Last day of Restraintstiel Week, today’s prompt was Free.
Firstly, I don’t want to be free of this, I’ve grown to like my restraints. ☹️
Secondly, this is kind of a redo of my day2 art, but you may have noticed the angel is….well…female. 😁 I’m free to play with my dolls the way I see fit, right?
This is my first fem!Cas ever, and there’s holy fire hot and then there’s her. 🔥 You are welcome!
💬 0 🔁 9 ❤️ 10 · DAY 7: FREE! · Find all the tagged submissions on tumblr and the fics in the Ao3 collection! LAST DAY OF THE EVENT! We wil
Alfred has never put much though into who he would marry, or even exactly what it is he’s attracted to. During a drunken night with his friends, the blond ends up tumbling into the bed of someone he quickly learns is more than he would have ever expected to fall for.
“So! Do we know who’s designated driver yet or am I gonna have to pick?” Alfred said with a clap of his hands to make sure he had his three co-workers attention. Antonio and Gilbert seemed somewhat scared at the thought of Alfred picking who would be left out of the drunken activities, but Francis sighing and stepping forward soon abated their fears.
“I’ll be the adult for this evening, Alfred. Seeing as you’re little brother will refuse to let me sleep in the same bed as him if I come home drunk again,” the blond said, pulling his hair down from the ponytail he was required to keep during work hours.
Alfred wrinkled his nose and shoved at Francis’ arm, shouting a quick ‘Dude! Tmi!’ before grinning at the other two. “Looks like we’re good to go then!” With that matter taken care of, the three handed their keys over to the grumbling blond and laughed together as they piled into Alfred’s Ford truck, seeing as it was the biggest out of the four’s.
While Alfred sat shotgun, singing along to whatever the radio was blasting, Antonio and Gilbert complained about work and compared sex lives, all three ignoring the sulking Francis except when he commented on having a better sex life out of all of them.
Eventually they made it to the bar and decided to start with just a few beers for the three, Francis just ordering a bottle of water. Soon, however, Gilbert was getting into drinking matches with regulars and Antonio was taking shot after shot of tequila, Alfred laughing at the two while drinking his third bottle. He at least, knew how to pace himself.
Alfred was only on his tenth beer when Antonio began moaning about missing his lover, Gilbert already passed out and struggling with Francis towards the door. “Hey Fran! I think Tony’s done too!” he called out, sticking his tongue out at the finger Gilbert flipped at him for yelling. Francis cursed but came back for the rambling Spanish-speaker, making sure Alfred would be okay while he dropped the two off. “Dude, I’ll be fine. Scout’s honor,” he said, holding up two fingers in a clumsy boy scout salute.
It wasn’t until the three had left and Alfred had drunk five more beers that he began to actually feel buzzed, the alcohol finally starting to affect him enough that he decided ‘to hell with it, i ain’t working tomorrow,’ and ordered a glass of hard cider.
“Well, you certainly have a tolerance.”
Alfred paused at that, the hard liquor halfway to his mouth before he set it down and looked over his shoulder to see who’d spoken. What he saw was a man in similar dress to himself but with much shorter blond hair and what looked like thicker eyebrows. “I’d hope so all things considered,” he stated, patting the seat next to him for the green-eyed stranger to take. “What’s you name? You here on a business trip?”
The somewhat shorter male smiled and slid in next to Alfred, crossing his arms over the bar but not ordering a drink just yet. “Arthur, and I suppose you could say that.”
Alfred snorted at that and finally took a swing of his cider, shaking his head as the burn settled into his throat. “I’m Alfred, and that’s a right shame. If you’d been here for pleasure I’d offer to buy you a drink, help you feel welcome to the neighborhood,” he said, smirking at the side-glance sent his way at that.
“Oh really? So just because I’m here for work and not play, I can’t join you for a drink?” he asked, seeming amused as he turned to face Alfred more fully.
Smirk growing, Alfred mimicked the motion and gave a casual shrug. “If I knew how good a tolerance you had I might’ve challenged you to a drinking match, but since I don’t and I’m already on my way to drinking the night away, it would be awfully unfair to get you down here with me,” he said, dipping a finger into his drink and flicking the droplet at the Arthur. “So you’ll just have to settle for watching me drink till my friend gets back here and more then likely drags me home. After all, Francis hates being designated driver,” he said, not noticing the twitch that Arthur had at the mention of the name.
“...Really?”
