CHAPTER 2

A/N – Dear all, a big hug for all the feedback, it means a lot to me! I know there's been a significant delay in posting this final update, but I was utterly uninspired… What can I say? Anyway, enjoy the final chapter and if you liked this story feel welcome to check my other USUK projects as well.

Warning: more alcohol consumption and England's waiter outfit. Yes.

"So, he fell asleep."

"Yes. Just when things were… well. In a way it was a huge relief, you can imagine. But then again, it was an equally huge disappointment," Arthur muttered under his breath, pretending to take notes as Kiku Honda – the student council president – was reading the meeting schedule and his plans for the new university newspaper due in two weeks.

Next to him Vlad was in a sour mood of his own, faced with the daunting perspective of having to cover up for an epic stunt his secret fiancé had pulled at the party at some point, while brokenhearted after Roderich Edelstein's unfortunate and unexpected passing out. Lukas was nowhere to be found, so they'd had to lie about him being sick. Arthur for one was certain that the hangover he was currently experiencing was the worst in the world history of hangovers, the pounding in his skull worsening at the slightest movement. At least Kiku was in the habit of speaking in a low voice, thank God!

"He's looking this way, you know," the strawberry blond pointed, fiddling with a pen and pretending to be mildly interested in what was being discussed as vice-president Ludwig eagerly started a debate, creating some more headache-amplifying blabber.

"Who?"

"Jones, who else."

Shit. Pale fingers dug helplessly in his aching brow as the Englishman gulped, trying to push away from his mind certain stirring images while his cheeks began to heat up. But there was no way Alfred could have known the truth, right? No chance in hell, he repeated to himself, but the mantra failed to reassure him.

"It doesn't mean anything after all, right? It was nothing… nothing worth mentioning I mean, we just made out, that doesn't count, right?"

Vlad scowled. "Count for what? Just stop stressing out, okay? He probably doesn't remember shit, he was drunk out of his mind even before he took whatever shit pills Gilbert kindly supplied. Besides, you were in disguise. On a different note how the fuck am I supposed to keep under wraps that the whore who happens to be my fiancé accidentally on purpose got into a threesome with my two Italian cousins who are both brainless and loud-mouthed?! And it's technically my fault, because the family thinks I'm supposed to chaperone her on all social events!"

"Um… I thought chaperoning meant something slightly different?" the green-eyed blond observed." And shouldn't someone else be supposed to chaperone the two of you?"

"Well, fuck! This whole marriage bullshit is getting out of hand!" the Romanian grumbled.

"Right. As if it had ever been in hand…"

"Arthur, is there something you would like to add? If so, please share it with the rest of us," Ludwig suddenly said, with barely restrained irritation, drawing everyone's attention on the Englishman and his friend.

Biting back a swear, the culprit cleared his throat awkwardly but held his chin up nevertheless, meeting the speaker's gaze with a dignified air. "Certainly. We were just thinking that perhaps the two week deadline is a bit too tight? If we could by any chance make it three-"

"NO! Have you not been paying any attention until now?!" the German roared. "Or are you deliberately trying to piss us off?!"

Oh, he wouldn't have dreamed of it. Arthur slumped back in his chair defeated, sighing deeply as the vice-president continued to shout in their general direction, emphasizing with more words than necessary that if they wanted to stay in the students' council they had better put in the same amount of work and within the same deadlines as everyone else. He didn't need to look up to know that Jones was watching him intently and chuckling. Useless bastard.

As soon as the ordeal was finally over, the green-eyed blond attempted to bolt from the room, only to be caught by the merciless Ludwig (silently backed up by Kiku's reproachful stare) and have an impressive amount of study material shoved in his arms. Some more tedious lecture accompanied it, lasting long enough until nearly everyone had left the meeting room. God, he just wanted to go back to his dorm and pass out on the bed!

"Hey, Arthur!"

The startling voice had the Englishman stop dead in his tracks and instantly annoyed as he could intuit the American's happy-go-lucky and highly obnoxious grin even before he actually turned and saw it. Bloody wanker!

"Alfred. Is there anything I can help you with?" he asked coldly, sternly, hoping to discourage the other and make him sod off fairly quickly.

