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Arthur had royally mucked up this time.
It had started out simply enough, if not, admittedly, a bit pathetically.
He should have known better. He did know better, actually, but he wanted to once, just once, prove Francis wrong. He was decidedly not sad or lonely or pathetic or going to die alone at this rate no matter what the stupid frog claimed, thank very much!
And so, like any other (in)sane warlock in his situation and driven by spite would have, one day, after class, he took a trip up to his grandmother’s pumpkin patch and decided he would magic himself up a boyfriend. And not just any boyfriend, an ideal boyfriend! The kind that would have Francis beside himself in grief and jealousy, but he would only have eyes for poor, pathetic, sad lonely Arthur (still all lies!) and definitely not Francis.
It was just for the week, mind you! That would provide him with just enough time to train the construct on how to behave and interact with him at their university’s annual Fall Festival (aka: the biggest party of the season).
Golems were, by nature, rather daft and foolish creatures. They were undeniably reliable and loyal in the tasks which they were taught, but by virtue of their creation a bit too stupid to be taught a wide range of tasks or ideas.
Which, Arthur had thought as he plucked his choice of pumpkin from the patch and prepared to carry it home, was exactly what made them perfect for this task. With a week remaining until the school’s festival, he would have more than enough time to cram the creature full of knowledge on how look and act the part of his boyfriend.
He couldn’t wait to see the look on Francis’s face when he pulled up to the party, decidedly not alone, with the very thing Francis had laughed in his face about, claiming it was impossible for him to have a real boyfriend (never mind the fact he was actually correct and Arthur still technically did not have one…).
It was going to be so funny to watch that persistently arrogant and self-satisfied look fall from Francis’s stupid, smug face. That in and of itself would make all the effort worth it. And he had to admit, it was a great moment, despite his inner turmoil. It was absolutely worth it! Or, rather, it should have been…
And yet—
“Hey, Artie! This is amazing!! Have you ever tried this before?!”
Here they were.
Arthur grunted halfheartedly in acknowledgement and took another sip of his London fog latte, desperately wishing to dissociate but unable to as each step on their walk back to his apartment post-festivities filled him with further dread. He willed himself to focus on the present and commit these last moments to heart, even as his stomach churned in anticipation.
“It’s a seasonal staple for a reason, I suppose.” He mustered up the nerve to reply, worried Alfred would notice something was off if he didn’t say something.
For his own part, Alfred seemed entirely unphased, staring at the iced monstrosity in his hands (Arthur himself despised the artificial flavoring but especially despised drinking any tea or coffee cold – Alfred had ordered it because he thought it looked the “coolest” out of the pictured options available) with a renewed sense of wonderment.
Which made sense, of course, because everything would be new and amazing to a golem.
Bloody fucking hell.
“Pumpkin spice, huh? I never imagined it would taste this good! A guy could get used to this!” His smile was practically ethereal as he said it, his eyes fluttering shut in delight as he took another sip and hummed happily.
He was perfect.
He was charming and beautiful beyond anything Arthur could have ever imagined. (Alfred had, in fact, not come out the way Arthur envisioned him in his mind’s eye as he cast the spell, but he was so much better than what he’d pictured, causing his throat to swell and mouth to go dry despite knowing he was nothing more than a magical construct, that Arthur had decided he was not going to question it.)
Alfred was... It was pathetic and stupid but Alfred was everything Arthur could have ever wanted.
The week he’d spent preparing Alfred for the party and their pretend relationship had been the best week of his life, and that’s how Arthur knew he was worse than a fool. Fools didn’t fall for golems created by their own magic – especially when they were made of a material that was going to begin rotting sooner rather than later!
And yet, here he was, idiotically and dolefully contemplating the pros and cons of magically preserving the pumpkin serving as Alfred’s current life force infinitely and keeping him forever. This was impossible, of course. As a golem, if Arthur didn’t keep Alfred confined to one role with limited, set duties forever then eventually his brain would overload, effectively turning to jelly, and Arthur would be forced to deactivate him, potentially even properly destroy him if he spiraled out of control in the aftermath.
Arthur didn’t want that for him.
Arthur couldn’t do that to him.
And so, willing himself not to get emotional as he did so, as they chucked their drinks into the bin just outside of his apartment complex, he took Alfred’s hand in his own and began walking purposefully with him in tow, heart aching anew as he felt Alfred squeeze his hand tight in return and a glance back revealed unabashed and sincere enthusiasm in his face as they reached and unlocked his door.
The man– (Golem, Arthur’s brain insistently reminded, emphasizing the fact. He was a golem, not a man!)
