Not Always Right
Alfred F Jones was standing in line waiting for his turn at a small, but cozy, restaurant. As a present for his twentieth birthday, his parents and friends had gotten together to get him a three week vacation to London. He'd been there for a week already, and boy, was he having fun.
He looked towards the cashier curiously. Said person was a man in his early twenties with messy blond hair and a calm facial expression on his face. If you overlooked the humongous eyebrows, he was actually pretty handsome.
As far as he could tell from the distance he was at, the guy had a pretty nice voice. And that accent! Alfred had to admit, he had a soft spot when it came to really nice British accents.
Alfred couldn't wait to get to the front of the line already; he was hungry, and standing around waiting really wasn't what he wanted to do right now. Maybe he should've gone to a McDonald's instead, but he'd promised his parents that he'd try some real British food while he was in the UK.
After a few more minutes of uneventful waiting, Alfred found himself being roughly pushed to the side as a man stormed by. He was just about to yell at the man – rude much? – when the man slammed his hands down on the counter, making the Cute Cashier and the customer he had been serving startle.
"You goddamn little bitch!" the man snarled, efficiently earning the attention of the entire establishment. The cashier blinked in surprise.
"Pardon me, sir?" he said calmly, not sounding more than slightly perturbed.
"How many times did I tell you I don't want no fucking sauce on my potatoes, you sad fuck?" the man roared in reply at the cashier, who Alfred only now noticed was quite a bit slimmer and shorter than the customer currently cursing at him. This could be bad.
"I apologize, sir, did the kitchen make a mistake with your order?" the cashier said soothingly, but Alfred caught a hint of steel in his voice. The guy had guts.
"Mistake? I'll show you a mistake, you little fucker! I told you five fucking times that I didn't want any fucking sauce on my goddamned potatoes! So why is there fucking sauce on my potatoes?" the man screamed and flung his arms around widely, nearly hitting the cashier in the face. Alfred looked around the restaurant for some kind of guard that could help the cute guy in the front – who was still smiling, if a bit strained, as the customer continued to pile abuse on his head.
'Do you need help?' Alfred mouthed to the cashier, inclining his head to the still screaming customer. The cashier gave only slightest shake of his head, but he also slowly and inconspicuously shaped his hand as a phone, obviously signaling to call the cops.
There was no guard in sight, but several customers were hastily but quietly taking their leave, including the people in front of Alfred in line. He frowned and picked his cell phone up. If no one else was going to help the cute guy out, it really was up to Alfred to do it. But that was okay, because he's a hero, and that is what heroes do.
He kept a close eye on the man as he hurriedly whispered the situation to the police, so quietly that the man couldn't hear him over his screaming. He was glad he actually remembered the street name and the name of the restaurant; it could've been troublesome otherwise.
"You better give me a refund, you little fag! I should've fucking known better than to trust a homo like you to handle my order correctly!" Alfred raised his eyebrows in shock as he hung up the phone. Now he'd started up with a blatant display of homophobia. What the fuck was this guy's problem?
"Certainly, sir! I'll see to it immediately," the cashier said with a smile as he started pressing buttons on the register again. Alfred waved his hands to catch the cashier's attention and then he quickly waved his phone and mouthed 'police' with a thumbs up. The cashier gave a slight nod.
"You total was six forty-five, correct?" he said, as calmly as ever. Looking around told Alfred that the restaurant was actually empty now except for the three of them; where the hell were the cashier's co-workers?
"That's right, you little bitch! You better give me my money back for this fucking goddamn awful service! You're so fucking incompetent!" Alfred stared at the man. The filth coming out of his mouth was unbelievable!
"Do you happen to have fifty five pence on you, sir? If so, I can give you seven pounds instead." Alfred was amazed at Cute Cashier's ability to keep that smile on his face. No matter how strained it was starting to look, he was still smiling in the face of all that flack. Apparently, Cute Cashier had a serious backbone.
As if the yelling and cursing hadn't been enough, the pissed off customer grabbed the change he'd been asked to give to Cute Cashier and actually threw it at him.
Alfred bristled. That was fucking far enough! He started walking forward, dead set on giving the fucker a piece of his mind, but Cute Cashier gently shook his head, stopping Alfred dead in his tracks. Alfred didn't miss the grateful look in his eyes before he bent down behind the counter to pick up the two coins that had fallen to the floor though.
The low sound of bells chiming made Alfred look behind him. Two grim looking police officers were heading in the direction of the angry customer. They nodded towards him when they noticed the cell in his hand and Alfred nodded back; he slipped the cell back into his pocket with a slightly smug grin.
