Sunlight shone brightly through the branches of his favorite tree, dappled the ground around him where he leaned against the tree. Spring bloomed all around him, flowers had begun to open and birds sang happily to each other as a light wind brushed over everything. This was peace. This was great. Nothing could bother him here.

He let out a content sigh, only then did he realize how quiet it had gotten around him. The birds had stopped their singing and the light breeze that'd been swirling around him stilled and died away. Slowly, he closed and opened his eyes.

Darkness.

Then, he opened his eyes to reality. His beautiful dream was gone and replaced by his real world of forever night. It was like this every morning, happy dreams, only to wake to a broken life. He sat up and he felt a small tear roll down his cheek. Beside him, a familiar whimper interrupted his self-pity and a warm tongue gently licked up his cheek. He reached down and hugged the dog to his chest.

"Don't worry, Alfred. I'm alright," he said softly, and ran his fingers through the dog's fur. "Just a wonderful dream."

His dog tilted his head at Arthur's words (in confusion, he assumed), and slobbered on his cheek.

"Dammit, Alfred!" He laughed and wiped the saliva away. "You always do know how to make me feel better," he said as he got up from the bed and slipped his slippers on. Alfred jumped down from the bed and ran ahead, leaving Arthur to get dressed and brush his teeth.

This was the daily routine of Arthur and Alfred. It began with waking up and making breakfast (or eating out), then off to Arthur's job as a pianist and waiter, but mostly pianist. After he got off work, take Alfred out for a walk and make dinner. Maybe practice piano after, if there was nothing left to do.

He measured out the right amount of food, ignoring the whining beside him, which immediately stopped as soon as he poured the food into Alfred's bowl. "You'd think I never fed you from the way you eat," Arthur said as he listened to the sound of the dog's loud eating. Only a muffled woof answer him, he chuckled and began making his tea.

Once Alfred had scarfed down his food, he sat beside Arthur until he had finished his light breakfast of toast and tea, then went and retrieved his harness. "Thank you. Good boy." Arthur patted Alfred on the head and slipped it on to his dog. He held out his hands, face up, and asked, "Can you tell me what time it is, Al?"

Alfred tapped his paw into Arthur's right palm eight times, then tapped the other three times, paused, and tapped it another four times.

"Eight thirty-four. Wonderful." Arthur fed Alfred a small treat, which the dog gobbled up and licked his hand for more. "No more for now. We have to get going," he said and made his way out the door, his hand resting on Alfred's harness bar as they made their way down the sidewalk.

If Arthur had owned a dog before, or knew someone who owned a dog, it would have occurred to him that normal dogs can't tell time or do math like Alfred could. It also would have occurred to him that most dogs could not understand human speech like Alfred did. But, even if he did realize how different Alfred was, it wouldn't matter to him now. Alfred would always be his best friend.

"Alfred, did I remember my glasses?" Arthur asked, but he already knew he hadn't, and he cursed his forgetfulness. "Bollocks, I forgot - What is it, boy?"

He felt something in Alfred's mouth press into his hand. "My glasses? You wonderful dog!" He leaned down and kissed Alfred right on the nose. "I don't know what I'd do without you," Arthur said with a smile, and wiped the slobber off his sunglasses before putting them on.

Alfred barked at him. "Yes, yes." He gave the dog one of the extra treats in his pocket and continued his walk to the café located twenty minutes from his small home, if he walked fast enough.

...

He navigated his way through the kitchen, having entered through the back entrance, and hoped Francis wouldn't notice him.

"Mon ami," a heavily accented voice called to him and a hand touched his back.

"Frog," he answer coldly and wrinkled his nose. Even above the scents of food, he would smell the Frenchman's high-class cologne. "Did you buy a new perfume?"

"Oui, do you like it?" Francis leaned closer and his hand slid down his back. Just before Francis could grope his ass, Arthur heard the snap of teeth on empty air. Only Francis's practiced quickness saved his fingers from Alfred's bite. "I see you still have this mongrel, even though he's an obvious danger to humans."

"Bad dog," he said without much conviction, and smirked at the Frenchman. "Must I remind you that the only person Alfred has ever bitten is you."

"It only takes once for a dog to get the taste for blood!" Francis glared at said dog, who tilted his head innocently. "I swear, it's like he knows I want to fuck—"

"That's enough, frog. I have better things to do than talk with you," he growled. Yes, he had screwed around with Francis a few times, maybe more than a few times, but only after he had a few drinks. Arthur continued through the kitchen to the piano that sat near the back of the room.

Once he seated himself on the bench, he clipped Alfred to the bench and patted his head. "Thank you for not taking Francis's fingers off, but I've told you before, I can handle that frog just fine by myself."

Alfred just woofed softly and licked his fingers, as if to tell him he wasn't sorry. He just sighed and wiped his hand off on his trousers, before settling them on the worn ivory keys and beginning to play his first song.

