Chapter 6

~o~

Over the next few days, things were decidedly awkward between Alfred and his tenant. This new dynamic to their relationship seemed to catch them both off guard. Things had been so easy between them before with their playful banter and affectionate gestures. Now it seemed as though all those same actions were completely foreign to them, now laced with undertones of something more. Even though Alfred was pretty sure that that undercurrent had been there all along.

What made him paranoid was that Arthur developed a sudden reticence to speaking his mind. Instead he would chew his lip, pulling back instead of making demands. Alfred suspected that the author was trying to be considerate and sensitive, but it was driving Alfred nuts.

The problem was, Alfred wasn't really sure what to expect from a redefining of their relationship. He'd seen a rom-com or two (or twenty). Yet he was left feeling horribly unprepared. Dosing humans with pheromones for food didn't exactly make for good practice for lasting relationships. He didn't know what Arthur expected from him. Gifts? Dates? ...Sexting? Were they even officially in a relationship? All they did was vaguely confess to one another.

How would a relationship even work anyway? There was that entire immortality thing that he couldn't get past. Arthur was bound to notice in a few years. Not to mention, he still was pretending to be his own father, even though he was trying to gradually pull back from texting Arthur so much. Maybe it would be easier just to turn him into a vampire, Alfred thought with a mental scoff.

He stared up at his ceiling, sensing Arthur above as he got ready for his "day." Though Arthur had more or less adjusted to Alfred's schedule over the months, taking to do his work at night and sleeping during the day. It quite suited his love of going out and enjoying New York's nightlife. Arthur could practically be a vampire already, couldn't he?

Al, stop it, he berated himself, though he couldn't really consider turning Arthur. Sure, he went a little nuts when Arthur turned 20, but he knew that being a vampire would just make Arthur miserable. Hell, it made him miserable. Besides, he couldn't even vamp Arthur if he tried. Ghouling the love of his life was not exactly a great way to start a relationship.

Alfred studied the ceiling, pretending that the footsteps above were the sound of his beating heart. He did love Arthur dearly. He loved his mind, his wit, those beautiful green eyes. He could lose himself in them for hours.

Come to think of it, he could just... spend more time with him, couldn't he? Honestly, he just wanted to be close to Arthur for the sake of it, awkward relationship expectations be damned. Just being with Arthur made him feel insecure and safe all at the same time. He kind of liked the feeling, weird as that was. It was probably like how flying would feel. Yeah, they could just hang out. See where things went? That's what humans did, didn't they? Just enjoy the moment? God, when was the last time he'd ever even considered that?

Right, he was totally doing this. Alfred hopped up to his feet and marched up the stairs with purpose. If Arthur noticed anything weird down the line, he'd deal with it then.

Arthur was in the middle of making tea when he blinked in startlement at Alfred's sudden presence. "Can I join you?" Alfred asked as he sat himself at the kitchen table.

When Arthur smiled with delight, Alfred felt his long-dead heart soar.

~o~

Arthur was not used to taking his so-called relationships slowly. Before this, his life had been nothing but flash-bang flings and one-night stands. Something that he was completely unashamed of. After all, life was short, so why hold back from a good time?

This was different. Alfred was special. He didn't want to scare the boy or force him into a situation that made him uncomfortable. He needed Alfred to feel special. He needed to not mess things up.

...even so this current state of affairs was painful. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the kitchen table, looking at the boy across from him. It had been two weeks since his confession to Alfred. They had not even so much as kissed since then. It seemed that in attempting not to spook Alfred and he only ended up waiting for cues that never came.

Was there some sort of miscommunication? He thought he had made himself perfectly clear.

"I love you," Arthur said suddenly and was treated to the sight of Alfred faltering and then giving him a warm smile.

"Love you, too," the boy said (he should really stop thinking of him as a boy) and then gestured to Arthur's plate. "You should eat your lunch before it gets cold." Arthur looked pointedly at Alfred's cup of hot water. It was the only thing that he ever saw Alfred consume without any prompting. That said, it was still water. Anyway, Alfred caught his look and didn't press him further.

