Archive of Our Own ^beta

Yep, watching with your best friend was normal.

Totally normal.

But Alfred was thinking...no, feeling Arthur inching closer and closer. He could hear the way the sofa creaked with every small movement. He could smell Arthur’s signature aroma of pleasant cologne, flowers and tea become stronger. He could practically taste the bowl of popcorn Arthur had been keeping to himself because he had accused Alfred of scarfing everything down.

Most importantly, Alfred could feel his heart race harder and faster the more the reality set in that Arthur was trying to get closer; the way his stomach would drop with butterflies (or, more appropriately, a flock of seagulls) the greater Arthur’s presence became. He could feel that he was willing himself to keep his expression neutral, to keep his vision focused on the movie rather than his best friend - the very one he was in love with, who was in love with him, too.

The thought made him feel nauseous in two different ways.

But then, oh, suddenly, Alfred felt it.

There was a new weight on his shoulder - a nice weight. A good weight. A wonderful weight. And he could smell Arthur’s shampoo swirled in with other scents that had just become so attached to Arthur overtime, including the homely whiff of buttery popcorn that went with all their intimate movie nights. Slender arms wrapped around his own, and the warmth and heartbeat of a person who absolutely adored him made his head spin and his face hot. Suddenly, he had no idea where he was or what he was doing, and there was only Arthur.

Arthur, his best friend, the very same one who loved him. The very same one he loved, too.

And Arthur knew that.

They had discussed it once before.

It had been a night not unlike the one they were having at that current moment, except they hadn’t been watching a cheesy romcom.

Alfred (who to that day had no idea what had possessed him to do so) had randomly asked Arthur if he was ‘totally in love with me, bro’. He had had a feeling for a while now, though he had gotten some help from Francis and Kiku.

As a response to Alfred’s all-too-casual confrontation, Arthur had spluttered, looking perturbed, and asked him why he had been asking while Shrek, Donkey and Puss in Boots had been infiltrating Fairy Godmother’s potion factory - a crucial part, Arthur had argued.

So Alfred had decided to drop it, somewhat relieved and annoyed that he hadn’t been rewarded with a proper answer, because god knew that he had been both dreading and waiting for one.

Which one?

Alfred hadn’t been sure, and even after Arthur had finally answered him, he still hadn’t been sure.

(He still wasn’t.)

After they’d finished that specific scene, Arthur had paused the movie and stared at him, quiet at first, before answering Alfred with very important words:

“Wow, I’m impressed. You’re not as thick-headed as I thought.”

Alfred had been over the moon, of course. So, smartly had Alfred said:

“Pfft, I knew it, which is super cool ‘cause I do, too, lol.”

And that had been the end of it. Alfred had taken the remote (“...did you just say ‘lol’ out loud-” “Anyway!”), pressed play, and went home immediately after the movie had ended.

Then, they never talked about it again, and barely anything changed between them.

But that didn’t mean that there weren’t subtle differences that had undoubtedly blossomed from that night of admission, as clumsy as it had been.

Suddenly, meetings between the two of them alone became more frequent. There were more gaps of silence - the good kind, the kind where they just stared at each other, smiled sweetly, and just enjoyed each other. Unintentional touches that hadn’t been too bothersome prior to that fateful night elicited reactions from both of them like they’d been shocked by electricity. They watched more stupid love-themed movies together. They listened to more cheesy love ballads while driving together. They slept over more often for no particular reasons other than being together. They ate at nicer places, exchanged more gifts, called each other more and more, yearned for each other more and more and more and more.. .

And after spending time with the rest of their friends, they also spent the rest of the time together, talking about anything and everything under the sun.

All except for their confession.

And Alfred knew that Arthur wanted to - badly , he was sure.

And he also knew that Arthur wouldn’t push him to do anything he wasn’t yet comfortable with.

So Arthur had never pushed it, never steered the conversation or situation to them , what they were, how they felt.

But tonight was different.

And it both terrified and excited Alfred.

“You’re tense,” Arthur said slowly (oh god, his voice was so close to his ear). Alfred swallowed. “Are you alright?”

Alfred held his breath.

He didn’t know what to say.

Yes?

No?

Maybe?

Get off and maybe I will be?

Kiss with me right now and maybe I will be?

“Alfred?” Arthur pressed again, and Alfred tried to think fast.

Alfred finally cleared his throat and glanced briefly at Arthur, who was neither off of him nor making out with him. He still wasn’t sure which he preferred. “Sorry, I’m…” he snickered, “I’m watching.”

