A little drabble inspired by this AU: "I keep setting my kitchen stove on fire and you're the long suffering firefighter on call."
"Really dude? What is this...the fifth time?"
"Seventh actually."
Alfred was really starting to question becoming a firefighter. Well, to be fair, his career had been running smoothly until the fire-starting Brit moved in on Hopewell Avenue. Every time, it was, "Oh, I'm terribly sorry! I was only trying to cook my (insert bland British dish here) and I must have turned away for a second and..."
Yeeeeeah, suuuuure. How could you nearly burn down your kitchen fiv- seven times in just three weeks by cooking mishaps?! Alfred wasn't buying it.
"Say, you aren't setting fires on purpose, are you?" Alfred ventured. He had just extinguished the most recent fire and instead of praying it would be the last, he decided to nip this in the bud once and for all.
Arthur's face reddened in anger as he bristled, "Why the devil would I set my kitchen ablaze on purpose?"
"So you could see the sexy firefighter again?" Alfred guessed cheekily.
He shouldn't have been surprised when he got kicked out by a very flustered Brit.
"I guess I'll see you in 'bout half a week, yeah?!" Alfred yelled from the front porch.
"SOD OFF!"
Alfred wondered later why he left the property wearing a huge grin. Hey, if Arthur was going to continue to summon the flames of hell, Alfred could give him a little hell back for the trouble.
In Arthur's defense though, those really were cooking accidents.
All first three times.