After that, Alfred chugged the rest of his cider and ordered another, everything after becoming a blur as he talked more to Arthur and lost track of time. It wasn’t until he was slammed against a wall and kissed like he was some long-lost lover that his mind shook off it’s daze enough to take notice of his surroundings. Unfamiliar with the room around him, he pulled back from the kiss and glanced over before a hand to his chin guided him back to looking at Arthur, the Brit seeming confused. “What’s wrong?” he asked, beginning to pull away as his eyes widened. “Oh god you changed your mind. Fuck,”
Still mostly confused and more than wanting that kiss from before to continue, Alfred tugged at Arthur’s sleeve and wrapped his arms around the man’s waist. “Hey, don’t go throwing your words in my mouth, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep kissing cause you got a damn talented tongue on you and I’d like to see what all it can do,” he said, slurring a few words as he leaned his head against Arthur’s.
It took a few seconds of Arthur looking up at him and blinking before their lips latched together again, hands wandering and mouths beginning to let loose moans as the two men stumbled onto the bed so they could continue. Clothes were shed and Alfred let his hands trail down the pale chest above him and around to squeeze Arthur’s ass, smirking at the undignified sound the Brit let out. A sharp pain in his neck made him choke however and he froze, mind growing hazier then before as a hand reached down to pump both their erections together. “Holy shit!” he cried out, eyes closing as a surge of pleasure rushed through him from his neck unexpectedly. “Arthur, the hell-” a moan cut him off and Alfred let his body go limp, letting Arthur bring them both to completion.
After, when Arthur finally pulled away from him, Alfred tried to reach up and cup the man’s cheek but found himself to weak to even do that. “Arth-”
“Shh, just go to sleep,” the male above him whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before pulling away. Too weak to really protest, Alfred let his head fall to the side and eyes close, completely unaware of the hands now cleaning him up.
Hours later, Alfred groaned and squeezed his eyes further shut, rolling away from the light seeping through the curtain and reaching blindly for his phone, expecting it to be on his bedside table but only meeting air.
“You’re awake?” he heard someone ask, a surprisingly British sounding voice as cool hands came to run through his hair. “Thank god, I was beginning to get worried,”
“Who-” Alfred tried to ask, only to cough and flinch at the pounding in his head, silently cursing the sun for being too bright and his mouth for feeling like sandpaper. “Lights,” he managed to say, pulling the covers over his head to try and shut them out. he heard the voice sigh and soft footsteps going away from him before coming back and feeling a cool hand run through the portion of his hair above the sheets.
“Come on, take some aspirin, it’ll help,” the voice whispered, helping to guide Alfred into a sitting position and take the proffered medicine. After the pill was on it’s way down his throat, Alfred coughed once more before slowly opening an eye to look up at his nurse, almost falling back at the sight before him.
Arthur was smiling shyly at him, chest still very much shirtless plenty of scar tissue on sight for the American. Before he could open his mouth to say anything, a finger came up and pressed against his lips, the Brit’s smile turning sad as Arthur sat down and began running his fingers through Alfred’s hair again. “I’m sorry, I usually don’t stay after so I’m a bit rubbish at this whole comfort thing...I’m not really sure how to explain either to be perfectly honest.” Arthur seemed almost regretful as he allowed a hand to trail down to rest at the juncture of Alfred’s neck, his eyes closing as he sighed. “You definitely should stay in bed today, if you hadn’t of been drunk you might be fine but since you were-”
Now even more confused and slightly scared, Alfred grabbed Arthur’s wrist and pulled, cutting the Brit off from speaking as they had to stop themselves from falling and righted themselves. “What are you talking about? Last I remember we were having sex and-oh wait, shit this is n’t my place. We’re at your hotel aren’t we? Shit fuck, Francis is going to be worried sick, aw fuck what if he and Matt called the police!? Shit fuck, fuck a duck, what the hell?” Alfred rambled, gripping at his still sore head as he looked around for his pants to try and call them to make sure everyone knew he was okay.
“Ah....I already called them all last night after we...well, you know. I figured it’d be best if you stayed here and I didn’t want your friends calling the police so I rung up Francis and let him know you were safe and that you’d call as soon as you were up. He...did not seem happy about that.”
