Chapter Text
Alfred ignored Arthur's question, opting to scoff his breakfast instead. 'Eat first, ask questions later', was what he mumbled around a mouthful of bacon. He'd also avoided it after he'd finished by immediately declaring that he would wash the dishes and rushing off only to return in search of Arthur's plate. Before Arthur had registered that he was back and he could hold the plate hostage, the werewolf had snatched it and run off. So Arthur waited until the werewolf returned, his tail wagging behind him as if he was happy he had completed his task.
Arthur stared at him, arms folded, as he walked in; Alfred's tail wagged faster as he spotted Arthur's irritated expression as if he thought that would make Arthur happy. “Sit down,” Arthur ordered. Like the well-trained werewolf he was, Alfred sat on the couch. “Explain.”
“Explain what?” asked Alfred, trying to look innocent. He even tilted his head and Arthur had to remember that he was human at the moment despite his ears and tail.
“This whole... 'mate'... thing.”
“Oh.” Alfred grinned wider and Arthur suddenly felt like prey in the face of it. “Well, that's why I'm over here instead of back home. See, werewolves originally came from Europe so the pure-breeds are all here. It's not quite the same as dogs and stuff – they don't all look the same. But they've got the better genes. It's better for our offspring, 'specially since I'm a half-breed. I'm supposed to be bringing back a girlfriend. Or one of those fancy male omega things – all the werewolves in America are betas, see, so none of us can really produce werewolves. We're either products of a human and a werewolf getting it on or a pure-breed and a half-breed.”
“You said you were 'one-hundred percent' werewolf last night,” Arthur pointed out, eyes narrowing.
“Yeah, we don't go 'round telling people we're only half a werewolf,” replied Alfred with a laugh. “We don't normally tell people we exist at all. Most people try to kill us.”
“What do you do to the people who find out, then?”
He soon regretted saying anything: the next thing Arthur knew, Alfred had closed the distance and was in his face. Arthur shrank back into his armchair, alarmed at the dangerous look on Alfred's face. His teeth seemed sharper this close and Arthur struggled to keep calm.
“We get rid of them, of course,” Alfred said.
At that point, Arthur was no longer consciously breathing. He was also sure his heart had stopped. Maybe he was dead already – he would never see Alfred coming.
Slowly, Alfred pulled away, straightening and stretching. Arthur pulled in a shaky breath, still staring at Alfred with wide eyes. He put a hand over his heart, checking to see if it was still beating. It was, thankfully, and he returned his attention to Alfred as he gasped and panted. The werewolf gave Arthur a slightly apologetic look as he sat down again.
“'Course, no-one's found out about us for centuries so we don't really do that now. Not sure what I'm actually supposed to do. 'Specially since I totally don't wanna kill anyone.”
“Really...?” whispered Arthur, reaching up with a shaking hand to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. “Or are you just lying to make me feel better?”
Alfred shrugged a shoulder, one of his ears flicking back for a second. “I can only speak for American werewolves. Don't know what the European ones do since I've not seen any. Kinda hard with all the magical protections we put on ourselves.”
“Let me see if I've got this straight,” said Arthur, feeling a little calmer. “You want a pure-breed werewolf to... let's say marry... and take back to America with you. Is this for your parents or yourself?”
“It's sorta like a ritual. You become an adult in the werewolf community once you've bred or been bred.”
“Lovely.”
“Haha, we are half animal, y'know.”
“Yes. So I see. Anyway, we've established you want someone to take home with you, right?” asked Arthur. Alfred nodded enthusiastically and Arthur spotted his tail wagging from its place curled around Alfred's waist. “Then... If that's the case... Why are you saying you want me as a mate? I am definitely not a werewolf. And I certainly can't get pregnant.”
“Ah...” Alfred chuckled, mirthlessly, rubbing at the back of his head. “Well, as much as I've loved the holiday, I don't really wanna take someone home. Besides, I don't need to. But Dad's a bit... picky with everyone I usually date. He'll be super disappointed if I don't take someone home with me...”
“Oh, God,” said Arthur, eyes widening as realisation dawned. “You want me to pretend to be a werewolf.”
“Only for a little while! Just till I make it look like, I dunno, you couldn't get pregnant or something and then we could, like, 'break up'” - Alfred made the quotation signs with his fingers – “and then, y'know!”
