Title: Come and Open Up Your Folding Chair Next To Me
Author: bubbleteadesu
Characters/Pairing: America/England
Rating: T
Summary: sort-of-Gakuen!AU (human names used); On the day of their senior graduation, Alfred Jones asks Arthur Kirkland out on a date. Arthur wonders what Alfred could have possibly seen in him, but sure why not? (It wasn't like he had been waiting for this all along, mind you.)
Warning: my very rusty writing skills and probably OOC but aside from that this is just pure mindless fluff :3
AN: written for the usxuk secret santa over at livejournal. This is for santeelegs and their prompt: Their first date. Any time period. Title comes from Regina Spektor's song Folding Chair and has no connection to the plot. I just happened to listen to it on repeat while writing this. XD
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Arthur Kirkland, will you go on a date with me?
Shameless idiot, that was Alfred Jones, thought Arthur as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, tugging at the comb stuck in his tangled hair with furious vigor. Imagine asking him out on a date right before the end of their senior graduation, in front of the whole student body! As if he needed the support of a hundred people just to ensure Arthur's sweet sweet yes. (Idiot. He would have just as easily said yes if Alfred had asked him out in an empty hallway, away from any living soul. He would have just as easily said yes.)
Finally giving up on his hair, which was now sticking up messily in all directions despite all his best efforts, Arthur sighed and studied himself in the mirror. Messy sandy-blond hair. Abnormally large eyebrows. Pale complexion and a skinny scrawny physique. Unconsciously, Arthur ran a finger down the mirror, against his plain reflection. What had popular, astonishingly handsomeAlfred seen in him? And yet-
It doesn't have to be tonight! We can go out tomorrow, or next week or next month. I've waited all these years, Arthur, since freshman year, to ask you out on a date. What's another day?
Arthur's lungs burned painfully; in a panic-stricken moment, he realized that he had temporarily forgotten how to breathe. He grabbed the sides of the sink-in and out, Arthur. In and out.It's just a date.
And yet, it wasn't justa date. After all, it wasn't just Alfred who had done a lot of waiting.
To Arthur's surprise, Alfred took him to a coffee shop.
"I know it's a coffeeshop," Alfred chattered on quickly, opening the door for Arthur, "but they serve tea too so really, it's not that bad."
As soon as they entered the shop, a strong aroma of freshly baked muffins and brewed coffee and many other delectable things hit Arthur's nose, making his mouth water. A catchy jazz tune played through the in-house speakers, and Alfred attempted to whistle along to it as they walked quickly through the small crowded room. He helped Arthur weave their way through the bustling crowd of customers and waiters until they reached a table set for two by the picture window, with a nice view of the summer afternoon outside.
Alfred pulled a chair out for Arthur. "Have a seat?" he asked, grinning brightly at him.
Arthur raised an eyebrow at Alfred as he settled in his seat. "A gentleman now, are you Alfred? Too bad I'm not a Victorian lady-in-waiting."
Alfred sat on the chair opposite Arthur's and stuck his tongue out at him. "Of course I know you're not a lady, Arthur."
Arthur glanced at the menu, written with chalk on the board beside the counter. "Well I'm glad you're aware of that, Alfred."
"But I like making you feel special."
The menu began to swim around incoherently in front of Arthur's eyes, jumbled up words mixing up with the thoughts and feelings suddenly arising inside him. Unconsciously, he ran a hand down his face; it burned warm against his skin. Arthur kept his eyes stubbornly on the menu, even if he had now given up on understanding any word of it. He refused to look back at Alfred (even if just to see that bright wide smile he was sure was now spread across his face) lest the git noticed how his words were making Arthur's heart jump around in his chest wildly. And yet Arthur felt like the idiot now; it was so foolish to be this excited about a simple sentence.
I like making you feel special.
"What an idiot you are, Alfred Jones," he muttered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
There was a stark difference between bickering with Alfred at their school's hallways and actually sitting right across him, eating a slice of strawberry cream cake.
For one, the latter allowed for more awkward silences.
Arthur stared down at his half-eaten slice of cake, racking his mind urgently for something to talk about. But he had already used up his arsenal of small-talk topics: school, hobbies, even the weather had been touched upon already. Between his gardening club and Alfred's American football team, there was nothing much in common between them really.
Thankfully, after Alfred had demolished his second slice of chocolate cake, he freed Arthur from the heavy uncomfortable feeling that was awkward pauses.
