A/N: Hello there! This one-shot is a request that I did for someone on deviantArt. It's a criminal AU with England and 2P America (I thought he would be more suited for the role than 1P America.) Enjoy~!
Arthur Kirkland took yet another sip of tea as he stared at the file folder sitting on his desk. The twenty-five year old Englishman had been on the police force for over four years and was considered one of the best officers there. He had thought he's seen pretty much everything the city could throw at him, but this...this was something else entirely. Arthur read the name again.
Alfred F. Jones. Known as Al. Dark reddish-brown hair, red eyes. Sunglasses. 5' 10. 180 pounds of arrogance and evasiveness.
He had numerous charges of theft (usually auto or motorcycle) along with a few accounts of assault and battery (almost all of those were tied in with the names of other prominent criminals). He had first come to the attention of the police about six months ago, at the site of a particularly bloody and brutal beating, where a baseball bat full of rusty nails was found alongside the victim. The week after the incident, the bat was stolen right out of the evidence locker, with a note left in its place saying how it was going back to its owner. The man had been identified as Al Jones two and a half months ago, but he still evaded capture.
Arthur had been the officer placed in charge of that file, and by now the case had pretty much taken over his life. (At least he was single, so there was no one to complain or nag at him for the fact.) The Englishman had dropped all other cases and files he was working on to focus on Al Jones, but all of his efforts yielded fruitless results. Nine times Arthur had found Al's location and gone after him, and nine times the American had vanished like smoke.
The officer was left frustrated but with an even bigger conviction to catch the man. Now he was getting close to finding him again, and he'd sent some of the newer officers to check out the place of his suspicions.
"Officer Kirkland." The radio on his desk crackled to life. "Officer Kirkland, Jones has been spotted. We confirm your location. Copy."
Arthur started and tore his eyes from the papers. "I copy. Thank you. Withdraw to First Street and wait there."
Slipping the radio into its holder at his belt, Arthur closed the folder, loaded his gun, and strode purposefully from his office. It took him fifteen minutes to get to the building, an abandoned warehouse near the outskirts of town. Like the younger officers, he parked on First Street- a block away.
"You're certain he's there?" Arthur asked as he got out.
Officers Raivis and Eduard nodded. "His motorcycle's there, and the neighbours reported a figure looking like him walking around last night and early this morning." Eduard informed him.
"Looking like him?" Arthur raised an impressive eyebrow.
"Dark hair with a single strand sticking up, either dark brown or black bomber-type jacket, and a bat with what looked like nails stuck in it." Eduard read from the report in his hands.
Arthur nodded. "How many entrances?"
"Two, one main and one back."
"Right. I'm going in. One of you cover the front, the other the back. Don't actually go in unless I call."
"Arthur, are you sure you want to go in alone?"
The Englishman's eyes hardened. "I will catch him."
Eduard gave a brisk nod of his own and pulled Raivis away, vanishing around the corner. Arthur checked his gun and set off himself, in the opposite direction. He reached the entrance to the warehouse and slowed, his guard rising. After making sure the coast was clear, he entered the lot, staying by the fence and keeping his steps silent.
Sure enough, there was a big black and red motorcycle parked by one of the doors. Arthur had always thought it was stolen as well, but there were no theft reports for a motorcycle of that description. He shook a few strands of blond hair out of his eyes as he stepped ever closer, the dead grass crunching faintly beneath his boots. He made his way carefully to the door, which he managed to open soundlessly, and peered in.
There was nothing.
Literally nothing. The warehouse was completely empty on the inside. It was dark too, with only sparse areas of light where the sunlight shined through small windows near the roof. The little light that did get in illuminated an empty floor, without even any old boxes or crates to mark what the warehouse had once held
This is where he's been? Arthur thought to himself. I find that a little hard to believe. There's nothing here.
But the motorcycle was outside, which meant that Al would have to come back for it eventually. So Arthur found himself a hidden little alcove with a view of both the interior and exterior of the building and settled down to wait. He radioed to his back up that they could relax a bit (while still keeping a sharp eye out) because it might be a long wait and then proceeded to take his own advice.
Half an hour passed, and nothing happened.
A full hour, and still nothing moved.
Suddenly, Arthur felt a presence behind him, but before he could turn or even react everything went black. He woke sometime later and found himself sitting, tied to a chair in the middle of the warehouse. As the world blurred into focus, he stared confusedly at a pile of his police gear sitting on the ground in front of him. His gun was there, but his handcuffs were missing, a mystery soon solved when he tried to move and felt cool metal pressing against his wrists.
