Arthur hates summer.
Summer meant having to throw his blanket across the room at night. Summer meant having to force himself to drink his daily cup of hot tea. Summer meant having his twelve year old adoptive son- Peter- hanging around him all day. Summer meant more time for Peter to pester Arthur with 'new hobbies'. Summer was the reason Arthur stood in his his garage that day waiting for Peter to lug out his guitar and slump into the backseat of his car.
"Are you ready, love?" Arthur asked, wiping quickly at the beads of perspiration popping up at his hairline.
"Yeah, yeah, Mum." Peter whined, "Just drive already! I'll be late!"
No matter how many times Arthur tells him to call him 'Dad', it seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Sometimes, Arthur felt as if he was filling that invisible hole in Peter's life by being Peter's mother figure, so he didn't really mind most of the time. Arthur knew Peter's next request and turned up the radio even though the instrument store-cum-lessons (Arthur honestly didn't know what to call it) was only four minutes away. He had already taken Peter to his first class- in fact, this would be Peter's third class there. He sighed wondering whether Peter even liked playing guitar. Sure, it was normal for boys his age to want to impress girls but Arthur didn't want to pay if Peter wasn't interested. Arthur decided he would ask Peter about it later (no doubt getting yelled at for being inconsiderate and accusing).
"Mum! Park quicker! I'm two minutes late!" came Peter's shrill request. Arthur was tempted to say, 'There are nicer ways to say that' but he had realized the hard way that sometimes Peter meant business.
As soon as the car was parked, Peter took off, pushing through the glass doors with a childish enthusiasm. Arthur followed along slowly, not particularly excited to sit on the very uncomfortable blue couch provided by the shop/instrument school for half an hour. Arthur had forgotten to bring a book to read and was hoping to God they'd have magazines in there so he wouldn't have to listen to the chatty, flirtatious woman at the desk, Tamara. He was greeted by her too-bright smile as he walked in, the pleasant air-conditioning relaxing his features.
"This is the man I was talking about." Tamara said with a giggle, "He's such a dedicated father, you know, coming in here and waiting half an hour so his kid can learn." Tamara sighed, "It's a shame we don't have more parents like this."
Arthur wanted to tell her off! How dare she speak of him to this- this... a pair of twinkling blue eyes met his dull green ones and his heart skipped a beat.
"Pleasure." The young man said, tilting his head upward to acknowledge Arthur. The man was sitting quite comfortably on an uncomfortable-looking stool. His blonde hair looked soft in the dim lights of the shop and his skin was a warm tan. A strange cowlick seemed to bob as he slowly moved his head, strumming at his guitar. He sent Arthur a dazzling smile.
Arthur, not knowing what to say, sunk into the blue couch and stared at his lap.
"Bye, Mum!" Peter exclaimed from the doorway across the store- which opened up to a small collection of rooms for the lessons. Arthur blushed, waving him off. Why oh why Lord did he have to be called Mum in public?
"Isn't it sweet?" Tamara exclaimed. The young man nodded and gave Arthur a smirk,
"Mum?" The hint of a southern accent in the man's voice made Arthur go weak in the knees. Thank God he wasn't standing up, else he would've crashed and destroyed the guitar displays behind him. The man must've noticed because he gave Arthur another delicious smile.
"I have no idea why he calls me that. I just let him." Arthur mumbled, suddenly wishing he'd cleaned up a bit more.
"I just love his accent!" Tamara said, giggling. "Don't you?"
The man laughed, "Did you move to America recently?"
"Um, a year ago." Arthur said, pretending not to be interested in the conversation.
"Cool."
"This guy here's really good on the guitar." Tamara whispered harshly. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, if he was his usual, sarcastic self... he'd say something along the lines of,
'Well jolly good for him!' but he finds himself saying, "Oh? Um, okay."
He hated himself for being at a loss for words.
Tamara urged the man to start playing and he sent Arthur a sort of look... it was as if he was asking for permission. Arthur sat up straight and crossed his legs. Taking that as a yes, the lad began to play.
Arthur was taken aback by the range of the man's voice. One moment he'd go high, another moment his voice was a low growl. In all, Arthur found the boy's talent unbelievably... sexy. He strummed his guitar effortlessly with his bare fingers. Arthur didn't know much about guitars but he was sure that strumming without a pick was a good thing.
"Ooh baby." Tamara said to the man's delight. "That's some talent right there."
Arthur glanced up to find the lad's gaze on him. Oh damn it. Arthur smiled softly in response and found it hard to tear his gaze away.
"I'm Alfred Jones." The lad said out of the blue, like those eyes... "You are?"
"Um, Arthur."
"So, how long've you been married?" Alfred asked. Dread settled in the pit of Arthur's stomach.
"I'm single! Er.. no, I've, uh, never been married." he blurted. Did Alfred honestly think he was old enough to have a twelve-year old son? Arthur's cheeks reddened in shame.
"Dang, I'm sorry." Alfred said, blue eyes wide behind his glasses, "I offended you, didn't I?"
Arthur laughed in response.
"Now, you said you wrote songs as well." Tamara said, dragging them into a new topic of conversation.
"Yeah."