Alfred could probably say why Francis would be upset at his supposed disappearing, but right now he was more worried about getting his clothes back on and leaving. “Look, Arthur. Last night was great and if you weren’t probably leaving in a few days I’d ask for a repeat, but with everythin-”
“I don’t have to leave town for a while actually,” Arthur interrupted, looking conflicted over something. “So...we could very well do this again, and-you aren’t quiet ready to get up yet so if you’d let me explain what exactly happened...I’d....very much appreciate it,” he finished, face looking like it should be blushing but just seeming normal.
Alfred almost said no, but he did feel a little too off to be going anywhere, even by taxi so he carefully nodded and leaned back against the headboard, waiting for an explanation. When he got it and Arthur finished, he almost threw a pillow at the man, frustrated but also cautious.
“So...you’re telling me that when we had sex last night, you bit me and drank my blood...to the point I almost died cause my blood was too thin?” he said, eyes closed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, glasses pushed up into his hairline at the moment. If he hadn’t of been shown the proof he would say Arthur was lying and drugged him cause he was insane but... “Why the fuck are you telling me this? Shouldn’t you be worried I’m going to try and kill you?” he asked, finally looking up at Arthur and feeling his heart squeeze.
The sandy blond wasn’t looking at him, instead he had his eyes trained on the floor, hands clasped in his lap with nails digging into his skin to the point they looked like the skin was about to break. His body posture said that he wasn’t hopeful, but his closed eyes and furrowed brow told Alfred all he needed to know.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve stayed and told someone, is it?” The desperate expression that snapped up to stare at him was confirmation enough and Alfred felt his own heart ache at the sight. “Jesus fuck, just how old are you?” The desperation on Arthur’s face grew and Alfred held a hand up before he could answer. “Never mind. Just...I don’t know, give me some time to think it all over? After I leave tonight I’ll call you if I want to see you again,”
Neither had to say what it meant if Alfred didn’t call. Arthur agreed easily and input his number into Alfred’s phone, giving a small, hopeful smile whenever he looked over at the man despite the seeming sadness in his eyes. For the rest of the day Alfred stayed in the bed, Arthur getting him whatever he needed without a single complaint. it wasn’t until nighttime that he deemed the American well enough to get dressed and leave again, walking him to the door even and holding his shirt sleeve for a moment before apologizing and letting go, heading back inside with a bowed head.
After Alfred made it back home, he called everyone again to let them know he was okay and back at his place, placating a very angry brother and concerned in-law in the process. After that Alfred went back to his regular routine...until Gilbert asked if he wanted to go drinking again.
Alfred smiled and said that no, he had plans with someone, calling Arthur up as soon as the grumbling albino left and asking if he’d like to see his place tonight instead of the stuffy old hotel walls he was no doubt bored of by now. Arthur sounded shocked but he easily agreed and when they met up that night, the two blond’s quickly found themselves tangled up together on Alfred’s couch with some mindless rom-com on in the background, Arthur’s head thrown back as he arched into Alfred and Alfred’s tongue licking at the blood trail left on Arthur’s lips.
The markets of Solar were packed, today was the day of slave market. This was why prince Alfred of Solar was walking into it. The prince wanted a slave for himself, or better yet a concubine. The prince wanted to start up a harem and what better way then the slave markets.
He looked at his brother who accompanied him, Berwald even though being the eldest was the captain of the royal guard. This was because they had the same father they had different mothers, while Alfred's was the queen, Berwald's was the son of head of their father's harem. Alfred knew that his brother was here to watch him, but Alfred wanted to reward his brother also.
The two walked to the head seller who knew what the prince wanted.
“This way my prince, we have a good stock of omegas.”
Alfred nodded and looked at the omega's that were in cages, some were looking down at the ground resolved to their fate, others were crying to their gods to save them. His eyes caught something glinting in the light. He stopped at the cage in front of him.
In the cage was two omega, one with winter blond hair while the other had golden. The golden one was holding the latter in his arms. Both had pale blue tattoos on their arms and legs, and the both wore animal charms which were sealed because of slave collars.
“Lunars?”
“Yep, caught them by a river in the North, it was hard but our mage attacked and over powered them.”
“Wow, and they haven't made a fuss.”
“They were until we came here, the older one will not let anyone touch the smaller one.”
“I'll take them both.”
“Of course sire..”
“Berwald, I want the golden one, you may have the winter blond.”
Berwald nodded, he liked the winter blond and deiced he wanted him as his mate. As Alfred paid the seller. They then took the two omegas back to the palace.
