Chapter 12

With November came the school's first official rugby match against a local team. It was a home game for World Academy, and it seemed to Alfred like the entire school was planning to attend. At least, the entire school attended the pep rally held the Friday before the opening game. The weather was crisp and cold, so the Student Council decided it would be a bonfire rally. They chose a barren field near the old bell tower and spent two whole meetings making posters, noisemakers, and a big banner for all the players to run through onto the field.

Normally, Arthur would have found all the attention being paid to the rugby team highly annoying, but as his own roommate was a team member, he found himself getting excited about the game. Besides, though the rugby team were mostly stupid, insulting upper classmen, they had warmed up to him since the start of the training season, due to all the practice sessions Arthur had faithfully come to watch. They hardly ever tried to trip him up in the hallways anymore, or cause him to drop his lunch tray in the cafeteria. It was more likely that they'd greet him, or give him a good-natured noogie if they passed him in the hallway. Arthur still could have done without them, but Alfred hero-worshipped them, so Arthur tolerated them as best he could manage.

"Which player is number 23 again?" Emily asked, her large paint brushed poised over a large poster board. Alfred was preparing for the pep rally with the team, so the Student Council was finishing up the last of the posters without him.

"Berwald Oxenstierna," Arthur replied. Emily shook her head in amusement and finished the poster.

"It's so cute how you go to watch all of Alfred's practices," she commented. Arthur blushed, and hastily began to work on a new poster.

"I just like watching rugby, that's all," Arthur said.

"I'd love to go to the game with you, Prince Arthur!" Meghan said with a predatory grin, suddenly appearing at Arthur's side. The royal flinched away, accidentally splattering his poster with paint as he did so.

"Err…no thank you. I mean, that is to say, I'll be sitting with my friends. Right, Francis?" Arthur called out, a little desperate sounding. From where Francis was lounging near the window (most definitely not painting posters) a distracted sounding "Hmm?" came.

"I said we'd be sitting together at the game. Speaking of the game, why aren't you painting posters? The pep rally starts in an hour and we're nowhere near done," Arthur fussed. Francis rolled his eyes.

"Matthew and I are not going to the silly pep rally. I do not care if those meat-heads win or lose a silly rugby game," Francis scoffed. Arthur scowled.

"But Alfred is on the team, and you're his friend. You should go to cheer for him," Arthur insisted. Francis winked at him.

"You are such a cute little girlfriend to your dear Alfred—" In the background, Meghan furiously denied that Arthur and Alfred were dating, "—but I would bet large sums of money that Alfred will not even step foot on the field."

Arthur knew it was probably true, and he frowned a bit as he turned the splotch of paint into a shaky number 50.

"You're likely right…but I'm going to cheer for him all the same. If you were less of a self-absorbed ponce, you'd do the same."

"So does this mean you need someone to sit with at the game?" Meghan asked. Arthur made an almost comical expression of unhappiness before he glanced one last, desperate time at Francis, who merely waved him off with a smirk.

"Great! Then it's all settled! I'll meet you on the field at 8 A.M. sharp tomorrow! Maybe we can hang out at the pep rally tonight, too?" Meghan pressed. Arthur firmly shook his head.

"I'll be staying with Alfred," he insisted. Meghan rolled her eyes.

"Geez, with the way you talk about him it's no wonder so many people think you're dating. You really should watch your words, Prince Arthur. I mean, I know you aren't in love with that idiot, but…"

"Alfred is not an idiot. He's my best friend. If you keep being so mean to him, I'll stop talking to you entirely," Arthur replied frostily. Meghan scowled, but held her tongue for the rest of the meeting. Emily just smiled at their antics.

USUK

Arthur had planned to spend the rally with Alfred, but his roommate was wholly absorbed in joking and rough housing with his rugby buddies. They sent him constantly to refill their cups and to go request certain songs. Finally, Arthur managed to catch hold of him by the sleeve and convince him to stop for a few seconds.