"Sing us one." Tamara almost ordered. Alfred laughed and obliged. Upon paying attention to the lyrics of the song, Arthur was mortified at the description of a 'little blonde cutie with purdy green eyes'. It couldn't be- it couldn't be him, right? I mean, Alfred hadn't meant for it to be him... he couldn't have, right? Alfred looked up momentarily from his guitar and gave Arthur a cheeky wink (to which Arthur hurriedly checked to see if Tamara saw. God knew how much of a scene she'd make). Alfred finished his song with a soft strum and turned to Arthur for approval.
Dear GOD Peter, what's taking you so long?
When Arthur didn't respond (honestly, he wanted to burrow into the ground and hide forever), Alfred plastered on a fake smile and regarded Tamara, "Hey, I gotta go."
"Sure thing, hon." Tamara said, packing in his guitar, "I'll call you when we get the cases."
"M-hmn." Alfred said, walking over to the door- which happened to be right next to the couch Arthur was currently seated at. Arthur felt himself clenching up when Alfred paused next to him, his hand pressed against the wall above Arthur's head. Arthur could smell coffee, new clothing, the slight scent of soap and an underlying tinge of sweat. A little peek confirmed that Alfred's arms had well defined muscles, and Arthur only dared to hope it was the same under that well-fitting white shirt. Arthur's heart hammered shamelessly and he wondered if Alfred could hear. "Hey, Tamara, see you next Wednesday?"
"Sure thing, babe. I'll have your stuff ready by then."
He said next Wednesday.
Peter's next class.
Arthur never felt so light.
"He was good, wasn't he?" Tamara said, her brown curls bouncing as she waved at Alfred through the glass.
"I have to say... he was quite good." Arthur admitted,
"And drop dead sexy!" She gushed, "He's like, what, twenty-seven? I mean, those abs!"
Only five years difference...that was good, right?
Oh God, why did he care?
"I mean, I could stare into his eyes forever, couldn't you?" Arthur glared at the wall in response to the woman who continued talking to him, "Was I making you uncomfortable? I'm sorry, I just don't know when to shut up sometimes..."
"Oh, it's not you." Arthur said absent-mindedly. Truth be told, he was too busy thinking about what to wear next Wednesday.
Two days.
Two classes.
Two Wednesdays passed since the first time Arthur met Alfred. Since then, Alfred would come to the store and strum a couple of songs for Tamara and him. That's all. Sure, Arthur noticed the blonde man's eyes on him more than once for long periods of time... and those looks didn't seem all so modest. And the worst part was, Arthur would often catch him in the act, and the American would just keep staring. He'd bite his lip just so, and that smile! Like he didn't even care that Arthur knew! Alfred would ask a lot of questions, and laugh at all of Arthur's little jokes-
But that was it.
Today was Peter's sixth class. Arthur was wrong about one thing though, Peter's interests didn't seem to be waning. Today, Peter was on the top of the world. He gripped Arthur's hand and literally skipped inside the small building, a confused Arthur trailing helplessly behind him.
"Oh, hey Arthur!" Alfred said. Today, he was wearing cargo shorts and a white button-up shirt. He had a coke can in his hand and was leaning over the counter, in the middle of a conversation with Tamara. Arthur also noticed he'd changed the frames of his glasses but he decided to keep it to himself. "And this must be, Peter! I haven't met you yet, little man!"
Peter furrowed his eyebrows, "Who the hell are you?"
"Peter!" Arthur hissed, smacking the side of Peter's head lightly. Alfred laughed,
"I'm Alfred. I heard you play guitar?"
Arthur was surprised by the effects of Alfred's words on Peter. The little lad's face broke out in a sunny grin and Alfred got to him faster than it took Arthur to get to know him. Soon, Alfred had Peter talking to him about his days at school. Apparently, Peter had a sweetheart Arthur knew nothing about.
"You've got a girl already, huh?" Alfred said with a laugh,
"Yeah, her name's Sierra!" Peter replied enthusiastically.
"You're a real casanova, man. You gotta teach me some good pick-up lines!"
"Try, kissing burns five calories per minute, want to work out?"
"Peter Kirkland!" Arthur exclaimed, mortified. He blushed a deep red as Alfred laughed his deep, Alfred-y laugh and patted Peter on the back.
"That's a good one, you use that on her?"
Peter nodded enthusiastically.
"And?"
"She slapped me!"
Arthur sighed in relief when Peter's guitar teacher finally showed up and dragged him in for the lesson. He could finally have Alfred all to himself.
"Your son's a real cutie. Looks just like you, even though he's not yours!" Alfred said admiringly. Arthur felt himself heating up again, did he just imply that I was cute? Oh, Arthur, get a hold of yourself!
"Um, thank you." Arthur said warmly. "And your glasses are very becoming of you."
"Dunno what that means." Alfred said with a loud laugh, "But I'mma take it as a compliment."
Arthur wished he could look away or avert his eyes from the warm blue ones boring into his. He didn't understand how Alfred could stand to bear eye contact with him! Didn't Arthur's ginormous eyebrows put him off?
"Y'know. You have huge eyebrows." Alfred said. Well, Arthur thought too soon. "They're like lil' fuzzy bears-" Arthur was about to give the American his signature scowl when Alfred completed his sentence with a, "Cute as heck."
