A/N: Ahhh, you guys. I can feel myself losing steam with this story. I'm so sorry this took so long. I've had this chapter written for a while, but I was unhappy and couldn't figure out how to make it better. I still don't particularly like it, but the next one should be better. Thank you guys for sticking with me. I promise this story will get done, even if it kills me.

The first bit is a lil graphic, just fyi.

Chapter Thirteen – The Invitation

…

The room is swirling, and his peripheral vision is blurred with red. He wants to sink to his knees but he knows he can't, so he doesn't. A shadow moves liquid-like around him, and then he feels a hand on his shoulder and breath against his cheek.

"You are showing improvement, Arthur…"

The tone is pleasant, but he doesn't trust it. The hand on his shoulder slides like ice down his arm and wraps itself around his wrist. Tightens.

"…But not enough, I think."

His arm is suddenly wrenched behind him up to his neck, and the pain is enough to make him scream out. He feels something cold and metallic trace the bruises blooming across his back.

"Now then…"

CRRAK! He is down on the floor and howling, blinding white hot fire searing between his shoulder blades. A kick to the stomach and he gags, spits up blood. Tears rip themselves from his eyes.

Above him, a looming darkness, and a glimmer of sliver.

"…Let us see how much of a beating you can take."

...

Arthur tensed as he watched Alfred pick at his waffles with his fork, tearing them up beyond all human recognition. The Shakespeare exam notes that were the original reason for this Sunday late morning meet-up sat forgotten near the edge of the table, but that was the least of Arthur's concerns. The boy was being unusually quiet today, and though Arthur had tried to ignore it thus far, he found himself growing more apprehensive with every passing second.

"Is… is something bothering you, Alfred?" he asked at last, tentatively, clutching his cup of tea with both hands to steady himself. He grimaced as the boy looked up and flashed him a small, not-nearly-as-heart-stopping-as-it-should-have-been grin.

"Nah, I was just spacin' out for a sec. Sorry." The boy was an exceptionally bad liar, so much so that Arthur was almost annoyed by it.

"Oh, come off it, lad," he pressed. "I've seen royal guardsmen that looked more chipper." Alfred frowned and turned toward the window, chewing on his bottom lip, and Arthur felt his heart begin to race and his stomach turn into a block of ice. He knows. Fuck it all, he bloody knows…

After what seemed like an eternity, the boy finally turned back to him:

"Um, well… I guess I've just been feelin' kinda homesick lately is all," he admitted, running a hand through his hair sheepishly.

Arthur blinked and froze for a moment, unsure if he'd heard correctly, then released a giggling, slightly hysterical sigh of relief.

"…Is that all?" The boy shot his a confused look. "Er… I mean, I see," Arthur recovered clumsily, soothing back his shot nerves with a lengthy of tea.

"Yeah, well, it's like… this is the first time I'm not going home for Thanksgiving, ya know?" Alfred continued, playing absentmindedly with the little jams in the condiment container. "I mean it wouldn't have made much sense cause my mom n' dad are in Africa till the end of the year and Mattie's going on this 'wilderness excursion' thing, but I dunno…" He sighed. "I guess I'm being kinda stupid, huh?"

"Of course not, Alfred," Arthur replied bracingly. "It's perfectly understandable that you feel that way." Alfred's eyes flicked down to the table, and Arthur followed them, realizing that he'd moved unconsciously to squeeze the boy's arm. He felt his face heat up immediately, but he couldn't help thinking about just how easy it would be to move his hand down just a smidge more and curl his fingers into the soft skin of Alfred's palm…

"Another refill for you?"

Arthur jumped in his seat and yanked his hand away, turning instead toward the smiling blond waitress who had suddenly appeared by their table.

"Er… yes, that would be lovely, thank you." His eyes met her own green pair as he handed over his cup, and he frowned at the look of dawning comprehension that flashed through her face.

"Ohhhhh, that's where I know you from!" the girl exclaimed excitedly as if she'd just solved a complicated puzzle she'd been working on. "You're that guy that kicked my brother's butt at the club last night, right? …Oh, don't worry-" she added upon noticing the no-doubt horrified look on Arthur's face. "-No hard feelings. Between you and me, he pretty much had it coming-"

"Uhhum! I'm terribly sorry-" Arthur interrupted hastily, carefully avoiding Alfred's curious gaze. "-But I think you might have me confused for someone else." The waitress put her hands on her hips in showy disbelief.

"Oh, please, you're kidding me," she giggled. "There's no way I would forget a pair of eyebrows like those!"

"No, no, I really think you must be mistaken," Arthur urged, brushing off the eyebrow comment in favor of pleading with eyes for the girl to play along with him. For one terrifying moment, Arthur was positive his message wouldn't be received, and Alfred would discover his secret after all, but after a quick side-glance over at the boy, things seemed to click in the girl's head.

Fortunately, she was a pretty good actress, effortlessly scrounging up a fake blush of embarrassment.

"Ohhh, you know, you're right! Now that I'm looking at you, it was another guy after all. Ohh gosh, I'm so sorry!-" she continued in her ditzy façade. "I do that kind of thing all the time!"Arthur relaxed, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"It's quite alright. Think nothing of it," he replied, flashing the girl a secret, appreciative grin, which she returned with an invisibly quick wink.

"Haha, well, I'll just go grab that tea, then!" the waitress announced, gracefully taking her cue to leave. Arthur would have to remember to leave a bleeding good tip.

You're not out of the woods yet, he reminded himself. He turned back to the boy with what he hoped was a convincingly innocent expression, but grew anxious when he registered a glint of suspicion in the boy's eyes.

"What was that all about?" Alfred asked.

"Oh, who knows? Just one of those awkward mix-ups I suppose," Arthur attempted to brush off. The boy was still looking at him much more piercingly that he would have liked. Shite. He needed to come up with some sort of distraction, and fast…

"Artie," Alfred began carefully. "Are you sure there's noth-"

"Say Alfred, you know, I was just thinking-" Arthur cut in, letting his mouth do the thinking for him. "Peter will be coming to spend the holiday at my apartment, and well, I hadn't really planned on doing much anything spectacular, but if you haven't got any other plans, well, I just thought you might like to, um... join us." The blush was crawling up to his ears before he even fully caught on to what he was saying. Ohhhh, god, what have I done?

"Iggy, are you really inviting me over for Thanksgiving?" he asked, eyes all alight in way Arthur found to be maddeningly irresistible.

"Y-yes?" he replied shakily, trying to get a hold of himself. "Yes." He finally managed with confidence, and the sunny smile that followed warmed him straight to the core.

Even still, the sense of foreboding that immediately sank upon him was enough to make him wonder if he'd just made the situation exponentially worse...

Bollocks.

A/N: Still needs some work, but I think it's better if I move on rather than get sucked up in little details. Again, thank you guys for all your support. Thanks as always to my beta Holly-Batali, this chapter wouldn't be up if it weren't for her. :)

UP NEXT: A Very Hetalian Thanksgiving, and the turkey's not all that's gonna be cookin'! (I have been waiting so long to write this next chapter guys you don't even know)