The first thing Arthur woke up to was a blinding headache. He'd had them before, those that start behind your ears and make their way around your entire brain in a matter of minutes. The second thing Arthur woke up to was warm breath tickling his ear, and large hands wrapped around his midsection. It didn't register quite who it was right away, so he froze in the man's arms. But it became all too clear who the mystery man was when Arthur noticed the glasses resting on the nightstand nearby.

"Alfred!" Arthur exploded, struggling to pry off the other's hands from him and roll off the bed. There was a mumble and a stir as the grip on him tightened and worked its way around to his upper thigh. Oh, fuck. Arthur blushed a deep red and began swatting at Alfred, but to little avail. It seemed that this fat blob just didn't want to wake up so soon. Defeated, he flopped back into the bed, and that seemed to content his still snoozing partner. At least his hands weren't traveling, Arthur thought with a small sigh.

The red glow from across the room proudly displayed that it was currently seven thirty in the morning. Seven thirty, and he still didn't remember anything from last night. Now, normally, he'd be worrying if they had shagged last night while he was drop dead drunk, but their clothes were still on. In fact, his jacket was still on as well. If in fact they had done something, Alfred had certainly gone far to cover his tracks.

Something didn't stir quite right about that, though. He and Alfred were relatively close. Or, at least, close enough to know that the photographer wouldn't take advantage of someone while they were drunk.

As he flipped over onto his side, Arthur was met with Alfred's face not even an inch away from his own. His reaction could be described with many words, but only one seemed to sum it all up- violent.

"Fuck!"

Flailing his arms, he slumped off the side of the bed and had somehow managed to swat Alfred's arm. Or leg, he hadn't really been able to tell at the time. As he lay off the side of the bed, Alfred slowly opened his eyes to stare at him. And there was a moment of silence where the two just stared into each other's eyes- Alfred's glazed over with disinterest and exhaustion, Arthur's with annoyance and anger.

"Dude, what the hell are you doing?"

Him? Arthur sputtered indignantly. "M-Me! You were the one who I found in my bed this morning, hugging me like I was some sort of stuffed… some sort of stuffed bear!"

"You told me to stay," Alfred said as he rubbed at his eyes.

This stopped him in his tracks. Temporarily. "Well… well, you could have just left me here. It's not like you thought I would be completely okay with you cuddling up to me when we woke up." He coughed. Though, it bothered Arthur that he had actually asked the man to stay with him. After all, he was known for being rather… ah, frisky, when drunk. It hadn't really gotten anywhere, seeing that as far as he knew, he was still a virgin. But the concept of him hitting on Alfred at all was completely and utterly mortifying. It made him want to crawl under his bed and never come out. Except, perhaps, to feed Crumpets.

"Yeah, well, maybe I would have left if you hadn't threatened to burn down my apartment," Alfred practically growled. "Can I go back to sleep? I have to head in to The Roost at around ten thirty."

Arthur was taken aback. Alfred seemed unusually grumpy. Most likely due to being woken up at what the younger thought to be an ungodly time, but he wouldn't let him sleep. Not until he found out what happened last night.

"Tell me what happened last night."

With a roll of his eyes, he might as well have been burning a hole into the ceiling. "We went out for drinks; you lost your shit after the first few sips. Francis came in and said that you want me to kiss you. I didn't believe him at first, but when I started carrying you home you asked me to kiss you. A whole fucking lot. Then you dragged me in your bed and told me to stay or you'd burn down my apartment. Ta da. The end. Can I go to sleep?"

Throughout Alfred's tale, Arthur had been feeling more and more lightheaded as he continued speaking. With no response from him, the other grumbled and Alfred's head hit the pillow once again. Which left Arthur in shock as he sat on his bedroom floor.

That settled it, he was never drinking again.

xxx

When he woke up, the bed was empty and the room was uncomfortably warm. His legs were tangled around the sheets, and his arms were clutching a pillow. Tightly, in fact, he was holding the pillow so tightly that it was a miracle goose feathers hadn't spilled over and surrounded the immediate area. Yes, Alfred was alone. And it took a few moments for him to figure out where he was, exactly. Not in his own bed, that was for sure. It was too neat for him to be in his own bed. As he sat up and straightened his back with a sickening crack, he glanced around the room. The floors were a dark brown wood, almost black. A rug supported the bed, which was low to the ground and a mahogany tint. The sheets that he was entangled in were light and dark grey striped.

Whoever's room this was certainly had nice taste.

What time was it? The clock across the room glowed a happy eight-fifteen. Great, eight-fifteen. At least he wasn't anywhere near late for work.

