A/N: As usual, a million and five thank yous to everyone still following and reviewing~

Alfred loves Arthur, but sometimes, he remembers that he loves other people, too.

Like Matthew, who's waiting there at their usual corner in the student union with a stack of his roommate's old Calc II notes for him to borrow, or Kiku, one of his best friends, also there with three enormous, delicately-wrapped rice balls set in front of the empty chair they've saved for him.

"I love you both," he announces, pulling them into an awkward group hug that involves the table as well, but doesn't last long thanks to Matthew's indecent pinching proficiency and Kiku's uncanny ability to wiggle away from any sort of physical contact.

(One day, he'll finally accept that Alfred's just a touchy sort of person, though it's only in time for a goodbye hug before he goes back to Japan two years later.)

While Alfred dumps his backpack in the floor and attacks the plastic wrap keeping him from his salmon-furikake-stuffed lunch, Matthew pulls out his laptop and asks conversationally, "So how was your test?'

"Ahfuh," Alfred says, then swallows. "Pretty sure I failed that one."

"Perhaps you should have attended the study group last night after all," Kiku cuts in quietly, glazing over his TH's and L's with a tone of polite condescension.

Matthew lets out a ha and shakes his head at his laptop screen. "Right. Like he'd put studying before a date."

"We didn't go out last night," Alfred grumbles and takes another huge bite of rice, but Kiku looks between the twins with a mildly confused expression.

"Are you in a relationship, Jones-kun?" he asks.

Before Alfred can swallow and reply, Matthew says, "Hmmm… good question. Let's find out," then quickly brings up Alfred's Facebook profile and spins the screen around so they can all see. "Oooh, still single. Why's that, Al?"

As much as he doesn't want to admit it, it is a good question. He's been seeing Arthur for a little more than three weeks, though they've only had four actual dates the whole time. They're both busy, and Arthur doesn't ever suggest meeting during the week, so Alfred's sort of assumed that it's off-limits. And as far as his 'relationship status' goes (damn you, Facebook, for making things difficult), he hasn't even thought about it. He belongs to Arthur completely as far as he's concerned…

"What's his last name?" Matthew asks, clicking on the search box, and Alfred suddenly wonders just how Arthur feels about the idea.

"He… he doesn't have one," he says, distracted by the thought. Does Arthur think they've got something going on, like, officially? Or does he think it's just been some casual fling—because, oh God, that's exactly what it looks like, now that he thinks about it… What if he's seeing other people aside from Alfred? What if he's out with someone else right now? Is that why he never wants to meet during the week?

"He doesn't have a last name?"

Alfred snatches the computer away from him, snapping, "No, stupid. A Facebook." Regardless, he types Arthur Kirkland in anyway and scrolls through all of the results, wondering if he'd missed it somehow. Arthur had told him that he didn't bother with social sites and all the drama that came with them (and, naturally, Alfred had looked for him anyway), but (just like the first time) he comes up with nothing.

Frustrated, he snaps the lid shut (ignoring Matthew's complaint of unnecessary roughness), and leans back in his chair… then stuffs half a rice ball in his mouth on second thought.

After a meaningful look between him and Kiku, Matthew pulls his laptop back in front of him and asks in a cautious voice, "So… Al. You've been 'dating' for how long?"

"Freh wehks," he answers around his mouthful.

"And are you actually 'together,' or what?"

Alfred shrugs.

"Would you like to be?"

Alfred nods vehemently.

"And what about him?"

Alfred shrugs again.

"Perhaps you should ask his opinion," Kiku suggests.

While that would be lovely, Alfred isn't quite sure how he'd go about it… He could always just send Arthur a will you be my boyfriend text, but that seems a little blunt—but wait!

Matthew and Kiku give him strange looks as he frantically pats himself down, looking for his phone, but then he finds it and whips it out with a flourish. He quickly types out a message and sends it before he can second-guess himself.

"Gimme that," he says, snatching the computer back and going back to Facebook. He logs Matthew out and logs himself in, then drums his fingers on the keyboard while he waits for a response.

"What did you send?" Kiku asks, and Matthew looks at him expectantly, too.

"I told him I was updating my Facebook profile if there was anything on there he thought I should change."

Both of them stare at him blankly (well, more blankly than usual in Kiku's case), but before he can defend his brilliance, his phone buzzes on the table.

Arthur
... I wouldn't begin to have
an idea. I haven't got one,
remember?