Arthur didn't know, or care, how long he played, or if he was even paid. Hours could pass without his notice, and he didn't mind. Nowhere he needed to be. Piano is all he had left of his days with sight, and with every piece of music he played, a memory came back to him in such accurate detail, it made his heart ache. Remembering his mother's smiling face hurt, but it was better than forgetting her and the happy faces of his brothers before the accident. Before their mother died. Before he lost his sight.

Finally, Alfred's pawing and whimpering broke through to him and he finished up playing. "What's wrong?" He leaned down towards the fretful dog. When Alfred licked his cheek, he realized he'd been crying again. Arthur quickly took out his handkerchief and dried his eyes, hoping no one had seen his tears.

"I'm fine, Alfred. You worry too much for a dog." Arthur smiled at his whimpering friend. "But thank you for being concerned."

"Why can you never smile like that at me, mon cher?" Arthur could practically hear the pout in Francis's voice.

He immediately scowled. "Let me think... Oh, that's right! I don't like you, that's why. Now, what do you want?"

"You hurt me, mon amour," Francis cried dramatically.

Arthur just rolled his eyes. "Again, what do you want, git?"

"Ah, it's closing time and I was wondering if you would like to go for drinks with me."

He considered it for a moment, then sighed. Any other night, he would have told the Frog to go fuck himself, but he felt in need of a good scotch. "Fine, but you're buying."

Alfred gave a grumble of protest, and Francis smirked at the dog. "Could it be without your little protector? I do not wish to drag you home and that animal."

"But... Fine, but no funny business," he growled.

"Wonderful! We can take my car and drop him off, then be on our way." Francis clapped his hands together.

Arthur started at the sudden noise, but didn't show it. He stood up and ignored Alfred's whimpers and growls, following Francis out the back door and to his car. The entire ride consisted of bickering and arguing over where they should go. They both knew how the night would most likely end with them in bed together, it was just a matter of whose place and whose bed, if they even made it to the bed.

Francis stopped in front of his house and he stepped out, opening the door to let Alfred out, but the dog didn't move. "We are not doing this again, Alfred," Arthur said sternly. It was like this every time he and Francis decided to go drinking alone, or anytime Alfred had to leave his side. "Out. Now."

Alfred whimpered, wanting nothing more than to please Arthur, but...

"Do not make me drag you out of there."

He still didn't hear Alfred jump out, so he reached in and hauled the dog out by his harness. Arthur literally had to drag Alfred to the door, shove him inside, and slam it shut before the dog could scurry back out. He sighed and listened to Alfred's loud whines.

"I'm sorry, Alfie," he said through the mail slot. "Please, don't attack Francis when we get back."

And with that, he walked back to Francis's car and drove away.

...oOo...

It was around three in the morning when they finally made it to Arthur house, all over each other. Francis's shirt was open and Arthur ran his hands over his chest, while Francis's hands made their way down the back of Arthur's pants. No kissing, just soft bites and nips, and the grinding of hips together.

Their clothes fall away as they stumbled towards the bedroom and fell into the bed. Francis ran is tongue over Arthur's pale skin, causing the other man to moan and squirm under him.

"Get on with it, git," Arthur said, pulling his long hair lightly.

"Eager, are we?" He brushed his thumb over Arthur's perked nipple, relishing the noises the Brit made.

"Shut it." Arthur arched unwillingly against his touch. "You take too long," he growled and rolled them over, settling on Francis's stomach and he rubbed his butt back against Francis's hardened cock.

He groaned softly and smirked. "Alright, mon lapin." Francis reached into the nightstand and pulled out the tube of lube Arthur always kept there.

Arthur snatched it from him and coat his fingers, quickly shifting and pushing two fingers into his entrance. He wanted to get this done and over with, like every time they did this. It wasn't long before his asshole was sufficiently lubed and he slowly slide down on Francis's cock, holding back a moan as his insides were filled.

Francis thrust up into Arthur's tight warmth and groaned. He set up a nice rhythm between them, not too fast or slow. It was absolute bliss for him, and hearing Arthur moan and whine out his name made it even better. He want to lean up and kiss those soft looking lips, but kisses weren't allowed. Feelings weren't allowed. Love wasn't allowed.

When they both finished, Arthur slide off his body and laid face down, quickly falling asleep. Francis took this as he cue to leave and pulled the blankets over Arthur's naked body. "Je t'aime," he whispered secretly and pressed his lips against Arthur's, before retrieving his clothes and leaving, knowing if he stayed, there'd be hell to pay.

...

Arthur sat up alone, ignoring the ache in his bum, and turned his head from side to side. Not hearing anyone else's breathing, he figure Francis had left. He got up and took a shower, scrubbing away any trace Francis could have left on his body. When he deemed himself clean, his skin was pink from the rough treatment; he dried off and quickly got dressed.