The golem was practically the embodiment of a golden retriever in humanoid form, as he was. And though Arthur was not willing to look at him directly again just yet, after what he had just seen in his apartment stoop, he caught another glimpse of him in the mirror mounted on the wall and all but froze in response.
Alfred was staring at him eagerly, almost hopefully, his blue eyes bright and dilating ever just so, which was an intriguing and curious response, admittedly, as he fidgeted with his own clothes and watched Arthur strip off his coat and drape it over the nearby rack.
Arthur gritted his teeth as dread settled like a cold weight in the pit of his stomach and willed himself to muster the strength to say what he needed to.
Golem or not, Alfred had given Arthur something he had never had before, true and reciprocal companionship. He seemed genuinely interested during their interactions and Arthur found himself believing, despite knowing Alfred was just responding to his desires in creating him, he truly cared for his wellbeing.
It was ironic – Arthur had been certain he would need to spend a great deal of time in advance of the gathering teaching Alfred how to behave as a human should before even starting to train him on how to act as his boyfriend for the party, but Alfred had spawned practically human from the start.
He was a bit ditzy at times and sometimes he struggled to properly read the room, but he was surprisingly good at pretending to be a human. The only real things, aside from the issues mentioned, he needed guidance on were pop culture references and technology (which was fair, Arthur though, considering he was a pumpkin his entire life until a little under a week before).
And he...
Despite not being a human, Alfred was kind. In a way that didn’t feel manufactured at all.
It had struck Arthur as odd initially, since golems weren’t exactly known for that, but he figured it was because that was the sort of behavior he had been hoping for him to achieve by the time the festival rolled around and was what he had in mind when he cast his spell on the pumpkin.
Arthur deactivated Alfred each night, for safety reasons more than anything (he had heard enough horror stories about golems going berserk unattended to exercise caution considering Alfred was his first golem ever), but left him in his humanoid form during the day to allow him time to get used to interacting with him (and to gauge whether he was convincing enough as a person or if this plan would need to be abandoned altogether).
It quickly became clear in doing so that, even with his limited world knowledge, Alfred found Arthur amusing. Undeniably so.
Once Arthur realized Alfred would require less training than anticipated, he decided the best thing to do would be to go about his business as usual and see how Alfred interacted with him. (He wanted to determine if they could develop something like camaraderie or chemistry, in order to make their fake relationship as convincing as possible.)
The first and most obvious thing he noticed was that, for some reason, Alfred found the faces Arthur pulled in reaction to just about anything, be it good or bad, absolutely hilarious.
Arthur actually worried at one point he would deconstruct when, after reading some entirely unwarranted, negative peer feedback on his science project draft, he pulled a face and swore under his breath in just the right way to cause Alfred to all but collapse into the couch into stitches, chortling in an unattractive yet somehow conversely endearing fashion.
After he stopped yelling at him and Alfred managed to stop laughing at him, Alfred had gone on to unexpectedly and sincerely call him cute and Arthur had just about short-circuited. He’d pushed the ma— GOLEM – into the kitchen when he began laughing at him again (“Your face—!! It’s so—!”) and demanded that he make them both something to eat and stop gawking at him before sitting back down at his desk, desperately willing himself to stop blushing and feel proper embarrassment at being flustered by a being of his own creation.
(Alfred had proceeded to make the most flavorful monstrosity of a sandwich Arthur had ever had in his life. He hated how much he loved it, and he especially hated the way Alfred had beamed at him, his cheeks bright and rosy, when he lied and said it was nothing more than “alright” when asked for his opinion.)
Arthur finally summoned the strength to turn around and face Alfred properly, a week’s worth of wonderful memories now tinged wistful swimming around in his head, as he resigned himself to do what he needed to.
“Alfred...” He swallowed around the lump forming in his throat, willing himself to keep going and to not cry as he did so when he saw the ma— GOLEM, GOLEM, just a big, old, stupid, stupid GOLEM!! – golem’s eyes light up once more. “This past week has been—”
Alfred cut him off before he could say more, eyes crinkling as he smiled. His expression was strangely melancholic, in a way that did not suit him at all, and Arthur would have given anything in that moment to wipe the flicker of sorrow from his face. “It’s been amazing, Arthur. I... I couldn’t have asked for better.” His smile tightened and his face seemed to grow more tired, more resigned.
Arthur hated it.
“I...” Arthur gritted his teeth, wishing there was another way. “I’m truly sorry that we can’t be together, beyond this.”
Alfred let out a small, short, breathy laugh, as though he felt similarly tormented yet grateful for their shared but all too brief experience. “It’s okay. I figured it was a longshot anyways.”