(Truthfully, Alfred couldn’t give two shits anymore about whatever the hell Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant’s characters were doing, even if it was their meet-cute. He was far too overwhelmed with the presence of Arthur.)

While Alfred tried doing his best to at least pretend to be interested in the movie, Arthur wasn’t doing much to hide his interest in Alfred. Alfred could just feel Arthur watching him, waiting. Anticipating.

Calculating.

“This is a mistake, isn’t it?”

Alfred turned his head so quickly and forcefully that he was surprised he hadn’t broken his neck in the process, his eyebrows feeling so high on his head and his eyes very wide he was almost waiting for his eyeballs to fall out of their sockets.

“What are you talking about?” Alfred asked, doing nothing when Arthur slinked away from him, returning to his original position on the sofa. Alfred suddenly felt very angry and frustrated.

Not with Arthur, but with himself.

How he hadn’t done something to keep Arthur close to him.

And yet, he felt relief.

But it still didn’t feel all that wonderful, not when the guy you’d been in love with for years was staring at you, looking hurt.

“Arthur, I-” there was no walking out of this one , “why would you think that?”

Arthur pursed his lips. He didn’t speak for a while.

“I’m making you uncomfortable, aren’t I?”

Alfred’s heart sank upon hearing Arthur’s apprehensive tone, and yet he could do nothing to assuage his worries.

Truthfully, Alfred didn’t know how to answer him.

Saying ‘yes’ outright wasn’t exactly the truth, but he wouldn’t say that there wasn’t a touch of discomfort - or at the very least, fluster - in the action.

“What makes you say that?” Alfred tried instead, cringing at his painfully awkward tone. Arthur’s lip twitched. Alfred felt even worse. Arthur could read him like a book; and he wasn’t exactly the King of Subtlety at that current moment. Alfred sighed and grabbed the remote from the coffee table, pausing the film and properly facing Arthur. “Why would I be?”

Arthur only groaned and covered his face with his hands, “Oh god,”

“‘Oh god’ what?” Alfred asked smartly, becoming more highly strung with Arthur’s reaction. “Arthur?”

“Just tell it to me straight.” Arthur twined as he rubbed his face, pausing when he appeared to remember that his hands were coated with popcorn butter. It seemed that he had forgotten about that fact in a split second, however, as he then proceeded to ruffle his hair almost immediately afterwards, making it an even bigger mess than it already was. It was a classic agitated Arthur move, which Alfred had always found to be cute.

Alfred averted his gaze, because that was definitely not the time to be thinking about how ridiculously adorable his best friend looked with his hair mussed up like that.

“Tell you what, hombre?” Alfred asked as he - in a feeble attempt at being casual - tried reaching over to get himself some popcorn. However, his hand was only smacked away by Arthur with reflexes of a hissing cat, effectively causing him to withdraw. Alfred gasped as he shook his hand, less out of pain and more from surprise. “Hey! What gives, asshole?”

Arthur frowned as he shielded the bowl from any more attempts. “Answer me first,”

“You haven’t even asked anything yet.” Alfred whined, once again trying to at least get something , though it was all in vain. Once again, Arthur managed to slap his hand away, protectively holding the bowl of popcorn even closer. “Oh, come on!”

“Answer me.”

“Answer what? You haven’t even asked me anything!”

“I have!”

“No you haven’t!”

“I have.”

“Haven’t.”

“ Have .”

“Oh yeah? What’d ya ask then?”

“...oh.”

“Damn straight.” Alfred huffed as he stuck his hand out, wriggling his fingers. “Now pay up, daddy needs his fill.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and begrudgingly thrusted the bowl towards Alfred. “Don’t ever call yourself that again.”

“Why not? Daddy thinks it suits him pretty well.” Alfred taunted before he shoved a copious amount of popcorn into his mouth, flicking one at Arthur when he scoffed. “Daddy thinks you’re being selfish.”

“You’re making me cringe.”

“Your face is cringe! Ha!”

Arthur snatched the bowl back with a glare, daintily picking up the popcorn that had been used as ammo against him and popping it into his mouth, elegance somehow never wavering. Alfred snorted as Arthur chewed in the most begrudging way possible, their eyes remaining locked the entire time. Alfred teasingly stuck his tongue out once he finished his initial fill, finally managing to grab another handful of popcorn, making a mess on the floor and sofa.

“Alfred!” Arthur hissed.

Alfred grinned, “What, you really think I’d let you keep the popcorn to yourself like that? No way, man. My house, my popcorn.”