And he bit his lip lightly.
Arthur's eyes widened momentarily as he covered his embarrassment with a nervous laugh, "You're the only one that thinks that."
"Then nobody's thinking right."
Arthur blushed for the umpteenth time, "Thank you."
"Hey, no prob." Alfred said. "Uh, I'm going to grab a cup of coffee now, wanna come with?"
"Oh, no, that's all right." Arthur replied hastily with a smile. Oh God oh God is he making a move? God, Arthur, say YES. "I don't really take coffee."
"Or tea or whatever." Alfred said with a laugh. "You've got half an hour before Peter's class is over, right?"
"Oh, I'd rather not. It is boiling outside!" Another nervous laugh. Please persuade me...
Alfred sighed, plastering on a bright smile, "M'kay, see you next Wednesday?"
"Definitely." Arthur said too quickly, "Er, because my son can't miss his classes. Yeah."
Arthur sighed and watched as Alfred left the shop. The American dropped his coke can, smashed it with his foot and sent it skittering across the asphalt with a frustrated kick.
Tamara gave Arthur a low whistle, "Dang. He looks pissed. And here I was thinking he came day after day for me."
"Pardon?"
"Dude. He just asked you out. On a date. He likes you." Tamara said with a giggle, "And Peter likes him too! You should go for it."
"That's not in your place to suggest." Arthur snapped. Realizing he'd been rude, he added, "God, I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated, that's all."
"Hey, that's okay, I've been there." Tamara assured.
"I'm sure you have." Arthur muttered under his breath.
"Where's that American guy?" Peter exclaimed as he barreled out of class. Arthur ignored his question,
"How's he doing, Nora?" he asked, ruffling Peter's hair even though he knew Peter despised it.
"Oh, he's fabulous!" Nora- Peter's guitar teacher- gushed. "I'm teaching him a song to play for the Summer Solstice recital...if that's okay with you."
"Yes, that's fine." Arthur said with a soft smile. Peter tugged at Arthur's sleeve, furious for having been ignored.
"Where's the Yank?" he said, "He promised he'd give me his special pick!"
"Peter." Arthur said through clenched teeth, "If you want, I'll buy you a pick. You will not go asking around and you will most certainly not take other people's things, understood?"
Arthur braced himself for the outburst he was certain would follow.
"I hate you, you jerk!" Peter exclaimed, his face red with anger as he stormed out of the shop. Arthur clenched his fists and followed.
"Have a good day." Tamara called weakly as the glass doors swung shut.
"Hey little twerp!" said a familiar American voice just as they'd gotten out. Arthur's scowl melted into something a little more pleasant as the American came into view, lazily leaning on his red pickup truck. Today he was wearing a superman shirt and simple blue jeans, but nothing was simple when it was on Alfred.
Peter visibly brightened up,
"Hey!" he giggled, "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."
"Yeah, well, work's a b- a bunch." Alfred said, laughing at his attempt to dodge a bad word. Alfred looked rather surprised when Peter tackle-hugged him, "W-woah there!" he said with a laugh, ruffling the little boy's hair. Arthur bit his lip, eyes fogging up as he watched the scene before him. He shouldn't be crying for this! He shouldn't be crying because Peter obviously liked Alfred better. He shouldn't even be upset at the fact that Peter leaned into Alfred's hand when he pulled away from Arthur's. He shouldn't have been sad, but he was. And so he cried. Fat, salty tears rolling down his cheeks as he pushed past Alfred to get into his car.
"A-arthur?"
Arthur ignored the American, slamming the door and swiping at his leaking nose like a little ankle-biting prick. He was crying in front of his son, for the first time, and a stranger was witnessing it.
Peter's eyes widened, "See you on Wednesday, Alfred." he muttered, giving him a weak fist bump before running to his car. Alfred watched him go, his heart sinking and aching at the same time (if that was even possible) for the small-framed, green-eyed Brit.
"See ya." he replied with a wave as the car pulled out. "Hey, wait up!"
Alfred ran up to the car and knocked on the window to get Arthur's attention. The Brit huffed, blinking away his tears and raising an eyebrow at the American who was goofily-grinning through his window.
'Hey' He mouthed.
'What' Arthur mouthed back.
Alfred grinned, gesturing for Arthur to 'Just drop everything and smile, baby' and Arthur could not deny the fact that yes, Alfred had just called him baby and it made him feel like he was on the top of the world. Arthur smiled back and gave him a small wave (which Alfred replied with a heart-wrenching wink) before pulling out and driving home.
Peter hadn't said a word about it all the way home but Arthur's anger had melted away anyway, so it didn't matter.
Peter had been practicing vigorously for the recital. The boy seemed to not have a bit of stage-fear, which was good... but it left Arthur biting his nails to stubs.
What if he messed up? Oh God, he'd be mortified! Oh no, what if Boss doesn't let me go? Oh God, oh God, oh Christ.
But how was Peter's problem his? Arthur chuckled to himself, sipping his tea and hissing when it burned his lips.
Alfred Jones had been the object of at least three wet dreams lately (that he remembered, probably more than that), and Arthur was so ashamed, he didn't know if he could face him again! Oh what he had been doing to Arthur in his exaggerated, steamy dreams... those large, calloused hands of his, roaming every inch of Arthur's body.