"So Arthur," he asked, in between gulps of his iced coffee, "what are you planning to take for college?"
Arthur relaxed at this. This was a topic he enjoyed talking about. He placed his fork on his plate, beside his half-eaten slice of cake. "I'm taking up English and Creative Writing," he told Alfred proudly. "And then I'm going to write a book, or a series of novels."
"About what?" Alfred asked eagerly.
Arthur smiled. "I'm not quite sure yet, but it would have fantasy and adventure. And magic, lots of magic. I think people have forgotten about magic and real adventure nowadays." He looked out the window, at the afternoon sky: a beautiful blend of oranges and purples and reds. He could already see it all: fairies as small and as pretty as stars in the night sky, a velvet green landscape dotted with fantastic creatures, a magnificent dragon flying off into the sunset.
Alfred's excited chatter shocked him out of reverie. "And there will be a knight right? Someone named Alfred?" He nodded smugly. "Yes, I say that's the perfect name for a hero."
Despite his best efforts, Arthur could do nothing to suppress the chuckles bubbling out of him. He smirked at Alfred. "I'll think about it."
"Aw, man." Alfred resumed sipping his iced coffee, and they settled into a more comfortable silence this time around.
"I'll miss you Arthur."
Arthur looked up quickly from his plate. But Alfred was already busy signaling for the waiter for another slice of cake, and besides, it had been such a soft whisper, perhaps even just a thought that had somehow inexplicably escaped from the deep recesses of Alfred's mind, unintended for anyone to hear but was out there in the open anyways. Arthur wondered if maybe it hadn't been meant for him to hear at all.
And so he did not say anything in reply.
"After you, Arthur," Alfred said, with a bow and a flourish as soon as the bus opened its doors for them. Arthur could only roll his eyes at the silliness of it all.
They sat near the back of the bus, at a seat that was made for two but could only fit one comfortably.
"Are you sure you want the window seat, Arthur?" Alfred asked worriedly as Arthur squeezed in before him. "I mean, I could squish you, you know."
"Oh just sit already, Alfred. I'm not as delicate as you think," Arthur huffed, and with a laugh, Alfred settled in beside him.
Alfred had not squished Arthur, thankfully, but there was no distance to speak of between them whatsoever. Knees against knees. Leg against leg. The back of their hands pressed so closed against each other, that Arthur could feel warm skin and the veins pulsing underneath it-or maybe it was just his own pulse, beating unhealthily fast.
"I remember," Alfred told him softly, "we first met in a bus too."
Arthur smiled at the memory. "Yes. We were the only high schoolers still on the school bus, I remember."
Alfred laughed loudly at this, making several heads turn in surprise towards their direction. They both smiled sheepishly at the bewildered passengers before turning to each other and exploding into laughter once again.
It took them a while to quiet down but soon their laughter turned into chuckles, and then just a few hiccups here and there. "Alfred, look at what you've done to me," Arthur told him in mock exasperation. Alfred grinned and poked Arthur's cheek until Arthur was forced to turn his frown into a half-smile at least.
"Say, Arthur," he asked, "what did you think of me when you first saw me?"
First impressions, so this was their game now wasn't it? What did Arthur think when he first saw the lanky blond boy, high-fiving the middle schoolers who surprisingly all seemed to know him like the idiot that he was? Blond hair and a bright bright smile-like the sun had suddenly decided to shine inside the dreary school bus and Arthur's gray rainy life. And just like that, he had fallen into this stranger's orbit.
Arthur smirked. "I remember thinking: 'Who's this bloody idiot, and why is he still acting like a kid after all this time? Doesn't he know that high-fiving all the other passengers is not a mark of a mature freshman?' Mind you, I took high school very seriously back then."
"And I'm sure you'll take college just as seriously, Arthur," Alfred teased him, making Arthur give him a half-meant glare.
"Well," Arthur finally asked, shifting in a more comfortable position against Alfred in the not-so-comfortable bus seat, "what did you think when you first saw me?"
Alfred grinned at him. "I thought: 'Boy, those eyebrows sure are big'."
At this, Arthur punched Alfred's arm lightly-at least Alfred had the decency to pretend to wince in pain, the git. "I don't know why I put up with you, you bloody idiot."
Next stop after the coffee shop was the movies.