Alfred thinks on it for a moment, then texts back, Well there's interests and activities and music and stuff... relationship status... that sort of thing.

"What'd he say?" Matthew asks, but Alfred holds up a finger.

"Working on it. Shush."

Arthur
I see. Have your interests,
activities, musical tastes,
or relationship status
changed recently...?

"Ugh, take the hint!" Alfred mutters. How can he do this without making himself look like an idiot? Not really on the first 3 but I was kinda hoping you could help me out with the last one, he tries.

There's an uncomfortably long pause, so Matthew leans over the table to read the messages while they wait ("I knew he wouldn't get it," he comments, and Alfred gives him a glare). But just when Alfred starts thinking that this was a terrible idea and he's ruined everything and now Arthur's going to hate him but—but it's okay because Arthur will get to live this time and that would be worth the heartbreak—his phone starts playing "Green Eyes," and he practically jumps over the next table trying to get out of earshot of Matthew and Kiku before he answers it.

"H-hey," he says weakly, hoping Arthur will at least let him down easy.

"Hello. You know, all this beating around the bush will get you nowhere, Alfred."

"Um."

"Subtlety doesn't really work for you. Go on, now. Out with it."

Maybe he should have been blunt after all… Alfred drags a hand through his hair, trying to think of how to word what he wants go say, and then he catches sight of Matthew and Kiku watching him expectantly, so he turns around so that they can't read his lips.

"Well, here's the thing," he starts. "I… really really like you, and… well, I really really like what we've got going on here, so… I was kinda thinking we could, I dunno… make it sorta official? I mean, if you want to, of course. I don't know how you feel about the whole thing, and I guess I shoulda asked you that first, but I'm not, y'know, seeing anybody else or anything, and I thought that—if you wanted to—we could make it an exclusive, sort of boyfriendy thing?"

Silence follows for what feels like an eternity, and he's about to apologize for everything he's just said and the million things he hasn't, but then there's an odd noise on the other end of the line that gradually starts to sound like a muffled laugh and simultaneous throat-clearing.

Fantastic. Now Arthur's laughing at him.

He starts to backtrack, "O-or not… I mean—" but then Arthur cuts him off.

"No, no—wait," he says, and Alfred wisely decides to keep his mouth shut and let him continue (besides, he's not sure that he'd be able to form a coherent sentence if he tried). "I'm sorry, it's just… you're ridiculously adorable—not that you'll ever hear me tell you that again. But to answer your question… yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes. To making things official, exclusive… 'boyfriendy'… however you'd like to word it."

"Seriously?"

Arthur lets out an exasperated sort of laugh and says, "Oh, just update your Facebook already, idiot. Relationship status and all."

Alfred does an impromptu, wiggly dance move, then contains himself and says with a grin that threatens to stick to his face permanently, "Hey, I might be an idiot, but I'm your idiot now."

"And oh, Heaven help me," Arthur says. "But I'm actually at the end of my very short lunch break now, so I'll have to let you go. I'll text you later, yeah?"

The goodbyes are quick (and a little chirpy-sounding in Alfred's case), and once he gets back to the table, he happily checks the In a Relationship box on his Facebook and scarfs down what's left of his lunch. No one says anything for a while, Matthew content to shake his head at his brother and take his laptop back, and Alfred too blissed out to care about anything but the fact that Arthur is his boyfriend (holy—Arthur's his boyfriend now!), but then Kiku breaks the silence and jerks him out of his happy little daze.

"It is strange," he observes serenely, by now in the process of leveling up some Pokemon or another on his DS. "I was not aware of your sexual preference, Jones-kun."

Matthew snorts, but Alfred smiles at Kiku, says, "Yeah, sorry. Forgot to tell you," and then shoves his brother out of his chair.

Arthur has been his boyfriend for eleven days (officially speaking), and Alfred has decided to not stop counting until he gets to one million. (And, yes, he realizes that this will take nearly 2,740 years. That's the point.)

"Oooh, nice place," he comments, following Arthur through his front door and looking around. It's cozy, clean… Arthury… right down to the two solid walls of completely full bookshelves in the living room and the worn, Union Jack-printed throw pillow on the equally worn, but clearly loved, armchair.

