Okay, so, this is going to be a collection of one-shots inspired by Meatloaf songs. (The title is from an album of his - I chose it because it has 'teddy bear' in the title. I may be a bit obsessed with them.)

Also, all of the one-shots will be different ratings but I'm putting it as M for later ones.

This story is a K+ and that's only because of the allusion to what they're doing at the end.

Go listen to You Took the Words Right Out of my Mouth. (It's also called Hot Summer Night but ignore the bit with the wolf with the red roses at the start - there will be a separate story for that. ;) )

Warnings: So. Much. Fluff.

Alfred F. Jones had a problem with long-term relationships.

That's not to say that he didn't want the long-term relationships. It was actually more that, despite everything he tried, people usually left him after around a month. In fact, it was now a given that his friends would stock up on a variety of ice cream around that time, 'just in case'.

The problem was that, each time Alfred began dating someone, he would think he was in love. Alfred had never been one to keep his feelings bottled up and he would usually blurt this notion out to his boyfriend or girlfriend. (He'd also said it to the pizza delivery guy once but that had been an accident: he had thought it was his girlfriend. Needless to say, that relationship had ended badly and Alfred couldn't bring himself to order anything from Domino's until he had moved.)

However, this time, Alfred had managed to hold himself back quite well. Which was quite a feat since he had been dating Arthur for six months and had almost blurted it on the first day he met him. It had definitely been love at first sight and he knew absolutely and completely that, this time, he wasn't wrong. He knew that he was in love.

But Arthur didn't, not yet.

After all, he had had to stop himself on that first day as he checked out a science fiction book from the library. His friend had suggested it, told him where he could find it, and Alfred had met the librarian. When he had gotten to the desk, Alfred had watched him smiling down at a small girl and helping her check out some books before she ran off to her mother. He had stepped forward to be served, in quite a daze, and their eyes had met. They had both blushed – something which still brought a smile to Alfred's face to this day – and Arthur had shyly asked if there was anything else he needed.

There is something to be said for an appropriate pick-up line and Alfred found himself with an awesome book, a cutely scribbled phone number and a date.

And he hadn't messed it up by saying "I love you!"

But, now, after six months of dating, Alfred knew Arthur was The One. And The One definitely deserved to know how he felt about him. Unfortunately, Alfred was, ironically, finding it difficult to get the words out. After all, he wanted the time he said it to be perfect, for Arthur to know he wasn't saying it as a passing fancy and that he meant it. However, every time he was going to say it, when the mood was perfect, Arthur would say something or do something so sweet and endearing or sexy and amazing that he would lose track of things.

Or he would kiss him. Dear God, could Arthur kiss. It was actually how arguments were won in his favour as Alfred would agree to anything when he was in the Post-Kiss Haze.

So Alfred had come up with some essentials that he needed to happen to be able to say it. Actually, it was only two things. First, he had to make sure to make the day leading up to the confession was as romantic as possible. He would do everything he could to make Arthur happy (and to make him blush because he looked cute and gorgeous like that) before he said anything. Secondly, he would not let Arthur kiss him properly for the whole day – chaste kisses and pecks were okay but anything more was a no go. He wouldn't get the words out, otherwise.

The plan was perfect and Alfred was sure it would go off without a hitch.

He hoped.

It went off without a hitch.

First thing in the morning, Alfred rose on Arthur's early alarm which was meant to wake Arthur so that, when it sounded the second time, it would actually make him get up. Between that and the second one, Arthur had an extra half an hour in bed. He needed it: Alfred had seen him being dragged from his bed on the first one because of a delivery. When he had returned, Alfred had tried to talk to him, ask him who had been at the door.

It was not pretty.

Making sure not to disturb his boyfriend, Alfred had crept downstairs and made him a fry-up. Arthur claimed to hate greasy foods but he loved a fry-up. Bacon, eggs, sausages, a burger for Alfred and toast. With a little difficulty, Alfred made some tea (and coffee for himself) and placed a fake rose into a vase. He would have gotten a real one but he was unsure how to keep it hidden and alive without Arthur noticing his vases going missing.

When he had returned to the bedroom, Arthur had been surprised but happy, though a little suspicious. It took him a few minutes to believe Alfred's story of how he wanted to treat Arthur for the whole day just because he wanted to. But Arthur accepted his request for him to get up and get ready when Alfred insisted they go for a walk around the park before lunch. There was a broad smile on Arthur's face which Alfred chose to take as a good sign.

The weather had, miraculously, cooperated. Birds were singing, the sun was shining, fluffy clouds made shapes in the bright sky. Children ran around, kites were flying, couples walked hand in hand. Arthur was smiling the whole time, leisurely taking in the scenery as they made their way around the lake in the middle of the park, discussing this and that.

Next up was the café that Arthur happened to love. After all, they served afternoon tea. And proper tea, too. He had been ecstatic to learn of the place and he shot Alfred an adoring look as they entered. Alfred ordered the special for both of them.

That had been around the time Alfred realised he had to be careful lest his plans be destroyed.

While they waited on their meal, they chatted some more. Alfred almost jolted in shock when he felt something on his leg. It rubbed soothingly against him, though, and Alfred realised that Arthur was getting frisky. Or he was trying to show his gratitude for being taken to the place. That meant that the kisses were coming, too. He would need to watch out.