"The Exorcism of Emily Smith," Arthur read his ticket out loud. "Are you sure you want to watch a horror movie, Alfred?"
"Of course!" Alfred told him, puffing his chest out in a show of bravado. "And if ever you get scared, don't hesitate to cling to brave ol' me, alright?"
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Let's go get some popcorn then."
"Alfred," Arthur coaxed gently, while the other lad shivered uncontrollably against his shoulder, "you can look now. The disembodied head is gone, and everyone is just talking now."
"Are you sure?" Alfred whispered meekly in Arthur's shoulder. Arthur felt Alfred shift against him, still stubbornly refusing to look up.
"Of course," Arthur replied. He popped more butter popcorn in his mouth. The movie had just finished its first thirty minutes or so, and Alfred had spent almost all of it buried in Arthur's cardigan. Sure it was comfy and all, but Alfred must have a crick in the neck by now. Besides, this movie was horrible: shoddy story, amateurish effects. Arthur wondered if this movie really was made in the 21st century.
"Hey Alfred," he whispered. He felt Alfred nod against his shoulder. "What is it?" he asked, voice muffled by the cotton of Arthur's cardigan.
"If you don't mind the thought of wasting the tickets you bought for this movie, and a poor excuse for one at that, I should say, why don't we just leave? We still have some time left in our," Arthur blushed involuntarily at the thought of his next words (and felt incredibly foolish while doing so because really, what was he, a grade-schooler?). "in our, ah, dateanyways"
Alfred looked up then, and even in the dark theater, Arthur could see that his eyes were swimming with tears. "Oh you poor boy," he murmured and maybe in different circumstances he would have meant it in a snarky manner, but really, there was no way he can be snarky now, confronted with eyes like those. "Hold on to me, alright?" Alfred nodded mutely.
Alfred closed his eyes, and Arthur, grabbing Alfred's hand, led him out of the dark theater.
It was only when they were several blocks away from the movie house did Arthur realize that even if Alfred had obviously very much recovered from the trauma that was a horror movie, recovered enough to start whistling a catchy commercial jingle anyways, he still had not let go of Arthur's hand.
Holding hands. Such a simple action with so many complicated reactions. Arthur took several deep breaths, his face starting to reach temperatures no human could possibly reach. His hand no longer felt like blood and bones and skin but only of nerves and electric currents, jolting him with every move of Alfred's hand in his. In his!
And yet here was Alfred, looking so nonchalant about all these when Arthur felt positively faint. Was he merely overreacting? Was it only he who felt like his chest was about to explode, his heart beating so fast that it could probably take on a life of its own, at every little twitch of Alfred's hands in his, in his hand!
"Alfred," he asked, or at least tried to, because suddenly, his tongue had decided to take on an embarrassing stutter, "w-where are you taking me?"
Alfred glanced at him. "Oh. I thought youwere taking me somewhere."
"I thought you were the one who planned this date," Arthur snapped.
"Woah, chill Arthur," Alfred said with a laugh. "Speaking of chill, I know this awesome place around here that we can visit. So relax, okay?"
Relax?Arthur thought, annoyed. How could Arthur relax when Alfred still refused to let go of his hand?
"One giant chocolate parfait coming up!" The waiter, a cheerful old man, called cheerfully. He set down an enormous glass of ice cream, fruit, chocolate wafers and many other delectable sweets in front of a very excited Alfred and a very shocked Arthur.
"Alfred!" Arthur protested as Alfred started to dig in eagerly. "We can't possibly finish that!"
"Oh yes we can!" Alfred grinned, his mouth already stuffed with ice cream. He pointed with his chin towards the spoon by Arthur's elbow. "Go on, try it."
"Ah well," Arthur looked at the parfait hesitantly. It was so huge, and Arthur could already feel his stomach filling up just from looking at it.
"Oh c'mon Arthur," Alfred said with a mock roll of his eyes. He dug in the parfait, his spoon emerging from the dessert with a giganticmound of cream and fruit. He puckered his lips at Arthur. "Now Arthur, open up now, pretty pwease?"
"What are you doing, Alfred Jones?" Arthur spluttered out. But it seems that this was just the opening Alfred needed because, before Arthur could even close his mouth, Alfred popped the spoon right in, ice cream, fruit and all.
Arthur's eyes widened at Alfred but really there was nothing anymore he could say, now that his mouth was filled with the cold dessert. And besides, it actually tasted really delicious.