And then it hit him, all at once. All of the memories from last night, how Arthur had demanded for him to stay in the bed with him. Strangely enough, it didn't really bother him. Which was more surprising than not, seeing as how Arthur had clearly gotten up and didn't seem all that concerned with the situation at the moment. Or at least, he assumed. For all Alfred knew, Arthur could be planning his bloody demise as he sat upon the bed. The bed was rather fluffy, though. So, before reluctantly standing up, he bounced a few time as he sat.

"Artie? You here?" Alfred asked lightly as he pressed the door open.

"Where else would I be?"

The voice startled him, and it took him a moment before he could figure out that the voice was coming from the kitchen area. Lo and behold stood Arthur, leaning against the counter with a steaming mug of liquid. It appeared that he had changed into pinstripe, button down pajamas and warm slippers as well. Arthur looked fine, aside from the dark bags under his eyes.

"Stop staring at me, git." He muttered and turned his eyes away from Alfred.

Oh. Was he staring? It hadn't really crossed his mind that glancing at someone for however long counted as staring.

Clearing his throat, Alfred moved a few steps into the kitchen and rested his back against the granite countertop. "We need to talk. About last night."

If he hadn't been paying attention, he may have missed the faint look of worry that passed through the other's expression as he stood. But then again, Alfred was a photographer. It was his job to notice details and take pictures of them, whether they are mental or visual.

"Of course. What would you like you speak about, Alfred?"

"What Francis said. He mentioned something about you. And, uh," Damn, this was awkward. Meanwhile, Arthur's expression looked something like a deer caught in headlights. "Being attracted to me?" He grinned sheepishly. Of course, the tension in the air wasn't resolved by a smile, but it couldn't hurt Alfred to try. "I-I mean, I know I'm sexy, but damn, Artie." Alfred chuckled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Arthur said indignantly and brought his mug closer to his lips to hide the worrisome expression he carried.

"Yeah, you do. I told you about it earlier today. Remember?" The American replied. After a short pause, he added, "Oh, and sorry for being so grumpy this morning."

"It's fine," Arthur began. "I suppose I don't have much of a choice. I have spoken with Francis about you, yes. But I never said that I was… ah, attracted to you…" He murmured and avoided contact with Alfred's eyes as if they were some form of poison. Beautiful, blue poison.

"Yeah, but you did talk to him about me. What did you say?" Alfred pouted and crossed his arms.

"Just that you were my new neighbor, and I was fond of you. Nothing more, nothing less."

It seemed that he wasn't going to get much information out of Arthur. At least on that charge. Well, whatever. That still didn't explain the other things he said. Such as asking for Alfred to kiss him and cuddling up to him in bed. The American's cheeks tinted a slight pink, but he brushed the butterflies in his stomach off and refixed his gaze to the man in front of him.

"Well, what about after we left the bar? Y'know, you asking me to kiss you. What was that?"

That was about the point when Arthur's calm façade that he had maintaining throughout the entire interrogation crashed and burned as it fell into freezing water.

"I-I…" Arthur sputtered. "I have nothing to say about that…" His eyes darted across the room, and for a split moment, met Alfred's but immediately looked away.

"Yeah? You sure you don't have a little crush on me?" Alfred chuckled awkwardly. Surprisingly, instead of defiant denial, only silence filled the room. "Artie? You don't actually have a crush on me, do you?"

Arthur's head bobbed up in an almost comical way. "What? Of course I don't! I-I just didn't answer because I assumed you were joking, is all!" He twiddled his thumbs near the bottom of his shirt. The tea had been drained, and there was absolutely nothing to keep him from covering his face now.

Stepping forward, Alfred placed both of his hands on the side of Arthur's head, forcing him to look up and stare into his eyes. Right at this moment in time, there was nothing separating the two of their gazes. No walls.

"Don't lie to me. Just don't. Can you say that you don't have a crush on me to my face, not to the floor." Alfred asked, his eyes dark and serious.

Arthur closed his eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, Alfred. Please, don't. Just go and joke about how drunk I got and forget this entire thing ever happened. For the love of god, don't focus your gaze like that. I've never seen you this serious before. It's worrying me." Arthur thought in the darkness.

As he opened his eyes once more, the American's gaze stilled hadn't wavered. It seemed that he truly wanted an answer.

"I… I don't have a bloody crush on you…"

"What a coward. Do you really have that much pride? Are you ashamed that you fell for him so quickly, Arthur? That's right, maybe if you say it enough, it'll go away," A nagging voice near the back of his brain reminded him.

Alfred huffed. "You weren't looking at me."

Taking a deep breath, he looked back up into the American's eyes. "I don't have a crush on you, you stupid twat."

With a sad smile, Alfred released his hands and turned around. "See? Wasn't so hard. I've got to leave for work."

With his heart still pounding, Arthur's hand managed to grab the back of the other's shirt. "It's only eight-thirty."