The American sauntered towards him casually, almost teasingly, although officially the two of them were barely acquainted and carelessly invaded his personal space. "Well, is there? Maybe… who knows…" he replied thoughtfully, lifting his hand and capturing the smaller blond's chin between his thumb and index finger. He leaned in, searching the other's eyes from up close with a knowing and gradually reassured smile.

"Now, that's very interesting… but it was you, wasn't it? Not that the black makeup was half bad, but I must say you look better without it. See, this deep shade of green, I knew I'd seen it before."

The other's knees went weak, but he would not give up without a fight. Swatting the taller blond's hand away, he blinked angrily, feigning revolted confusion. "What the hell are you rambling about, Jones?! What could you possibly mean by that?"

"Now… what could I possibly mean by that… Benedict?" Alfred scowled lightly."No, wait! Benedict is your uncle, isn't it? My bad…"

On top of the already splitting headache, Arthur felt the sky collapsing over his head. What now?! There was no point in denying it further and it wasn't like he could hope to count on Mr. Popularity's discretion. He was screwed with capital 'S'. But then again, it was nothing, nothing! They'd just made out, nothing awfully compromising had transpired, so…

"And?" he retorted cheekily.

Jones's eyebrow shot up in surprise and he blinked, his gaze narrowing as he appeared to ponder. "And you'd go to such lengths to hide your identity because….? It's not like you're with anyone and you were doing stuff behind their back, so why all this secrecy?"

No, I'm just about to become engaged to someone I don't even know. But obviously, he couldn't say that out loud. The smaller blond's face scrunched up in a pained grimace he couldn't hold back. "Well, look… I-I'm not seeing anyone but it's complicated…" he grumbled, staring hard at the floor. Fuck. Perhaps he should mention his uncle? Oh no, bloody bad idea, no, no! "Why do you care anyway?"

"What?"

"Yes, why do you care? I mean let's face it, it didn't mean anything," Arthur went on, gaining a bit of courage." It was a fling gone bad because… whatever, but it's not like you're interested in me or anything, right? It's not like you want a relationship, everyone knows you don't do that sort of stuff, right?"

And right then, as he spoke the words, the Englishman saw Alfred F. Jones's one million dollars smile slip away from his handsome face, like a brilliantly polished façade which simply crumbled upon impact with some horrid and carefully concealed truth.

"Eheh… that's right, I don't do that kind of stuff…" the taller blond admitted with uncharacteristic awkwardness.

"That's what I thought."

With that, Arthur quickly turned his back on him and walked away, gripping the stack of papers tightly and even ignoring the sharp sting of a paper cut, relieved he'd been miraculously able to fix it somehow. But there was something more he felt aside from that, the Englishman couldn't get rid of the sensation that he'd made something snap in the other young man, that he'd involuntarily dug up and caught a glimpse of a certain something meant to be well-hidden.

"It was a mistake, a horrible mistake!"

"What was?"

Lukas was sprawled out on the bed face down, three different types of painkillers lying around scattered onto the duvet. With a groan, he turned slightly, eyeing his friend through unruly, pale bangs.

"That… the… thing with Jones."

The green-eyed blond had thought his problems were over, at least for the moment, the added complication removed, but he'd been dead wrong. Now he found himself restless, tormenting himself over the memory of those fleeting moments of pleasure, over that little, superficial pretense of affection which had nevertheless left him empty inside and wanting more. Did he really like Jones? Well, hard to say. But there was clearly more to the man than the shallow front the American was always putting up, a sort of vulnerability which had been laid out for a moment for him alone to see.

And thus, it had been a grave mistake to try and taste what was forbidden and cause himself even more pain and torment. Not when he didn't have a choice but to do what his family asked of him. In these circumstances, the mere thought of Alfred F. Jones hurt him. The soft kiss of his lips, the warm touch of his hands had been more than Arthur had ever been given and now he was surely to receive only a mockery of that in the future.

"Fuck Jones… my head hurts," Lukas replied matter-of-factly.

"But-"

The green-eyed blond was brusquely cut off by the startling ringing of his own phone and he answered with a trembling hand upon seeing the caller ID. It was his uncle.

The first of the presumably long row of dreadful days to follow had finally come. It was on this fateful Saturday that Arthur was to go to Mr. and Mrs. Benedict Kirkland's mansion and meet the one he was to become engaged with and eventually married, as soon as he graduated.