"Eeeeey, and he's awake!"
Arthur's eyes snapped to the left at the voice and settled on a relaxed figure lounging on another chair. Emerald green bored into deep red. "You."
Al grinned, showing off his missing tooth. "Me."
"What the bloody hell are you playing at?"
"Well I saw you sittin' there on my doorstep, so I thought I'd be polite and shit and invite ya in."
Arthur scowled at him. "Release me at once. You're under arrest."
"Can't do that, Artie. And 'sides, you're not really in much of a position to make demands, hmm?" The smile twisted into more of a smirk.
"How do you know my name?"
Al lifted a card from the pile and played idly with it. "This little baby, and the fact you tossed your work aside to focus on me." The smirk grew. "That was real sweet, Artie."
"Don't call me that." Arthur snapped. "What do you want with me?"
"I wanted to meetcha, since you're so taken with me." Al winked.
Arthur felt a blush creeping up onto his cheeks. "I am not, you're merely a nuisance!"
"If I was 'merely a nuisance'," Al mimicked Arthur's accent here. "Then ya wouldn't have ignored everyone else."
Arthur's scowl deepened and he fumed silently, mind racing. All of his weapons and defense items had been stripped from him, leaving him in nothing but his clothes. Al hadn't done anything to him yet, but there was no telling about the future and if Arthur was going to get out of the situation, he would have to be smart about it.
Al was content to sit and watch him, his face never changing.
"What do you want?" Arthur finally asked.
"Already told ya."
"Bullshit, there has to be something else."
"I already got what I wanted."
"...Pardon?"
Al got up and approached him, digging around in the pocket of his jacket. He withdrew a shard of a mirror from there. There was some blood around the edges, but other than that it still functioned well.
There was a sharp intake of breath as Arthur spotted a large and distinctive red mark high up on his neck. "What?!" he practically shrieked.
The American snickered.
"You little-" Arthur stopped speaking and thought for a moment. He could possibly use this to his advantage. "Why?" he asked, his tone neutral, with just a hint of curiosity in it.
Al cocked his head to the side. "Why not? You were moanin' a bit there, so you must've enjoyed it a bit." he replied, almost smugly.
Arthur caught the smugness, and it pissed him off. He had to be calculating and careful though, so he didn't let it show. "I didn't even feel it." he said instead, more reproach than anger in his voice. "I was out cold as you recall."
"Wha-" Al looked confused for a few moments, but then his red eyes widened and he grinned. "Sooooo?" he asked almost challengingly, eyes bright.
Arthur thought for a moment, weighing his options a final time in his mind. "Perhaps I'd like to feel it." he eventually said, lowering his voice. He tilted his chin down and looked up at Al from beneath his eyelashes, shifting his body slightly against the chair in an innocently hesitant yet lustfully wanting manner.
Al's eyes were still wide as his grin grew, and Arthur swore the American looked like an excited puppy in that moment. Then he composed himself and leaned forward hungrily.
The English officer had sparked an interest in him the moment Al had heard that he'd thrown away all other cases to focus on him. That event had also stirred a feeling of possessiveness in him, one that he had been closer and closer to giving in to. What had previously been a sort of a lifestyle now became a game, and all those chases had only intensified the feelings inside of him. This was the first time Al had the chance to capture Arthur, and he'd allowed that possessiveness to take over.
And here Arthur was asking for more.
Al kissed him roughly first, crashing their lips together and forcing his tongue into the smaller man's mouth. His tongue piercing clinked lightly against Arthur's teeth as he explored his mouth. His weight pressed Arthur firmly into the chair, and while the blond squirmed slightly, he didn't try to throw Al off or anything.
Arthur's tongue flicked back in retaliation as he struggled a bit to get into a comfortable position. When that was achieved he focused back on the kiss. He wasn't particularly attracted to Al sexually or romantically but he admitted to himself that Al was good, and the dark-haired criminal's apparent attraction to him helped him in this moment.
After a few seconds more Al drew back and got to work on a new hickey, this one on the other side of Arthur's neck. The Englishman's breath was hot against his upper cheek, and it only served to turn him on more. Occasionally Arthur would let out a soft moan, and Al grinned in triumph at each one. Then Arthur moaned louder than usual, which served to mask the sound of breaking bones. Al heard the faint snap, but his pleasure-clouded mind dismissed it.
But Arthur was free seconds later. He couldn't do anything about the ropes binding his ankles, but he was out of the handcuffs and that was better than nothing. His broken hand stung and burned horribly, but he'd dealt with worse pain before so he ignored it.