Right, so clearly it wasn't a matter of miscommunication. Misunderstanding then? Did Alfred somehow mistake his intent as an overabundance of parental affection? Arthur was only five years younger than his father. Trying not to think about that too much, the author wondered exactly how he was supposed to express his true meaning without overstepping.

So, he tried again.

"Your bum looks sexy in those jeans," he said, waiting for a reaction. He was rewarded with a wet splutter, a flash of panic and flustered fidgeting. Arthur honestly didn't know what to make of it. Not only that, the reaction rather made him feel like a dirty, old man.

Seeing his expression, Alfred immediately apologized. "S-sorry! I don't really, um. Yeah, I don't get compliments a lot. Not real ones, anyway." He gave Arthur a tentative smile. "Thanks."

Not real compliments? What the bloody hell did that mean?

Something ugly was building inside him. He thought back on that fateful party and how easily Alfred had taken Francis down into the basement with him. Jealousy snarled at his insides, making him want to toss the breakfast table over in a rage. Then came the gut-wrenching reminder of what came of that particular encounter and he only succeeded in making himself feel sick.

The smile on Alfred's face faltered when he looked over at Arthur. The author didn't even know what emotion was displayed on his features, but it couldn't have been good. "Did... did I do something wrong?" Alfred asked nervously. That bad, was it?

Arthur tapped his fingers on the table again and then decided he should just have out with it. "Alfred," he said after a long moment, "you don't seem particularly interested in what I have to offer."

"Oh..." Alfred frowned. Then his eyes went wide in realization. "Oh!" Then to Arthur's horror and confusion, the boy began to laugh. Arthur had absolutely no idea what was so funny. "Oh man, sorry about that," Alfred giggled as he tried to get a hold of himself. "I didn't realize you were just sexually frustrated. I'm relieved."

...What?

However, a slow, sly smile that had no business whatsoever being on the boy's sweet face halted any indignant protests. The sight of it made Arthur heat all over and he shivered at the sharp contrast of Alfred's cool hand as it touched his cheek. Good lord, he had somehow forgotten about Alfred's unnatural ability to get him hot at the drop of a hat. He panted softly, leaning into Alfred's palm and nipping at the calloused fingers.

"God, please," Arthur hissed, trailing his lips reverently up along the soft skin of Alfred's arm. Something familiar trilled in the background. Phone, maybe. Honestly, he didn't give a shit. Not when Alfred was smirking, eyes half-lidded as he watched Arthur come undone.

"Do you want to feel good, Arthur?" he asked, sliding his hand down to come underneath Arthur's shirt. It felt like ice against him and for a crazed moment, he wondered if Alfred would melt. "Do you want me to make you feel good?"

Damn him, but he whimpered in response, a soft keening noise he didn't think he was capable of making emitting from his throat. "Y-yes, yes, yes," he hissed, unbelievably aroused. "I want to. Alfred, can we- bed-" it felt like every nerve was on fire and he arched up towards his partner. "I need you..."

Everything was turning into a heady red haze, as though he had been drugged. All he wanted to do was to devour and be devoured. He was ready to drown. Only two strong arms kept him afloat. Pushed him down into his own bed. Made him writhe in pleasure until darkness came over his senses.

When Arthur next awoke, the bright morning light was glaring into his eyes. Then the pain hit. His temples throbbed with a headache and every part of his body felt loose and disconnected. Simply put, he couldn't move. At the same time, he'd never felt so sated in his life.

He cast his gaze around looking for Alfred to tell him so, but then realized he couldn't see his lover anywhere. "Alfred?" he called out. "Alfred!"

Wait, was he not even here? Wasn't it... Wasn't it good form to stay with your partner after your first act of intimacy? He suspected that Alfred was down in the basement hiding away from the sun, but he couldn't help but be offended. Arthur's head flopped back in his pillows, glaring at the ceiling as he waited to be able to use his limbs again.

