Ok... First a little message to those who have read my other story The Search; Chapter seven is on the way! I'm in the middle of a huge writing block, so it's going painfully slow for me to write right now TT-TT
Anyway! Back to this story! xD It's a AU and, well...this story sucks and is not betad, so don't read it! But read it anyway! Why? Because I'm a attention loving ****! Yay for me! *shot*
*Cough* Well... _' On with the story!
Warnings: England's potty mouth and France!
You never know with French restaurants
"Come on, come on, Iggy! Hurry up!"
Arthur Kirkland sighed and glanced up from his almost done homework on his hyperactive, loud-mouthed boyfriend, who at the moment was spinning around impatiently on Arthur's computer chair.
"Alfred, can you please be quiet?" He said with a rather irritated voice. "I can't finish this if you keep interrupting me all the time. And don't call me 'Iggy', it's Arthur."
The last comment seemed to fly unnoticed over the Americans head. "But Iggy~! I'm bored!" He said with a pout while spinning even faster. "Aren't you done yet?"
"Soon. And the fact that you are bored is completely not my problem. Now, be quiet!" Arthur then returned to finishing his homework and the room fell silent. The only sound that could be heard was the rhythmic squeaking from the spinning chair.
"Done yet?"
There was some seconds of tense silence, in which Arthur considered throwing his large biology book in the others head. But in the end he decided not to; the blood would be too troublesome to wipe up afterwards. Instead he settled with sending the American the most venomous death glare he could muster. "Bloody hell, Alfred! I'm done when I'm done! Stop being such a child!"
Alfred scowled. "Isn't our date more important than your stupid homework?"
"It's not even noon yet, so I think we have enough time. I mean, I don't even think the restaurant have opened yet."
"You never know with restaurants, Arthur. Especially not the French ones." Alfred said with a serious face. "So now I decide that your homework is done!" While he spoke ho got up from his chair and grabbed Arthur's hand, tugging it hard enough to make the Brit stumble forward into a tight embrace.
"Release me, you git!" Arthur commanded, face red with embarrassment, but didn't make any attempts to wriggle out of the hug. "And you can't just decide if I'm done or not!"
"Yes I can!"
"Why?"
"Because I'm the Hero!" Alfred said with a 100 volt smile.
"That's ridiculo-..."
"Let's go!" The 'hero' interrupted and started to drag the other out the door.
"Ah! Wai-! Alfred!"
Many seemingly random laugh outburst from Alfred and 'You bloody git' from Arthur later, the two where finally on their way. They had decided the day before which restaurant they would go to. Alfred had first insisted that they should go to McDonald's, but after some rather violent protests from Arthur's side, they had ended up in a new-opened French place.
"So, monpetitcheri, what can I get you this belle nuit?"
Before the two English speaking teens table stood a young waiter. He had a white shirt and pants with a black west and a neat apron bound around his waist. His shoulder-length blond hair was gathered in a pony tail in the neck. And even if Alfred didn't seem to notice, the Frenchman was throwing flirtatious glances at the American in a rather indiscreet manor. Arthur, on the other hand, did notice.
"Um... I'll take a...B-Bolla Bease?" Alfred said, apparently having some problem reading the French dishes available on the menu.
"Oh, you mean the Boullabaise?" The waiter questioned, moving a little closer ( A little too close, if Arthur was to speak his mind.) to the American.
"Yeah, that one. Thanks." Alfred flashed a smile.
"Forgive me for my rudeness, but I take that you are not so familiar with the French language?" The waiter countered the others smile with one of his own.
"No, I'm really bad."
"Oh..." Here there was a short pause, the waiter looking like he was pondering on something. "...If you are interested, I'm holding French courses in my spare time. And trust me, I would love teaching a petitAmerique like you... And maybe after...I could give you a special cour-"
"He's not interested." Arthur, who had been to chocked and upset to interrupt until now, finally managed to remember how to speak. Who did this person think he was? And why didn't Alfred say something? He just sat there, in front of Arthur, no less, and let himself be flirted with! Suddenly another thought hit the Brit. Did Alfred think this person was better than him? That though made his chest hurt and his previous anger waver. He cast a nervous glance at the American as he added. "...Right, Alfred?"
Alfred, confused, looked between the two other blonds. He seemed to get that there was some kind of tension, but no idea what had caused it. "Um...I'm...no, actually...eh..." He struggled to find the right words. Because he knew that if he said the wrong thing when Arthur had that expression things never turned out right. He took a deep breath to collect his thoughts before continuing. "...Language have never been my strong side, so I don't think taking courses would make my French any better... but thanks for asking anyway." He sent a apologetic smile to the Frenchman before returning his attention to Arthur. "So, Iggy, what do you want to eat?"
Arthur stared into Alfred's sky blue eyes some moments until he felt that his mental 'Don't-worry-Alfred-loves-you' meter had filled up to an acceptable level. Then, confident somewhat revived, he sent a glare to the offending waiter. "You know what? I think I want a stay the hell away from my boyfriend!"
"Oh, was it ones like that on the menu...?" Alfred asked, looking amused and a little puzzled at the same time while eyeing through said menu. "Because that would be very funny, you know. It almost sounded like you said-"
"That was exactly what I said. And of course that's not the name on a dish." Arthur said as he rolled his eyes at his dense boyfriend. "Even Frenchmen aren't stupid enough to name food something like that! … Even if some people" Here he sent yet another glare at the waiter. " certainly makes you wonder."