Finishing fixing up the pearly grey silk tie and smoothing the lapels of the black suit jacket and trousers, the Englishman paused to stare at his reflection in the large mirror, his gaze sweeping warily over the unruly golden bangs, thick eyebrows, pale face slightly dusted with freckles and tired green eyes with vague darker shadows underneath as he wondered whether his suitor would be pleased. He hadn't slept at all the night before and now had skipped both breakfast and lunch, instead choosing to indulge in a quite different treat.

No… this wouldn't do.

Taking another hearty swig from the bottle of scotch, Arthur turned on his heels and walked into the Norwegian's currently empty bedroom, resorting to digging determinedly into his friend's wardrobe until he found what he was looking for. Then, as calm and composed as he could be under the circumstances, he stripped off the neat suit and tie and put the outfit on.

The gravel crunched under the tall black boots (thank God without heels) as the green-eyed blond descended from the cab, pulling the long Burberry trench coat tighter around his body and refastening the belt. For a fleeting moment he eyed the ominous-looking mansion, but no, Arthur would not let his determination falter now. No time to turn back and change anyway, but on the brighter side he'd managed to arrive precisely at the indicated hour.

A black, sumptuous limousine was parked nearby - the driver smoking carelessly while leaning against the hood – and the student gave it a brief, blasé gaze and snorted. Of course, his betrothed to be was rich, otherwise none of this would have been about to happen.

Despite the warmth and assuredness provided by alcohol, a long shudder ran down the Englishman's spine as he walked up the few steps at the entrance and let himself in, forcing a deep breath out of his chest. Was his uncle going to kill him? Probably. Or maybe the 'distinguished American industrialist' would like it after all.

The family's old maid had prepared drinks for the guests and she was just walking out with the tray when she noticed her master's nephew.

"Hello, Agnes," the blond greeted with a small smile which was quick to slip off his face at the prospect of what was to come, as he carefully peeled off his trench coat and hung it in the rack by the door, then adjusted his bowtie and smoothed down the black apron.

The old woman's eyes went wide. "M-Master Arthur!" she stuttered, blinking and hands holding up the tray beginning to shake a bit as she took in the sight of the young man wearing nothing but a crisp white collar held with a black silk bowtie, white cuffs to match, a tight black apron barely reaching his mid-thigh wrapped around his waist and knee-high black boots. The skimpy outfit was disturbingly completed by a pair of white bunny ears and a fluffy white tail tied in the back, just above the ribbon of the apron.

"Here, let me take that to them," Arthur offered kindly, taking the tray from her hands before she got the chance to drop it and have the contents smash against the ground.

"Anyway, as I was saying, my wife and I prefer to spend our summer vacations in-…"

Benedict Kirkland's words died on his lips and his eyes nearly popped out of his head, seemingly only held back by his glasses, at the sight of his nephew. Arthur's aunt only let out a mortified gasp in turn, hands clasping the front of her frilly designer blouse.

"Hello." The student greeted with a curt nod of his head, a glance as indifferent and stiff as he could muster trailing over those present in the large living as he walked in with the tray and stopped in the middle of the room, expectant.

"Arthur…" the blond's uncle finally hissed, gaze narrowing in a way which sent chills down his nephew's spine.

The overweight, middle-aged man seated on the couch in front of the frozen couple turned with some difficulty, his blue gaze sweeping over the young man appreciatively before he smiled widely. "Ah!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "So this is the boy, then. Very cute, I'll say," he chuckled. "A pleasant surprise, I'd have thought him to be more like you, old pal!" he added, laughing openly now.

Benedict cleared his throat as the man sat up with some effort and relieved Arthur of the tray which had suddenly become several pounds heavier, setting it down onto the coffee table, the wide smile lingering on his face. "Richard, this is my nephew, Arthur. Arthur, this is Mr. Richard Jones."

For fuck's sake, for fuck's sake, for fuck's sake… the man was what, fifty? The younger Englishman only bit his lip, beholding the other warily, eyes slightly wide and unable to force even the faintest smile upon his face, instead barely holding back from showing the full extent of his horror.

"Arthur…?"