"So how was the orgasmic experience that was a giant chocolate parfait?" Alfred teased.
"Not bad," Arthur replied though god knows this was a huge understatement. His mouth practically tasted like North Pole heaven. He picked up his spoon. "Now excuse me Alfred, as I finish up this parfait for you."
"Are you challenging me, Arthur Kirkland?" Alfred replied, his spoon poised ready over the parfait. "Let's see who'll finish this baby up first."
Arthur made his way home with a very full, albeit chilly, stomach, and a warm hand still wrapped around his.
He had thought that the few hours he had spent with Alfred would make him stop feeling such complicatedfeelings for something so simple like holding hands. After all they had held hands right after they finished that gigantic parfait, all the way to the bus station, and even inside the bus. Alfred had never let go of his hand, even when he had so casually decided to lean his head on Arthur's shoulder and fall asleep while they were inside the bus. (And as he felt Alfred's soft breaths against his ear, Arthur felt for a few moments like he had forgotten how to breathe.)
And yet, here was his heart, still beating erratically at every move of Alfred's hand in his. Maybe he would never get used to this sensation.
Or maybe he had gotten used to it, without his knowledge, because as soon as Alfred let go of his hand, Arthur immediately felt like a part of him, an organ as vital as his lungs or his heart, had just left him. He unconsciously made a move towards Alfred's hand, now at Alfred's side-all alone and lonely like his own hand-when Alfred spoke.
"Well, we're here at your place, Arthur," he said.
"Oh." Arthur looked around him disconcertedly. Alfred was right; there was his house, a drab reddish-brown structure behind a white fence.
Alfred scratched the back of his head, looking very sheepish. And Arthur felt just as awkward, hopping from one foot to the other uneasily. What exactly could he tell Alfred after tonight?
Alfred cleared his throat, as Arthur tried his best not to act so agitated. "I know this wasn't the best first date," Alfred started, "I mean I totally forgot to take you out to dinner-"
Arthur had to laugh at this. "I'm sorry for cutting you off, but I absolutely have to agree. Cake and ice cream are, by no means, dinner."
Alfred laughed too, and just like that, Arthur could feel the uneasiness surrounding them dispel magically. Magic, that was Alfred's laughter. Even when their laughter has finally quieted down, Arthur allowed himself a small smile.
"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted by a certain Mr. Kirkland," Alfred continued with a grin, "this wasn't the best first date at all. Picking The Exorcism of Emily Smith was a huge mistake. I mean god, what a horriblemovie."
"I am surprised you can still make that comment, seeing that you spent most of the movie buried in my cardigan," Arthur remarked wryly.
"All snarky comments can wait until after my speech, thank you very much," Alfred retorted in such an exaggeratedly lofty manner that Arthur had a difficult time suppressing more laughter.
"Anyways, as I was saying, this wasn't exactly the best first date," And this time, Alfred's eyes turned serious, looking so intently at Arthur, that Arthur could feel his face burn again, reaching temperatures no human could possibly reach. "But that's just technically speaking. Because if you ask me, that was one awesome first date. The best I'll ever have."
"I'll miss you when you go to college, Arthur." Alfred said it out loudly now, loud enough for Arthur not to question for whom it was intended. And then without warning, Alfred wrapped his strong quarterback arms around Arthur. And Arthur felt he couldn't have felt more at home in all the world.
"Well, I won't miss you," Arthur whispered to him.
Alfred's eyes widened in shock at this; it was frankly veryamusing to watch. "What? Why?"
"Because," Arthur continued with a smirk, tiptoeing upwards so he was level with Alfred's face. "We are going on a second date, am I right?" And before Alfred could reply, before Arthur could second-guess himself, Arthur bent forward and kissed him.
Arthur didn't know how long they kissed, how long they stayed wrapped around each other on his front yard, but it sure was longer for what was appropriate for a first date. And then after that, they remained in each other arms for a little more longer than was necessary for a post-first-date-kiss cuddle. And Arthur took this time to concentrate on Alfred's bright blue eyes-he'd never noticed how blue they were, blue like the sky on a bright summer morning, but then he had never stood this close to Alfred before.
"Say, Arthur," Alfred whispered to him, so softly, as if afraid to break this magical spell that was now upon them. "What do you think of a second date?"
Arthur smiled at Alfred. "As long as it doesn't take you another three years to ask me out again…"
end