"Let them get their own drinks. Don't you want to help build the bonfire up?" Arthur asked. Alfred glanced longingly at his teammates, who were the center of attention in a large crowd of popular kids, but shrugged his gangly shoulders.

"Alright. I guess they can do without me for a few minutes. Let's go get some logs!" Alfred and Arthur slipped through the large crowd of students towards the pile of firewood, where they both selected hefty looking pieces.

"Are you nervous about the game?" Arthur asked. Alfred flashed a bright smile.

"Not at all! We're gonna win, for sure! We've been practicing super hard. No way we can lose," Alfred said. Arthur smiled and walked alongside his roommate to the rather large bonfire, where they tossed on their contributions. The flames danced wildly for a few moments, and a popular British punk song started blasting out of the speakers. Lots of students were dancing, and some were dancing in such a way that Arthur suspected Gilbert of spiking the punch bowl again, as he'd done at the Halloween dance.

"Hey, I wanted to tell you that it really means a lot to me that you've come to all my practices. I mean, I don't even play usually," Alfred said with a light blush, staring deep into his glass of punch as if it held the answers to life's mysteries. Arthur smiled and shrugged.

"It's fun hanging out with you on the sidelines. I'll still come though, even when you're the star player."

"Ha! Like that'll ever happen," Alfred snorted dismissively. Arthur grinned, taking a sip of his own punch.

"You never know. You work harder than any of those guys do. It's bound to pay off eventually," Arthur said. The two friends began talking about the science fiction book they had both just finished reading and about a particularly awesome player on their online game that had demolished their squad the previous night. Any awkwardness that lingered after Arthur's visit home seemed to be gone, and it was as if their little spat had never happened. The morning after the dance was filed firmly in the category of 'And We Shall Never Speak of This Again.'

Of course, little reminders kept popping up unwelcome. Intruding into their private little world, Patty approached and gave Alfred an awkward hug. On the other side of the bonfire, the rugby team cracked up and let out loud whoops of jeering support, causing Alfred's face to flush a deep scarlet color.

"Good luck tomorrow, Alfred. I'll be cheering for you," Patty said with a sweet smile. Arthur scowled at her rather pointedly, but when he realized she only had eyes for Alfred, he turned his glare to the bonfire instead. Still blushing, Alfred laughed sheepishly.

"Thanks, Patty. I doubt I'll even get to play, but it's great that so many students are gonna support the team," he said. Smiling at Arthur, who was practically radiating annoyed vibes by this point, Patty excused herself.

"You two have a nice night. I'll see ya later, Alfred," she said with a wave. Alfred smiled at her warmly and waved goodbye, almost sloshing some liquid out of his cup as he did so.

"Hey! Since Francis and Mattie aren't going to the game, and since Ivan is banned from attending, you could sit with Patty," Alfred suggested. Arthur snorted.

"No," he said flatly, his scowl deepening. After a second's pause he added, "Why can't Ivan attend?" Alfred chuckled a bit nervously.

"Ah, you know Ivan. He went to a basketball game last year and started yelling that there was a fire or something…I think a kid got trampled. Anyway, he's not allowed to go to school sporting events anymore."

"I…see. Alfred, doesn't Ivan ever scare you, just a little bit?" Arthur asked. Alfred just laughed.

"Nah! Ivan's harmless! He gets confused about what's right and wrong sometimes, but he's a good guy deep down!"

"Whatever you say," Arthur replied with a disbelieving sigh. "Well, this has been fun, and I'm pleased so many students turned up, but it's getting rather late. I'm heading back to the dorm. I suppose you'll stay to hang out with your rugby mates?"

"Yeah. I'll be quiet when I come to bed, though," Alfred said. For some reason, that innocent statement made Arthur blush, and he was grateful that they had moved away from the fire so that the darkness of the evening hid his reddened cheeks from Alfred.

"I'm a sound sleeper, so it's not like I mind all your noise," Arthur finally replied. Alfred just smiled, and took Arthur's cup from him to throw away later.