The unexpected, yet familiar voice had the student wheeling around brusquely, only to discover none other than Alfred F. Jones (never in a million years would he have made the connection) standing straight-backed but awkward nevertheless near the book-laden shelves. The taller blond, his usual cheerful smile gone and face uncharacteristically pale, was wearing a dark brown suit with vest and his usually windswept, unruly hair was now combed and slicked to perfection. All in all, he looked like a grandfather from the fifties… only young. God. Arthur stared, blinking and only managing to add to the other's obvious discomfort.

As the green-eyed blond turned, the bunny tail attached to his backside came into the other guest's full view and the man did not hesitate to grope it in one hearty motion, causing the owner to jump slightly. "Hey Al, this is good stuff, son!" he observed.

"Dad, please…" Alfred breathed out weakly, hand flying to pinch the bridge of his nose and clumsily disguised as an attempt to adjust his glasses.

In turn, Arthur felt faint and absolutely mortified, if this was a bad joke, it was the worst ever played on him and if it wasn't… What the hell was Alfred doing here, for God's sake, Alfred of all people having to witness the dreadful crap which was his fate? He hardly registered his uncle asking whether they knew each other already from school and the other student's barely mumbled answer that yes, they were somewhat acquainted. It didn't matter, that. All it mattered was that the man just introduced by his family seemed to be every bit the pervert he'd expected and on top of it (and the one thing he would have never ever bloody expected), he was Alfred's father. Father? So – for fuck's sake! – what would that make him?

The Englishman was promptly pulled back from the increasingly appalling thoughts when a hand gripped his wrist and he was dragged in a hurry from the living-room, across the large, sumptuous hallway and out in the back garden. Finally released, he stopped to catch his breath, panting slightly, lifting his gaze shyly to rest upon the lapels of the American's suit jacket.

"My face is up here, damn it!" the other snapped at last, causing Arthur to look up instantly and meet the taller blond's scowl. "Oh God, just stop staring at it! And trust me, I am well aware that it is the ugliest suit in the fucking history of ugly suits!"

Un-bloody-believable. Jones was worrying about the suit. He buried his face in his palms, letting out a long held back sob.

"Alfred, am I really going to marry your father?!" he murmured, sniffing.

"Wha-…?! No, of course not! But I apologize for… him grabbing you earlier, he does that kind of stuff after he's had a drink or two and besides, he wouldn't miss an opportunity to embarrass me for anything in the world…" The bespectacled blond shuffled his feet as he spoke, looking away. "But no… you're not supposed to marry him, you're supposed to marry me."

"Oh."

"But I didn't know, I swear!" Alfred went on, biting his lower lip. "He only told me… well he only told me what I was already expecting, namely that he'd decided upon a suitable someone and that the deal was as good as made. But otherwise didn't bother with any details."

The smaller blond snorted bitterly. "Well, what can I say? Likewise here. Feel welcome to join the club…" he said and sneezed loudly.

"Oh, for Christ's sake, here!" The American hastily shrug out of his suit jacket and draped it around Arthur's shoulders. "Why the hell did you dress like that anyway?! The fuck were you thinking?!" he inquired angrily.

"HELLO MES AMIS!" a voice boomed out of the blue from across the tall hedge bordering Benedict's garden and the two of them turned around sharply, discovering a beaming Francis watching them with curious excitement from the other side, a glass of champagne in his hand. "Could it be that you're having a 'vicars and bunnies' party and you have not invited me?! That's very rude!"

Oh. Good God, no.

"Heh… hey Francis!" Alfred replied forcing a careless grin. "Um… actually… it's not what it looks like, okay dude? It's just… we were… trying out some Halloween costumes! Yeah!" he explained, tugging playfully at one of Arthur's fluffy ears. "The fuck is he doing here?! And I don't look like a fucking vicar, what the fuck is he saying?!" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Ah well, at any rate, you look amazing! This combination is so kinky," the Frenchman observed. "I really hope you'd consider it for my party next week!" he added, pulling out his phone to take a photo.

"N-no bloody way, here goes my place in the students' council…" Arthur whined softly, fingers digging helplessly into the shoulder of the other blond, behind which he was unsuccessfully trying to hide.

Without a single word of reply, the American wheeled around and headed back inside the mansion, pulling the smaller young man with him.

"Alfred, is everything alright, son?"

"Yeah Dad, I'll just take Arthur to lie down for a bit, his head hurts," he explained as they passed by the living-room door in a rush. Richard Jones burst into laughter at his son's explanation, causing the boy to shake his head and curse under his breath.