Arthur's lips wrapped around that big...
Straddling the gorgeous work of God and riding him until he...
Doggy style, hips rocking back onto that...
Sounds of the bed creaking, all that moaning and ohdearGod...
Arthur shivered licking his lips and sipping his tea again, cheeks reddening as he forced the thoughts out of his head. Besides, it's not like Alfred was that into him. Maybe like, two dates before he was dumped...?
But what if-?
Arthur shook his head.
"How was that, Mum?"
Arthur blinked, "It was brilliant, love."
No. He didn't even know what Peter was talking about... probably his guitar playing. Yeah, that.
"You didn't even hear me, did you?"
"No." Arthur said with a laugh. "Sorry, love."
"What were you thinking about?"
Oh, nothing. Just how hot it'd be to have that smashing American's hands kneading into my bum, nothing else.
"N-nothing." Arthur sputtered, choking on his hot tea.
"Was it Alfred?"
Busted. Arthur's eyes widened and goddamn his pasty skin! A becoming red bloomed on Arthur's cheeks and he shook his head, "God no, that bumbling fool? Why would I?"
Peter raised his eyebrows.
"Peter, don't be an idiot. I barely think of Alfred outside of clas-"
"Look, I'm sorry I made such a big scene at the class there. I just can't stand it when I know you're thinking Alfred means more to me than you."
Arthur's lips trembled, as did his fingers, as did his legs.
"But Alfred's just an acquaintance. You'll always be my jerk."
Arthur laughed as Peter jumped onto his lap, hissing a little as he spilled the hot tea onto his thigh. He soon abandoned the tea and started a tickle fight. Their giggling making loud enough noise to chase Alfred from his mind...
Only for a while.
"So, where's that American ye were talkin' 'bout?" Allistair inquired cheekily. He'd insisted on coming to Peter's recital. How can the kid do well without his uncle? That had been his reasoning.
"Go away." Arthur had replied grumpily. Allistair shrugged and galloped away, off to flirt with another poor victi- er, unwilling participant.
"The kid's getting good." Tamara said, half-an-hour before Peter was due on the small stage. "Just went to their practice session, and oh boy! Hey, don't look now, but lover boy's getting out of his truck."
Arthur scoffed, pretending not to care as Tamara made her way through the small crowd to talk to some other parent. He bit his lip and tried not to look over his shoulder. He was soon put out of his misery when a warm hand was placed on his arm.
"Hey!"
Arthur smiled turning to face the American. "Well hello there."
"How'd you know it was me?" Alfred said with a laugh, "I was expecting you to jump."
"Lucky for you, a little birdy told me you were coming already."
"A little birdy named Tamara?" Alfred said with a laugh. "Yeah, she can be pretty annoying sometimes."
"Oh tell me about it." Arthur said with a lighthearted smile, "She's already designed my entire wedding."
Alfred grinned at that, his blue eyes flitting across the room to land on Peter, "This guy is going to be famous. I'm tellin' ya Artie."
"Yeah? I'll take your word." Arthur said, crossing his arms, "But my name's not Artie."
"Dang it!" Alfred said with a laugh, "Thought I could get away with it this time."
"Not this time, love."
Oh shit. Did I just say... love? Oh my God, quick! Try to pretend you did it on purpose! Say it's... it's a British thing!
Alfred grinned, running his fingers through his hair, "Hey, just gimme a sec, okay?"
Sure, ditch boring old me.
"Yeah."
Alfred left and Arthur had never felt more empty in his life. Well, maybe when his Mum died, or maybe when he was kicked out of the house...
Arthur's life was positively horrid.
Save for his amazing son. If it weren't for annoying little Peter, Arthur would've crashed and burned. Annoying little Peter who kept trying to set him up with his pretty, female teachers. Arthur laughed at the memory of that one date with Peter's fifth grade teacher, who was more interested in his accent to even listen to what he said.
"Thinking about me?"
Arthur jumped this time, and Alfred laughed, setting down two plastic chairs.
"God, you scared me."
"Now God's a strong word, you can call me Al."
Arthur rolled his eyes, just noticing the two shadows behind Alfred.
"These are my parents." Alfred said, looking ashamed, "They wanted to meet you."
How could two ordinary-looking people conceive a goddamn Adonis?
"Hello." Arthur said, feeling a bit dazed as he shook the large father's hand. The father laughed, same loud laugh as Alfred's.
"You weren't lying when you said his eyes were like... wait, what was it you said?"
Alfred turned a flattering beet red, "Dad-"
"Oh yeah, 'They're like, so green Dad. Like a tropical forest where the leaves are all emeralds and the sun is a huge peridot!'" Mr. Jones said, imitating his son in the most embarrassing way.
Arthur bit his lip to keep from smiling, shaking his head and hoping to God the Jones' wouldn't see the red rising to his cheeks. Alfred coughed,
"Go away, Dad."
"I'm not done yet~" he teased, "Remember what you said about his butt-"
My butt?
"Dad!"
"Stop it Sam, you're making poor Arthur blush." Mrs. Jones said, eyeing Arthur with a hidden smile.