"Yeah, that's why we're the best roommates ever! We should have a song," Alfred said. Arthur's blush just deepened.

"Alfred, only couples have songs."

"Nu-uh! We could have a best friend's song! I'll have to think of some good ones and get back to you," Alfred replied, grinning boyishly. Arthur just rolled his eyes and left, waving goodbye casually.

USUK

"I can't go!" Alfred moaned, before vomiting harshly into their trashcan. Arthur winced, and debated for the millionth time if he should go fetch Matthew. Maybe the calm Canadian would do a better job of talking Alfred out of his hysteria.

"You're probably not even going to play!" Arthur insisted again, giving his roommate's back a comforting rub as he violently dry heaved again.

"I am gonna play, and it's all gonna depend on me, and I'm gonna screw up, and then it'll be on national television, and my dad will disown me," Alfred whined before puking again, due to the combination of nervousness and a hangover.

"Alfred, you're being ridiculous. It's just a game," Arthur said firmly. His roommate shook his head, curling pathetically around the trashcan.

"I'm gonna mess it up somehow. I can't go!" Arthur was disturbed to see that his roommate was actually crying—big, frustrated tears slipping out of impossibly blue eyes.

"Okay…okay. I…I wasn't going to tell you about this because I don't think you really need it, but I have something that will help."

Alfred looked up at him with hugely hopeful eyes.

"My mum sent them to me…to…err…help me stay up when I'm studying. They'll give you lots of energy and make you really focused. You can't mess up when you take them," Arthur said. Alfred frowned slightly.

"That's breaking the rules, though, isn't it?" Alfred asked. Arthur shook his head.

"These aren't drugs. It's…err…just like aspirin."

"Really? And you'll let me have some?" Alfred asked. Trying not to smile, Arthur nodded. He made a big show of rummaging around in the baggage he'd stored in the closet, and pulled out the innocent multivitamin. He fetched Alfred a glass of water and handed it to him.

"Here ya go. Drink all of that water. You'll have to eat something with it, too."

"Okay! Man, thank you so much! You're a lifesaver, Arty!"

"How about you never call me that again, and we'll call it even, hmm?" Alfred snorted in amusement and swallowed the pill, chugging the water. They both waited a second to see if it was going to come right back up, but Alfred managed to hold it down.

"To the cafeteria?" Alfred asked with a hesitant smile. Arthur nodded, his own smile finally breaking through his mask of mock seriousness.

"To the cafeteria," he confirmed. By the time they reached the table where all the rugby players were sitting (most of them shoveling huge amounts of food into their mouths) Alfred was his usual chipper, happy-go-lucky self.

"Hey little buddy! Didn't think you'd make it. You drank like a champ last night!" a team member praised. Arthur scowled primly at the rugby players, having no desire to eat at their table, but took one last moment to whisper to Alfred before he left to join their friends.

"It will kick in immediately and last for about four hours. You'll likely be really tired afterwards. You're going to do amazing, and I'll be watching and cheering, okay?"

Completely ignoring his rugby mates, Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur in a spontaneous hug of pure gratitude.

"Thanks, Arthur! You totally rock!"

"Awww, poor Fatty Patty will be heartbroken when she finally realizes Al is gayer than aids!" a player joked loudly, sending the table into peals of laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, guys, lay off already!" Alfred replied good-naturedly, releasing Arthur from his hold and squeezing into the last remaining seat between two burly players. Feeling a little dazed, Arthur made his way across the cafeteria and sat beside Ivan. The taller boy took one look at his face and chuckled.

USUK

Alfred sat in the locker room, palms sweating and worrying nervously on his bottom lip. His uniform was a little big on him, and his helmet already felt gross due to how badly he was sweating.

'I don't normally sweat like this, or feel so jittery—must be due to whatever that pill was Arthur gave me. I feel sharp though—like a champ! I can totally do this!' Alfred thought, nearly jumping off the bench when the coach barreled into the locker room.