"Not particularly, but I make do," Arthur says. "Why don't you have a seat, and I'll go find that CD. Can't have you downloading things illegally…"

Alfred does as he's told, taking the opportunity to get comfy on the couch and using his new vantage point to peek into Arthur's bedroom after him, but he doesn't see much of anything before Arthur closes the door halfway in order to open the closet door just behind it. He turns his attentions instead to what he can see of the kitchen (equally clean, with an electric kettle on the counter top and a rather flowery dishtowel draped over the oven door handle) along with the tiny dining space with one cut red rose in a vase on the small table… and he can't help but think how strange it would be if it were the same flower in the picture Miss Addie had given him. She'd never said when it was taken, after all…

"Here we are," Arthur says, startling him by suddenly appearing at the end of the sofa. "I'm sure you'll just copy it, but at least this way you won't be exposed to potential viruses and porn site adverts."

"Sounds like someone's been doing a little torrenting himself," Alfred says with a sly grin, and Arthur smacks him upside the head with the CD case and plops down on the cushion next to him.

"How else was I supposed to watch Sherlock without waiting an eternity? BBC America is awful," he grumbles. "Still haven't gotten rid of that Trojan, though…"

While he's talking, Arthur fidgets around like he's trying to get comfortable, and in the process, he manages to scoot across the dividing line between the seat cushions and right up against Alfred's side. When it becomes obvious that he's not going to move, but he's not going to acknowledge how close they are either, Alfred decides to take a little initiative and casually (at least, he hopes casually) drops an arm over Arthur's shoulders.

Arthur turns to look at him questioningly, raising an eyebrow in what almost looks like a challenge, so Alfred takes him on and ducks in for a quick kiss. But when he pulls back, Arthur's still got that is-that-the-best-you-can-do look on his face.

The answer is no, of course.

Alfred moves down and pulls him up by his collar simultaneously, trying to avoid jabbing Arthur's eye out with the corner of his glasses but still ensuring the kiss is firm enough to let the man know he means it and maybe even leave him a little breathless for a change. It doesn't seem to do the job properly, though, because instead of swooning, Arthur takes a little more initiative himself, tangling his fingers in Alfred's hair and forcibly angling his head to the side so that their mouths fit together more snugly. Alfred is a little stunned at first, but then he realizes that he's kissing Arthur, Arthur's kissing back, and he seems to be enjoying himself—and and and oh—

The quiet hum of surprise he lets out as Arthur's tongue slides slowly across his bottom lip seems to act like some sort of stimulus, because he can't even think about responding in kind before Arthur jerks away and shoves him backwards against the arm of the couch. He doesn't get a chance to catch his breath before it's stolen from him, Arthur all but crawling into his lap to kiss him again.

(Very carefully, Alfred manages to find his other hand around the back of Arthur's head, and he pinches himself, hard.)

(Yep, this is real.)

Arthur's elbow is digging into his ribcage, he tastes like curry from dinner, popcorn from the movie, and something else vaguely unpleasant that Alfred can't identify, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Alfred's subconscious is telling him that this is probably happening way too fast… but he doesn't give a shit right now. Not with that (slightly worryingly) talented tongue in his mouth, the hand working its way up his thigh, the hitch in both their breathing patterns when they work out whose legs are going where, and—

"Arthur! Oh, mon ami, I have horrible news!"

Arthur lands in the floor with a squawked curse that Alfred can't quite make out (but he thinks he heard the words bloody and frog in there somewhere), and the source of the interruption appears around the corner of the entryway just as the front door slams behind him.

"It's just horrible, I—"

Francis stops midsentence, taking in Alfred's messy hair, crooked glasses, spit-shiny lips, then Arthur's equally disheveled appearance as he pulls himself up by the edge of the coffee table and shouts, "DAMNIT FRANCIS, I'LL KILL—"

He doesn't get to finish the threat, however, because Francis staggers back into a bookshelf and cries, "Oh my sweet Mathieu! All this time you say you do not want a man and shatter my heart to tiny little pieces… and now you betray me with this rosbif?"

"Who the hell is Mathieu?" Arthur demands, turning back to Alfred for an answer, and the reality of the situation hits Alfred like a ton of bricks. The straight guy, the one that rejected him, the one that he's been chasing after for weeks…

"Oh God," is all he can say, horrified and disgusted and thinking that, if he didn't want to physically harm Francis before, that has changed.

"This beautiful man! He is, of course, my Ma—oh. You are not my Mathieu at all." Francis pauses, then takes a few steps forward, looking at Alfred intently, but then his eyes grow wide and he gasps, "Sacre—twins?"