“There's no way in hell,” Arthur growled, fists clenched on the arms of his chair. He wasn't going to be stuck in some sort of idiotic rom-com plot with a werewolf. Especially since the werewolf in question seemed a bit of an arrogant idiot. What if his parents found out? What if Arthur's family found out before he was able to 'break-up' with Alfred? It didn't bear thinking about.
“Please,” Alfred whined, sliding from the sofa to kneel in front of Arthur. With his ears pulled back and his tail drooping, he looked so much like a begging dog that Arthur froze, caught between wanting to give in to put a smile back on his face and telling him to stuff it. “I'll be real good,” Alfred added, shuffling forward until he was between Arthur's legs. Startled, Arthur twitched, unsure how to get away without kicking Alfred. The werewolf caught his knees, holding him still as he sidled in, rubbing his cheek against Arthur's thigh, hooded eyes staring up at him. Arthur was sure Alfred's eyes had turned darker and his breath caught as he tried to tell him to... what did he want Alfred to do?
A knocking on the front door startled Arthur so much that he kneed Alfred in the side of the head. With a yelp, Alfred sprawled to the side as Arthur struggled to get to his feet, willing away a certain problem downstairs. He was relieved to get away from Alfred, that sly little- Well, he would call him a fox but he was hardly one of them, was he? The bloody werewolf had probably used that tactic to get his way more than once, he had no doubt. Arthur could just imagine how talented Alfred was when he was on his knees...
He had reached for the handle of the front door when he realised that Alfred was not supposed to be there. Freezing, he glanced over his shoulder and, seeing a distinct absence of dogs or wolves of any kind, he decided to just open the door and see who it was. He'd just speak to them at the door before he sent whoever it was on their way, no need to worry.
Of course, it happened to be Mackay who nodded to Arthur as soon as they saw each other before he tried to peer past him. Arthur shifted his weight so the interior was blocked. “How can I help you?” Arthur asked, trying to remember why he would be there. Had he seen the blood from the night before? Had he not cleaned the doorstep thoroughly enough?
“Ye wanted t'go shoppin' fer food?” Mackay said, giving up on seeing past him.
“Oh!” cried Arthur. “Yes. I do apologise. I've been... in my own little world. Quite forgot. I'll just grab the keys and we can get on our way. Oh. And my wallet.”
Dutifully, Arthur scurried off, rushing past the living room. As he did so, he spotted Alfred, standing bold as brass just inside the door. His lips were pulled back in a silent snarl, eyes narrowed. Obviously, he recognised Mackay's voice. Or maybe it was his scent. Whatever it was, Arthur tried to send him a warning look, hopefully containing what he wanted to tell Alfred: Stay hidden. Stay inside. Let me go with him and come back without arousing suspicion.
After he had collected his wallet from the room and returned to the hall, he didn't see Alfred when he glanced into the room again – he hoped the werewolf had understood his message.
Thankfully, Arthur was able to buy enough food for two to last a week without arousing suspicion: he was grateful most of what he liked to eat came in large portions. Mackay made no comment and helped him get it all in the car. They rode in silence, neither mentioning the night before. Arthur tried not to squirm.
Back at the house, Arthur picked up as many bags as he could but there were still two that were left. Without warning, Mackay appeared at his side and lifted them. Thanking him, Arthur made his way to the door – and remembered Alfred. Faltering a little, Arthur almost stumbled but managed to catch himself and continue on. How was he supposed to get this in with Mackay in tow if Alfred was wandering around the house?
“You can just put it down here,” he said when he reached the door and put his own bags down to unlock it.
“It's no trouble at aw t'take it in fer ye,” Mackay said, stubbornly holding onto it.
Arthur kicked open the door and was relieved not to find a welcoming werewolf with his wagging tail and excitement. He grabbed his bags and stepped inside, calling over his shoulder as he went, hoping that Alfred would hear and keep away. “You really don't have to. I'm sure you've got lots of work to be doing and I don't want to be a bother.”
The kitchen was empty of another's presence and he put down the bags with a sigh of relief. Only Mackay's movements sounded throughout the house and Arthur wondered if he needed to put on an act at all. He had refused Alfred's advances; perhaps the werewolf had decided to go find someone else to drag back to the States with him.
“It's the least Ah can do,” Mackay replied, coming through the doorway. His eyes were darting around as if looking for something. When he didn't find it, he put the bags next to the ones Arthur had already set down. Then he looked up and straight into Arthur's eyes. They were grey and stern and Arthur froze, feeling just as trapped as when Alfred had knelt at his feet. “Ah'm sure we kept ye up last night with aw we'r noise...”