"Yeah, well. Whatever, I just have to get to work," He muttered and grabbed the scarf he had dropped on the way inside last night as he tried to force himself out the door.

"Alfred F. Jones, what are you doing? Why are you getting so upset all of the sudden?" Arthur asked as he grabbed at the departing man's jacket.

After a moment, there was no resistance on the jacket and Alfred's shoulders slumped as he sighed.

"I was just kinda hoping that you did have a crush on me, you know? That's all," He chuckled. "I dunno. Since I've moved here, we're gotten pretty close. I never really thought of you in much of a romantic way until around last night, when Francis pointed it out. But after that, you were pretty much all I could think about. I stayed up until around three just laying with you on my chest and thinking about how great it could be if we actually were dating. That's all. Okay?"

"A-Alfred… you…"

Arthur trailed off in shock. Alfred actually did want to be in a relationship with him? Stubborn, grumpy, Arthur Kirkland? No, that wasn't possible… it just didn't add up.

"I know. So, anyways, I'm goin' to head out now. I'll come over later or something. Just do me a favour and pretend like I never said that if it disturbs you or something," Alfred said as he tightened the scarf around his neck.

The Englishman said nothing at first. The gears in his mind spun and worked their way into a smoke before he could register what had just happened. Alfred wasn't going to work yet. Definitely not.

"Alfred? Wait. Come back inside," Arthur ordered softly. When he didn't turn around, he added a soft please to the end of his request. And sure enough, Alfred came to a stop.

Inside the apartment, the two placed themselves on opposite sides of the sofa. For the time being, Alfred wasn't making much eye contact. And for the few times he did, his glance only stayed for about a moment.

"I lied. I do like you. A… ehm, quite a lot, actually," Arthur blurted out.

Alfred's head darted up in surprise. A quick glance of his lips, and anyone could tell that he was fighting a hopeful smile from bubbling up and emerging from the depths.

"Really? You mean it?" He asked, allowing himself to move a bit closer to Arthur.

"Of course, you idiot! Why would I lie about that?" Arthur said with a cross of his legs and arms.

The moment he turned his head to face Alfred, his scowl melted at the sight of his grin and bright blue eyes.

"I dunno, I guess I'm just… I dunno. I'm just really happy, okay?" The other grinned and laughed with utter glee, leaning over to embrace the Englishman in a warm hug.

Arthur began to push away, but his protests died on the tip of his tongue quickly and cleanly. There was no reason to push, was there? Right now, Alfred had him in his arms. That was really all he needed for the time being. With a gentle clearing of his throat his new lover backed off with an unwavering smile.

"Sorry 'bout that."

"No, no. It's…" Arthur paused. "It was nice. I liked it." He said with a slight nod. Alfred certainly seemed happy now. Stupid git, one person shouldn't be able to make you that happy. But then again, earlier he wasn't exactly… content. At all. And he had caused it. "I greatly apologise for lying to you. About not having a crush on you."

The other waved off his apology with a flip of his hand. "Nah, I'd have done the same thing if I were you. I mean, a good majority of people fear rejection by the people they like."

"It's just that you looked so unhappy… and I'm sorry for th-"

Alfred silenced his explanation with a finger to his lips.

"It's cool. We're together, aren't we?"

"I suppose so. But I wish you'd stop wiping my apologies off as if they're nothing," Arthur said with a dead tone and a slight glare.

With a laugh, the American raised his right hand and prompted Arthur to do the same. "Now, repeat after me. I will not lie in this relationship."

"I will not lie in this relationship," Arthur parroted.

Well, at least Alfred seemed satisfied. He slunk into the couch with a smug grin. "There. We're good."

The Englishman let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "Alright. I promise to be honest."

Propping himself up and leaning in closer to Arthur, Alfred smiled. "And so do I." And with those words, he placed a feather light, ghost of a kiss onto the other's lips. It could just barely qualify as a kiss. But it communicated their promise and emotions so well into just a simple brush.

Leaning back, Alfred bit his lip. "Was that okay?"

As Arthur replied, he brought his hand up to his mouth, the spot where Alfred's lips had brushed. "Perfect."

Hello readers. No update last week due to a bit of a personal issues that kept me from writing, so I apologise for that. Buuut. There you go, they're dating now. However, this is definitely not the end of this tale. We're not even close to finished. I expect this to be somewhere around twenty chapters, possibly even edging around twenty-five. Happy chapter ten, everyone. So I'm out of school for the summer which means, more updates. Longer updates. And my last announcement is that I am going away from tomorrow up until around next Sunday, so I don't THINK I'll be able to update until next week. Never fear, once I come back, I'll post the chapter on Tuesday or so. Thank you for reading and reviewing. See you soon.

chibitalex