"Alfred." Arthur repeated the name to himself. "What a lovely name." And what a strange accent. Taking a sip of his tea to mull it over, he simply couldn't discern from dialect he was speaking in. It felt so very similar to his own but just where had it come from? "Well, Alfred, I think we'll get on just fine together. You seem like a reasonable young man, if not a bit fidgety." A reasonable young man? Fidgety? Where had that come from? Clicking his tongue, he set his cup down and motioned for Alfred to take a sip from his own cup.

To Alfred, it felt as though the man before him was tripping up on himself. Picking up the foreboding brown liquid before him he swirled the cup a bit and leaned in to smell it. What was this again? Looking over his cup, he could see Arthur's thick eyebrows raise up in question at his hesitation only to be concealed by a sheepish grin. This man was strange, not quite like anyone he'd met before since being captured. Slipping his eyes shut, he took a sip of the strange liquid.

Arthur swallowed a lump in his throat. Something about the way those blue eyes locked onto him from over a steaming cup of tea made him squirm. This needed to stop. Instead of looking for signs of trust he was getting lost in the colour. Arthur would never admit for what reasons he'd chosen Alfred, or if Francis were present, 531. The thought of hearing the frenchman screech out such a lovely name was sickening. He could knew from the get go that the ninny would want to fawn over the boy, but that wasn't going to happen. "What do you think of the tea?"

Bitter. Alfred made a face, tugging his bottom lip up as if to muster the strength to swallow. Why would Arthur willingly drink this stuff? God, was this just another form of punishment? Sucking his lips into his mouth as if to hide it, he quickly set the cup back down, avoiding eye contact. His current options ran through his mind. Arthur had been patient with him, and that was not something he wanted to be wasted. Though his gut told him to say nothing his mind was fully aware that patience was not a limitless resource. He gave a shaky thumbs up before pulling his feet up onto the couch with him, resting his chin on his knees.

He didn't like it. It was more than obvious he was revolted by the taste but at least he had the courtesy to pretend he enjoyed it. To say that disliking his tea was disappointing to Arthur would be an understatement. I was the only thing he could cook without burning. Guessing from Alfred's background he most likely didn't have any culinary skills. It seemed as though they'd both be ordering meals for a while. He wanted to sigh, but refrained. Watching Alfred pull his legs up in front of him like a child was a sight that reminded him of just what situation he was in. He spoke, running a hand through his light hair. "If it's too bitter, I have some sugar cubes and cream."

There was an instantaneous change in Alfred's expression. He had sugar? His mouth opened like the gape of a fish. Sugar was something that Alfred had only tasted a few times in his life. He remembered the fond memory of he and his brother eating their shared sweet bread during the summer. It had been for their birthday, though no one in the village could exactly pinpoint what day that was. Sugar was the epitome of indulgence in his life back home; and he was more than eager to taste it again.

Arthur smile. He seemed excited with the idea. His papers said that he had been starving. Of course he was excited to ingest something sweet. Arthur handed over the delicate bowl of sugar cubes and watched what Alfred would do. Imagine his surprise to see him pick one up and pop it directly into his mouth. Had Ivan been feeding him poorly?

Alfred nearly melted into the couch as the cube began to melt in his mouth. In an instant he was home again, sharing his bread with Matthew and hearing his mother once more. He had never known food could be such a comfort before. His lips spread into a genuine smile while his eyes slipped into a half-lidded daze.

Drinking in the sight before him, Arthur blushed. That was a face he could get very well accustomed to. He watched as Alfred savored the small treat before realizing that this wa the first time he had seen him smile. It was something like could brighten anyone's day. "Enjoying that, I see." Tilting his head to the far wall, he tried to appear unaffected, by the boy had a certain charm about him. Perhaps it was his innocent blue eyes or it might've been the tone muscle behind his tanned skin. For either reason, Arthur found him undeniable attractive.

As Alfred continued to melt away in bliss, Arthur suddenly felt disgusted. He'd bloody chosen a house servant based on his sexual appeal. For heaven's sake, he had been chastising Francis for simply suggesting such things and yet here he was ogling the boy!

Alfred was completely oblivious to Arthur's turmoil. Any fear of repercussions had been shoved to the back of his mind as he reached for another sugar cube. His stomach growled just then, pulling him out of his revery.

Arthur's voice came out about an octave higher than he had intended it to. "You must be hungry!" He was sweating now feeling rather ashamed. But if there was one thing he could do to feel better about himself, it was to be around his trainwreck of a friend, Francis. Arthur stood up jerkily feeling rather anxious as his knees dug into each other. "Why don't I just call up a frie- acquaintance of mine and we can have some dinner?" Arthur quickly dashed out of the room to get to the phone in the kitchen. His fingers shakily dialed the numbers and waiting for a response.

