"Ah ha!" Arthur Kirkland announced snatching a new, black, spiral notebook off to the side of his desk. The man dressed in a nice crisp white shirt, a green sweater vest, and some expensive looking trousers stared triumphantly at the book. He had finally decided just what he was going to do with this notebook. It had just been lying around, taking up space on his mahogany desk. But now it had a purpose!
He would use this 80-paged book to persuade Alfred F. Jones to come back to him. If only he could convince him to participate. Arthur decided he'd start writing a letter to Alfred. Then when he was done, he'd pass the notebook on to his Alfie so that git could write back. Slowly but surely, as they filled up the notebook, he could win him over and make him to return with any luck. Arthur wouldn't tell Alfred the real reason behind the letters, but let the American's simple mind believe that they were just to pass the time and for a fun way to communicate. There was always the chance though that Alfred wouldn't take them seriously enough though, and that would be a problem.
The British man flipped the black cover open and took a seat as he reached for a black-inked pen. He wasn't even sure if Alfred would cooperate but he skipped the first two pages anyway and then, very neatly in script began writing his greeting.
Arthur kept writing until he was satisfied. He had written a small introduction; to aid in any confusion this sudden suggestion might bring about the younger blond, as well as the first letter. Immediately after he was finished, Arthur revised the letter, and finding no mistakes in his perfect script, set his pen back into his penholder. He leaned back with a pleased look and after simply sitting relaxed for a moment he stood and shut the notebook.
Carrying it with him, Arthur strode down the stairs, notebook at his side, and was on his way out when he opened the door and ran into just the country he was looking to see. The one dressed in a white t-shirt with the words Hero written across the chest in the pattern of the American flag, and jeans that were well worn at the knees.
Alfred blinked with a sort of blank expression plastered on his face, his hand raised as if he were about to knock. Then his face lit up and he smiled warmly, "Oh! Hey dude! I was just coming here to see ya!"
Arthur had stepped backwards, surprised to see his younger 'brother' standing there. "Alright then, why were you coming over here uninvited?" He asked in his handsome British accent.
"Eh," Alfred shrugged. "I dun really know. I was just kinda bored and decided to see if you wanted to hang."
"…Wanted to hang? I'm too busy to just… hang. There's a lot of work around here to get done, you know! I don't have time to waste like you do." He folded his arms over his chest.
Alfred frowned, slightly disappointed. Everyone seemed to be busy today. Then the notebook caught his eye. "Hey, dude! What's that?" He asked, curiously, still retaining his energetic personality.
Arthur blinked and slightly coughed. "What? This?" He asked, glancing at the notebook, then back into the blue eyes of Alfred.
"Yeah! That… book thing! It's not a diary is it?"
"What?! H*ll no! I do not even keep such a thing, and if I did it would be a journal, not a diary! There is a difference."
"Yeah, well what is it then?" Alfred questioned, once again wearing a smile. "The book I mean."
"It's uh… for you actually. I was on my way out to find you… And give it to you. I wrote a letter inside of it and I want you to write one back. It'll be an ongoing chain of letters." When Alfred didn't respond and wore a somewhat confused expression Arthur continued, "I want us to write letters to each other back and forth. It would certainly take up some of the free time on your hands."
Alfred let out a snicker. "That's a funny idea, bro."
"It's a great idea! Plus it could be busy work if nothing else. A simple, easy way to communicate as well."
The American looked at the black book and then back at Arthur who was watching him with those intense green eyes.
"Hmmm, alright dude! If you think it's a good idea then I'll try it. Just because I am the hero and I'm totally nice like that!" Honestly Alfred felt as if he could find better things to do, like eat, rather than try to write somewhat literate letters in reply to Arthur's.
Arthur held back a smirk. So far everything was going as planned. He'd have Alfred back in no time if this worked! The shorter of the two handed the notebook over. Alfred took it and flipped it open to the first page letter and started to read out loud in a sort of mock English accent that was no good at all. A terrible imitation really.
"Dearest, Darlingest, Baby Brother Al-"
"No! You're not supposed to read it right here with me standing next to you! Go home and read it! And God forbid you read aloud!" Arthur exclaimed.
Alfred blinked, pausing and looking up from the book. "But I just came all the way over here!" He said in sort of pout. Arthur sighed and shook his head.
"Fine, you can read it inside, just don't bother me while I'm trying to get my work done."
Alfred pumped his fist up, "Cool, bro!" He followed Arthur inside and sat- no, he lounged- on the couch like he owned the place. He had propped his feet up on the coffee table but Arthur shuffled them off by, not exactly kicking them but more like nudging them from the surface of his table. The taller blond didn't bother to put his feet back up. Too lazy? Probably. Instead he just opened the spiral notebook and began to read what had been written while Arthur headed back up to do the work that was always there for him, he just never wanted to do.
About an hour later, Alfred hadn't interrupted him, not even once, which came off as strange. So, that's when the self-proclaimed gentleman began making his way back downstairs. There he found Alfred sprawled across his couch, the remote in one hand, the other propping his head up. He had one leg over the back of the couch and then other sort of propped up on one arm of the couch. Overall he looked very content just sitting there and making himself at home. Arthur supposed he wanted Alfred to feel at home if he wanted him back, but still… Not too at home.
"Alfred, did you already finish the letter?"
"Huh? Oh yeah! I did! It's on the kitchen table." There was a pause between the two. "Dude! How do you stand this TV? All you got on here are documentaries and BBC stuff!" He exclaimed. "It's so boooooring!"
"Well pardon my unsavory taste in television," Arthur muttered sarcastically as he went to grab the notebook. He flipped it open to the page Alfred's letter was written on.
Alfred's writing… It wasn't very neat and it didn't look like he put in any effort to make it look the slightest bit better. On top of that it was in pencil. It was still legible but probably only because it was all in print rather than script or even just regular cursive. Arthur sighed.
"Just how long do you intend on staying here?" Artie asked, not looking up from the informal letter addressed to him.
"Until I get hungry or something."
"Why don't you just stay here for dinner?"
This made Alfred briefly turn and glance at Arthur with a skeptical look, like, 'Are you serious?' or something along those lines. When he heard no reply the Brit looked up. Alfred glanced to the kitchen and then back to the TV, shaking his head.
"I see how it is."
"Yeah. I think I'm gonna go get some burgers or somethin'. You want some?"
"No, that's fine. I don't need to put such fattening, unhealthy, and greasy things into my body. Foul meat sandwiches…"
Alfred shrugged. "Ok then! Your loss!" He rolled off the couch and then popped right back up. "Later dude! See ya tomorrow!"
"T-tomorrow? Will you be coming back?" Arthur asked.
"I guess so. If I don't have anything better to do!" Alfred stretched his arms and then let them fall to his sides as he made his way to the door.
"Bye Artie!" The younger waved one more time before exiting and shutting the door behind him.
As soon as the American was out the door, he hurried up the stairs to his study and tossed the book on the desk and grabbed his pen again, ready to write in reply as he read along.
No more than a minute after he dove into reading the letter had he stopped and began to sulk with his head on his desk. Yes, this would be much harder than he thought. Unfortunately for him, he'd be putting up with much more than Alfred's brash attitude. That bloody fool was flipping insensitive! How dare he even bring up such unwanted memories, and so carelessly too, and on top of that, the git insulted his food!