“You little- oi! Give that back!”

Malice-free insults and near-idiotic banter proceeded to fly between them as well as popcorn and kernels to the point that Alfred’s living room looked as though it was a cinema filled with rowdy children who didn’t realise they were making a mess. They laughed and joked about like they were seventeen again, though this time they didn’t have to worry about Alfred’s mother walking in and scolding her son for creating such a mess.

No, this time, they had the whole place to themselves.

Moreover, they didn’t have to pretend.

They didn’t have to secretly imagine that it was only them in the house, that perhaps that ‘shithead’ and ‘incorrigible oaf’ were loaded with thinly veiled flirtation, that perhaps that sneaky smirk meant something other than snark, that perhaps the smile that reached the other’s eyes was because the other was impossibly adorable, and that maybe - just maybe - they were in love.

Because now, it was all true.

By the end of their little tirade, Alfred was eating off of his hoodie, and Arthur was mumbling something about the loss of perfectly good popcorn on the floor that hadn’t managed to survive the five-second rule.

Yet ultimately, the pair were left looking like grinning fools, red and love-sick and butter-flavoured. They resumed the movie along the way after coquettish snickers and a final exchange of harmless, childish gibes (“Butthead.” “Fatarse.”). The initial tension that had sprouted from earlier faded into near nothingness, comfort surrounding Alfred.

Strangely enough, however, Alfred felt like something was missing.

But as Anna Scott and William Thacker climbed over the gate of the closed neighbourhood park, Alfred glanced over at Arthur and kept to himself. Arthur had always liked that bit in particular.

Though the next fifteen minutes passed like an absolute breeze with both of them in affable silence, it still wasn’t enough to wash away the feeling that something was still wrong, still missing, still...

Then, Arthur spoke, and it clicked:

“You don’t want this, do you?”

Alfred stared at Arthur long and hard, though his green eyes were fixed on the screen.

“Want what?”

Alfred’s response was immediate. Sure-sounding. But ultimately, they both knew it was just Alfred evading the confrontation as if it hadn’t begun already. Alfred watched with regret as Arthur looked all the more upset with his response, pursing his lips as his gaze on the screen morphed into a glare.

“Us, Alfred.”

Alfred felt a shudder run down his spine.

Us .

“What are we?”

We .

Alfred had heard Arthur refer to them as ‘we’ and ‘us’ over a million times and more. It had never meant much to him, just another everyday word used that had never held anything different.

But this time, it was different. ‘Us’ and ‘we’ were heavy things. They didn’t just mean Alfred and Arthur - it was Alfred and Arthur together.

A relationship beyond their close friendship.

The idea of it had always made Alfred excited. And yet the current prospect of it, while still appealing, frankly worried him. It made his stomach twist, somewhat.

Speak , goddamn it.

“Arthur, I swear to god, I do like you.” Alfred began, his heart rumbling pleasantly when Arthur’s face brightened in an instant, pale face colouring pink. He caught the way Arthur’s lips momentarily twitched into a small smile before he forced himself to frown, though his shining eyes were his biggest traitors - even with his eyebrows furrowed together in an attempt to look somewhat uncaring.

Arthur was happy to hear it.

But then, Alfred continued.

“It’s just a little weird, that’s all.”

Arthur’s face fell.

“Shit.” Alfred muttered to himself, wondering how the hell he was supposed to get out of this one. “I-”

“So you don’t like it.” Arthur remarked with a hushed voice, so quiet that Alfred almost hadn’t heard it over the movie.

“No, I do! I didn’t say that I didn’t.” Alfred hastily defended. “I mean, it’s...it feels kind of- I’m not used to it.”

Arthur grimaced slightly. That wasn’t good. “I’m sorry.”

“What, no, no! Don’t apologise, I wasn’t- you weren’t- you shouldn’t-” well, this was going swimmingly, wasn’t it? “I just- it was just weird, that’s all.”

“So I did make you uncomfortable.”

“I said weird, not uncomfy.”

“Well, what’s the difference? Either way, I- you didn’t want it, so clearly-”

“No, I-”

“-I should apologise, I made things weird, and-”

“Arthur, listen to me-”

“-and you know that’s the last thing I want to do, Alfred. I got too comfortable, I assumed-”

“I just don’t want to ruin our friendship.” Alfred finally managed to let out, his voice raised slightly with conviction, finding that his hand was holding Arthur’s.