Mr. Jones cackled almost evilly before the pair made their way to the front to get a seat. Alfred laughed nervously, sinking down onto the plastic chair. Arthur crossed his legs, cheeks burning. He shifted on his chair before mustering his courage to speak.
"I'm glad you like my eyes."
"I wish I had a potion to make you forget that." Alfred said, burying his face into his hands.
"Pray tell what else you've said about me?"
"God, no. Never."
Arthur raised his eyebrows, "Oh?"
"I'm officially screwed." Alfred mused, "I'm going to move to Canada."
"There's no need for that." Arthur said with a smile, "I understand how parents can be. Why are they here anyway?"
"Well, I came here to see Peter play, and my parents are those creepos who just like to watch kids play instruments. They're weird like that."
Arthur blushed. He didn't know why. "Aren't all parents weird in their own special way?"
"Yeah?" Alfred said, "Well my parents aren't ordinary parents. They feed off my embarrassment."
"Don't they all?" Arthur said, "If I had taken pictures of Peter in the tub, I'd have shown it to the world."
"Then why didn't you?" Alfred asked, leaning in closer, showing genuine interest. Arthur chuckled,
"The kid barely knew me, I adopted him. It'd be shifty if I took pictures of him."
Alfred laughed at that, scooting his chair closer and placing his hand on Arthur's knee, "Well you did a great job raising him, I can tell you that."
"I hardly raised him!" Arthur protested. "I'm thirty two, Alfred. I adopted him last year."
"When people get lonely, they usually get a cat, Artie, not a child." Alfred teased. Arthur scoffed, but didn't respond. That's what his parents had said.
Alfred must've realized he'd went too far because he flashed Arthur a bright smile, "But I get you. I like kids too. Someday, I want some of my own... but that would be impossible."
Arthur's cheeks tinged pink, "W-why? Are you... impotent?" The last word was a whisper. STDs? Erectile disfunction? There went Arthur's fantasies.
"No! I'm very much potent, if you know what I mean." Alfred said with a laugh and a wink, "I'm gay. Completely and utterly gay."
Arthur's heart stopped. Sure, he'd expected it, but just hearing it coming out of Alfred's mouth...
"And I've got my eye on someone."
Arthur's mouth went dry, "Yeah?"
"And he is downright adorable. He has the cutest smile! And his accent's to die for." Alfred said with a lopsided smile.
"Well, you're a lucky man." Arthur said, unable to still his hammering heart. "Oh, I think Peter's on!"
Alfred's blue eyes brightened and he glanced at the stage where Peter was currently lugging a guitar onto. Arthur let his arms fold on his lap and his eyes flutter shut as he listened to his son play.
Arthur let loose a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when Peter's performance was a success. Everyone had given him a polite round of applause but Alfred's had been the loudest. Arthur had wanted to clap louder, but he was afraid of ruining his gentlemanly image. He had, however, been almost knocked back by Peter who'd came bounding to him and enveloped Arthur in a bear hug.
"How's my little man?" Alfred said with a laugh and Arthur realized in horror that Peter had his arms around both him and Alfred. Arthur hoped his son didn't hear his embarrassingly loud heartbeat as Alfred's arm brushed against him. Oh dear Lord.
"Peter!" Arthur hissed but his son just looked up at him with sparkling, knowing eyes. Like he'd planned it all along.
Alfred gave Arthur an almost apologetic smile as he ruffled Peter's hair. Tamara had shown up to congratulate the boy and ended up not-so-conspicuously shoving Arthur onto Alfred. Arthur had scowled the world is out to get me but Alfred only laughed, squeezing the life out of him before settling for casually throwing his arm around Arthur so his parents could take a picture of all of them.
"Need to escape?" Alfred asked, whispering into Arthur's ear rather sexily.
Arthur chuckled, "Wouldn't mind a smoke if you had one."
"I don't smoke." Alfred admitted, "But I've got gum."
Arthur rolled his eyes and followed Alfred out. They stepped out into the cool, night air, far away from everyone else. Far away from civilization. If Arthur looked at the right places, he could almost forget he was in a city. He could even believe he was in some sort of desert, with Alfred.
The American leaned back against the glass wall of the store and sighed, popping out a stick of gum, "You know, I like it when the sun sets."
"I like it too." Arthur said with a smirk, declining the gum, "Because that means sleep."
Alfred laughed, "That's not what I meant. It's the colors, man." and then he turned to Arthur, smiling, "So beautiful..."
Arthur blushed, "I haven't seen a proper sunset in a while." he admitted, "Life's too hectic for that."
"Yeah? Don't you have a boyfriend or something? Don't y'all go on sunset picnics and stuff?"
"B-boyfriend? Um, no, but..." Arthur said, shifting uncomfortably, "How did you know I was-"
"Gay? You'd be blind not to see it." Alfred said with a grin, "And it's not a bad thing, either. I thought you'd have one, you looking like this and all."
"L-looking like this?" Arthur asked, biting his lip.
"Dude. You look like a male model." Alfred deadpanned, "You never looked in the mirror?"
Oh dear me. "Male model? I hardly think so-" The words stuck in Arthur's throat as Alfred took a step closer. "I'm not a-"
"I think you're beautiful."