The look on his face evolves from somewhere in the surprised range to somewhere more on the perverted end of the spectrum, and Alfred cringes and groans, "Oh God," again.

From the floor, Arthur chimes in with a little oh noise of his own, and he looks up at Alfred with reddening cheeks and says, "You never said Matthew was your twin…"

"Not you, too!"

"Sorry," Arthur mumbles, looking away but still rather pink. "It's just… Twins…"

"I would love to, how do you say… compare the two of you more closely," Francis cuts in, but Arthur kicks him in the back of the knee and scrambles back up onto the couch.

"Absolutely not. Now explain why you just barged into my apartment unannounced, and then kindly get the fuck out."

The change is instantaneous. Francis's face contorts into something miserable, his eyes well up with tears, and he collapses onto the sofa, planting himself directly between the two of them and then latching onto a very confused and potentially violent Alfred.

"It is your brother, mon cher," he sobs into Alfred's shoulder. "Once again I have bared my heart to him—"

"Likely more than just your heart, you pervert," Arthur comments.

"—and once again he has trampled on it as though it meant nothing."

"Pity he didn't trample your nether bits, too."

Alfred feels zero sympathy. "He's not gay, and he obviously doesn't like you. Get over it and leave him alone," he grumbles, prying the rather grabby hands off of him, but Francis only reattaches himself to Arthur instead, and Alfred immediately thinks that he could have dealt with Francis on him a little longer.

"This is all very sad and pathetic," Arthur sighs in exasperation, "but why aren't you bothering Antonio or Gilbert or someone who cares?"

"They did not answer their phones, and I do not have spare keys for their apartments." He holds up a key for emphasis, and Arthur snatches it out of his hand.

"And now you no longer have a key for mine either. Congratulations."

At that, Francis lets out what sounds like the most genuine whimper Alfred's heard yet and whines, "But I am in such pain! You are too cruel…" He buries his face in Arthur's chest, and to Alfred's intense shock, Arthur only sighs and pats him on the head.

"Fine, fine. You can keep the damned key," he mutters, then looks up at Alfred with an apologetic expression.

Alfred does not like where this is going.

"I'm sorry, Alfred. Perhaps we should call it a night. This is likely to take hours…"

And for the second time, Arthur has ditched him for a heartbroken Francis, who wouldn't even be clinging to his boyfriend if it weren't for his brother.

He really needs to have a talk with someone.

Hell, he should talk to all three of them.

Arthur sees him to the door, and once they're out of sight of the living room, Alfred finds that his (slight—only slight) jealousy has made him a little more assertive, so he pulls Arthur close and gives him a brief, intense look that he hopes says something along the lines of I might be leaving now, but I'm sure as hell coming back, then kisses him like it's the last thing he'll ever do (and the throaty noise that Arthur makes is more than a little satisfying).

When they separate, Arthur mutters, "Christ, how I hate Francis," and Alfred does his best to keep his probably very cheeky grin in check.

"Yeah, me too," he says.

Arthur gives him a little shove toward the door, laughing. "Go on before I change my mind, luv," he says, and his unexpected use of the pet name sends Alfred's stomach into a series of happy little flips. It probably doesn't mean much of anything, just Arthur being Arthur and using another Englishism, but it still leaves him feeling much better than he had a moment ago, much less jealous and possessive. He's willing to bet Arthur doesn't call anybody else luv, after all…

After another quick kiss or two and reluctant goodbyes, Alfred finally makes his way down the stairs.

Just when he's reached the bottom, though, Arthur calls after him, "Oh, and tell your brother that if I have to deal with this again, I'll tell Francis he's probably just playing hard-to-get."

With a laugh, Alfred yells back, "Yeah, well, tell Francis that if I get kicked out 'cause of him again, I'll tell Mattie what he said about us being twins right after he gets done with hockey practice."

Arthur contemplates this for a moment, then grins a little dangerously. "Perhaps you ought to do that anyway," he says, "but call me first so I can be there for it."

A/N: Another long chapter… Guess that's looking like a permanent thing now. Oh well!

Again, thank ol' Hubby for the I'm-updating-my-Facebook-what-should-I-change thing. Gah, he's such a dork. (Sometimes I think he's more my Alfred than my Arthur, but then I have to tweeze his brows and put up with his grumpiness…)

Not a lot of notes for this chapter, but be advised that the individual chapter rating is likely to get bumped up next time…

(Hon hon hon…)