"YOU BLOODY IDIOTS!" the coach shouted, slamming a folder down onto a bench that was full of important looking medical papers. Alfred was confused, but then he noticed some of the best players on their team shifting nervously, eyeing the reports as if they already knew what they said. Alfred looked around, hopelessly confused.

"When it was reported to the Headmaster last night that some of you shot up with fucking steroids last night, I had to get out of bed in the middle of the night and do drug tests. And guess what? YOU. FAILED. You know who you are. You're benched for the next six games."

"But coach! That's half the season!" The quarterback protested. The coach got right in his face, screaming so loudly that his spit flew on the muscular senior.

"I have NEVER been so disappointed in World Academy boys before! This is a DISGRACE! YOU are a disgrace! I have half a mind to take your Captain badge away!"

Alfred felt enormous guilt rolling in his stomach, but he thought desperately of Arthur's words—what he'd taken wasn't drugs. Arthur's mom had sent it to him. There was no way she'd give him something that would get her son in trouble. Still, Alfred felt terrible for his teammates. Maybe if they'd known about Arthur's pills, they wouldn't have taken something as dangerous as steroids?

"We don't have any of our best players now. This game is pretty much over already. Oxenstierna, you're standing in for Captain," The coach proceeded to give the tall, quiet Swedish boy the best advice he could considering their unusual line-up. Alfred scanned the room, noting just how many guys were stripping out of their uniforms. He did the math in his head.

'I'm going to play. Oh shit! I'm going to play!' he thought with an unusual mix of terror and excitement.

"Jones is useless on defense—they'll plow right over him—so you're only option is to use him as a Winger. He's fast, and he can catch a ball…sometimes. Just focus on preventing the line breaks and going for the hit-ups. Don't try to be a hero."

Berwald gave the coach a grunting affirmative and eyed the twelve players he had to work with. They were essentially the substitutes for the substitutes, but it was all they had. He nodded in a determined sort of way at Alfred, now the fastest player on the team. Alfred thanked Arthur a million times in his head for the energy pill and nodded back. He could do it. He could definitely do it.

USUK

Arthur found himself sitting between Yao and Meghan, watching with shocked green eyes as only a third of the team came bursting onto the field through the banner they'd made. Alfred was among them, but where was everyone else? Even the Captain was absent—instead Berwald seemed to be directing the players.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Arthur asked, forgetting the number 50 poster he'd been planning to wave wildly when Alfred ran onto the field.

"Some players are missing, yes?" Yao asked, squinting down at the field. "There is Alfred, though."

"Hey guys! We didn't miss anything, did we?" Matthew asked, plopping down behind Arthur. The British royal waved at the field in shock.

"Most of the bloody team is missing. Berwald's talking to Alfred as if he's going to play," Arthur said. Francis (who looked as though he'd been dragged to the game) raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"What? Alfred is going to actually play? Oh, this should be good."

"Aww, wow! I hope he does okay! Was he nervous this morning?" Matthew asked. Arthur grimaced.

"A little bit. I think he'll be fine, though. I hope he'll be fine. God, look at the other team! They're monsters! If one of them tackles Alfred…"

"Ha. If Berwald puts Alfred in the scrum, he's a gonner," Meghan commented with cruel sounding delight at the prospect. Arthur scowled at her, and then bit his lip worriedly. She was right, much as he hated to admit it. There were only a few positions Alfred could play safely if the coach wanted him to survive the game.

Berwald and the other team's captain headed out for the coin toss. Arthur started to pray.

It was agonizing to watch. The teams were fairly evenly matched and the ball was changing sides so frequently it was hard to keep up. They seemed to be fighting over the same few meters of grass without hardly any progress. The score was close, but World Academy was down by the end of the second half. If they could only score a converted try, they could potentially hold the point gain until the second half ended in six minutes, but Arthur was too afraid to hope. Alfred had played the entire game as a winger, and the opposing team had been brutal. Alfred had started the game sprinting like a gazelle down the field, but one-too-many tackles had left him limping and barely managing a brisk jog.

