Arthur gazed up towards the glaring ceiling. It was an awful sight as the light burned into his retinas as his head pounded fiercely. Bloody Hell. I'm not drinking again.
He always said that, but in true gentlemanly fashion, he would be a hospitable host, and succumb to the pressures of his guest's persuasion of; "C'mon Arthur! Have a drink!" It wasn't really that much persuasion to be fair, as all you had to do was ask him twice. He only claimed that he was being a gentleman.
"Urghhhhh" he groaned as he covered his head with his sheets and buried his face in the pillow.
"Nuhhhh" his whole body was aching. Exactly how drunk was he? He reached out towards the bedside table to find his phone to find some solace of his nighttime adventures.
"Francis, You bastard. What the fuck happened last night?" he hissed into his phone.
"Aw, oui mon chere. You were at ze bar wiz us."
"Care to elaborate?"
"You do not remember ze 'ot piece of ass you 'ad for ze night, non?" and subtle smug French laughter teased Arthur down the phone.
"Fucking frog" and Arthur hung up. He didn't understand why he called that dirty bastard, as all he did was gloat of his sexual endeavors. Gentlemen never indulge in public talk about their sex lives.
He sighed and went back to sleep.
"Arthur!"
"Arthur!"
"Wrtghh?" Arthur grunted as he rolled over onto his back.
"Ahaha, you know how to party dude!" rang a familiar young, yet annoying voice.
What the bloody hell happened last night?
Arthur groaned again.
Hang on. "Dude" - There's only one person who would say that. Alfred Motherfucking Jones. The last thing Arthur wanted to do was to wake up to this clueless and arrogant American.
"Alfred. Fuck off." He huddled deeper into the sheets. Oh god. Even speaking bloody hurts.
Arthur felt Alfred's hand pat his shoulder "Ahaha, no way dude, I'm staying to make breakfast! I can make pancakes!"
"Why are you here?" Arthur croaked under the sheets.
"You don't remember last night?" Alfred responded, a little crest fallen.
"If I did, I wouldn't be asking what you're doing here you bloody idiot."
Arthur felt the bed shift as Alfred stood up. As he didn't want to either look at the light nor Alfred's stupidly happy face. Arthur rolled onto his front and smothered his face in his pillow. His face landed in something that actually squelched. He took his face from the pillow and took the object and looked at it sleepily.
"What the bloody hell!?" He said as realisation dawned on him.
"ALFRED. THERE'S A BLOODY PICKLE IN MY BED!" He cursed as he jumped out from his warm sheets. He started frantically tearing the sheets off his bed, trying to rid the bed of such awful things.
Alfred giggled from behind him and Arthur spun round with a venomous look in his eyes. Alfred just stood there in his boxers, adorned with eagles and his perfectly toned body highlighted by the sun radiating through the windows.
"BLOODY WANKER. I BET THESE ARE FROM YOUR FUCKING HAMBURGERS!"
Alfred continued laughing.
"ASSHOLE!" Arthur screamed throwing the pickle at Alfred's perfectly chiseled torso and turned around to give him the cold shoulder.
Alfred opened the bedroom door, and continued laughing as he was heading out the door, he turned around and grinned.
"Nice ass Arthur."
Arthur gazed down and realised that his underwear was somehow absent, and he was standing bare naked in front of Alfred.
Fuck.
Arthur looked around his bedroom and saw that it was a mess. There were clothes on a pile on the floor, slowly leading a trail to the bed and Arthur picked up the coat closest to him – Alfred's signature coat – his brown leather pilot's bomber jacket.
Not again. Shitting hell.
Arthur let the coat drop to floor, disgusted in himself again, because lately, when he got drunk, he always ended the night with Alfred either at his place or at the stupid American's house. Arthur cursed and decided to stick on some fresh underwear and get Alfred to leave the house before any more damage could be done.
When he got to the kitchen, Alfred was singing in his less than angelic voice, and Arthur winced in pain not only from his singing, but of his bodily pain.
"Shut up…." He groaned as he sat down at the table.
" Your stare was holdin.' Ripped jeans, skin was showin'…. "
"Please. Shut up."
"Hot night, wind was blowing, Where do you think you're going baby?"
Alfred then placed a plate in front of him Arthur drooled at the sight. The pile of pancakes smelt so good. They were lightly drizzled in honey, not those god-awful maple syrup covered pancakes Alfred loves.
"Eat up!" Alfred smiled as he saw Arthur tuck into them.
"This… doesn't mean anything you bloody yank" Arthur munched. "After this-…"
Alfred placed a cup of tea in front of him. "Just how you like it. Two sugars and milk."
This is so gooooood. Oh My God.
"Hey Arthur. Anything else you want?"
"You to get out my house."
"Dude. You always say that!"