Obviously, Mackay was fishing for something. He couldn't know Alfred was there, Arthur realised, and if he just played it cool, he could make sure Mackay wouldn't come looking for Alfred at the house again. “Oh, you don't need to look so serious. I was still awake. Now I think about it, I heard gunshots – I take it you got rid of it?”
“Weel, it ran off. Might be smart enough not ta come back.”
“We can but hope,” Arthur agreed.
There was a short pause as they both awkwardly stared at each other. Arthur had the feeling Mackay was sizing him up. Meanwhile, Arthur was battling the urge to invite him for tea with the strong impulse to prompt him back to his farming duties to get rid of him. Finally, Mackay nodded to Arthur and turned. “Weel,” he said, “Ah'll leave ye be.”
Nodding, Arthur followed him to the door. “Thanks again, Mister Mackay,” Arthur said. “Shall I call you when I need to go shopping again?”
“Aye. Ah'll bring ye milk in a couple days.”
“Right. Thank you.”
And the door closed on the farmer. Arthur stayed, leaning against the door, listening to Mackay's footsteps receding. A car door opened and closed. An engine started up. The crunching of stones under the tyres as the car drove away. Arthur sighed in relief and slumped, letting his head bump gently against the door.
“Finally!” exclaimed a voice behind him, making him jump and bang his head. Spinning around, Arthur found Alfred staring past him at the door. His ears were twitching, both turned in the direction Mackay had gone. Behind him, Arthur could see his tail sticking straight up. “I thought he'd never leave!”
“Tsk. I thought you'd gone,” Arthur grumbled, pushing past the werewolf to actually put the food away.
“Nah. Figured I should stay outta his way. I think he had a silver knife on him.”
“Eh?!” cried Arthur as he began to unpack the first bag. “Where on Earth would a farmer be getting all this silver?”
“Probably a hunter gave him it. Huh.” Arthur glanced up at that to find Alfred frowning into the middle-distance. “Maybe those weren't a coincidence.”
Arthur froze. “Are you trying to say that you've had close calls on your trip already?”
“Ever since Russia,” Alfred agreed with a sheepish grin.
Silence fell as Arthur stared at Alfred in disbelief. “How are you still alive?”
“See? I can't be trusted on my own. Come home with me!” Alfred grinned at Arthur, tail wagging.
“Wha-? I thought we'd already finished this conversation,” Arthur retorted, scowling at Alfred. “There's no way I'm going to America. I have my own life here-”
“I don't expect you to live with me, just visit. And then, I dunno, chat with me online every so often so it looks like we're doing a long-distance thing.”
“What about this whole mating-marriage thing? We need to do that first, right? And I don't want to. No doubt something will go wrong.”
“Please,” Alfred begged, this time taking the milk and butter from Arthur's hand and putting it in the fridge as if he thought helping would endear him to Arthur. “I swear, I'll do everything I can to make this right afterwards, 'kay? Please, just... Please?”
Arthur shook his head and dodged Alfred so he could put away the tins of soup he'd bought in case he got too lazy to cook a proper meal. “No. Leave me be.” He opened one of the cupboards and quickly shoved them in, noting that Alfred had gone quiet, hoping his firm tone had brought an end to the discussion. However, when he turned to go fetch the rest of the tins, he found his way blocked by a serious-looking Alfred. The werewolf quickly boxed him in, arms either side of Arthur's hips, palms flat on the counter. Arthur froze, staring up at him in shock. What on Earth was he doing?
“I know I'm asking a lot. But I swear, nothing bad will happen to you. I'll even make a blood pact – werewolves can't break those oaths. And-And if that doesn't convince you, I'll pay you!”
At those words, Arthur immediately thought of his boring office job. It was a data entry job and it was mind-numbingly boring. Besides which, he had wanted, for so long, to work in a publishing house. He doubted he ever would, seeing as there wasn't much demand for jobs. As such, he had settled for the job which barely paid his way. If he could get paid for something so simple as pretending to be someone's boyfriend...
“How much...?” he asked.
“Uh, I think I have two or three million dollars in my trust fund at the moment. I'll give it all to you when this is over.”
Gripping the counter behind him(careful not to brush Alfred's hands), Arthur took a deep, steadying breath. What could he do with $3 million? How much was that in pounds?
Was money what he really wanted?
He quashed that little voice in his head and stared at the floor for a moment, arguing with himself a little longer. Then, finally, he sighed and looked up at Alfred again. “Fine. Let's do this. But there's going to be a few rules...”