What was worse... he couldn't even remember what happened past the kitchen.

For the first time, Arthur wondered if he had somehow gotten involved with an incubus.

~o~

When Arthur finally got around to getting up, his phone had a missed call from a local number. He'd considered ignoring it before he recognized the number from a certain Columbia professor. He redialled.

"Fis is Dr. Negrescu," came the heavily accented voice.

"Vlad, this is Arthur," the author replied. "You called?"

"Ah yes, Arthur," the professor said, affecting an amiable tone. "I had uondered if you had any luck in convincing your friend to come in."

Arthur flushed. To be honest, he had forgotten all about that. "Ah, no. Not yet. He's not willing to come in." Now he felt awkward pressing with the pair of them being in such a new and delicate situation.

"Ah, normal in many patients," Vlad said much to Arthur's surprise. "Many are afraid to hope for fear of disappointment. For some, it is crushing. If one has experienced many disappointments, it may be easier to never dare. It is a valid concern."

"Oh..." Arthur said, a spike of guilt stabbing through him. He had simply assumed that Alfred was being obstinate. Had he been pushing him too far? "I... Well, that may explain it."

"Uell, he need not be herded into my laboratory," Vlad said kindly. "If I could simply have a uord uit him fen I can easily determine if further testing should prove necessary."

Arthur was still unsure. He didn't particularly care for the idea of manipulating Alfred into that sort of situation. Even if he was pissed at Alfred at the moment. "I cannot just invite you over to the house. I'm sorry. I'll let you know if the occasion ever arises."

"I see," Vlad said in clipped politeness. "Let me know if anyfing changes." With that the professor hung up, leaving Arthur with the vague feeling that he was in the doghouse. He shook the feeling off as he headed gingerly down to the basement.

Predictably, Alfred was on his computer. Though it didn't look like gaming... And what was he drinking? It wasn't water. Arthur frowned at the screen (and the drink), stepping lightly down the steps to not disturb his young landlord. Alfred jerked, sensing him anyway and looked up at Arthur with a guilty start. The pouch was immediately tossed in the trash and Alfred shut down the windows.

Very suspicious...

"Alfred," Arthur said, "were you drinking something other than water?"

"I- uh- um," Alfred stammered, his lips and tongue cherry red. It looked like he was drinking a children's fruit beverage. "...Maybe?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. That he was going to ask about at some point, but for right now he had a much more pressing concern. He sat himself down beside Alfred, arms and legs crossed as he leveled the boy a stern look. "You weren't in bed with me when I awoke..."

Alfred's eyes widened before he shifted awkwardly. "Oh. Yeah, but- You know how cold I am. I'd just make you uncomfortable. You looked so peaceful sleeping..." he said in such a sweet manner it had an immediate disarming effect.

Arthur, no. Stay mad at him. Stay mad. Gah, it was so bloody difficult! Especially with those damned wide blue eyes.

Arthur dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. "I've gotten used to it. Truly." Alfred looked skeptical, but the author continued on. "What matters more to me is that you're there. Quite frankly, I felt as though I were a hired whore. A drugged, hired whore. As if you only used me."

At this, the young man turned paler than he already was, making Arthur's heart wrench. Suddenly he found himself going completely off script, berating himself for his harshness. "N-not that I'm complaining," he stammered. "Really. I'm sure that it was a wonderful time. If I could remember it. ...You didn't drug me, right?"

"N-no!" Alfred cried out in horror, voice too squeaky to be completely convincing. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I didn't- I thought you'd be happy about feeling that good."

"Well..." Arthur worried his lower lip. He was still half convinced he had been drugged (having been under maybe more than once), but Alfred did look quite sorry. "I don't suppose you could tone it down... could you?" Ugh, he was so weak to Alfred's charms. It was pathetic.