"Hurry the fuck up! It'll be a bloody fucking miracle if my food hasn't gone cold by now! I should give that goddamned face of yours some fucking bruises and maybe that would teach you to hurry the fuck up!" Alfred gaped and the police officers' faces turned even grimmer. He'd gone from cursing and yelling to threats of assault- and over sauce on his potatoes! What the fuck?
Cute Cashier straightened, smile still on his face, but the moment he saw the police officers, the smile disappeared, his brows furrowed and he glared at the angry customer. A damn impressive glare, too.
"Shut the fuck up, you bloody wanker! I was only keeping you busy until the police arrived!" he snarled, to the obvious surprise of the customer. But before he could retaliate, the cops grabbed him by the arms and arrested him on the spot.
Alfred found himself grinning, watching Cute Cashier yell at the fucker… that'd been pretty awesome, and kinda satisfying.
Now that the abuse-spewing customer had been escorted out, Cute Cashier's manager decided to come out of hiding. Alfred found himself completely unimpressed; this guy was at least five inches taller than the cashier and with a lot more muscle mass. It was, however, quite obvious which one of them had the bigger balls.
"Arthur-" so that was Cute Cashier's name - "you handled that situation very well. I, um, I would like to offer you a promotion as thanks for–" But before the manager could even finish, Arthur had already ripped his nametag off and turned to face him, not holding any of his pent-up rage back.
"Fuck that, you coward! I quit! As if I'd want to keep working with the kind of witless cretins who would leave me alone when the slightest problem customer comes in, you spineless coward!" Arthur snarled and slammed his nametag down on the counter before he disappeared into the back room, leaving his boss starting in shock at the maelstrom of his late employee's wrath.
Only seconds after he had slammed the door behind him, yelling and cursing sounded through the walls. Alfred figured that Arthur had just found his co-workers' hiding place.
Alfred wasn't really sure what to do - he was still hungry, but after the rather shameful display of most of the restaurant's employees, he didn't feel much inclined to eat there anymore.
Arthur came storming out of the back room not much later wearing a normal shirt pulled hastily over his uniform and a small duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Alfred blinked and hurried after him as he left the restaurant.
"Hey! Wait up!" he called out as they made it outside. Arthur stopped and turned around, the expression on his face showing that he was just about to start yelling but then he blinked, and stopped.
"Oh, it's you…" he trailed off, obviously having recognized Alfred as the only other guy in that restaurant with a spine. Alfred grinned widely.
"You were pretty damn awesome in there, standing your ground against a guy that much bigger than you!" Alfred exclaimed, eyes shining with excitement. Yeah, he wouldn't have cowered before that screaming customer either, but then, Alfred was also around that guy's size; Arthur was not.
Alfred grinned wider as Arthur's cheeks turned bright red at the praise. Cute.
"Yes, well, it wasn't like I was afraid of him. He might have been bigger than me, but that doesn't give him the right to try and push me around." He frowned again, which startled Alfred slightly in its sudden ferocity. "I'm mostly just angry with those dickwads hiding in the employee area and didn't even think of helping me out." He looked grim at that.
Alfred blinked. Yeah, why hadn't they called the cops? It was strange, really.
"A bunch of cowards, the lot of them," Arthur muttered so quietly that Alfred had to strain to hear it. He smiled a bit; Arthur was right about the coward part.
"Definitely! I'm Alfred, by the way. Alfred F. Jones!" he said and held out his hand to Arthur, hoping he'd take it. There was a small smirk on Arthur's face when he did that made Alfred grin wider.
"Arthur Kirkland," he said as they shook hands. Alfred shifted anxiously. He knew what he wanted, but part of him wondered if Arthur was gay, or if he'd even want to go out with a guy when he'd just been yelled at for no reason and accused of being gay like it was something bad. But, oh well, Alfred was a hero and he had guts. He could handle a little rejection if it came to that.
"Say, Arthur?" he started, speaking slowly to catch the other's full attention. Arthur tilted his head to the side and appeared to be listening closely. "Err, the thing is… wanna go grab a coffee or something?" He grinned to hide how nervous he felt.
Arthur blinked and flushed bright red. He shuffled a bit and looked to the side which only served to make Alfred even more nervous than before.
"I'd rather have tea but, yes, that does seem… lovely enough. You do, at least, have a spine after all and…" His embarrassed answer dissolved into muttered words that Alfred couldn't hear. But he didn't mind, because Arthur had said yes, and that was all that mattered.
"Great! Do you know a good place?" he asked and slung his arm around Arthur's shoulders. Arthur blushed bright red and started struggling to get away as they went looking for a café or something. But, Alfred noted, he didn't seem to be trying too hard to get away. He grinned; this was going to be an awesome vacation.
THE END.
Another kink-meme de-anon. This one was based on a story from notalwaysright. I hope you enjoyed it.