Jazz music played through the phonograph, the record spinning as if it were twirling in a dance. Rain was clearly audible, a few quiet thunder rumbles every now and then. The fire was burning, the crackling of the flames were rather nice.
"Rather nice atmosphere, don't you agree?" a blonde man asked the bartender. "Quite quiet, yet classy. Very calming, I like it." he looked down at his drink, too involved in his surroundings to consider them being dulled by the alcohol. The man sitting on the stool had green eyes, that resembled a forest, as did his rather thick eyebrows. His voice flowed with a London accent and he was dressed smartly in a suit.
The man on the other side of the conversation showed an excellent contrast. While blonde, his hair was darker and messier than the Brit and had a noticeable cowlick. His eyes were an ocean blue and were behind glasses. His clothes were neat, although his work required it. However, they still differed greatly from the gentleman in the grey tweed coat. "I don't know, I think it's boring. There are hardly any people here." he took his rag and started to wipe down the bar. "Anyway, that's quite an interesting accent. British, am I correct?"
"Quite right," he held out his hand. "Arthur Kirkland, glad to meet you." he tapped his foot to the attractive melody of the jazz that continued to play. "I don't know... I kind of like the emptiness. More private. I hardly get any conversation from busy bartenders."
The American grabbed Arthur's hand and shook it firmly. "Alfred F. Jones, the one and only. Keep that name in mind, one day, I'll be famous and you can say you met me when I was just a bartender in an old speakeasy." Damn, was he glad the 21st Amendment had ended prohibition. A life without alcohol would be torture, not that he drank a lot, but the fact that he knew his way around a liquor.
"Famous? What on earth are you going to become famous for?" he tried to refrain from chuckling.
"Me? I'm going to be somebody. I'm going to be a hero to someone through music, or something. I'm a pretty good dancer, if I say so myself." stars filled Alfred's blue eyes, followed by a cocky white smile. "I can honestly say, I've charmed a more than a few pretty girls with my dancing. You can be one of them." he teased.
"You know you're an idiot right?" Arthur raised one of his bushy eyebrows. "You seem like a clumsy oaf, no offense. Just the impression you gave me. And, I doubt you can even start to charm me," he said, a slight red brushing over his cheeks.
"Really?" he smirked. "That sounds like a challenge." Alfred left the bar and held out his hand. "Dance with me, then. I'm as good as a dancer as I am a barista."
"I thought you were a bartender. There's a large difference between liquor and coffee." the Brit sniggered.
"Eh," Alfred replied. "But they're actually pretty close. You drink too much of one, you have to resort to the other. I'm always prepared. So, I never received an answer on that dancing." he held his hand out more dramatically.
"Well, if I say yes, will you shut up?" the Brit groaned as he got an eager nod in reply. "Very well, I guess I've no reason to reject."
The taller of the two blondes smiled, and placed his hand on the other's waist, who grinned in return. There were a few few soft step movements, and then a twirl that made Arthur laugh a bit. The dance continued a bit, before it turned into a more gentle swaying. He rested his head on the American's shoulder, and noticed the most enticing scent. It was sweet, and rich, yet bitter but it was delightful and... It was simply heavenly. It was the fragrance of dark coffee. A tempting, elegant scent of coffee that made the tea lover crave for a cup. The dance continued as a rhythmic, intimate sway.
It didn't come to the Brit that he was dancing this closely and wonderfully with a complete and total stranger. It felt like they were old friends, old lovers. Alfred had indeed charmed him, and whether or not the American knew it or not was yet to be determined. Alfred had stopped moving, and inched closer, before kissing Arthur softly, he pulled away after a second.
"I'm sorry about that..." he said in an uncharacteristic shyness. " Although, if you liked it, then I'm not sorry at all and I'd be glad to do it again."
"Idiot," the blonde rolled his green eyes. "Now, would you look at the time. I should probably head home..."
"Well, you're the last customer for the day, I'm going to close up shop. Maybe, I'll take you home. It's raining pretty bad out there..."
"Okay... Dammit! I don't have a suitable rain jacket." Arthur sighed. As he cast a glance out to the dark and cloudy night.
"No problem, dude." Alfred grinned widely and covered the smaller of the two in his jacket. "You should be good now."
"Brilliant," Arthur smiled to himself, and savored the fragrance of the dark coffee.