"You're not from around these parts, are you?" He smiled as emerald eyes turned apathetically towards him. From the moment he walked into the bar, Alfred had his sights set on the blonde sitting off in the corner, fingers grasping his shot glass noncommittedly. An impressively large eyebrow rose in response.
"What on Earth gave it away?"
"Ah! You're British then." Schooling his features into suave engagement Alfred drawled out in a faux accent, "Bond. James Bond." Without missing a beat, disbelieving laughter met his ears and he didn't mind that it was at his expense if he got to keep hearing it.
"That was right bloody awful." The green-eyed man wiped his eyes after his chuckles subsided and met Alfred's baby blues hidden behind simple glasses.
Alfred grinned. "Well accents aren't really what I'm known for."
"Oh? And what are you known for?"
"My good looks," a derisive snort, "my boots," Alfred lifted a foot clad in authentic cowboy boots, "and of course my dancing."
"Dancing?" Laughter rippled beneath the surface of the Brit's voice.
"Don't believe me?" Alfred asked, incredulous, before holding his hand out to the other. "Well then, allow me to have this here dance, Mr….?" He dipped his broad-rimmed hat.
Fingers falling into his palm were like a perfectly controlled shock to the system. "Call me Arthur."
Alfred whistled. "Does that mean I'm dancing with royalty?" He asked as he pulled the Brit off the stool.
"If you spout one more overdone reference, I'm leaving." Unamused as he was, he allowed Alfred to pull him into his arms.
"Can't have that, now can we?" The beginning chords of a new song cued the two onto the dance floor, excusing themselves past others to get there.
As they began to rock to the beat, Arthur spoke again. "So, are you going to tell me your real name?"
Alfred raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip following suit. "How do you know my name ain't James Bond?" He received a dry look and he laughed. "It's Alfred. Alfred F. Jones."
"Well Mr. Jones, what brings you here tonight?"
"Alfred." He chided good-humoredly. "And I came here to meet you of course."
"Is that so?" Alfred hummed in acquiescence. Arthur sighed, deep and sorrowful. "I'm afraid I can't stay too long though Alfred." Arthur smiled, coyly. "My husband may get worried if I stay out late. You see, he's a bit of a possessive git."
"Yeah?" Alfred smirked. "What else is he?"
"He's one of those all-American blokes you always see on the telly. Big blue eyes, wheat blonde hair, with the most damnable stubborn cowlick. He's pushy and arrogant," a smile graced the Brit's face, "but he's surprisingly quite the sweetheart."
"Sounds like a great guy." Alfred replied thoughtfully.
"And apparently he's an arrogant as I made him out to be." He looked down to meet Arthur's exasperated gaze and grinned.
"Can't help agreeing with what's true, Artie." A wrinkle of the nose and then a softening of the eyes.
"I love you, Alfred F. Jones."
Alfred responded first by wrapping his arms tighter around Arthur's waist, letting go briefly to drop his hat onto Arthur's golden head, then. "And I am head over boots for you Arthur Kirkland-Jones." A groan turned into a squeak as he dipped his Brit back and kissed him.
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Ne, it's been a while since I've written any USUK material. The last story didn't end on a high note so I decided to throw in a fluffy one-shot to balance out the previous heavy angst. When I first received the song for this challenge, I was both skeptical of being able to write anything as well as worried about whether assigning this pairing to the song would be too obvious a decision. Now I think it worked out for the best, ne.
Thank you for reading.