It was official. Arthur couldn't breathe. He couldn't speak, think, he was numb. He watched as Alfred's blue eyes came closer, and those lips he spent all night wondering how they felt- they were on his.
Alfred's large hands cupped Arthur's face and kissed the Brit tenderly, thumbs rubbing soft, absent-minded circles on Arthur's skin. Arthur kissed back, of course, rather too eagerly. His arms didn't know where to go, he decided on running them up Alfred's chest and looping them around his neck. Alfred smirked into the kiss and Arthur moaned oh-so-softly. Not because Alfred's hands had been wandering, because they were right there on his face. Because the sheer thought that yes, I'm kissing Alfred Jones was enough to make Arthur moan. It took a while for his brain to comprehend what he was doing, and when it did, Arthur was surprised he pushed away.
Green eyes widened. Arthur took a few steps away from the American.
"Arthur, I'm sor-"
Arthur didn't know why he'd slapped Alfred. He'd wanted to kiss him all along, but why was he so scared? Arthur felt the tears slip down his cheeks and he turned on his heel, fleeing to the safety of his car.
He started his ignition, trying so hard not to look into the rear view mirror.
But he did.
And his breath caught in his throat.
That charming, confident, patriotic, loud, handsome American just stood there, staring at him in disbelief. Alfred didn't even try to follow Arthur and just watched as he drove away.
"Ye drove away, Arthur! Ye were glad I was there to bring Peter back home, ye wee idjit! Where were ye?"
Arthur shrunk under his brother's stern gaze. Peter had been brought safely back home and was tucked in bed. It was only him and Allistair downstairs.
Allistair grabbed Arthur's chin, forcing him to look up into the Scotsman's stormy, green eyes, "Bloody hell, Artie. Ye been crying er what?"
Arthur shivered.
"What happened, Arthur?"
Arthur shook his head, "C-can you drop Peter off to class next week?"
Allistair nodded grimly.
Arthur sighed, shoving another spoonful of ice-cream into his mouth before rapidly clicking the remote, deciding to watch another episode of Doctor Who.
"We're leaving!" Peter called from the garage. Arthur grunted his response before burying himself under the pile of blankets.
"Sure you're not coming?"
Arthur groaned, dismissing Peter with a flick of his hand.
"Are you sureeeee, Mummmmm?"
"Peter!"
The little boy went laughing, shutting the door behind him, and Arthur went back to sulking. Thinking about how those lips felt on his...
"Dude. You look like a male model.", "You never looked in the mirror?"
Arthur had slapped that beautiful man. That wonderfully gorgeous American who had made him feel like he was worth something, the only one who'd ever looked at him that way in a long time. How was Arthur still alive? Shouldn't God have smote him from Heaven for such a sin?
"And you wonder why you're single." Arthur said to himself, laughing humorlessly. He shoveled another spoonful of ice-cream into his mouth before turning the TV off, growling with frustration. "You are an idiot Kirkland!"
And then Arthur found himself imagining, like he always did when he made a pathetic move. He imagined Alfred still liked him after that, and that somehow, he'd found his way to Arthur's house.
He would knock on the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
And Arthur would open it to meet those gorgeous blue eyes. Alfred would smile at him and Arthur would apologize. Alfred would tell him that- Hey, I didn't mind that you'd slapped me, I sorta deserved it! And Arthur would let him in. Then they'd snog on the couch.
Hard.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Wait... was someone actually knocking?
Drat. Just the stupid mailman.
Arthur signed for the package and left it abandoned beside him on the couch. What, did he actually think Alfred would show up? Maybe... but like he said-
"You are an idiot, Kirkland!"
"Mr. Jones was asking about you." Peter said that day over dinner. Allistair had decided to eat with them (it was payment for taking Peter to his class). Arthur raised his eyebrows, his face flushing as he nonchalantly put more salad on his plate,
"Oh? What did he say?" Not like I care or anything.
"He asked if you were okay." Peter said slowly, glancing over at his uncle before saying, "He had flowers."
Arthur's eyes widened. "F-flowers?"
"Yeah. What happened, Mum?"
"Nothing." Arthur said, a little too quickly. Allistair cocked an eyebrow at him and Arthur just shook his head, "Nothing!"
Peter shrugged, "He asked why you didn't show up."
"And what did you say?" Arthur said instantaneously, dropping his spoon with a loud clatter before sipping nervously from his water.
"Said you were sulking at home for God knows what!" Allistair said. Arthur's eyes widened,
"You said that!?"
Allistair grinned evilly, "Also told him the bit about the ice-cream and the regretful binge-watching."
"Allistair!"
And then he was caught. Two accusing fingers pointing right at him,
"Aha!" said Peter, "Why do you care so much, hm?"
Drat. Busted.
"B-because." Arthur said sternly, rising from his chair and storming into his bedroom. When Allistair heard the door slam shut, he chuckled,
"Knew it."
Arthur did not dream of Alfred that night. Pshh, what? That would be ridiculous!
Okay, maybe he did dream of him a little.
The next week came rolling by too quickly, and before Arthur could ask for another favor, Peter had fallen ill. A severe headache. No class that day.
Arthur sighed and sank into the bed, stroking Peter's hand lightly, "Peter?"