And that must have been what had shut Arthur up completely, his wide eyes gazing down at their interlocked hands. His expression changed in a matter of mere seconds, ranging from surprise to happiness to apprehension to...

“Come again?” Arthur asked, his voice small.

Wearing his heart on his sleeve, Alfred shuffled slightly closer, turning their distance from a foot to two inches, their hands still locked in a minuscule embrace. Arthur’s hand was warm, but Alfred’s body was warmer, and though hesitant, he managed to take Arthut’s other hand in his own. His heart was pounding wildly, screaming for him to move and speak and-

“What if I screw up and lose you?” Alfred admitted earnestly, drawing circles on the back of Arthur’s hand in his. He hadn’t meant for it to come out so miserably, but it was all true. The cat was finally out of the bag, and there was no turning back.

Arthur - darling Arthur - gave him the gentlest of all smiles, the sort that transcended the warmth and softness the loveliest chocolate and best blanket during wintertime could ever offer. It made Alfred feel calm and mild; it was as though all of his problems and worries were gone in an instant, Arthur’s smile warding off all negativity.

“You won’t fuck up, Alfred. And you will never lose me.” Alfred felt like he’d cry from Arthur’s sincerity, yet at the same time Arthur’s words already wiped any tears that might fall before they’d even fallen. “Is this why...is that the weird bit, then?”

Alfred nodded hesitantly. “Well, I mean, yeah, we’ve kinda...you know, we’ve been sort of sweeping it-”

“Sort of?”

Alfred snorted and rolled his eyes affectionately as Arthur smiled at him teasingly. “Fine, we’ve been sweeping it under the rug. And I guess it’s partly ‘cause I didn’t know how to make the first move, and thinking about it…” Alfred sighed. “God, Arthur, it’s scary.”

“What is?”

Alfred hesitated.

“Us.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you’re a good thing, Arthur, and we’re gonna be the best damn thing the world’s ever gonna see.” Arthur chuckled at that, but all Alfred could hear while he’d been talking was the shakiness in his voice. Although he’d entrusted many of his secrets to Arthur, he’d never been this truly honest and vulnerable with him, with his feelings. His mind had run out of jokes to crack, of stupid side comments to derail their conversation, of ways to take the attention from how he truly felt. He’d been backed up to the corner with no way to run - and he knew that he shouldn’t be. It had to happen, and it truly was happening.

“If I ruin this good thing, I’ll lose you, Arthur, and I can’t let that happen.” Alfred squeezed Arthur’s hands. “Doesn’t that scare you?”

“No.”

Alfred was taken aback by Arthur’s quick answer, even more surprised with how calm and sure Arthur looked.

“I’m ready for you.” Arthur said, and Alfred felt like he was melting. “I know you won’t ruin anything. I know you won’t lose me. I know you, Alfred, and we’re fine . We’re more than fine.”

“Yeah?” Alfred whispered, breathless. Arthur nodded.

“I love you, you twat, and I can’t see myself doing this with anyone else.”

If at all possible, Alfred’s cheeks burned even warmer as he stared into Arthur’s eyes in total ecstatic arrest. The smile that blossomed in his face took time to morph, from gaping surprise into its full, grinning form, but it was there eventually. Alfred’s heart skipped a beat as Arthur returned a wonderful, crooked little smile.

“Really?” Alfred asked for a final time, withheld bliss in his hushed voice, still in complete and utter disbelief. Arthur nodded confidently.

Then, two inches turned into zero when Arthur gingerly leaned in and ever so gently brushed his too-soft lips against Alfred’s, ticklish microtouches that made Alfred’s heart leap and his head spin. He was completely frozen in time, all sights and sounds and feelings except his precious Arthur melting into total nothingness as his brain commanded his eyes to shut. He felt like he was going to burst with total rapture, and yet he could only sit there and let Arthur’s breath dance on his lips, holding them together softly and carefully.

Alfred felt as though it was his first kiss; and maybe, in a way, it was. It was certainly his first kiss where his breath caught, where he was rendered motionless, where he was left too dumb too move, where he was truly in love with who he was kissing.

For the first time, it was real.

Soon enough, feathery kisses became firmer, hungrier. Alfred’s brain short-circuited when Arthur manoeuvred his body and shifted even closer, tilting his head to take more of Alfred. He shuddered when Arthur slipped his hand off of his, hand travelling up to his shoulder, the touch burning on his skin despite his hoodie serving as a blasted barrier between them.

