arthur heard every word as clearly as if they'd been shouted in his ear. "If there even is a next time." Arthur replied, breathing in Alfred's scent. "I missed you, too. It was so odd waking up without someone clinging to me or stealing the bedding in the night."

"That's what I'm here for. Clingy, warmth hogging, A plus husband Alfred F. Jones-Kirkland. Ugh, God, my mom was right. I should've just changed my last name completely or left it alone. It's even more of a mouthful with the Kirkland part."

"I told you that you didn't have to take my name, Alfred, or use a hyphen. Shouldn't I have taken yours, since you proposed to me?"

"That's terribly traditional of you." Alfred said disdainfully, and Arthur chuckled. "And I wouldn't call what I did proposing, exactly. It was like a promise crudely wrapped in an insult and tied off with nonchalance. You let me make love to you on the table afterward though, so that was nice."

"You were so nervous." Arthur recalled. Alfred's hands had shook horribly even after Arthur said yes, a lingering effect from his anxiety, and Arthur had clung to him, wanted to communicate with no misunderstanding that his answer would always be in the affirmative, no matter the question. Unless, of course, a negative response was required. "You deserved a reward for even going through with it, no matter how you phrased it."

Alfred nodded slightly against Arthur's shoulder, and his limbs tightened for a moment before he let go completely, falling back onto the bed. "Oh, yeah, Gilbert and I were gonna go drinking tonight. Wanna come? Or do you have jet lag?"

"I'll get over it." Arthur said, running his piercing over the roof of his mouth thoughtfully. "Who's the designated driver?"

Alfred shrugged. "Who bottomed last time?"

Arthur sighed, thinking back to the night before he'd left for Lancaster, Alfred's cries, his warmth… "You did."

With a sly grin, Alfred stretched his arms above his head, stretching languidly. "Ah, alcohol. My one true love. You know, I love our married couple system. The give and take is stupendous."

"You say that now, but wait until it's your turn to do the laundry or give Tori a bath."

"I'm feeling generous, though." Alfred continued as if Arthur hadn't spoken. "Since you obviously had a rough three weeks, I'll give up my turn to get stupidly drunk and cart your ass back here at the end of tonight. Sound good?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "What's in it for you?"

"Nothing! Can't I be nice?" Alfred inquired, perhaps a little too innocently.

"You can be anything you want so long as no bodily harm comes to me or anybody else."

Alfred pursed his lips, dialing up the pout to dangerous levels. "Mean. Why do I always have to have a motive, I mean goddamn."

"Because there usually is one." Arthur pointed out before climbing off of Alfred completely. "I'll be right back. I have to get my bags from the car."

"Do you want me to help?"

"No, you stay right there." Arthur said, already in the process of pulling on his shoes. Clint dove out from underneath the bed to bat at his laces, and Arthur gently shooed him away. "If you're to be driving home tonight, I don't want you falling asleep at the wheel. So, get some sleep."

"But – " Alfred encouraged, sensing that there was more.

Arthur smirked. "But first, I'm going to give you three weeks worth of shagging."

"I love it when you talk British to me." Alfred said, and the look he gave Arthur was so lewd and sultry that Arthur almost said fuck the luggage and descended on his husband right then and there. "Do hurry back. I refuse to get that dildo out of the trashcan."

"Oh, but the fun we could have, Alfred!"

"None of that fun is going up my ass unless it's physically attached to you. Now move it!"

As far as they'd come together, there were just some things that would never change; and Arthur was completely okay with that.

It was already dark when they reached the bar, and Arthur was attacked the moment he stepped foot inside.

"Arthur!" Gilbert was loud on principle, even more so when he'd been drinking. All eyes in the bar were on them at the man's obnoxiously pitched voice, warbled with alcohol, but all Arthur could do was smile as his best friend of nearly ten years dumped himself into Arthur's arms. "Oh, man, I haven't seen you since yesterday!"

"Been a bit longer than that, Beilschmidt." Elizabeta was behind the bar, washing a glass and watching the two of them with amusement. She had a new tattoo on her left arm, a simple rose and thorn pattern. It was definitely Gilbert's handiwork. "Welcome back, Shadow. Got Gil here nice and loose for ya."

"That's disgusting, woman." Gilbert said while Arthur rolled his eyes at the ridiculous nickname. Elizabeta had taken to calling him "Shadow" while she and Alfred were in college, for wherever Alfred was, Arthur wasn't far behind. "I'm definitely a top, aren't I, Arthur?"

"I don't think that's what she's talking about." Arthur replied, patting his friend's arm before pushing him away slightly, enough to look at his face. "But hello to you, too."

"How was the homeland?"

"Let's just say the trip was unnecessary."