X
Alfred smiled as his omega was laid out for him. He had told his servants to prepare his slave for him. They had did him proud, as he looked at the omega laying in his bed. The omega had be given a bath which made his hair shine like the sun. Body dressed in a white tunic and green silk which was so fine that Alfred could see the omega's collar bone. Also on the omega's wrists and ankles were binds made of the same fabric locking him in place.
Alfred looked into the omega's eyes, he smiled as he saw the stubbornness inside them. The green eyes of the omega, were drawling Alfred in. The omega tried to pull at his bonds to get free which caused Alfred to smile.
“Fight all ya want little lunar.”
The omega growled, Alfred just laughed and kissed him. He loved when the omega tried to pull away. He then pulled away to look at the markings on the omega, lightly tracing them.
“I heard all omega's have these tattooed when they turn one. It's to show the people that your pure and ready to be claimed.”
The omega stopped his eyes wide, his body frozen in fear. Alfred frowned at this, he liked it better when the omega was fighting instead of being frozen. He smiled knowing what would make the omega move again. He looked over to where the servants had placed the items he needed. He smiled as he took the brand of his family, he called up fire magic and went to his omega.
“Let's give you an another mark my sweet lunar.”
The omega started to move again but Alfred quickly pulled the silk covering his collar bone and placed stilled the omega with one look. He then pressed the mark into his pale flesh, causing the omega to gasp. Tears falling from his green eyes, Alfred then pulled away and looked at his work.
The omega's pale skin was sweating, his new mark was shining bright red against his skin and blue markings. The brand was in the shape of the sun and would heal quickly he looked down and smiled. The other part of a brand was working, the omega was going into heat.
“Yes, the brand is a very important spell to my people. Unlike your clan who lets omegas go into heat whenever this brand lets the alpha chose when the omega gets heat. We can chose if we let you have children.” he kissed the omega's throat.
“And you can't do a thing to stop it my little Lunar.”
The omega moaned as he rocked his hips, the magic was working on him. Alfred smiled taking off the omega's clothes and started to prepare his new lover. The omega's markings started to glow, Alfred knew that this meant that omega was accepting him as mate. Alfred smiled at this, a lunar known for their purity and loyalty to their mates and families was in his bed moaning like a dog in heat.
Alfred smiled as those green eyes that were filled with stubbornness was now filled with lust and longing. Alfred kissed his omega again as he put a finger in the omega's tight heat.
The omega moaned into the kiss as more slick came out of his hole ready to be mated. Alfred smiled and add two more fingers. At this omega moaned again rocking his hips to Alfred's fingers, Alfred was pleased that the marks on the omega were glowing and moving.
“Tell me your name sweet lunar, tell me the name of the omega that I'm going to claim as my own.”
“Arthur...”
“Arthur, what a pretty name for an omega, especially the first one in my harem.”
Arthur just moaned and whined he wanted this alpha inside him. Alfred smiled and pushed inside him moaning at the omega's tightness and heat. Arthur was screaming both in pain and pleasure, the markings on him were glowing and were moving on his body.
Alfred groaned as he felt himself knotting, Arthur moaned and came as he felt the knot. Alfred laid with his knew lover watching as all the markings on his lover faded leaving only the one on his forehead.
Alfred was touching his new lover, he could already see the omega filled with is child. He smiled at this a son of the Solar with magic of the Lunar. Yes that would be a good thing, and he wondered just how many the omega could push out. Those were the thoughts as he fell asleep cradling the omega in his arms.
I finally finished this. It’s not as good as I thought it was a few days ago. But that might be because I can’t be ill and write flirting at the same time?
Warnings: it’s a very vague piece. Also, it’s superfluous but, eh.
Another pointless function. Another boring night. Another party where he would have to talk to all the sons and daughters of his father's colleagues.
Alfred slumped against the wall, wishing something interesting would happen. He sighed, staring at the Coke in his glass, wanting alcohol but he knew his parents wouldn't let him drink under-age. Normally, he would be all for partying despite the lack of beer or gin. Normally he'd stay beside his parents and be introduced to everyone. But he couldn't take the endless questions.
What college are you attending? What are you majoring in? What are you going to do with that?
Their interest was equal parts pleasing and exasperating. Alfred had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. Should he follow his love of space and become an astrophysicist? Maybe he could go into medicine and save lives? Or mould the minds of tomorrow and become a teacher?
Sighing, Alfred raised his gaze and watched the dancers, waltzing to the elegant music. So far, he'd danced with quite a few people, none of them all that memorable. He watched his mother and father spin past, laughing with glee. Taking a sip of his Coke, he wondered if he could just go home or if he'd be forced to stay.