Finally managing to collect his thoughts, his now free hand cupped the small of Arthur’s back and pulled him closer, closer and closer until Arthur’s legs were entangled with his, their chests pressing and their hearts dancing to the same song and dance. Alfred could smell Arthur even better now, and he was becoming more and more intoxicated with his personal drug, demanding more as he used his other hand to squeeze Arthur’s thigh. The simplicity of it made Arthur gasp and shiver, and Alfred couldn’t help but pull Arthur to his lap completely, their mouths never once losing their perfect sync, and their hands never leaving the other’s body.

Alfred felt absolutely renewed and reignited, never feeling more alive as everything he’d been dreaming of for who knows how long finally came to life. It felt real and unreal all at once - the warmth of Arthur’s body, the sweetest aromas blending around him, the sounds of what had been building up for the last seven years, the way Arthur’s skilled fingers and mouth nearly set Alfred into overdrive, the overwhelming love he felt for this one man, who had irrevocably flipped his world upside down and made him happier than a child on Christmas day.

When their lips parted from one another, their eyes met, and they stared. Arthur was dashing as always, but even more so now, red and glowing and absolutely in love with Alfred. Alfred couldn’t believe that all he ever wanted was there, on his lap, barely an inch away from kissing him for a second time. He was admittedly slightly nervous that he had made a total fool of himself, but when Arthur grazed his cheek and gazed at him with complete and utter adoration, looking thoroughly pleased, Alfred realised that he had no reason to think so.

But then, Arthur was leaning in again, ready to capture Alfred’s lips into another searing, loving kiss.

“Um, I’m going to go out for a sec.”

Arthur paused abruptly, their noses bumping. He pulled away and stared at Alfred, confused. “What?”

Alfred swallowed.

“Sorry, uh, continue the movie without me. I’ll be back.”

Alfred quickly but gently set Arthur down on the cushions, scrambling off the sofa as if it were on fire. He heard the unfortunate crunching of popcorn on his carpet as he stumbled backwards, but nothing else made him cringe more than the apprehensive look on Arthur’s face.

“Alfred, wait, what- where are you-”

“I’ll be back, I promise.” Alfred said firmly, but not unkindly, though he didn’t even bother to hear Arthur out as he jogged to his patio, gasping for air as if he’d been submerged in water for far too long. He wondered if his heart was allowed to beat that hard and that fast, or if feeling like passing out after experiencing the best kiss ever was normal. He wanted to scream into the night sky, to tell the world that he was the luckiest man to ever exist because Arthur adored him as much as he did.

But he kept it all in, because truthfully, there was still a seed of doubt in his mind.

(And partly because his neighbours would scold him about it in the morning.)

Alfred couldn’t help but feel that he was gambling with a friendship, with a profound bond that spanned years.

How could he not be terrified?

How was Arthur not terrified?

But then again, Arthur was ready.

That was what he’d told Alfred; and he’d been so ready he’d made the first move, the move Alfred had dreamt of pulling first, of holding Arthur by surprise in any way, just to let him know that hey, surprise, motherfucker, I’m yours, and you’re mine.

But Alfred hadn’t been able to do it. Arthur had done it first.

Arthur was ready for Alfred - for their future. He’d been overflowing with certainty when he’d said it, confidence ebbing only when Alfred wavered.

Because was Alfred ready for Arthur, to take things further?

In no time at all, an answer came to mind, a simple yet heavy three-letter word that had the power to change everything:

Yes .

Alfred knew that he had been ready for a long time now, but now that it was here - that it was coming, all his worries seemed to be crashing in on him all at once.

What if he disappointed Arthur?

What if Arthur realised that he wasn’t worth it?

What if he annoyed Arthur?

What if Arthur was only settling because he felt bad for Alfred?

What if Arthur found someone better than Alfred?

Scenarios of the different ways things could go horribly wrong raced through Alfred’s brain, including a whole alien invasion scenario where Arthur would get taken away on their wedding day by a handsome alien prince who was a gazillion times cooler than Alfred was. Ugly ‘what-if’s and ‘but’s wouldn’t stop shooting cruel arrows and piercing Alfred’s heart, striking the target each and every time.

The longer Alfred stood there in the dark, the more he felt an infinite times smaller than his anxieties and a future full of failure. His natural optimism became shrouded by dark clouds of worry, of assumptions that perhaps he just wasn’t enough after all. When it came to Arthur, he couldn’t help but worry that he couldn’t measure up to how wonderful he was, to how great they could be together. He wanted the best for Arthur - but what if he wasn’t?

Ultimately, Alfred found that it all boiled down to him wanting Arthur to have the very best - and what if that just wasn’t Alfred?