"Bummer." Gilbert frowned slightly, grasping Arthur's face between two sweaty palms. His vermillion irises were unusually intense. "Who needs those limey bastards? You've got an awesome German, a feisty Hungarian, and an irate American right here at home."

"I'm not irate." A gust of wind hit Arthur from behind as Alfred walked into the bar, most likely having found a suitable parking spot. "I'm irritable. Do your research. And get your paws off my husband."

"Case in point." Gilbert announced, lifting a finger. "And since when are you married?"

"Since I put that bad boy on his finger." Alfred said blandly, and Arthur lifted his left hand in demonstration, amused by the entire spectacle. Alfred hadn't quite managed to determine when Gilbert was actually pissed off his arse or just playing it up a little for hilarity. The man's eyes were too clear, his speech not all that slurred. Arthur wasn't fooled. It was far too early in the evening for that level of drunkenness. "You were one of our witnesses, dumb ass."

"Oh, yeah. How come you guys didn't have a real wedding, again?"

Alfred brushed past them, and Arthur watched him go keenly. His soul mate was softer when they were alone together and was less than complacent in public, but something felt off about him. Arthur couldn't put his finger on it.

"Alfred didn't think it was worth the money." Arthur said, shrugging. "But he also dislikes being the center of attention. It was just easier."

Arthur left Gilbert then, following after Alfred, determined to find out what was bothering him, if anything. His blue-eyed soul mate was sitting on a stool at the bar, talking with Elizabeta. Even if they'd been talking in louder tones, Arthur doubted he would've been able to hear them. The establishment wasn't as crowded as it would be a few hours from now, but the music was playing at a decent volume over the speakers, and it appeared that there was a game going on. Gilbert had joined the crowd of onlookers, was booing at every bad call.

"I can't make that decision for you, Alfie." Arthur caught that much from Elizabeta, and his interest was peaked. "Why don't we ask Shadow here!"

"Ask me what?" Arthur inquired, sitting down in the stool beside Alfred's, whose shoulders were unnaturally stiff.

"Your boy here is thinking about getting a tattoo." Elizabeta confessed.

"You're afraid of needles." Arthur said slowly, throwing Alfred a curious look.

The younger man shrugged, though he looked more relaxed now. Interesting. "I'm sure it'd be fine. I've wanted one since I was a kid though. Can't be a bitch about it forever. I just don't know what design to go with. Something that doesn't correspond with yours, at least."

"What tattoos does Arthur have?"

"Well, there's the six-string above his hip bone, that weird incantation thingy in Dutch on his arm – "

"I was drunk, don't ask." Arthur cut in before Elizabeta could make some comment. "I believe it was supposed to be a charm for good luck."

" – and only I get to know where the last one is." Alfred finished, somewhat smugly, and Elizabeta's thin eyebrows rose with her shock.

Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That pretty much gives away where it's located, you idiot. And anyway, I have a fourth. I had it done while I was in Lancaster."

Alfred glanced at him, slightly surprised. "You didn't tell me that."

"I'll show it to you later." Arthur promised, mostly because he wasn't certain what Alfred's reaction would be and didn't want to find out in a public place.

"Penis tattoos must hurt." Elizabeta said sympathetically, and Arthur almost choked. "What possessed you?"

"Don't ask about his dick tattoo!" Alfred said indignantly, and one of the other baristas walking behind Elizabeta gave him an odd look. "That is between me and my mate."

"Don't say mate." Arthur chided, horribly embarrassed and thankful that the lightning above them was terrible. "It sounds so animalistic."

Alfred grinned up at Elizabeta, who smirked in return. "Isn't it, though?" He said, turning to look at Arthur. "Animalistic, I mean. The term is soul mates for a reason. It's basic. Raw."

Arthur frowned. "I don't – "

"Primal." Elizabeta added, setting a drink down in front of Arthur that he hadn't asked for. "It's instinct, dude. Doesn't get more animal than that."

"Oh, how would you know?" Arthur huffed. "You haven't even met your soul mate."

Elizabeta grinned, stretching her arm out over the counter top. Arthur glanced down and noted that she had a little less than six hours left on her watch. "Maybe not, Shadow, but I'm about to find out."

"Don't think about it." Alfred laughed, head propped up in his hand as he observed them. The warmth in his eyes was so genuine that Arthur had a hard time believing that he'd thought something was wrong with his husband; but Alfred's right leg was bouncing erratically against the bars on the bottom of the stool. He was nervous. "Just drink up, babe. Get stupidly blissed. I'll be here to keep you from getting yourself killed, I promise."

Arthur would've liked to argue, but the prospect of forgetting about the long weeks spent with his parents – if even for a few hours – was too good to pass up.

The last thing Arthur remembered with complete clarity was Gilbert throwing a fit that Arthur had been inked by someone else, someone who didn't know how to "properly handle Kirkland's baby skin." After that, the evening passed in flashes.