The play began, and Arthur suspected Berwald was going for a drive, but suddenly the ball was soaring in a graceful arc off to the side of the field, where Alfred was running hard to catch it. Everyone stood up, signs and noisemakers forgotten, everything seeming to go silent as the ball sailed in a perfect spiral…into the arms of the opposing team. Tackled hard to the sideline, Alfred missed the pass and the flawless interception was carried all the way down the field, securing the win for the other team.

Some people sat down, but worse, most simply began to leave, hoping to beat the crowd. The game was over.

"Shoulda known that spaz Jones wouldn't make the catch. Wonder why the real team was out?"

"What a loser! He cost us the game!"

"I hope they kick him off after this. What a waste of space—I could totally do better."

"You ready to go Prince Arthur?" Meghan asked, interrupting all the jeering comments Arthur was hearing everyone say. She was even daring enough to loop her arm around his. Irritated, Arthur shrugged her off. He climbed down the bleachers, pushing past his rude classmates that were still talking of Alfred's failure, until he was standing at the fence. The time was called and the World Academy players drifted off the field, limping and hurt.

Arthur ran along the fence till he reached the gate, and didn't hesitate to slip inside.

"Berwald, what happened?" he asked. The tall Swedish boy shook his head glumly.

"The Capt'n and s'me oth'rs fail'd a drug test l'st night. They're b'nned for six games," Berwald explained in short, heavily accented English. The large boy seemed overcome with disgust and disappointment, and left the field after tossing his helmet with a satisfying thunk against the player bench. Arthur moved around the downtrodden players, not nearly so cocky and loud now, until he was crouched at Alfred's side.

"I'm sorry, Alfred," Arthur said. His roommate pulled off his helmet, cradling it against his stomach, his shoulders hunched.

"Even with your pill I couldn't do it. I just suck at this!" Alfred kicked angrily at the ground, big, frustrated tears filling his eyes. Arthur winced and glanced around, realizing almost everyone had already deserted the field. Gingerly, Arthur sat beside his roommate.

"It was just a vitamin, Alfred. I didn't give you anything special. I thought you just needed some confidence," Arthur confessed. Alfred scowled, the tears now flowing much faster.

"Well, guess I proved that theory wrong. I don't need confidence—I need a new body!"

"Alfred…don't say such things. You played the best I've ever seen! So what if you missed a pass? You're not giving yourself credit for the three you caught during the first half," Arthur said.

"Yeah, only to get smeared into the ground seconds later," Alfred grumbled. Arthur's hand somehow found its way to Alfred's shoulder, where it rested comfortingly.

"Are you hurt?" Arthur asked. Alfred wiped at his tears with a muddy arm, streaking even more dirt over his shining cheekbones.

"I'm okay," he said. "My ankle hurts a bit, that's all."

"You might have twisted it. Come on, let me help you," Arthur said. His friend angrily rubbed away the rest of his tears and sniffed a few times. When he seemed to have a little control back, he hoisted his weary body off the ground and leaned heavily on his roommate, arm looped around the shorter boy's shoulders.

"I'm really proud of you, Alfred. You played with everything you had. No matter what anyone else may say, you did your absolute best."

Alfred didn't immediately reply, but for a moment, he dropped his head down and pressed his forehead against Arthur's sweet-smelling blond hair, bringing his lips tantalizingly close to the curve of Arthur's ear.

"Thanks, Arthur," he whispered, before his head slumped forward tiredly and he shifted even more of his weight on the smaller boy, who found that he didn't mind it at all.

USUK

"Hey guys!" Alfred chirruped happily. Francis and Matthew, who had been just about to share a rather sweet kiss, groaned a bit at the interruption. Alfred had found them outside the library, where they'd been walking and enjoying the beautiful fall foliage.

"Hi, Alfred. What are you up to today?" Matthew asked politely. Francis still seemed annoyed that they had been interrupted.

"Where's Arthur? I thought he was supposed to keep you on a leash," Francis joked. Ignoring him, Alfred pressed two obnoxiously bright fliers into their hands.