What if he was too dumb for Arthur? Too annoying? Too... Alfred ?

What if, what if, what if, what if-

What if you’re already what Arthur wants?

A shiver crawled throughout his body as that quiet voice of hope knocked on the entrance of his heart, somehow effectively silencing the cynical voices in his mind that only intended to wreak havoc. Suddenly, the air was fresher, and his head stopped aching. He could see the stars and satellites glimmering in the sky clearly, and they looked like Alfred could touch them, too.

What Arthur thought of Alfred was his decision - not Alfred’s.

And there was no need for a ‘what if’.

Arthur had already decided that he was ready for Alfred, in spite of everything.

Arthur had seen him in his worst, in his best, in his saddest, and in his happiest. Arthur had seen Alfred hit rock bottom, as well as soar over the moon; and it was the same for Alfred.

They had been there for each other throughout it all, and despite all of Alfred’s blunders and shortcomings and imperfections, Arthur still wanted him. Arthur still thought Alfred was worth it.

And to Alfred, Arthur was always worth it.

A hopeful warmth spread throughout Alfred’s body.

Alfred turned around to run back inside, an answer on his lips and heart, only to find Arthur watching him through the sliding glass. Alfred’s heart nearly lept out of his chest - out of surprise, and because Arthur just had that effect on him. He paused and clumsily staggered backwards, slightly hesitant, but not because he was afraid.

Not anymore.

They stared at each other wordlessly, one looking anguished and the other brimming with hope and bliss. There was a two metre distance between them, and Arthur was inside and Alfred, outside. Time was of the essence, clearly, with Arthur’s messenger bag already on his shoulder, and his windbreaker already neatly on his body. He looked subdued and devastated; doubtful and undoubtedly fresh from a few tears.

Alfred’s chest leaped, urging him to move, and he finally made the first step and all but jogged to Arthur.

Arthur who was ready for Alfred, and who he was ready for.

When Alfred was inside, he stopped just a few steps away from Arthur, breathless and excited, though Arthur’s mouth was already moving the moment he’d managed to get closer to his future.

“I’m sorry.” Arthur spoke hastily, his nose sounding stuffy. “I don’t know what got into me, I shouldn’t have- that was just...god, Alfred, I’m sorry, let’s pretend this never happened. I was being a twat, and you were just- there’s no excuse, and I’m sorry. I…!”

Arthur stopped abruptly when Alfred practically leapt and enveloped Arthur into a tight embrace, burying his nose into Arthur’s soft hair. They stumbled slightly from the impact, but Arthur managed to find his footing and keep them relatively stable. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Shut up, man. Just shut up.” Alfred mumbled with a soft laugh, inhaling and basking in the presence of Arthur. He would hold him tighter and closer if he could, but he was also perfectly content with being a metre away from him, so long as he knew he was there with him.

Before Arthur could utter another word, Alfred quickly crashed their lips together, electrifying and convicted. He pushed Arthur against the wall (or was that his kitchen counter?) and kissed him fervidly, screaming a thousand ‘I want you’s, a million ‘I’m ready for you’s, and an infinite ‘I love you’s without really saying anything at all.

Arthur responded much quicker than Alfred had when they had kissed for the first time, his initial shock wearing off quickly as he pressed back against Alfred, returning unspoken sentiments with actions and passion. It was messy and frenzied, all the pent up emotions that had been harbouring for far too long spilling into the way they stumbled back into the living room and onto the couch, barely breaking their rhythm and embrace.

Only when Arthur was straddled beneath Alfred with his bag haphazardly strewn aside and his windbreaker off one shoulder did they look at each other properly - Alfred down at Arthur, and Arthur up at Alfred. Alfred smiled and stroked Arthur’s cheek, widening his grin when Arthur responded with a fond look, leaning into his touch.

“Your hand smells like popcorn.” Arthur noted, accompanying his comment with a little kiss to Alfred’s wrist. It was a simple gesture, and a rather useless observation, but Alfred’s whole being warmed all the same. He ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair the way he’d dreamed of so many times before, then proceeding to run his hands over Arthur’s smooth face, his thumb resting against Arthur’s kissed lips. Arthur watched him all the while, and Alfred knew that he made no mistake.

“I’m ready for you, Arthur,” Alfred whispered earnestly, feeling the way Arthur’s breath caught on his thumb. Arthur smiled, and he propped himself on his elbows.

Then, quietly, he whispered:

“Then kiss me again.”

And Alfred did.