Everything was mostly sensory input, college students laughing, the burn of Arthur's drink slipping down his throat; and then there was the smell of rubber, the creak of one of the leather couches, a body planting itself firmly in Arthur's lap.

"You're lucky we aren't at home." Alfred looked positively predatory. Arthur wasn't sure what had transpired between them to make his husband like that, but somehow he wasn't surprised. It almost always happened, no matter whose turn it was to drive home at the end of the night. "If this was our couch, I'd plow you into it."

"How does that make me lucky, exactly?" Arthur asked, tipping his head back against the couch. Clarity, though still out of his reach, was slowly returning. How long had they been out? "Sounds like a missed opportunity."

"Lizzie said no more indecent exposure." Alfred grumbled, glancing over his shoulder quickly. "How am I supposed to resist when you're this fuckable? And I'm completely sober, so I can enjoy it thoroughly."

"So, I'm more fuckable when I'm pissed than not?"

Alfred smirked, bending over to place his mouth directly next to Arthur's ear. "I wouldn't say that." Arthur suppressed a shiver as two very warm hands, warm enough to be felt through the fabric of his shirt, slid up his chest. "You're just in a more… taking mood. Your reactions are less diffident, at least."

"That implies that I lack self-confidence."

"Oh, don't worry." Alfred said, pulling away and grinning wolfishly. One of his hands left Arthur's chest, and the older man mourned its loss for but a second before it brushed against a part of Arthur's body that was, quite frankly, getting ahead of itself. "You have plenty of self-confidence."

Arthur exhaled shakily, squirming a bit as Alfred pressed the back of his hand more firmly against the growing bulge in Arthur's trousers. "Don't."

"How come?" Alfred asked, tilting his head, though his hand vanished. "No one can tell what I'm doing. I mean, I'm sure they can guess, but they can't see."

"Better to stop while we're behind."

Alfred snorted. "I don't think that's how the saying goes, honey." He then sighed. "But okay. I'll wait until we get home. Scout's honor."

"You were never a scout."

"Well, if you wanna get technical about it, no." Alfred readjusted himself on Arthur's lap, scooting the slightest bit closer, his knees now touching the couch cushions on either side of Arthur. "Hey, I have an idea. How 'bout you show me your new tat? Maybe I'll get some inspiration for mine."

"I thought you didn't want to match?" Arthur drawled, though he reached over to pull up the sleeve on his right arm.

Alfred rolled his eyes before glancing down at Arthur's arm, specifically his wrist. Arthur watched as the younger man's eyes narrowed in confusion, then widened in shock. "It's my soul mate watch." Arthur explained, as if Alfred couldn't see that for himself. "Or a sketch of it. I'll have to have Gilbert fill in the coloring later. But anyway. Instead of the numbers I was originally born with, I used – "

"One, two, two, seven." Alfred breathed, reaching out to take Arthur's hand. He had to twist in Arthur's lap to see the tattoo properly, which did absolutely nothing but direct Arthur's attention back to his own erection. "Oh, my God."

Arthur shook his head, giggling slightly at the absurdity. Why was Alfred so shocked? "They aren't individual numbers, Alfred. It's a time. Twelve twenty-seven. Don't you remember? That's when we met."

"Twelve twenty-seven… that day at your job? The time our watches went off?"

"Well, duh. It happened in the afternoon. I'll never forget it."

"Arthur, I – " Alfred hesitated, and his eyes were so very blue as he raised them to meet Arthur's. "You used to scribble these numbers on your clipboard during our sessions. Why?"

Arthur frowned. Seven years was a long time, and even if he wasn't completely coherent, he still knew exactly what Alfred was talking about. "You were the biggest prat I'd ever met. Dealing with you everyday used to drain the life out of me. I had to give myself courage somehow. I wrote the time we met on my papers so I could remember why I was putting up with you whenever you were being difficult."

Alfred choked out a laugh heavy with disbelief. "We've been together for seven years and I'm just now hearing about this because… ?"

"Well, you never asked."

"I totally forgot." Alfred murmured, swiping his thumb over the tattoo. "Why did you get this?"

That particular reasoning was a little difficult to drag to the surface. "You have a scar on your wrist because of your watch. I think I wanted a mark of my own, one that wasn't so bloody depressing."

Alfred's eyebrows furrowed, and he sat back on Arthur's thighs, turning Arthur's arm so his palm was anterior. It took Arthur a few moments, but when he noticed that Alfred's eyes were starting to shine dangerously, he suddenly remembered why he'd wanted to show his husband his new tattoo in the safety of their home.

"Shit." Arthur said smartly.

"No, I just – " Alfred shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry if I make you choose between your family and me. I don't mean to."