The boy's eyes fluttered open, "M-mum?"
Arthur laughed softly, pressing a kiss onto Peter's damp forehead, "Are you okay, love?"
Peter nodded, wincing at the throbbing headache.
"Now don't strain yourself. Shall I make soup?"
Peter nodded.
Arthur bit his lip, heart hammering almost rabbit-like.
"You can always ask Uncle Allistair to drop me off if you don't want to." Peter said slowly.
"Nonsense." Arthur started the car, turning up the radio and slowly backing it out of the garage, "I'm not a priss. I- I can deal with this."
The last statement was mostly to himself.
Arthur had dressed his best. His strange infatuation with the American hadn't ceased, despite the recent actions. He'd still doused himself cologne, attempted to tame his hair, and wore nicely fitting, more modern clothes, with a pair of tight jeans and a band T-shirt (it had been his friend, Francis' idea). No doubt Peter had acknowledged the amount of time it had taken him to get ready. Equivalent to a love-struck girl.
"Faster! I'm a minute late!"
Arthur rolled his eyes, keeping within the speed limit.
"You can go a smidgen more! Come ON!"
He slowly parked the car, wary of the other two parked so close.
"Faster!"
Arthur stopped the engine, stepping out and holding the door open for Peter and his guitar. Peter shot out, running toward the door like it held the key to curing cancer. Arthur sighed, not in a hurry as he shut the door, walking toward the place with dread in the pit of his stomach. His fears (and secret hopes) were confirmed when he heard Peter squeal,
"Alfred!"
Arthur's heart stopped and he wondered if he could just run back into his car and hide. Too late. Alfred had seen him through the clear glass barrier. Arthur's heart jumped into his throat as he saw Alfred ruffle Peter's hair.
Arthur sure wasn't hiding behind a column. How pathetic would that be?
Okay, he was.
Nevertheless, Alfred found him. The American had waited until Peter had gone before leaving the shop, gingerly peeking around one of the brick columns to see Arthur behind it, cutely scrunching his eyes shut like a kid. I can't see you, so you can't see me.
"Hiya."
Drat. Arthur opened his eyes, gazing incredulously at the American before him. Alfred jutted out a large bouquet of roses from behind his back, he was grinning. Arthur's heart dropped.
"R-roses?"
"Yeah." the American said, smiling as Arthur gazed at the roses. "I felt real bad, was hoping we could still be friends?"
"Friends?" Arthur said in disbelief.
"Yeah." Alfred said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "I'm so sorry I kissed you without your permission, that was a real jerky move, ya know? I kept trying to come back and give these to you, but then your brother told me you refused to show up... and then that Peter got sick... I came here hoping you'd show up today... and I was glad you did, because I wasn't going to show up again."
Arthur bit his lip as Alfred jutted the flowers forward again. The American looked disappointed when Arthur didn't accept them.
"I- uh, I won't bother ya again, Arthur. Ya know, I had no real reason to show up here every week. Just wanted ta see you. S'pose that's a bit jerky too, but I can't help it! You're just... somethin', Arthur. "
Arthur shook his head, not believing that he was the cause of this gorgeous man coming to the store once a week. It had to be farce, right?
"Arthur, I'm sorry-"
"Shut up, Alfred." Arthur deadpanned. The American gaped, face flushing and eyes fogging over just so.
"I really am-"
"Shush."
Arthur sighed, rubbing his arm and glancing nervously into the shop before looking back into the sapphire eyes.
"I'll be outta your way then-"
Arthur held Alfred by his shoulders, tiptoeing to place a kiss on the American's cheek, right where he'd slapped him a few weeks ago. Alfred laughed,
"So we can still be frie-"
And then Arthur smashed his lips onto Alfred's, pulling the American against him. Alfred was too frozen to react, and Arthur had feared he'd taken a step too far. He had come to Arthur to proclaim their friendship, right? And Arthur had gone and kissed him!
Arthur attempted to coax emotion into Alfred, running his arms up Alfred's back and looping them around his neck. Arthur's heart skipped a beat when Alfred smiled into the kiss, wrapping an arm around Arthur's waist and kissing back eagerly, pushing Arthur against the column.
This was what he'd wanted. What Arthur had hoped would happen. His heart hammered against his ribcage, every light touch he got from the American amplified to shockwaves running through his body. He heard the crinkle of cellophane beside him and Arthur pulled away, only to take the flowers from Alfred's hands and press it to his heart, giving Alfred his brightest smile before pulling him in by his collar, pressing his lips against the American's. Relishing the taste of coffee, and the feel of calloused fingers on his skin, barely brushing under his shirt.
"You're taking me out to dinner." Arthur murmured, blushing when Alfred pressed their foreheads together. "Pick me up at eight."
Alfred laughed that deep, Alfred-y laugh and wrapped his arms around the Brit's waist.
"You can count on that, baby."
Inevitably, their date had gone terribly. Horribly. Alfred got to see the side of Arthur that no one ever wanted to see. Arthur had bitched about everything from Alfred's grammar, to his food choices, until his face had turned a dark shade of red.
Alfred had said all the wrong things, and had to be told twice to offer his jacket to the obviously freezing Brit.