Arthur just continued wolfing down his pancakes giving Alfred evil glares between mouthfuls. Alfred was happily eating his drenched maple syrup pancakes with his renowned American table manners directly opposite him. His elbows on the table, his fork held at the end… that perfectly muscular arm resting on the table… that soft sun kissed skin… Stop it. The way that hand curled around that cup of coffee… Those hands all over his body. Arthur put his knife and fork down. Dammit.
"What's up Artie?" Alfred asked concerned.
" Last night..."
" Are you still on about that? Because, I can show you all over again…" Alfred winked.
"I would rather castrate myself and do that." He glared at Alfred. "Why is it always you?"
Alfred moved closer to his face. "Because you said that you're mine." His radiant sapphire eyes looked sincerely into Arthur's deep emerald ones.
"I say cliché shit like that?"
"You do crazy shit when you're drunk, dude." Alfred said digging back into his pancakes.
"Please. Shut. Up." Arthur sighed with emphasis on each syllable, hoping that the American would get the idea.
"Only when you finally admit it Artie."
Intrigued as far as a hung over Englishman could be, Arthur looked to Alfred. That light blonde hair looked messy and his never conforming cowlick sticking up from the wild strands. That stupid cowlick never went down, no matter how hard Alfred tried or when he applied gel. Alfred even kept a jar of gel in his workplace, and yet that cowlick was a persistent little thing. It was kind of cute and of course Arthur wouldn't never admit that.
"Alfred…"
"Yes, Artie?"
He hated that nickname. "Shut the fuck up."
"So much for Englishmen being gentlemen…"
"Again – fuck you." Arthur got up from his chair after feeling pleasantly full from Alfred's amazing pancakes. Those were so damn good but I'm not saying it. Twat. Arthur shut himself in the bathroom until Alfred was gone.
The next time Arthur saw Alfred was at work two days later. Alfred strode in whistling some obnoxious, out of tune song and this awful ass distracted Arthur from the calm of drinking his tea in the peace of his cubicle. That got instantly shattered when he heard Alfred. His whistling was coming further until it was right behind him. Arthur gulped and spun around to turn his colleague.
"Good morning Mr. Jones." He said icily.
"Hey buddy!" Alfred replied with such ecstatic joy in his tone. He makes me sick.
Arthur turned spun back around and Alfred's hair tickled his cheek as Alfred leaned into his ear and he whispered, "I missed you…Artie…"
"What the bloody hell are you doing, Jones?!" He hissed. He could feel Alfred's breath warm his cheek.
"I'm sick of you coming to me when you're only drunk. I'm going to make you want me..."
"Leave me alone Alfred. We're at work so go and hassle someone else."
"I don't wanna..." Arthur could feel his lips next to his ear.
Arthur's breathing quickened "…. You wouldn't…" Alfred moved one hand to Arthur's thigh and his fingers lightly traced the stitching of his neatly ironed trousers.
"Try me." His touch moved further up his inner thigh and Arthur shook his head. Bollocks.
"Why must everything be so hard with you Arthur?" His fingers were electric to Arthur and his breathing became strained.
" …A…Alfred. Please stop it." Arthur whispered, trying to not give into Alfred's touch.
"Until you let me fu-"
Arthur slapped his hands away startling Alfred. "I said don't."
Alfred stepped back withdrawing his hand and Arthur's green eyes were burning with contempt straight at the American.
"How many times – NO! I don't want this from you. AND we're at work."
Alfred grinned and left the cubicle and continued whistling and Arthur watched him as his figure moved down the corridor.
Imbecile. Arthur went back to his laptop screen but he felt something drop to the floor -a glistening light paper lay on the floor and he bent down to pick it up, and turned it over:
Alfred F. Jones
District Attorney and Defense Lawyer
Patton and Lindemann
Washington, D.C.
+1 (703) 203- 5693
and in scruffy legible handwriting at the bottom -
Call me Arthur 3
Arthur shoved the card in his drawer and slammed it shut and he then banged his head on the table repeatedly.
"Arthur. Meeting in 10 minutes." His boss, Ludwig peeked his head around the corner of Arthur's cubicle. Arthur acknowledged such a dread with a nod and went to the bathroom to freshen up. Monday meetings always took two hours because Ludwig was a meticulous ass, as he wanted to go through all the processes of the company, and talk about up and coming cases. Arthur sighed as he gazed at his reflection in the mirror.
He wasn't exactly the most handsome man he knew, but a lot of girls thought he was gorgeous. They were captivated by his best feature, his emerald green eyes, which were a stark contrast to against his pale skin. Arthur sighed and ran his fingers through his scruffy sandy hair and scrunched up his bushy eyebrows. He didn't understand why Alfred was making such a big deal out of Friday; it wasn't like it was the first time. Fucking Yank.