Once he was satisfied with the new hickey, Al moved back to kiss him full on the mouth again. He was more gentle this time, using his tongue and teeth to tease Arthur's lower lip before actually going in. Arthur used the opportunity to make his move. He ever so slowly started bringing his arms up and around. Al noticed the movement after a few seconds, but by then Arthur was moving quickly to overbalance them and send them crashing to the floor. It took a bit of maneuvering inhibited by his still-bound legs, but he managed to somewhat straddle the American while pinning his arms down with his uninjured one.
"As I said before," Arthur said, slightly out of breath but quickly regaining it. "You're under arrest."
Al looked genuinely surprised for about three seconds, but then he was smirking again. "Yer feisty. S'hot." He easily broke Arthur's grip and flipped them around, so that he was straddling the Englishman. "It was a nice try, I'll give ya that." He grabbed both of Arthur's hands in a strong grip and raised them above the blond's head.
Arthur grunted slightly and his face screwed up in pain when his broken hand was put under pressure, but he refused to make a sound.
Al noticed immediately and mentally swore. He released the injured hand and caught it back by the forearm, well away from the broken parts, his face not changing the entire time. "What to do with you?" he murmured sardonically.
"Let me go." Arthur spat out through gritted teeth, thrashing around in earnest now.
"Mmm, nope. Can't do that." Al was disappointed that Arthur didn't feel anything back for him except the desire to catch him, but that would change. The American vowed that he'd win over Arthur's heart eventually.
But for now, he had to run. Their little meeting was over. He knocked the police officer out once more and tied him up in the chair again, this time using only rope and avoiding the broken hand. He'd examined the limb and wrapped it up in a shitty makeshift bandage prior to the tying, and now he stepped back to admire his work. He tossed the handcuffs onto the pile of Arthur's things, but took out the photo of the Englishman from his wallet and slipped it into his pocket. Planting a final, gentle kiss on Arthur's lips, he turned and walked away.
Arthur came to when someone shook his shoulder. At first he expected for it to be Al again, but it was Eduard's face that swam into view. The Englishman blinked and everything became even sharper. Eduard was saying something, but it took a few seconds for the sound to register.
"...rthur? Arthur? Are you hurt anywhere? What happened?"
"Jones." Arthur replied groggily. "Where's Jones?"
"Jones is gone, he escaped. But what did he do to you? Are you hurt anywhere?" While he was speaking, Eduard expertly undid the roped binding the green-eyed blond to the chair.
As soon as he was free Arthur staggered up, wincing as his hand was suddenly set in motion. He noticed the other officer's eyes widening at it, but he waved them off. "He had me handcuffed, but I got out of it."
"And he let you bind it?"
"No..." Arthur frowned the more he thought about it. The only reasonably explanation was that Al had wrapped it up for him, but why would he have done that? Then again, why had he left the hickeys in the first place?
"...Arthur?"
"Where is he?"
"He's gone. The motorcycle is gone too." Raivis noticed Arthur's eyes darkening in anger and hurried on with his explanation. "H-He was really quiet about it- we don't know exactly what happened, but he just burst through the side of the warehouse on his motorcycle." He pointed.
Arthur followed his gesture to where a previously boarded up window had been broken through. The new light shining through illuminated the interior, and the Englishman used the opportunity to glance around for some clues. He spotted a steel ladder attached to the wall on the opposite side and by the main door. Following the rungs up he could see a small platform between two of the roof beams- an ideal hiding spot. No one ever looks up. Arthur cursed softly to himself, but at least he knew where Al had been hiding.
There was nothing else to be found, so after a few more minutes the officers left- once Arthur gathered up all his equipment. Then, Eduard drove Arthur to the hospital to get his hand properly examined before dropping him off at the station. And Arthur was left once more at his desk, staring at Alfred F. Jones's record.
He reported that day's incident as well. Of all the chases, it had been the most humiliating. Not only had he been captured and bound with his own handcuffs, but he'd instigated a (passionate) kiss with a criminal. Luckily no one at the station either saw or commented on the hickeys. Not that he didn't enjoy it, but... He shook his head to clear such thoughts. He wanted to catch Al and arrest him, not shag- err, socialize with him and lose him every encounter.
So Officer Arthur Kirkland took a sip of freshly brewed tea and, ignoring that tiny spark of warmth and doubt in his chest, set out to track down Al once more.
A/N: What did you think? If there's any mistakes, don't hesitate to let me know.