Indeed, as soon as their lunch was over, Arthur gave him a quick peck. He knew that was because they were in public, though. If they had been at home, Alfred was in no doubt that they would have been back in bed by that point. However, Alfred was persistent and, instead of taking him home, took him to a museum. Then there was a romantic dinner in a smart restaurant where Alfred couldn't get a burger, followed by a movie of Arthur's choice. Alfred even bought his partner a rose from the women hanging around in the street. Arthur had admonished him for paying so much to get a single flower, but it was worth it to see the impressed look on Arthur's face.

Finally, Alfred had gotten them home and to the couch – all without any kissing. If Arthur was suspicious, he didn't say anything and didn't seem to mind. That was all Alfred could ask for. Now, though, it was time for the big moment, the pièce de résistance.

And Alfred was nervous.

"Well?" Alfred prompted. "Did I do good?"

Arthur smiled at him, a soft thing which made Alfred tingle and grow warm. "Yes, you did." Alfred was surprised he hadn't corrected him but breezed past this. It just showed how happy his boyfriend was and he resisted jumping for joy. His plan was working!

"Great! We should have days like this more often!"

"You actually want to walk through parks and museums?"

"If it's with you," Alfred instantly replied, grinning.

A blush spread across Arthur's cheeks as he glanced away. He looked so adorable that Alfred was tempted to kiss him – but he had to resist. This was his chance, his moment, and he would make good on it.

Taking a breath, Alfred opened his mouth. "Arthur," he said, looking at him lovingly. Arthur lifted his gaze to Alfred and the American's train of thought temporarily derailed. He was so beautiful and breathtaking. Trying to mentally shake himself and speak, Alfred opened his mouth again.

Suddenly, he had an armful of Arthur, lips pressed against Arthur's soft ones. Before he could protest or move, Arthur's tongue tangled around his and Alfred's brain stopped working. He kissed back, getting wrapped up in the tingling which spread through him from simple touches. His heart had been beating rather quickly but now it was pounding and he was quickly running out of oxygen.

Finally, Arthur pulled back, panting. Alfred stared at him, dazed. There was something he was supposed to say now, he knew, but what was it...? Blinking at Arthur, owlishly, he opened his mouth to try to say something, anything.

"I love you," breathed Arthur.

Alfred froze. "Huh?" he said, blinking once.

"I, um," said Arthur as his blush exploded across his face and ears. "You, um, are... I said that-that I love you. But, er, it may be a bit early for that. We've only been together six months." Alfred could clearly see Arthur was panicking as the man began shuffling away from him, his eyes darting around for an escape. "It's-It's way too early. If it's freaked you out, I'm sorry, but I've been wanting to say it for ages. Which... actually doesn't help and-"

"No." Alfred had somehow managed to find his voice though his eyes were still wide with shock.

"What?" asked Arthur, timidly.

"You're not allowed to say that!" Alfred whined.

"O-Oh..." Arthur looked away, most likely to hide tears. Knowing him well, Alfred grabbed his wrist so he couldn't leave. Arthur shook his arm, glaring at Alfred with shimmering eyes.

"I'm supposed to be the one to say it first!" exclaimed Alfred, frowning at him. "I planned this whole day and it was awesome and I was the one who was supposed to say 'I love you'!"

Arthur's eyes widened. He blinked a few times, rapidly, before he fixed Alfred with a bewildered look. "Excuse me?"

They stared at each other for a few moments, both rather perplexed, each waiting for the other to move or confirm what they had said. Then, much like before, Alfred found himself with Arthur in his arms, kissing him. This time, it was shorter, more chaste. When Arthur pulled back, he frowned at him. Alfred grinned at him sheepishly, sensing that Arthur was perhaps a little upset about something.

"I told you... that. But you're not allowed to claim that you were going to say it all day."

"No, no," said Alfred, quickly. "I totally was! I swear on... my Captain America collection!"

Raising an eyebrow, Arthur said, "Huh. Well, if you're that serious..." A teasing smile spread across his face.

"Of course I'm serious! I've been in love with you from the day I met you!"

Both of them blushed at that.

"Really?" asked Arthur, shyly.

"Truly, madly, deeply," Alfred confirmed, nodding. "I love you. And you love me, so, well... I'm just glad this means you won't leave me. Or something..." Alfred squirmed and looked away.

"Why on Earth would I leave you?"

Alfred shrugged. "Because I didn't tell you first? Because I say stupid things at stupid moments? It took a lot of effort to stop myself from blurting it out when I saw you, y'know."

Smiling, Arthur shook his head and took Alfred's hands. "And it took me a lot of effort to force those words out my throat. I've been trying for a while. So it looks like we're stuck with each other, just like our words were stuck."

"Yeah." They grinned at each other, too happy for words. After a minute of sitting in a comfortable silence, Alfred said, "So, uh, was I romantic enough for you?"

"Definitely. Although, you're not quite finished."

"Oh?"

Arthur smirked. "You need to tell me that you love me again – in bed." He winked and stood, pulling Alfred with him. The American let him, following him to their room without protest, a large smile on his face.

There's not much to explain but the women hanging around outside has happened at places I've seen. Generally around nightclubs, though, and on Valentine's Day. You know, to exploit the drunken whims of people in need of roses for people they've just met.