“Bored?” said a voice beside him and Alfred jumped, turning swiftly to see who had spoken. The speaker was a man around his age, slightly shorter with messy blond hair and sparkling green eyes. He wore a pristine suit, his tie smooth and straight. A Union Jack pin was attached to his lapel. He held a glass of champagne so Alfred assumed he was a few years older than him – or he had taken it without his parents seeing.
“Uh, yeah,” Alfred responded, once he realised he was staring. “Sorry, who are you?”
“Ah, I'm Arthur. And you're... Mister Jones's son?”
“Yeah, Alfred.” He stuck out his hand and Arthur shook it. “You work with my dad?”
“No, no. I was introduced to him earlier and I saw you with him a few minutes later. You look a lot like him.”
Bashfully, Alfred grinned at Arthur. “Thanks. Nice to meet you.”
“Indeed. If you're bored, would you like to dance?” Arthur asked, holding out a hand.
“Oh. Uh.” Alfred cast about to find a reason not to have to dance again. However, as he looked around, he spotted his father coming towards him with another girl Alfred's age in tow. “Sure!” he exclaimed, accepting Arthur's hand since he considered him the lesser evil – no doubt the girl would be fishing for a date.
Arthur gave him a bemused look but happily tugged Alfred onto the dance floor. When they reached the middle, Arthur turned and placed his hand on Alfred's shoulder: apparently, Alfred was meant to lead. Taking Arthur's other hand, they fell into step with the others who had already begun to dance to the next tune.
“So, Alfred,” said Arthur after a few minutes of settling into the dance. “Tell me about yourself.”
“Not much to tell,” Alfred admitted. “I'm a college student.”
“Oh? What are you-”
“I don't know,” Alfred interrupted him, unable to care much about being so rude.
Raising an eyebrow, Arthur nodded. “Ah, I see. I was much the same at the end of my school life.”
“So what do you do, then?”
Strangely, Arthur grinned wickedly. “I get by.”
“Huh?”
“Now,” said Arthur, clearly ignoring Alfred's puzzled look, “why is such a handsome young man such as yourself here without a partner?”
Alfred's eyes widened as he blushed. “H-Handsome?” he asked, perplexed.
“Well, yes. Look at you. Tall, blond and handsome. What more could anyone ask for?”
“Are you- Are you trying to say that you, uh, like me?”
Smirking, Arthur leaned up so his lips brushed against Alfred's ear. “I wouldn't mind stealing you, too,” he murmured, sending shivers down Alfred's body. Before Alfred could comprehend what he had said, Arthur moved back and slipped through Alfred's grasp. At the same instant, a woman screamed. With a cheeky grin, a little salute and a wink, Arthur turned and disappeared into the gathering crowd.
When Alfred found out what the commotion was, he finally noticed that his watch was missing. And, later, when they found out that, while the police had been called to the venue to deal with the stolen pieces of jewellery, the bank Alfred's dad worked in had been robbed, Alfred knew what he wanted to do with his life. Within a few days, he had applied to the nearest police academy with a grin an a glint of determination in his eyes.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 0/1
Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: America (Hetalia)/England (Hetalia)
Characters: England (Hetalia: Axis Powers), America (Hetalia: Axis Powers), Scottish OC
Additional Tags: USUK Dimension Transcension Week 2016, Day7Free, Werewolves, First Meetings, Hurt/Comfort, Sewing Someone Up, Travel, Scotland, middle of nowhere
Series: Part 7 of USUK Dimension Transcension Week 2016
Summary:
Arthur's uncle left him a house in the Highlands of Scotland and he decides to see if his uncle left anything with emotional value in the place. His first, relaxing night there is ruined when the locals hunt a 'fox'...
Warnings: I tried to write a thick Scottish accent but I’ve probably failed. I just wanted to differentiate from what I sound like and what someone from the very north of Scotland sounds like.
All the places mentioned by name are real but the house itself isn’t.
P.S. I have a second Day 7 story to write which will either be on time or be slightly late, depending. But just so’s you know.
Despite his constant debates with his uncle, Arthur had loved the man. So, when he died suddenly, without warning, and left Arthur behind his 'holiday home' – a house in the north of Scotland that he rented out for most of the summer – Arthur couldn't bring himself to sell it on. For one, he knew some of his uncle's things were still in the house and he wanted to sort through them. Besides, having a secondary home in the country could be interesting, as well as profitable if he kept renting it out to holidaymakers.