"I got Coach to sponsor us, so the Hero Club is official now! I made these fliers so the whole school will know!"

"Oh God, my name isn't on them, is it?" Francis asked. Matthew giggled, and examined the poster. It was really rather good. Of course, it didn't surprise him—Alfred's art was pretty amazing, and it always seemed to be improving. The flier boldly proclaimed that the Hero Club was now official, and accepting requests for help.

"Nobody is going to take this seriously," Francis said, passing his flier to a student that just happened to be walking by.

"Stop joking around, Francis! Of course they will! We'll be super swamped at the meeting tonight—just you wait. It's in the gym at six. I figure we'll need the space for all the people that will show up needing our help!" Alfred enthused. Then he was gone in a whirl of blond hair and happy blue eyes.

"He seems to have bounced back from the rugby disaster, at least," Matthew commented, folding up his own flier and tucking it into his pea coat pocket. Francis laced their gloved fingers together and they continued their walk.

"Nothing can keep that boy down. I have no idea how you and Arthur handle him in large doses," Francis replied. Matthew just smiled, and leaned against his boyfriend's warm side.

"It's almost Thanksgiving, you know. Are you going to celebrate with me?" Matthew asked. Francis smiled charmingly, leaning over to kiss Matthew's cheek.

"That's your holiday where you eat a huge meal, no?" Francis asked. Matthew nodded, smiling, but elaborated for his French boyfriend.

"It's for celebrating all the reasons we have to be thankful. I've never really cared about the holiday much…but this year, I have someone that I'm very, very thankful for," Matthew confessed with a light blush. Laughing, Francis twirled the shorter boy into his arms, nuzzling their noses together, staring deeply into Matthew's eyes.

"I will most certainly celebrate with you, mon cher, even if it means eating Alfred's terrible cooking."

Matthew grinned and claimed Francis's lips in a sweet kiss, pretty leaves twirling down from the branches around them.

USUK

"I didn't print the time wrong on the flier, did I?" Alfred asked, looking like a little puppy that had been left on the side of the road. The reluctant members of the Hero Club (who were sprawled lazily about the very empty gym) just rolled their eyes.

"Nobody's coming, Alfred," Yao said, turning another page in his history text. Sitting next to him, Ivan toyed with a lock of the Asian boy's long hair idly. The two of them were very cozy these days, rarely seen apart. Alfred had asked Ivan about it, but the Russian boy claimed they weren't dating—merely working together for their father's.

"I am getting hungry. Must we really skip dinner to wait here?" Francis asked, directing the question more at Matthew than at Alfred.

"We can give it another half-hour, can't we? Then we'll go eat, I promise," Matthew said. Francis sighed dramatically, but stayed where he was. Alfred glanced at Arthur, confusion written all over his face.

"I don't understand. I passed out all the fliers, and I made like a million!" Arthur was preparing to give a speech explaining (yet again) why the students would deal with their problems themselves instead of coming total strangers, when the gym door opened and Alfred's eyes lit up in hope.

For a long moment, it was silent. The Hero Club stared at the petite boy who had entered as he slowly crossed the gym towards them. He wore old-fashioned clothing, and he had a cap pulled down over his eyes. When he finally did look up, fierce green eyes stared at them challengingly.

"My name is Eli…and you're going to help me."

A/N: Such a fun chapter to write! It was gonna be longer, but I decided to cut it off here to drum up some suspense! Eli is not an OC. Can you guess who he is, lol? Hope you guys enjoyed the first rugby match of the season. I certainly enjoyed writing Alfred and Arthur after it was over! Those two are just too cute for their own good.

A reviewer response:

A British reader mentioned that my terminology is off, as British people don't use the same school terms that Americans do. That was totally laziness on my part. Though the school is set up on a four year model, and does use American terminology, she's right in that Arthur wouldn't use those same terms likely. I'll need to do a bit of research and then do some corrections. Thanks!