"Just be down in two hours, alright darling? We'll be having dinner at seven!" Mrs. Kirkland shouted in a high-pitched voice.

Knowing they would have to resume their little private talk, Arthur took him to one of the bedrooms on the first floor and ushered him in. Nervously, his hand slipped and slammed the door a bit too hard before slumping against it.

"Well, anyway," he began hesitantly, seeing how the other had walked up to the tall window and stared beyond the glass, hands clasped behind his back and fingers twitching. "Now you know why I didn't... why I took all those ridiculous measures to hide my identity at the party. In fact… that was the only party I've ever been to in all of four years of school and only because my friends insisted…" He paused, fighting back a sob. "You see, my uncle demanded that I behave exemplary and keep a flawless reputation so that when the time came he could make the best business possible in selling me out…"

Uttering those awful words at last caused the tears to spill and the green-eyed student sniffed, seeing no point in keeping up any sort of pretense. "See, the truth is that we're broke and buried in debts, just so that my uncle can have this mansion and the cars and the… and he already married my older cousin off to some old pervert who abused him and put him into the hospital several times. And this morning I was so scared, so scared that I got drunk off Bondevik's secret supplies and… and stole this outfit. God, I can't even begin to imagine what you must think of me now…"

Alfred turned slowly, his eyes wide and wary and gulped, tugging at his tie. "Fuck… I-I'm sorry Arthur… I didn't mean to make it sound like any of this was your fault."

"I know… And I know this is bloody messed up, but… it was my last stand as a free man, if you know what I mean," Arthur stated, still looking away and wiping his nose with his cuff.

The American snorted, proceeding to remove his spectacles. Right on top of his left cheekbone and previously hidden by the rim of the glasses there was a fading bruise, poorly concealed with foundation a shade too light for his sun-kissed skin. "Oh, trust me, I too had one last stand as a free man, but it was nowhere near that epic," he said in turn, bitterly. "My dad's always been a huge dick but I didn't really think this would happen until, well, it actually did. He even put me in this hideous suit so that I'd look proper."

Red-rimmed green eyes looked up at last, blinking tiredly. "And so… now what?" the Englishman asked, taking a few dragged steps forward.

"To be honest, right now I feel like I've stumbled into Mad Hatter's tea party," Alfred confessed, running a hand through his hair, awkwardly. "I don't even know whether I should cry or laugh or..." He sighed and shook his head, blinking.

Arthur stared back at his boots in turn, silent, arms crossed over the jacket still filled with the other's warmth as the drying tears tugged slightly at his cheeks. The pleasant, alcohol-induced trance which had made it all relatively bearable had worn off completely by now, leaving nothing but the beginning of a headache in its wake. Once past the initial shock and worry that his precious arrangement was going to hell, it looked like his uncle had been quick to regain his good humor. Ironically, the green-eyed blond had gotten it right with the slutty outfit – Mr. Jones had appreciated it instead of being appalled. On a less bright note, Alfred's face had dropped and not in a good way…

He gasped in surprise when a pair of arms was wrapped around his lithe frame and he was pressed into the taller blond's chest, the American burying his nose into the golden strands. The fingers of one hand rubbed soothingly the nape of his neck before sliding down his back slowly, while the thumb of the other was raised to wipe off the moisture from his face. Green orbs looked up shyly into the baby blue ones, then heavy eyelids fell shut when soft lips were eventually pressed against his.

The kiss was shy, almost chaste at first, then gradually became more heated. Alfred tugged a bit at the bowtie holding the smaller blond's white collar together, undoing it and letting the whole contraption fall to the floor, exposing the pale throat he was quick to latch his mouth onto. The eager fingers which had been reassuringly entwined with the Englishman's for a brief moment freed themselves to slide the jacket off the other's shoulders and roam onto the soft skin underneath, until they encountered the fluffy faux bunny tail.

Arthur shivered slightly, all their previous less-than-successful experience forgotten and feeling as if touched for the first time, utterly enthralled by the sensations. His mind was still reeling, what if he was dreaming after all, soon to wake to a crude reality? Was it really Jones the man he was supposed to betroth as per his uncle's wish? What were the odds? And still, even so, it didn't change the fact that they were still being forced into this arrangement.