So he booked a two week holiday before the start of summer and took the train all the way up to Thurso. He enjoyed the calming ride, for once able to see more than just buildings and bare sports' fields. He saw the English moors and the rolling fields, the forests and glens of the Highlands and the hills towering above them. At one stage of the journey, he travelled along the coast and watched the sea swishing in and out, in and out, before the train turned a corner and the sight was lost.
After the train came the bus to Tongue. The bus was packed since it was, apparently, one of few modes of public transport to the crofting village so Arthur felt as if he was in a tin of sardines. Along the way, thankfully, people who were returning home got off at places like Bettyhill and Coldbackie. It was another beautiful journey, the sea reflecting the sun as the day wore on and he couldn't complain too much. Finally, they reached the village where Arthur was to be picked up by the man who kept the house in shape.
Mr. Mackay was a tall man, muscly and stern. His hair was greying and he had some stubble making him look like the stereotypical farmer. Arthur thought he looked tired as he bundled Arthur's suitcase into the boot. “Are you keeping well?” he asked the man, politely.
In return, he got a grunt. For a moment, he thought the man was rude but, once they were both seated in the car, he finally replied. “'M'alright,” he said. “Been up late, though.” His accent was as thick as Arthur had been expecting and it took him a few moments to parse what he had said.
“Oh? What's kept you up?”
“Nothin' in particular,” Mackay answered, the burr of his r's putting Arthur in mind of his Scottish-obsessed uncle. “Just... foxes gettin' in at th'chickens,” he added shortly.
“Huh.” Arthur immediately thought of Fantastic Mr. Fox and had to turn his head from Mr. Mackay and press a hand to his mouth to keep from laughing. They stayed silent for the rest of the ride, crossing over the Kyle of Tongue and continuing west to Loch Hope. After they had crossed the river the loch drained into, Mackay turned the car onto a track which branched from the road they had been on. For a few minutes, they bounced around until they eventually reached a large house, big enough for a family of four or five to stay in.
It looked better than Arthur had been expecting: Mackay obviously kept up with any repairs required. White walls held up a grey, slate roof and the windows were all double-glazed. Cables ran into it to provide it with electricity and an unstable phone line (when Arthur had called up the first time, the sound had kept dropping out). There was no front garden, just the track and grass but, further through the small forest, Arthur could see the shore of the loch.
Inside, the décor left much to be desired, the walls all covered in fading, floral wall paper. The pipes were solid, though, and he had running water as well as a boiler attached to the back of the house for hot water and heating. Board games and videos had been left behind for entertainment as well the keys to a shed wherein the oars to the boat on the loch and an old fishing rod resided. A bundle of maps and sight-seeing leaflets had been placed on the table in the hall, as well as numbers for the 'local' restaurants in case he had no desire to cook. In the kitchen, he found plenty of cans of food and, thankfully, Mr. Mackay had thought to buy milk, bread, bacon, eggs and butter for Arthur to use.
“Ah can gie ye a lift t'the shop t'morra so ye can get more, if ye'd like?” Mackay suggested.
“Ah, thanks,” Arthur replied. “Sorry. I wish I had a car so I didn't have to inconvenience you at all.”
“Not a problem. Just...” Mackay paused and glanced out of the kitchen window. “We're thinkin'a scarin' the fox off tonight so if we keep ye awake, sorry in advance.”
“Oh, no. Your livelihood comes before me,” said Arthur, politely, though he inwardly cursed his luck for coming up at the wrong time.
“Ah'll leave ye to it,” said Mackay and went back to the car. Arthur stood at the front door to wave before going back inside to settle in.
Later that night, Arthur was seated in front of the fire he had lit, engrossed in one of the books he had found, when he realised that he could hear noises. They were faint at first but, after some time, Arthur realised that they were shouts and the crashing of foliage. So the 'hunt' had come his way, Arthur thought, rolling his eyes. It was lucky he hadn't been asleep for he would have been quite irritated. He returned to his book and managed two more sentences before he heard the gunshot.
Startled, Arthur dropped the book and stood. That had been close. There were more shouts and what sounded like a faint cry of pain. Had someone been shot? Were they using real guns at this time of night? What were they, idiots?! Or... had that been a cover story for a murder?
Rushing to the front door, Arthur hurriedly unlocked it – just as something banged into it on the other side. He jumped and let out a cry of his own, wondering if the person had managed to stagger to his door for help. Fumbling with the door handle, it took him two tries to pull open the door, the light pouring out onto the scene beyond.