“I—” Arthur’s voice cracked and he swore, wiping almost violently at his eyes as he felt the tears begin to form and threaten to overflow. “Damn it!”
“Artie...” Alfred walked forward, and despite himself, despite knowing this was only going to make things worse in the long run, Arthur allowed himself to be pulled into his arms and held, trembling as he felt a hand soothingly rub along his back. He pressed his face into Alfred’s strong chest and allowed himself to cry, just a little bit. It’s not as if Alfred would be able to tell anyone, after all, so why not?
It wasn’t fair.
It just– It wasn’t fair!
“I’m going to miss you, pumpkin.” Alfred admitted, though it came out weak as he exhaled shakily at the same time, nuzzling gently into the mop that was Arthur’s hair.
The ironic nature of the pet name combined with the sincerity of his voice made the blond cry harder.
“But I’m sure one day you’ll find someone who can... Who can...” Arthur felt a small tremor wrack Alfred’s body as he gripped him tighter, his voice becoming more fraught. “God, it isn’t fair...” Alfred lamented, sounding more broken than Arthur could have ever expected, breaking his heart. “It isn’t...! I... I’ve only known you for a week but I...!”
Arthur reluctantly pulled back from Alfred’s hold, enough to look up properly at him, before reaching up to cradle the man’s – golem’s – Alfred’s face in his own, pressing their foreheads together as he took a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he mourned what should never have been and could never be.
“I feel the same... God, Alfred, I’m so sorry, love.” Arthur apologized, opening his eyes to meet his gaze properly. “I should have never... I willfully brought this cruelty upon us both for a stupid and selfish reason, and I’ve made us both suffer unduly—”
“Nah, no, don’t do that.” Alfred shook his head, reaching up to take Arthur’s hands from where they held his face into his own as he did so. “I don’t regret a thing. I’ll admit, I thought releasing my bindings for one date was a bit strange, but I’m grateful. I mean, it’s been decades since I was last–”
What.
Arthur went stiff at that, frozen, unable to make sense of any of what Alfred was now nattering on about.
He stepped backwards, away from Alfred, willing himself to ignore the clear anguish written across his face as he did so, but kept his hands in his own as he stared up at him, tears stopping immediately as he desperately began trying to comprehend what Alfred was saying.
“What are you talking about?”
“Huh?” Now it was Alfred’s turn to be confused, apparently, though he still looked grief-stricken even in his daze. “What do you mean?”
“Bindings and decades?” Arthur repeated, desperate to know what he meant, even if he doubted it would make any kind of difference. “What... What do you mean by that?”
Alfred looked entirely mystified now, the tormented look on his face melting away in favor of pure, unabashed confusion. “Um... You know? It’s been decades since I asked to be turned into a pumpkin?”
Turned into a—
Arthur stared at him, expressionless and deadpan, before asking the inevitable follow up question.
“Why would you want to be turned into a pumpkin?”
“Uh... You know...” It was the most shameful and flustered he had ever seen Alfred. Which was simultaneously upsetting but also intriguing, because he was beginning to suspect things were not at all what they seemed. “Because I was turned.”
“Turned...?”
“Into a werewolf.” Alfred offered simply.
And suddenly, everything made sense.
The natural humanity. The strange, almost but not quite out of time look to his clothing when Arthur “created” him. The lack of argument about being “deactivated” each night. The puppylike enthusiasm.
Alfred was a lycanthrope.
Arthur stared, disbelieving and horrified. “Alfred... When you say decades—”
“I was turned in 1995 and I immediately went after my brother.” The words tumbled out like a dam had just been cracked open. Quick, clumsy, and full of regret. Alfred averted his gaze and stared at the floor even as one of his thumbs absentmindedly stroked along the skin of Arthur’s palm, instinctive and self-soothing. “I— Matt didn’t get bitten, thank god, but I... I still hurt him real, real bad, Arthur.” His jaw was clenched so tight Arthur worried he might hurt himself, grimacing as he continued, a lifetime’s worth of sorrows and regret wrenching his frame.
Arthur mirrored Alfred’s motions, rubbing soothing, repetitive circles into this skin on Alfred’s palms with his own thumbs, willing him to continue but hoping it comforted him somehow.
Alfred let out a weak and shaky sigh, voice quivering as he continued, but was clearly grateful for Arthur’s efforts given the way he clenched his hands tighter in his own, as though they were a lifeline. “I... I couldn’t take that chance again.” He chanced as glance up at him again, and Arthur all but froze at the resolve and desperation buried there. “I’d heard rumors about this lady who lived on the outskirts of town here – that she was supposed to be a witch, or something. You know, the kind of stupid stuff kids make up to scare younger kids in small towns.