"Now now, mon petit Angleterre, that isn't a very nice thing to say." Purred the Frenchman, once again involving himself in the conversation.
"Well, hitting on someone that obviously is someone else's boyfriend is even worse, you French Frog!"
"But if you really are together it wouldn't be a problem. But considering your looks... I really is a threat, aren't I?" The waiter smirked, confidently and mocking at the same time, while eyeing the Briton from the feet and up.
Arthur's face turned a fabulous shade of red. And sadly enough, his vocabulary failed him when he needed it the most. "You...! Ah! I...! A-Alfred! Say something!"
Alfred, who through the whole argument had sat silent, looking from one face to another, now settled his gaze at the short-haired of the two. His facial expression, the Englishman noted, a scene of utter confusion and... was that amusement?
Even if it probably was impossible due to the laws of nature, Arthur's face became even redder. Was Alfred laughing at him? "What's so bloody amusing?" He asked, his voice almost high pitched because he was so upset. He cursed himself when he felt his eyes become moist but furiously pressed back the tears. He would not cry! Crying was for girls and pussies, and Arthur was neither of the two.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Artie! But you just look so funny when you're angry." The American said and tried, but failed, to force back a chuckle.
Arthur liked to think of himself like a calm and collected person. And in normal cases, he actually was. But even he had his limits. And his limits where if these three events happened to happen in a short amount of time; His boyfriend gets hit on by someone else in front of his eyes. Said 'someone else' insult him and said boyfriend doesn't say anything. Said boyfriend says that he looked funny.
So, in my opinion, it was quite forgiveable that Arthur's limit then made a small 'snap' sound, where after Arthur stormed out from the restaurant and ran in the direction of the park. Alfred quickly got up and ran after him, calling his name.
"Iggy, slow down! Damn it, Arthur, wait!"
Arthur, who now had stopped running and instead was walking in a fast pace, didn't show any signs that he had heard Alfred other than that he fastened his steps even more. The taller of the two cursed under his breath and set of running the last few meters between him and the angry Brit. "Please, Arthur, wait!" He said and grabbed his hand.
"Why do you follow me?" Arthur questioned angrily and spun around so that he was facing the American. "Can't you just leave me alone?" He continued and made a effortless attempt at freeing his hand.
"No I can't! Not until you explain why you're so angry with me." Alfred answered, fastening his grip around the others wrist.
"Isn't that obvious, you bloody idiot?" The Brit snapped. "You practically made fun of me in front of the whole fucking restaurant! And why don't you just go and hang out with that blasted French Frog? You two seemed to get along bloody well if you ask me!" While he ranted he once again tried to free his captured wrist. This time putting more force behind it.
"What? What are you talking about? I just said you looked cute! That's a compliment, you know." Alfred made a motion with his free hand to somehow demonstrate his frustration.
"What? When?" Arthur questioned.
"Just before you stormed off."
"No, you said I looked funny!" Arthur said, his voice a little shaky as most of his self-control went to trying to pry of the Americans hand from his wrist.
"But I what I meant was that you looked really cute." Alfred said with a pout.
"And how was I supposed to know that, idiot?"
"I don't know. Mind reading?" Alfred answered while smiling like a lunatic. "And regarding the 'French Frog'... I'd say I rather spend my time with you!"
And before Arthur had time to react, Alfred had bent down and pressed his lips to his.
It's strange, Arthur though as he willingly let himself be kissed. He and Alfred had been together for almost two years now, but the American's lips never failed to drive both his breath and his sense out of him and turn his brain to mushy goo. This time was no exception.
So when Alfred carefully stroked his tongue over his lower lip, asking for entrance, Arthur willingly parted his lips and let him in. Their tongues tangled together in an practised ritual. Giving and taking. Caring and loving.
Arthur drove his fingers through the Americans blond hair and Alfred slipped his arm around and behind the Brits slender waist.
Even if neither of them wanted to, they soon had to part ways. Both panted slightly as they stared into each others eyes. Heavenly blue met venomous green.
"Damn it, Alfred." Arthur said as soon as he had his breathing somewhat under control again. "I'm trying to be angry with you here! Don't brake my concentration."
"Oh, I'm sorry Artie. But you just look so kissable when you're upset. " Alfred purred and nuzzled their noses together lovingly.
Arthur rolled his eyes before saying. "And we're in a public park for Gods sake! This can probably get us arrested for... for public disturbance!" Or at least that's what he tried to say. The whole thing got quite incoherent as he was interrupted by kisses between almost every word.
The American grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Public disturbance? Then maybe we should go somewhere else...?"
"My parents are probably home by now..." The Englishman said hesitantly. Somehow Arthur knew where this was going, and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not, considering that they just had a fight.
Alfred flashed a big, seductive smile, apparently liking the idea of atonement-sex. "Then my place it is!"
'Ok... Screw moderation' Arthur thought as his last doubts flew happily out the window. He smiled slightly as he followed his idiotic and oblivious boyfriend through the park, tightly holding onto his hand.
The End...?
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