At his feet, lay a man. Not just any man; no, this man had animal ears on his head and a tail sticking out from his jeans. The man was panting, obviously struggling to stay awake as he turned his head. Light glinted off glasses, obscuring his eyes but Arthur could see his blond hair and the way one strand stuck straight up as if mimicking those ears. Stunned, Arthur found himself reaching out to touch the ear, lightly stroking it. When it twitched under his ministrations, he jerked back at the same instant the man sighed happily. Meanwhile, the tail wagged a little, hitting off the door-frame. Arthur stared for a few more moments until he noted that the white vest top was turning red – this man must have been the one to be shot.
Quickly, Arthur glanced outside, straining to see if anyone was around. There were still yells from the trees and rustling everywhere but no-one was visible. Figuring no-one could see him, Arthur bent down and dragged the man inside, out of harm's way. Then he hurried to the kitchen, grabbed the leftover cleaning supplies and quickly scrubbed the blood from his doorstep. Afterwards, he shut the door as quietly as he could, put the chain on the door and locked it. Sighing with relief, he turned to the man to see that he seemed to have passed out. He was much too large for Arthur to carry up the stairs by himself and he doubted he would be able to drag him to the couch without injuring the bloke more. So he moved over and smacked lightly at the man's cheek.
“Hey. Hey! Wake up.” With a groan, the man came to, blinking blearily up at Arthur. His eyes were a very bright shade of blue. “Help me get you upstairs and to a bed.” He pulled on the man's arm to get him halfway to his feet and the stranger did the rest, pushing himself upright. With the man leaning heavily on Arthur, they both managed to get up the stairs and to a guest bedroom which had an unmade bed. There, Arthur dropped the man onto his back.
“I'll be back in a minute with a first-aid kit,” Arthur told him and hurried to the kitchen, ignoring the pool of blood now in the hallway. He was lucky the floor was stone – he didn't fancy explaining a bloodstain on a carpet to the man trying to kill the guy upstairs. Grabbing the kit from the cupboard his uncle had kept it in, he rushed upstairs. At the side of the bed, he laid out the supplies he thought he would need: needle and thread to sew up the wound for the time being, alcohol for cleansing the wound, painkillers for the man and bandages to wrap him up with.
“Take off your top,” he ordered the man who was barely conscious.
The man giggled. “I only jus' met ya...” he said, slurring a little. Arthur was surprised to hear an American accent.
“Come on. I need to treat your wound.”
“Ya jus' wanna see my muscles,” the man teased. Nevertheless, he obeyed, carefully peeling the shirt from where it was stuck to his wound. Arthur could immediately see that he wasn't lying about the muscles – he hadn't seen abs like that in... well, ever. With a great effort of will, he turned his attention to the bottle of alcohol.
“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath as he unscrewed the cap. “This is going to sting.” He looked at the wound, noting that it seemed much like a hole that went straight through the man's side. Arthur bit his lip. Clearly, the man needed surgery. However, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get in contact with a hospital up here. So he gritted his teeth and added, “This is going to sting a lot.” Placing a hand on the man's chest to keep him down – the man giggled – Arthur braced himself and poured the alcohol on the wound.
Instead of screaming as Arthur would have expected, the man howled. Quite literally howled. Rather loudly. Then he cut himself off, gritted his teeth and turned less hazy eyes on Arthur. “Who... Who are you?” he asked, sounding wary.
Pausing to listen in case someone had heard, Arthur was relieved that the shouting had died down – he could hardly hear anything now, all the noise now in the distance. “I'm the man who saved your life,” he answered. “I'm just going to sew you up. Tomorrow, we'll get you to a hospital.” He nodded at the man's head. “Do you want to take those toys off? It's probably what got you shot. They must have thought you were a fox.”
As Arthur sterilised the needle with the alcohol, the room fell into silence. Then the man said, “My ears and tail... Can you see them?”
“Yes,” Arthur replied, distractedly as he soaked the thread he would be using.
“I must have dropped the glamour when I got shot,” the man murmured to himself. Arthur glanced at him with a frown and the man laughed before wincing at the pain. “They know exactly what I am,” he told Arthur. “That's why they used silver bullets.”