Arthur had lost all hope on Alfred by the time their date was over. Alfred had spilled a total of two glasses of water on him, and had knocked down and shattered a glass trying to help him out.
Alfred had almost lost all interest in the stuck-up Brit. He'd learned (or learnt, as Arthur would so rudely correct) an important lesson that day. People are not all that they seem.
As Alfred helped Arthur into the car, the Brit had bitched about the state of it, and how trashy it had been. Alfred had almost shut the door on the Brit's fingers.
On accident, of course.
The car ride had been silent. Alfred silently fuming, and Arthur gazing silently out the window, knowing he'd botched it all up. All Arthur's friends had always told him he couldn't hold a date, and now, Arthur had seen why. He just couldn't keep his mouth shut, could he? He just had to insult everything in his path.
And he called himself a gentleman.
Arthur bit his wobbling lip as Alfred held the door open for him. No doubt he'd never hear of Alfred ever again.
"Thanks for this." Arthur muttered, shrugging off Alfred's bomber jacket and placing it gently in the American's arms.
"Oh- uh, you're welcome." Alfred said with a small smile. Arthur didn't return the smile,
"Same time, same day next week?"
Alfred bit his lip, "Uh..."
"Got it." Arthur said with a curt nod. Of course the American didn't want him. Alfred could have the pick of anyone he wanted with a little patience, why would he stick around with the grumpy Brit and his annoying tween son? He climbed up the steps to his house, shuffling in his pockets for his keys, and fumbling with the lock. The sooner he could get in, the sooner he could forget Alfred. No doubt Peter would ask him what went wrong, and Arthur would just plaster a smile and tell him Oh it's nothing, love... before unknowingly making his life a living Hell.
Arthur swung his door open.
"Wait, Arthur!"
Arthur froze. "What."
He didn't even bother turning around. He let the warm air from the inside of his house splay across his flushed cheeks.
"I-uh, want to get to know you."
That was not what he'd expected. Not at all, no.
"Pardon?" he asked.
This time he did turn. Just in time to see a grin blossom on Alfred's face.
"You know this date sucked, right?"
Arthur blinked, waiting a couple of seconds before he chuckled lightly in response. "You kept stuffing your face, Alfred."
Alfred laughed, bounding up the stairs, "And you kept yelling at me!"
"You spilled all your food on me, you clumsy sod!" Arthur exclaimed with a laugh aware of how close the American was getting.
"And you could keep your grammar lessons to yourself, Arthur!" Alfred replied with the same fervor, blue eyes glittering. "And if there's one thing I learnt besides proper English, it would be that you're not so bad. And I'd like to see exactly how not bad you can be."
"Oh?" Arthur said, raising his eyebrow.
"I really like you, Arthur. And just because you were really grumpy today... and probably everyday, I'm not a jerk. I'm not leaving because of that."
"So, personality doesn't matter to you?" Arthur asked coyly.
"No! I'm just saying, I know you have a beautiful personality, I know it's gonna take a while to get to it, but I know it's worth it."
Arthur couldn't help but smile.
"And maybe... I could get to something other than your beautiful personality?"
"Alfred!"
"Would I be a jerk to ask for sex after the first date? I think we really hit off-"
"Good night Alfred!" Arthur said with a laugh, dismissing the idiot with a wave of his hand.
Arthur yelped as he was swept into an innocent, lingering kiss followed by a not-so innocent grope of his behind.
"Alfred!" Arthur exclaimed, slapping his chest lightly before pressing a kiss onto his cheek. Alfred smiled warmly, a blush coloring his face. He stepped down the stairs backwards (Arthur feared he might fall, but he didn't).
"See ya babe!" Alfred called with a wink and a mock salute.
Arthur rolled his eyes as Alfred made his way to his car, a thought suddenly springing into his head.
"Alfred!"
The sandy-blonde spun on his heel, "Change your mind?" he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.
"No, you clod." Arthur said, folding his arms, "I just wanted to ask... that song you said you wrote... it said little blond cutie with pretty green eyes?"
"Oh, that?" Alfred said with a sparkling grin, "It was s'posed to be tall blonde cutie with purdy brown eyes, but a little improv wouldn't hurt, yeah?"
Arthur blushed, dismissing him again. Alfred sent him a cheeky wink before leaning against his car, watching Arthur leave. Alfred hadn't been sure if he'd made the right decision at the time, but he knew everyone deserved a second chance.
And let's just say, it all worked out.
Author's note: I wasn't sure whether to include a little part of them being beautiful, grabby dorks, but I decided to let it be. Also, broke, and it didn't actually put in my story, which forced me to re-submit it. Oh well!
If you read, make sure to tell me how it was! I can't stress that enough. I had a shitty day and would love it if some of you guys take the time to tell me my efforts to write this didn't go in vain! It won't take too long.
Vaguely based on a true story... minus the romance ;) Author isn't very romantic, but somehow manages to write romance. How? I will never know.
Epilogue? Maybe. If you want.
I totally procrastinated my other stories for this. But don't worry, I've already started (halfway through) the next chapters for both A Year Without Rain and Come Along, Jones! So you can't yell at me for that XD
And again, if you read, please tell me what you thought about it. I'd love to know!