"Alfred?" He called, wondering where his best friend could have gotten to. Arthur wandered through the house, calling his name. When no friendly bark answered him or the sound of nails on the hard-wood floors, he began to worry. Luckily, this was his day off and he could spend it looking for Alfred.

He started his search off by investigating the backyard, always calling his beloved dog's name, but he wasn't out there. Then he dug out his old white cane and wandered the neighborhood, but no luck. After that, he started knocking on doors, asking if they've seen a yellow dog running about, but no one had seen him. Arthur was starting to become desperate, he went as far as to search their favorite places for walking, but, again, he wasn't out there.

This carried on for many days. Arthur still went to work, but now he spent more and more time looking for Alfred. He wouldn't admit it, but he missed the excitable dog and everyday without him grew darker and darker with the onset of loneliness. And he had started to forget things more often now, like his sunglasses or house keys. Also, he now had no reason to go to the parks, or outside at all. He really missed that dog.

After another day of searching, he flopped ungracefully into his chair and sighed. "Alfred...Where are you?"

"Arthur! Arthur! I'm home! Let me in!" An unfamiliar voice yelled cheerfully from outside his door.

"Bloody hell?" He quickly got up and opened the door a crack, only to be bowled over by someone else, sending both him and the other person to the ground.

"I'm sorry I left! Please, don't be mad! I missed you so much!" The other person babbled on and nuzzled his cheek.

"W-Who are you? Get the hell off me!" Arthur pushed at the other man, but the body above him didn't give way.

"What wrong, Arthur? It's me! Don't you recognize me?"

"I can't bloody see, you twat! Who are you?" He felt his temper rising to dangerous levels. As far as he remembered, he didn't know anyone as...loud as this person, save maybe Alfred, but he didn't count because he was a dog.

The person whimpered. "I don't like it when you yell."

Arthur took a deep breath and scowled. "What is your name and how do I know you?"

"It's me, Alfred. I'm your best friend," the stranger whined.

"I don't know any people named Alfred. And I don't have any friends close enough to greet me so...happily. Maybe Francis, but he doesn't matter."

"I hate Francis." A low growl came from the man's throat, similar to Alfred's growl. It made his wonder for a moment if the man was actually baring his teeth like Alfred would. He went silent, thoroughly confused. This person's name was Alfred, he hated Francis, and he didn't seem bothered by getting close to him. He was almost exactly like his Alfred, except for the dog part.

"How do I know you again?"

"I'm your friend. I help you get around outside and I read the time to you, and get things for you." The man went on about many of the things his Alfred did for him.

"You sound like you're talking about my dog."

"I am your dog."

"You're human for god sake, you can't be Alfred!"

"Cool, right? Now I'll be able to help you way better!" He could feel this 'Alfred' grinning at him.

"Are you telling me that you're my Alfred and you somehow turned from a dog into a human?"

"Yep."

"I'm calling the police," he growled. Arthur stood up, glaring at where he though the man was. "Get out of my house."

"No, don't!" A hand gripped his pant leg and the stranger whimpered. "Don't send me away. I promise, I'll be good. I'm sorry for almost biting Francis and for taking treats from strangers again."

"Dammit, how many times have I told you— Is this some kind of sick joke to you?" He growled, kicking himself for nearly treating this man like Alfred.

"Arthur, please," the person begged and nuzzled his hand. "It really is me. Alfred."

This person acted so much like his Alfred would, if Alfred was human that is, he didn't know whether to believe him or not. The stranger's voice didn't sound like he was telling a lie, but he might be good at hiding any changes in his voice that might suggest he was tricking him. So that left him with two possibilities, either a highly trained specialist was trying to trick him or this man was telling the truth.

"Alright. If we are to say you are Alfred, how did you become human?"

"Uh... Well, this light thing came to me and asked, 'Would you like to help Arthur?'. I thought maybe Francis did something to you, so I followed it."

"You realize that sounds absolutely crazy." Arthur's mouth drew down into a frown.

"But it looked like that thing you use to see when you were younger! What were they called, fairies? Remember, you told me about them when we went to that lake and those glowing bugs - fireflies, right? - were flying around us." Alfred laughed lightly. "I ate a few, but they tasted really nasty."

His jaw dropped in disbelief. Only Alfred and him had been at the lake that night, and it had been over two years ago. This stranger wouldn't be able to know anything about it unless he actually is Alfred, like he said. "But... Where have you been this whole time?"

"I got lost. Dogs see things way differently and I couldn't find my way." Alfred stood up and hugged him. "But I'm glad I'm finally home."

Translations:

Je t'aime (French) = I love you

Mon ami (French)= My friend

Mon lapin (French)= My bunny

This story will update much slower, compared to my other story. And this is my first fuck scene, it's not really that important to the story itself; I just threw it in there. Thank you for reading.

-Windy