"I... I can try," Alfred replied weakly, before his voice twisted with plaintive regret. "Arthur, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I would never want you to feel taken advantage of. No one's ever complained about it before... I-I mean, yeah. No one's complained before." Arthur had the unpleasant reminder of Francis once more. "But I don't know what else I'm good at besides mind blowing sex and apparently I suck at that too! This whole relationship thing is completely out of my depth! I don't know what I'm supposed to do! I really suck at this!"

"Hey~ hey," Arthur hushed, taking Alfred by the arms. "It's fine. Really. You just need to tell me that. I was so happy when you wanted to spend time with me. Let's just... let's just work on that, shall we? What exactly is it that you want out of this?"

"I... I want..." Alfred started, his voice growing thick. "I want to feel loved, by you. And I want to make you happy. But I really don't know how..."

"Okay..." the author spoke, giving Alfred a tentative smile. His hand rose, brushing his fingers through the younger man's hair. "I apologize. I will try to make my needs more apparent. I suppose that it wasn't fair to you to try to shield you from that."

"No shit," Alfred replied sulkily.

"So, let's start small shall we?" Arthur smiled, deliberately ignoring the boy's quip. "I would like..." he hummed, looking up in thought, "to go out with you. Oh, and you need not pay for it. I can take care of that. However, I would like to do an activity. With you. Outside the house."

"Like a club...?" Alfred asked, looking horrified.

"Not necessarily," Arthur replied, though he did very much want that. It would likely be a bit too much for Alfred to take right now, judging from the expression on the boy's face. Best to try something a bit more low-key. "How long has it been since you've been to a museum? A concert? A play?"

"...You don't really want to know," Alfred replied.

"So...?" Arthur prompted, waiting for an answer. Alfred worried his lip, putting more thought into this than the author thought warranted. But then, the boy smiled and nodded.

"Okay. So long as there's not a ton of people, I think I'll be okay."

Right, he'd forgotten that Alfred was fearful of crowds. (Which begged the question as to why he was living in New York.) Oh well, he wasn't about to complain. At least he'd gotten Alfred to agree. "Brilliant," the author said, reaching over to give Alfred a hug. The boy tensed, but Arthur ignored it. He was used to Alfred being skittish. "So, what would you like to do first?"

After some thoughtful deliberation, Alfred replied with a smile, "I want to see Lady Liberty."

It took everything Arthur had to keep his expression completely neutral. "...What?" he asked lightly, as though he hadn't heard correctly. Good lord. Even ascending the Empire State Building would have been preferable.

"I haven't seen the old girl in a really long time," Alfred grinned, oblivious to Arthur's mounting horror. He took Arthur's arm, laying the charm on extra thick with his big, pretty blue eyes. "Can we go see her? Please, Arthur? Please~?"

With that Arthur knew he was sunk.

~o~

Alfred had never seen Arthur look so unhappy.

The pair of them were on-deck on one of the cruises that passed by Lady Liberty by night, which the Brit arranged since it turned out you couldn't exactly access the island after dark. It was a lonely venture, since not many wanted to go out onto the Hudson in the dead of winter. The icy gale coming through the bay from the Atlantic was also particularly strong, seeming to ignore thick wool and fleece to turn bones to ice.

It didn't really bother Alfred all that much, his attention fixed on just being out over the water and in the open after so long. He was as happy as a clam, his arms hooked over the railing as he peered up in awe at the (now green) statue that had once greeted him on his own arrival to New York. Thankfully, he didn't have to do the whole Ellis Island thing, as he was in the Americas for a while already. Immigration agents, no all civil servants, were the bane of his existence.

On the other hand, Arthur was miserable. He stood beside Alfred, stiff as a board and shuddering violently whenever a gust of wind passed right through him. Alfred couldn't help himself but laugh. He'd never seen Arthur like this. "What's wrong? I thought you Brits were supposed to be maritime champions," he teased, yelling over the night wind.