“But I figured it was worth a shot though, you know? I mean, hell, if I was a werewolf, then maybe Mrs. Kirkland really was a witch, who knows?” He barked a disparaging laugh, despondent.
Arthur felt his throat constrict once more and further tightened the grip he had on Alfred’s hands, incensed.
Alfred was a good man. That much was clear to him in both their interactions this past week and this newfound revelation. He deserved so much better than this. He deserved—
Before Arthur could finish the thought, Alfred was smiling sadly down at him.
He truly hated that expression. It didn’t suit him at all.
“And whatdoyaknow? Mrs. Kirkland really was a witch. She told me there were other ways, but I couldn’t trust myself anymore. If I was willing to hurt Matt, then I could hurt anyone, you know?”
Alfred shouldn’t ever have been made to feel this way.
Arthur pulled him forward so he’d have to step in towards him, so close they were practically breathing each other’s breaths as air, and stared him dead in the eye, resolute. “It was not your fault, Alfred.” Arthur stated, certain and unwilling budge. “Lycanthropy is an unforgiving and dreadful affliction, especially in the beginning. You weren’t in your right mind.”
Alfred laughed again, short and self-deprecating. “That’s what Mrs. Kirkland said too.”
“My nan was correct.” Arthur assured him. “With that being said, while a cure for lycanthropy has yet to be found there are ways to manage it. With proper maintenance, charms and spells—”
“But there’s never a guarantee I won’t hurt somebody.” Alfred cut in, smiling sadly. He brushed his thumb along Arthur’s skin again, the action gentle and somehow forlorn all at once. “Is there?”
“Alfred—”
“It’s okay, Arthur. Honest.” He assured him, his expression tired but earnest. “I’d rather be a magic pumpkin than some beast that randomly runs amuck at night.”
“You are not a beast!” Arthur objected, offended.
“Arthur—”
“No!” Arthur swore, releasing Alfred’s hands in favor of pacing the room as he grumbling and raved. “This is completely and utterly—!” He spun around on his heels, looking at Alfred as though he’d lost his mind. “My nan agreed to this?!”
“I—”
“This is ridiculous! I won’t hear anything more on the matter!” Arthur marched into his bedroom and ripped through his small, makeshift magical study (comprised of one bookcase with shelves for his ingredients, a travel cauldron, a small crystal collection, and the desk that he also used for academic studies). “Complete and utter bollocks! I swear to God—!”
“Artie...” Alfred began, hesitantly and almost shyly, as he crept into the space, hovering in the doorframe, squinting as Arthur began assembling… something on his desk space. “... What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?!” Arthur spat, irritated, as he wire-wrapped two small moonstones with copper wire (it was rough and not at all pretty, but it would do until he could find or make something properly) and began assembling the herbs he would need to complete the minor rite. “I’m bringing the situation under control!”
“What does that mean exactly...?”
“It means, you are not going to be a pumpkin ever again.” Arthur explained, laughing somewhat derangedly as he found the dried wolfsbane petals he had worried he wouldn’t have on hand. “Not on my watch.”
“Artie—”
“Just— Just shut up a minute, Alfred! We can talk after.”
“After what?!” Alfred huffed, sorely put out. “I already told you—!”
“The situation is different now.” Arthur snapped, annoyed as he began counting out the number of petals he would need all over again after losing count. “My nan was unable to fully manage the curse, due to what that would entail, but I am more than willing to do so for you.”
“Wait...” Alfred’s eyes went wide. “You can what?!”
“Please just— just stop talking until I can finish what I need to.” Arthur pleaded, rubbing his temple with one hand as he searched for the spell he would need. “I need to focus...”
Blessedly, Alfred listened without a word for once. He sat quietly on Arthur’s bed, watching with a bizarre mixture of wonder and astonishment, as Arthur continued to swear and sweat as he mixed the concoction needed to anoint the makeshift jewelry.
Fifteen minutes and two incantations later, Arthur emerged victorious, grinning triumphantly as he presented Alfred with a wire-wrapped ring, its partner already snug and secure on the warlock’s right ring finger as he handed it to him.
“There! And not a moment too soon, given the current moon phase.” Arthur smirked, clearly pleased with himself.
“This... This will control my shifts?” Alfred asked, hopeful and amazed but still disbelieving.
To his surprise, Arthur flushed in response, his once haughty expression washed away in favor of something more sheepish as he looked anywhere and everywhere but at Alfred.