Arthur wasn't sure why that was relevant. He remembered that Alfred was acting a little odd when they arrived, how he'd talked to Elizabeta with an urgency and sadness that didn't belong in a discussion about tattoos. Maybe this was what had been worrying Alfred so much.

"Don't be stupid." Arthur said tonelessly. "I'd always choose you. You, at least, don't want me gone."

"Never!" Alfred exclaimed, though his wince was immediate. "Well, not anymore. I just hate that Peter's the only one who comes around. And then I wouldn't go to Lancaster with you even though I know you hate spending time with your parents and your older brothers by yourself. You go the extra mile for me, and I can't even meet you halfway."

"I go the extra mile because it's who I am. I don't care for many people, so I have a lot of energy to spare for those who I do hold affection for." Arthur was starting to get a headache. Sobriety was a bloody nuisance, and it didn't normally come about this quickly. He must not have drunk enough. "And you and my mother can't make eye-contact without fighting. Why would I have asked you to come?"

"Because I'm your husband and I should've been there to support you!"

Arthur shushed Alfred gently, taking his arm back and placing both of his hands on the younger man's hips. "You're getting worked up over nothing. I don't blame you, if that's what you think. I'd rather you were safe and happy in our bed with the cats than across the ocean with me and my toxic relatives."

"I want to be with you all the time though." Alfred grumbled, his cheeks turning a lovely shade of crimson. "It's stupid."

"Believe me, it's not."

Alfred groaned, leaning over to rest his forehead against Arthur's. "You're so good. What did I do to deserve a soul mate like you?"

"In a past life, you were most likely the world's greatest hero. Saved a lot of puppies and helped old women cross the street."

Alfred's eyes were closed, a small smile on his face, and Arthur couldn't resist kissing the tip of his nose briefly. "Hm. I love you."

"You're my primal instinct." Arthur replied, and when Alfred's eyes opened, it felt like that first afternoon all over again, seeing one another for the first time and knowing exactly who they were, even before the watches told them.

Everything suddenly grew quiet, and Arthur became aware of beeps sounding milliseconds before Alfred jerked away from him and twisted, glancing toward the other side of the room.

Elizabeta was at her post as she'd been all night, and her eyes were wide as she stared across the counter at the person in front of her. Arthur couldn't see the man's face, but he determined the man was brunet and dressed entirely too properly for the drinking scene, slacks and sweater vest and all.

The two of them stared at one another for a few more moments before Elizabeta broke the silence. "You're gorgeous!" She squealed before hefting herself up onto the counter and crawling over it as gracefully as she could, depositing herself into her soul mate's arms, who caught her as well as he could.

The room erupted in applause, and Arthur couldn't help but smile as he watched them, remembering his own experience when meeting his soul mate for the first time.

He glanced up at Alfred on reflex only to find that his husband was watching the pair, a large smile on his face. At one point, Alfred would have been disgusted, scornful, but Arthur could feel his joy and relief, for his friend had found her soul mate at long last.

It was a shame that Kiku couldn't have been present. As far as Arthur knew, the man was still living in Japan, pursuing a career in animation and game design. His absence was lasting longer than any of them had anticipated, but Arthur could tell he wasn't far from Alfred's or Elizabeta's thoughts.

"We choose the strangest ways to greet our soul mates." Alfred mused, turning to give Arthur a glance filled with mirth. "But I think I win." He then returned to watching Elizabeta, who was now safely on the ground. "Hey, you! Fuck with my friend, and I'll fuck with your face!"

"Alfred Foster Jones-Kirkland!" Elizabeta cried, expression aghast. Her soul mate glanced in Alfred and Arthur's direction, violet eyes behind smart glasses wide with shock. "Don't be so mean! We just met, for God's sake!"

"I'm not being mean, I'm being upfront. He doesn't get to meet your dad, but he sure as hell gets to meet me! And Kiku, whenever he comes home."

Arthur watched the entire exchange with the calm attitude of someone who had been through this multiple times before. That poor man had no idea what he was in for, the patchwork family he'd been suddenly thrust into.

When his alarmed eyes met Arthur's, Arthur shrugged his shoulders and offered the man his most sympathetic smile. There was no guidebook when it came to soul mates. He knew that firsthand. He remembered how it felt to be in that position, blown away and shell-shocked. Arthur hadn't known what to do, which path to take, and at that point in his life, Alfred had been more than Arthur was prepared to handle.

It would be exhausting and frustrating, maybe even hopeless at times, especially if soul mates were polar opposites at first glance, as Elizabeta and her soul mate seemed to be; but Arthur also knew from experience that it got so much better. Their relationship would be effortless, if they just put in the work.

That was perhaps one of the greatest things Alfred had taught Arthur, aside from the fact that it was virtually impossible to walk away from true love, of course.