Arthur looked ready to hit him, his green eyes flashing with indignation. "I've got perfectly sound sea legs!" he snapped back, his voice shaking from the cold. "Just because I can handle being on a boat doesn't mean I have to like it!" He took a flask out of his pocket and tossed it back, gaining a little bit more color to his cold-flushed face. For some reason, Alfred had no doubt that it was rum. Arthur went to muttering under his breath. Something about being a writer, not a sailor, as well as a few choice curses.

The vampire looked at the flask with interest. "Can I see that?" he asked, pointing to the silver container. Arthur looked doubtful, but immediately handed it over. Alfred ran his fingers over it, admiring the silver etching and the beautifully monogrammed 'A'. What a neat little idea. Maybe he should keep one of these himself and just fill it up with an emergency stash of blood. "Thanks," he said, handing the flask back, "it's really cool."

Arthur glanced down at the proffered flask. "Keep it," he said, burying his nose into his scarf. "I can get another."

Alfred blinked and looked down at the flask. A gift? Was this his first real relationship gift? His eyes strayed up to Arthur, whose cheeks were cherry red and whose eyes were fixed pointedly on the bright cityscape in front of them. Definitely a gift. A broad smile spread over Alfred's face and he wrapped Arthur up into a tight hug and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you! I'll treasure it forever," he said, his happiness brimming over into a giddy laugh.

At this, Arthur looked slightly less miserable even as he groused, "Oh, let go. You're not even keeping me warm, you ice cube." He struggled half-heartedly against Alfred's grip. "Christ, Alfred. Where on earth do you get that strength in those straw arms of yours?"

"Not telling!" Alfred chirped, refusing to let the author go quite yet. He'd never been so happy before. This was what a real relationship was like. Easy affection and camaraderie. And with someone he'd cared about for nearly two decades. No, someone he loved.

Absolutely nothing could ruin this-

"Vhat is going on?"

Oh Goddammit.

Both the vampire and the author turned to the voice, jumping out of their skin when they saw the massive form of Ivan looming over them. Alfred was too stunned to speak, his mouth agape as he stared up at the slav. Thankfully, Arthur found his voice first. "We should be asking you that!" he growled, clearly irritated at being interrupted. "Is this what you do on your time off? Follow people around and disturb their privacy?"

Ivan simply ignored him, his grey-lavender eyes boring in on Alfred instead in stony silence. It was difficult not to be intimidated by the cold nothingness that came off the huge man. Come to think of it, he didn't even remember seeing Ivan get on the boat. Alfred swallowed heavily, but tilted his chin up in defiance. "We were just out enjoying ourselves. Is that a crime?"

"Niet. Not yet," the slav doctor replied. He studied them both now with his chilling gaze. "You are being very close," he remarked. It would have sounded casual if Alfred didn't know the undercurrent of accusation in his voice. "Vhy?"

"That's not any of your-" Arthur started, just as Alfred blurted out, "We're on a date!" The author's head whipped over to him, eyes wide as his cheeks colored prettily. Alfred flushed in return, but he was determined to stand his ground.

"Ah," was all Ivan said. Then after a lengthy, awkward pause, he added, "Zen, I vill chaperone."

Both Alfred and Arthur stared. "You've got to be fucking shitting me," Arthur muttered.

After that, things became incredibly uncomfortable. Since all three of them were essentially stuck together on the boat until it docked, Alfred and Arthur were unable to escape Ivan who only followed them wherever they tried to flee on deck. They even managed to slink away to the restroom, only to nearly have a heart-attack when they opened the door to find Ivan looming outside. Any vitriol on Arthur's part had no effect on him, completely buffeted against the man's stony exterior. Always, his eyes followed them, watching for any untoward behaviour on Alfred's part, waiting to see if the vampire would give in to his baser desires.