“I... You’ll still shift during the full moon, I can’t stop that, but I should be able to sense and control when you would normally shift emotionally using my magic, instead. As time goes on, you’ll have more and more control of yourself when you do shift, though. I can help with that.”
Alfred could sense that there was an unspoken “but” in there, and decided to ask as much.
“But?”
“I...” Arthur further reddened, the green of his especially pronounced against the deep, ruddy color of his face. “I...”
He’d always admired the deep green of their color, but they looked especially like emeralds now, glistening in the wake of shed tears and against the deep red of the Brit’s face, practically mesmerizing Alfred as Arthur finally looked him properly in eye again.
Arthur was as beautiful as he was embarrassed, in this moment. “In order for me to properly control and assist with your shifting, there needs to be an emotional connection between us... That’s likely why my nan was unable to offer further assistance when you spoke with her, beyond warding charms and the like...”
Oh... Oh.
“Oh, uh, okay... I mean,” Alfred smiled, a sheepish but genuine thing. “That sounds fine by me. Better than fine, even. I... Wow.”
Arthur’s ears were turning red now and he awkwardly averted his gaze as he continued to speak, acting as though he hadn’t heard what the American had just said.
“It doesn’t have to be romantic, per se, but it does have to be...” Now the flush was extending down his neck, it was probably into his chest too. Alfred couldn’t help but try and catch a peak of the skin exposed at the top of his sweater, hoping he’d be lucky enough to see if so. “A real, true bond... D… Deep friendship, at the very least... And I know that’s a lot to ask, especially considering how everything between us started, but—”
“Artie,” Alfred cut him off, stepping forward to draw him into another hug, warmer and happier than the last but still clearly going to result in tears, given Arthur’s breathing right now. “Relax. You’re fine. I mean, honestly, I’m really confused on what exactly you thought you were doing, now, considering you clearly didn’t know I was the pumpkin when you picked me up,”
“I—!” Arthur started, clearly flustered, but Alfred continued on.
“And this is going to sound cheesy, but when you woke me up here and I saw you I thought maybe enough time had passed that I’d died and gone to heaven in that field.”
He tightened his grip on the blond, nuzzling at the soft, blond locks there, breathing in the whiffs of Earl Grey tea, rose petals, and sage that he’d come to associate with Arthur, and cherished the moment, grateful that it would no longer be the last time he would get to know it.
“You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen... Looked like an angel, even if you definitely didn’t act like one when you started talking.” He chuckled, delighting in the way Arthur began to sputter and hiss in protest, further proving his point. “It’s okay, though, even if you’re an ill-tempered angel, you can be my angel.” Alfred declared, effectively shutting Arthur up as he went red again and, after a moment, clung to him in response. “After all, who else other than an angel would do what you just did?”
“You’re so stupid!” Arthur blurted, even as he arms wrapped tight around him and tears dampened the front of his shirt. “Completely and utterly, ridiculously stupid!”
Alfred laughed again, but there was no sorrow coloring his voice this time. He kissed the crown of his head, delighting when he felt Arthur adjust his grip to pull him closer, their bodies now flush against one another.
“Listen... I’m not always the greatest at understanding other people’s feelings.” He confessed, sudden and unexpected but wanting Arthur to know of some of his most immediate faults before this went further. “And I’ll probably need, like, a bunch of illegal documentation since I shouldn’t still be nineteen at this point and there are a bunch of other things that I’m sure’ll be inconvenient or weird that I’m not thinking of right now. Not to mention the whole werewolf thing itself.
“I can be blunt when I don’t mean to be and sometimes I get way too carried away when I’m having fun but...” He pulled back to look Arthur properly in the eyes, truly hopeful for the first time since getting bitten. “If you’re okay with all of that... If this is something you want to do and it’s not a pity thing and you feel like you won’t regret it, then... I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you this past week, Artie. And I’d honestly really love to get to know more... If you’ll have me, that is. So, uh... Yeah.”
A beat passed and for a moment, Alfred panicked. Arthur went incredibly still, practically boneless in his grip, and that wasn’t exactly the response he was going for in his little heart to heart.
Just as he released him to start to pull away though, Arthur practically lunged at him, throwing himself into his arms (Alfred just barely managed to catch him) and kissing him senseless, promising him eternity without the words.
This entire situation was crazy and beyond foolish. Probably destined for failure at worst and dysfunction at best, given how it started, but—
Arthur pulled back and stared at him with such affection it left him breathless, practically helpless, and desperate for more, for everything with him.
“I’ll have you.”
That was more than enough.