It was Arthur's turn to laugh. “Silver bullets? Don't be daft. Why would they waste silver on...?” He trailed off as the man merely watched him, an amused smile on his face. Arthur lowered the needle and thread, staring back in shock. “Are you trying to tell me...? Are you sure those aren't those Japanese ear things? With the batteries?”
The ears in question flicked at the mention and the man shook his head, his shoulders trembling with suppressed laughter. “Nope. One hundred per cent werewolf. Or fifty per cent human, fifty per cent wolf.”
“Wai- I... But you look human and you've got-!” Arthur gestured at the very obvious ears and tail.
“Oh, yeah, well, werewolves can't turn other people into werewolves. They just die. But they can be born,” the man – werewolf – explained. “We're born like this so we get taught from a young age how to spin a glamour and hide our ears and tail. We're totally harmless, 'cept for the full moon. That makes us go crazy and full-on wolf.”
“But... So why were they...?”
“Ah, I'm, y'know, back-packing across Britain and Europe for a year and I ended up here a few days ago. It was the full moon and someone saw me. Thankfully” - here the man breathed a huge sigh of relief - “no-one was hurt. But they've been trying to 'deal with me' ever since.”
Arthur stared at him for a moment longer. “This is ridiculous,” he sighed and plunged onwards with his operation. The werewolf hissed as the needle pierced his skin, tensing at the pain. But, miraculously, he stayed still, allowing Arthur to work.
“I can't go to a hospital,” the werewolf said. “I heal faster than humans and I'll probably be fine by tomorrow.”
“Stop talking,” Arthur mumbled, reaching for the alcohol to sterilise both the wound and the needle again. “I'm not exactly a doctor, you know.”
After hissing and cursing at the pain, the werewolf let out a breath. “So how do you know what to do?”
“I read,” Arthur answered shortly.
The werewolf huffed a laugh and then stilled, letting Arthur work. It took a few minutes but the front was finally done. He had to help the werewolf roll over onto his stomach in order to sew up the back wound. By the time he was finished, he had to carefully roll the werewolf over by himself as he had passed out again. Since it would be too awkward to sit the guy up, Arthur had to settle with taping square bandages to him. Then he cleaned up as best he could (including cleaning the excess blood off the man) and packed the kit away. Once he had everything sorted out, he paused, thought for a moment, sighed and took a dining chair to the room. Then he settled in it, intent on watching over the werewolf to make sure there weren't any complications.
Morning found Arthur hunched over, his head on the bed and his bum still on the chair. Groaning in pain, he slowly pushed himself up, eyes still closed and stretched, popping his back rather deliciously before letting himself slump and take in his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was that the werewolf had vanished. The thread he had used and the bandages were lying in his place along with a patch of blood on the mattress and the soiled vest top. On the white side of one of the bandages had been scrawled a message.
Don't wanna take up your time.
Thanks for everything.
See you around, maybe? ;)
Alfred
Just as Arthur finished reading it, he realised he could smell bacon which was probably what had awoken him. His heart stilled: if Alfred had left, who the hell was in the kitchen? Had the idiot werewolf left the door open for just anyone to come in? Panicked, he leapt to his feet and leapt down the stairs. At the door of the kitchen, he paused, staring.
Alfred stood at the cooker, decidedly topless (Arthur could see his back muscles rippling as he moved), spatula in one hand and the other holding the pan. His ears and tail were still clearly visible, the tail wagging happily. He turned when Arthur slowly entered, confused beyond a doubt. “Er,” he said, looking sheepish. “So, I was kinda hungry and I found some bacon. But I made enough for you, too!”
“Right.” Arthur truly didn't know what to do, especially when he glanced down and saw that Alfred had, indeed, healed completely. “I thought you were leaving...?”
“Well. I was gonna,” Alfred admitted, scooping up some perfectly crisp bacon and lowering them carefully onto two plates. “But then I remembered your eyes and your determination and stuff from last night and I decided to stay.”
“Why?” asked Arthur, utterly perplexed.
Grabbing a plate, Alfred grinned at Arthur, tail wagging. He sauntered over to the smaller man and, before Arthur could move or react in any way, he ducked down and gave Arthur a kiss at the corner of his mouth. Heart stopping, breath catching, Arthur spun around to watch Alfred continue on to the living room, tail wagging even more furiously.
“I need a mate, that's why!” Alfred called over his shoulder.
Stunned, Arthur stood there for a while before practically stumbling over to pick up the second plate of bacon. Then he jolted, what Alfred had said sinking in. Gasping, he hurried through the house, calling out to Alfred.