When the boat finally did dock an agonizing two hours later, the pair of them ran from the boat at top speed. Even in the taxi home, Alfred had the uneasy feeling they were still being watched. Neither of them relaxed until they finally reached the brownstone and the doors were locked securely behind them.

That was when Arthur exploded. "What the fuck was that all about!" he cried, throwing his coat and shoes down on the floor out of aggravation. The shoes bounced against the floor with sheer force and Alfred had to duck aside to miss being hit. "The gall of that man to insert himself into our outing like that! I want to know what right he thought he had to do that!" Instantly, he whirled on Alfred, his eyes like angry green lanterns.

Alfred held his hands up in defense. "I don't know!" he cried out, trying to deflect Arthur's wrath away from him. "He's never done that before! B-but I've never been on a date before, so..." His words trailed off awkwardly, as he wrung his hands.

Arthur's gaze softened somewhat, though he was still intensely annoyed. His hands went to his hips and he squared himself up to the vampire. "Alfred, I want you to tell me about him. I realize that he's your... doctor," he said the words with a shiver a revulsion, "but this behaviour is absurd." He stopped and then gave Alfred a long considering look that made the vampire sweat out of nerves. "Did you and he used to date?" he suddenly demanded.

Alfred blinked. Then he let out a bark of laughter. The idea was so absurd that he couldn't stop laughing. Arthur flushed with irritation and embarrassment, while the vampire couldn't help but keel over onto the couch, laughing so hard that tears pricked the corners of his eyes. "Right, that's enough!" Arthur snapped, bristling as Alfred howled with laughter. "I get the point!"

Eventually, Alfred managed to calm himself into giggling fits. Oh man, his sides ached. He grinned up at Arthur from his prone position on the couch. "Arthur... Are you jealous?" he teased, waving Arthur to come closer. The author stayed right where he was, his arms folded over his chest. Yet his darkening cheeks seemed to confirm Alfred's words. Alfred pushed himself up to the couch and leaned out to tug Arthur closer by the sleeve of his shirt. Eventually, he managed to wrap his arms loosely around Arthur's waist, looking up at the author with all smiles. "You don't need to be jealous, Arthur," he said softly. The Brit kept stubbornly silent. So Alfred tried something else. "I love you..." he murmured, taking one of Arthur's hands to press a delicate kiss to his knuckles. He could hear Arthur's pulse quicken and his smile broadened. "I love you, Arthur..." he spoke again, his lips pressed against Arthur's palm.

Just like that, all the remaining stubbornness fell away like a sand castle dissolving into the rising tide. Arthur melted against him, sliding down to the couch beside Alfred to press a kiss to Alfred's lips. Alfred gasped at the sudden heat, giving Arthur ample opportunity to shove him down onto his back and straddle his hips. A sudden wave of insecurity came over him, unused to being put into this position. Especially without using his pheromones, which he'd promised himself he wouldn't use on Arthur again. He squirmed when he felt the author's hand come up underneath his shirt. "A-Arthur, wait..." What was Arthur going to do when he found out Alfred couldn't-

"Shhh," Arthur hushed gently, his brow pressed to the vampire's own. "I won't do anything you don't want me to..." He reached up, stroking Alfred's cool cheek. Those green eyes, like bright emeralds, pinned Alfred down and made his chest ache en lieu of his missing heart.

Breathless, Alfred nodded his assent. Smirking, Arthur came down upon him, ravaging Alfred's mouth with his lips. The vampire could feel himself growing heated, Arthur warming Alfred up with his roving hands, his hot breath, the friction between their bodies. He whimpered softly, a hungry, needy sound he hadn't made for centuries. Despite the vampire leaching Arthur's body heat, he could feel the Brit growing warmer above him, blood rushing through him like ambrosia. God, it was intoxicating... Alfred pressed his nose to Arthur's throat, inhaling the warm musky smell, nearly tasting the hot coppery blood just underneath that delicate patch of ivory skin. He groaned, pressing kisses up along the underside of Arthur's jaw.

