Caught in the Act

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Alfred glared down at this chest as he tightly wound a bandage around it. He looked up at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His hair came all the way down to his shoulders, his neck was lean and slender, so very unlike his brother's, and he had big hips, accentuated by a smallish waist. The glare never left his eyes. The longer he stared at his body, the more he hated it. He glared so long and hard that tears sprang to his lapis eyes. He had an urge to throw his fist into the mirror, but instead he gripped the sink countertop.

Francis, who was walking past the bathroom on his way to his and Arthur's bedroom, stopped when he saw that the light was on. He assumed that someone had left it on on their way to bed. He stepped through the open door to reach the lightswitch.

"Sarah?" He whispered. "What are you doing?"

Alfred's expression went from one of anger and disgust to fear in an instant. He turned to face Francis, looked down at his chest, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around himself. "Nothing," he mumbled, letting his voice go higher than he normally would this late at night. He tried to hurry past the taller man.

Francis put his hand on Alfred's shoulder. "Sarah, s'il vous plaît." He blocked the doorway. "Tell me what's going on."

Alfred stared at the floor.

"Look at me."

Alfred sighed, reluctantly raising his gaze to meet Francis's. He wasn't wearing his glasses, so he was fuzzy, but anyone could plainly see that the older man was worried.

"Please?"

Alfred looked Francis over. His hair was down, hanging in his face, the stubble around his jawline was thicker than usual, and he wore a plain white cotton t-shirt. Alfred took a deep breath before letting the towel fall to the floor, which allowed Francis to see the bandage. The word "boy" was written on it in random places. Alfred looked down again.

Francis let out an exasperated sigh. He put his hands on Alfred's face, lifting it up, and kissed Alfred's forehead. "You ought to know that that's not healthy." He said softly.

Alfred looked up. He hadn't even realized he was crying. "What?"

"Using that bandage like that. It's not good for you, and I will not allow it in this household."

Alfred's eyebrows knit together. "What are you saying?"

Francis picked up Alfred's shirt from where it had been thrown on the floor. "If you're going to bind your chest, you're going to use a real binder." He handed the shirt to Alfred. "Give me your measurements tomorrow. I'll get you one, like the ones my friend's little brother, Ludwig, uses, alright?"

Alfred blushed slightly at the mention of Ludwig's name. "Really?"

"Of course! Why would I lie about something like that?"

Alfred grinned, throwing himself at Francis. "Thank you."

Francis hugged Alfred back. "De rien . . ."

"Alfred. I already use Alfred with my friends at school."

Francis smiled. "Alright, Alfred it is." He let go of Alfred and held him at arm's length. "Does your dad know?"

"No, not yet."

"Alright. You tell him when you're ready. I'll be right here for you." He ruffled Alfred's hair. "Now, get changed, and go to bed."

"Alright."

Francis kissed Alfred's forehead. "I'm very lucky to be able to look forward to having such a handsome stepson."

Alfred smiled. "Merci." His French was heavy with his American accent.

Francis grimaced. "Although, we need to work on your pronunciation."