"Bonjour, this is Francis speaking."

"Listen frog. 531 is getting accustomed to the house here and I was thinking that you could come over and have dinner with us."

"And by that I assume you want me to cook, non?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You know damn well that he'll be receptive to your uncultured garbage. The boy simply doesn't know any better." His fingers curled into the line connecting the phone and the receiver.

"Of course. Whatever you say, Arthur. I'll be over around six. Do you mind if I bring my Matthew? "

"Your what?" Had the frog started dating again? His nose wrinkled in disgust. Francis was such a sentimental bastard that his relationships were all the same. A brief flicker of passion before burning out and moving on to the next one.

"My Matthew. The one I purchased a few weeks ago? You must promise not to get jealous, mon ami. He was the cutest one there and I know just how much you despise being out done."

"Excuse me?!" Arthur was nearly shouting into the phone now, but kept his volume down so not to scare Alfred. He glanced behind his back to see him now laying across the couch. ….Good lord.. He continued with a condescending tone. "I'll have you know that my Al- my 531 is perfectly respectable and undoubtedly better than your Matthew." Was he honestly fighting about this? What was wrong with him? He continued before Francis could speak, imagining the shit eating grin from the other line on the phone. "Just! Just belt up! And don't bloody flirt with him when you get here."

Francis laughed loudly on the other end nearly doubling over. "You are so cute when you have a cru-"

The line went dead as Arthur hung up on him, face as red as a beet. Checking the clock it was nearly five thirty. Just enough time to get ready for the mess tonight would become. First things first, he needed to get Alfred dressed and ready. He would not have him parading toppless in front of Francis.

Slinking back into the room, Arthur could see Alfred laying on his side across the couch. His back was toned but what stuck out most were the purple bruises near the inner corners of each scapulae. Knitting his brows together, he approached quietly. Extending a hand his fingertips grazed his shoulder only to hear him hiss in pain. "What on earth happened here?"

Alfred slowly returned to his seated position, still noticeably calmer than before. He was still in the afterglow of his sugar rush and it'd take a lot more than a bit of prodding to ruin that. It finally dawned on him that he'd have to speak in order to answer Arthur. Brushing a bit of hair out of his face, he resolved himself to vocalize. But what would he say? He'd been strung up with his arms behind his back, knees digging into the cement floor for months. Any time he would tire and put weight on his shackles, the resulting pressure would pull up at his shoulder blades painfully. But how could be say that? Alfred made no qualms about telling Arthur to his dreadful conditions but it seemed as though the gift of speech had escaped him from the long months of absence. "They don't bend that way."

Arthur was confused as to his reply. Was he referencing some sort of accident? Had he been horsing around and hurt himself? "We'll have to take care of that later. Come now. Let's get you into some proper clothing before Francis arrives." Taking him by the hand, Alfred was lead back into Arthur's bedroom and towards the closet.

Very little of Arthur's would fit him. He was taller and certainly broader at the chest and shoulders. Ultimately, Arthur decided on an ill fitting white button-up with a tan tie. Alfred hated the constricted feeling and immediately rolled the sleeves up to expose his forearms. That, Arthur could handle; but when he went as far as to unbutton the top of his shirt Arthur had to put a stop to it. Leading him back to the living room, Arthur decided the time to set a few ground rules was now. Unfortunately, he was incredibly distracted by the dressing situation.

"Now Alfred, while Francis is here I'll be referring to you as 531." His skin had been warm to the touch as Arthur helped him into his shirt. "I don't particularly like referring to you as such, but Francis is a bit …. Well he's bloody awful." His mind lingered on the way the material was stretched across his firm chest and shoulders. "He's going to be cooking dinner for us tonight." He could feel the pulse in his neck as he gently wrapped the tie around him, weaving it shut into place. "Now, his food can be rather tasteless and horrid, but I'd appreciate if you pretended to like it, no matter how disgusting it is." He had enjoyed the closeness of button up the shirts he had tried on and the mistaken brushes of hands against his chest. "So, try to be a good sport and if you can ignore Francis's eccentricism."

If he's a terrible cook and a terrible person, Alfred couldn't imagine why Arthur would want him around. Then again, he understood little of the social behaviors of the elite. He nodded to Arthur's requests as he reached for another sugar cube. Before he could grab one the doorbell made him jump. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Easy there, Alfred." The brit laughed at how jumpy the boy could be. Patting him on the shoulder he started in the direction of the door. "Just try to relax. I'm sure Francis and his servant will behave just fine tonight." The real question would be if Arthur would behave though.

Opening the door revealed Francis and…. "What in-"