"I-I think…"

"Baby, you think too much," came the whispered reply as the taller blond nuzzled his ear and slowly pushed him down across the bed, climbing on top of him. "How about you help me out of this, okay?"

The green-eyed young man unbuttoned and pulled off the other's vest with shaky fingers, then worked to undo and discard his tie and shirt, gasping loudly as one bold hand slipped up the outside of his bare thigh, sneaking under the apron. Alfred's eyes widened playfully at the discovery that his betrothed to be wasn't wearing any underwear.

"A-Alfred… t-the thing is…I'm not good at this," the Englishman whimpered softly, his cheeks deliciously flushed.

"Shhhh… s'alright. We'll take it easy, sweet bunny…" Alfred scooted lower, nipping at the smaller blond's collarbone before his tongue darted out to circle one soft nipple and then the other while his fingers slipped beneath the other's body and traced every bump of his spine, making him arch his body further into his mouth.

"A-ahhhhhh…" the Englishman gasped as his suitor pushed himself further down and the skillful tongue slipped inside his navel, teasing the miniscule crevice. "Ah… b-bloody hell," he panted helplessly, gripping the sheets.

The taller blond advanced even lower with his ministrations and brought his hands down to rub his thumbs teasingly onto Arthur's hipbones, before his mouth closed onto one of them completely, over the black silk of the apron. "Mmmhhh… just… d-do something…it….ah- hurts…" the green-eyed young man begged in a cracked voice as the other mercilessly tortured the delicate bone by licking and sucking on it painfully slow. "P-please…"

Alfred gently pushed his knees apart and lifted the skimpy piece of fabric, revealing his currently neglected but already fully erect member, and pressed a soft, almost chaste kiss onto the moist tip. His tongue teased it playfully as he licked around from top to base, then grazed his teeth over the tip once more before taking it into his mouth entirely.

"Nghhhh…aa-ahhh… A-Al, I'm going to… to- ahhhhh…" the Englishman warned shyly, arching his back as much as it would go when the other eventually sucked him dry, drinking in all that his body could offer.

His betrothed to be climbed back on top of him, licking his lips with a wicked smirk as Arthur dropped back onto the pillows in the afterglow of his orgasm, still panting softly with his eyes closed and his face adorned by the most delicious blush. "We're not done yet, sweet bunny…" Alfred murmured against his lower lip, swollen from all the biting he'd done to it, while he shuffled out of his trousers and boxers and kicked them off completely. Arthur hastily pulled him in for a kiss, grinding their hips together for some much welcomed friction.

"Suck, baby…" the American instructed, pulling back and bringing three of his fingers to the other's lips, and the green-eyed blond gulped almost inconspicuously before obediently and generously coating them with saliva. His lover claimed his mouth once more, working his tongue to partially distract his attention as he inserted first one finger, and then another, searching for the sweet spot that would make him see stars. Arthur suddenly moaned loudly against the other's lips, body jolting and hips bucking into the other's, begging for more of that mind-blowing sensation.

"AHHH! God! Bloody h-hell!" he almost screamed, squeezing his eyes shut in obvious pain as Alfred eventually pushed himself in, while his fingernails dug viciously into the taller blond's biceps.

"Shhhhhh, it's alright baby… It hurts a bit now but it will pass… You'll feel better soon…" his lover soothed, remaining perfectly still and planting butterfly kisses all over his flushed cheeks, now wet with a mixture of sweat and tears.

"I'm…I'm fine now…" the Englishman whispered, a few moments later, somewhat loosening his grip. "M-move…"

Alfred promptly fulfilled his wish, cautiously and gently at first then gradually increasing the speed of his thrusts. "Fuck you're… hmphhh… so good, so tight baby," he whispered licking the shell of his ear as the softest, most delicious moans escaped Arthur's lips.

"Yeah, right … right there… ahahhh, yes! Ah, Alfred ahhh…YES!" the green-eyed blond all but shouted his lover's name as his peak hit him, the wave of pleasure so unexpectedly powerful that he had to bite it into the back of his balled fist.

For a while after they both simply lied there, still awkwardly sprawled across the mattress, Alfred catching his breath while resting onto the other's chest while Arthur's fingers gently treaded through his tousled hair.

"Don't worry baby, it's gonna be okay. Everything's gonna be okay… somehow."

THE END