So drunk was he on heat and smells, that Alfred didn't notice Arthur's hand slide down his waist and hips, feeling him up. However, he noticed immediately when the warm body on top of him jerked to a screeching halt and the heat was suddenly replaced with cold air. "Arthur, what...?" Alfred asked, still dizzy with the Want.

Arthur stared at him, his green eyes wide with shock. "You..." he said after a long moment. "You're not even hard."

The situation hit Alfred like a ton of bricks as he finally realized what Arthur was groping. With a yelp, he scurried back out from under the author, going out of his reach. "I- I wasn't-! It's not what you think!" he cried out.

Arthur only stared at him. After a long moment, he swallowed hard and said thickly, "Alfred, are you... not attracted to me? Am I too old for you? Was before just a fluke?"

This was so ridiculous. Alfred wanted to scream with frustration and laugh at the same time. Why did he think it was a good idea to go without the pheromones?

"I can't... I just can't!" Alfred cried, punching the couch hard enough to make the cushion frame creak. Breath shuddering, he looked up to Arthur with misty eyes. "I'm sorry. I've never been able to... Even last time. Y-you just don't remember... I'm the one there's something wrong with. Not you. Never you. I swear..."

At Alfred's genuine distress, Arthur came back to him once more, his expression gentle and his hands loving. "Alfred..." he spoke softly, reaching out to gather the vampire up into his arms. Alfred came willingly, wrapping his arms tightly around the human's fragile person. "It's okay..." the author hushed, patting Alfred's back. "It's okay, love. This doesn't affect anything. I still love you. It's okay..."

Alfred hiccuped, letting Arthur comfort him as he only allowed himself a spare moment of relief, feeling as though he'd nearly lost Arthur before they even started. But... who knew how many other oddities and inadequacies Arthur would accept without question. That question filled him with dread, long after he'd quit the world and headed back downstairs before the sun rose.

~o~

As soon as Alfred was safely tucked away in the basement and the sun had risen, Arthur rang up Francis.

*Qui est à l'appareil?* came the Frenchman's exhausted voice. No doubt just come in from a long night of clubbing.

"It's me, frog," Arthur all but snarled.

There came a groan from the other end. *Putain! Do you not know what time it iz! What do you want so early in ze morning!*

"I don't care," the Brit snapped back at him. "I want to know what exactly you did with Alfred. Tell me right now, or so help me..."

*Mon Dieu, not zis again. I already told you. Nous avions une nuit d'un amour brûlant, profondément passionné,* Francis rambled around a loud yawn. It struck Arthur as highly suspicious. That was what Francis said last time...

"Lies," Arthur hissed, his hand tightening around his phone. "If you did, you would have gone into nauseatingly specific detail by now! You didn't do a damned thing with him, did you! You lying, son of a-"

*Alright! Alright!* Francis snapped back. *Zut alors, you are like a bleating goat dying alone in a cabbage patch!* Arthur had no idea where that highly specific simile came from. *Very well, since you are so insistant. Ze truth iz... j'ai oublié."

The admission made Arthur freeze. "You... you forgot?" he echoed.

*Are you deaf? What did I just say!* the cranky Frenchman shot back. *All I remember is ending up in ze hôpital! Now, excusez-moi, I need my beauty sleep.*

"Francis, wait-" Arthur started. However, Francis threw him a particularly colourful curse and hung up on him. "Stupid, onion-nibbling frog," he muttered, tossing his phone back onto the bed. All he wanted was confirmation that Alfred was telling him the truth about his problem. However, with this new information, he couldn't help but think back to his own first time with Alfred. Drugs then. Definitely drugs. Clearly, it had something to do with Alfred's problem. Did that mean that he had to use whenever he wanted sex?

...no wonder he had to go into rehab.

Well. Now this was a challenge. Folding his hands together, Arthur smiled to himself, "Alfred Jones, you won't be needing any drugs when I'm around..."