He looked once more at his tired, perfectly pale reflection and straightened up his union jack tie and tucked it back in his grey suit. You dashing minx. And with that daily reassurance, he left the bathroom and headed to the top floor to the meeting.
When he got there, his boss Ludwig was already seated at the head of the table setting up his presentation and his other colleague, Heracles was snoozing in the chair. Arthur laughed to himself, this guy was the dopiest person he knew as he always found this guy asleep, but he heard rumors that this Greek was an extremely intelligent man after large doses of coffee…and women. Arthur would like to strike up an intellectual conversation about the great mythological world- an actual worthy conversation, rather what toppings he likes on his hamburger.
Arthur sat in his usual chair at the narrow conference table and stared down at the binder in front of him - Braginski v Moloney
He sighed. That motherfucking Russian again. That guy had more money than sense, and yet he always won the cases filed against him. Arthur smiled – because I win them for him.
Ludwig saw Arthur's smile. "Kirkland. This case isn't going to so easy this time. The Russian is convicted of murder."
"I see." Well, shit.
"I'm assigning this one to you because you're one of our top men. And I hope you can add this one to your unbeaten record."
"You're flattering me Mr Beilschmidt." I hate you.
Ludwig gave him a curt nod and turned back to the presentation set up.
Arthur flicked through the binder and gazed at the picture of Ivan Braginski – it was always the same one – the one of his small innocent smile with his deep violet eyes standing out from his pale skin and light blonde hair. Arthur knew that his smile hid many secrets. The man was also a sadistic and manipulative creep. As Arthur skimmed the victim's profile, he thought that Ivan may have had a little too much fun at the end of the murder. Not surprising of course, he believed that his blood money would get him out of trouble like it normally did.
Arthur was absorbed in the case as he felt the presence of the other lawyers he worked with filled the room. He looked around to observe who was in the room today and his gaze loomed opposite and Alfred was seated there.
Alfred looked over his glasses to gaze at Arthur and gave him sly grin and Arthur's pupils dilated. "Jones. For the love of God, can you sit elsewhere?" Arthur glared at the smiling American, and the American leaned forward.
"Make me" he whispered.
Arthur moved back in a frustrated growl and looked around for any free seats. There was one, between Alfred and Francis Bonnefoy, the man he despised at the moment, more than Alfred. Arthur slunk in his chair feeling the impending doom of this Monday morning meeting and buried his face in his hands.
"Bonjour Arthur, I see you're looking well" purred the Frenchman. Arthur peeked through his fingers. That stupid Frenchie reeked of Parisian glamour and sex appeal. Francis winked at Arthur and ran his fingers through his glossy blonde hair.
Why are my two regrets sitting next to each other? It's like someone hates me….
"Good morning Francis…" He muttered.
Arthur saw Alfred whisper something into Francis' ear and Francis grinned and nodded.
"Stop your conspiracy you wankers" Arthur told both of them but both laughed leaving Arthur with chills down his spine.
"Settle down!" shouted Ludwig "The meeting is now underway."
Arthur turned to face the boss with the now silent room, and he heard a suppressed snort from Francis and spun round again. He saw Alfred making a heart with his hands with an equally childish grin.
Arthur flashed him the middle finger not wanting to deal with the giggles and actions of two immature men.
"Arthur! I do NOT appreciate such behavior in the meeting!" roared Ludwig.
"Bu-but-"
"NO EXCUSES"
Arthur turned red and slumped into his chair. The one thing the Englishman held high was his pride and his professionalism at his job, as well as his gentlemanly manners. There was a reason he got so far so young. Yet, despite his intelligence and determination, everything he took pride in was being crushed by the American.
The meeting was well into, what felt like to Arthur, it's fourth hour, but in reality, only 42 minutes had passed. Ludwig was deep in his precise deliverance of god knows what, as Arthur stopped paying attention a while back and his eyes drifted in and out of the room. Dozing… Dozing…
He jolted up. He felt something under the table, something stroking his leg. He peeked under the table and regretted that curiosity and peeked his head straight back up from the table, a deep crimson.
He glared at the culprit, which unpredictably was Alfred. The American looked bored out his mind, one arm was sprawled out on the table over the mess of papers and the other arm was holding up his face, which flashed him a grin.
Alfred's leg kept stoking Arthur's leg and no matter how much Arthur pulled his legs away those damn long legs found his. DAMN MY SHORT STATURE! And that bloody American finds this funny.
Arthur tried to kick him back, but to no avail as his shorter frame missed his legs, and Alfred saw his silent struggle and was suppressing his laughter, as Ludwig would have his ass.
Arthur wanted to kick his face in. So hard that his stupidly perfect features would be unrecognisable and that he wouldn't have that stupid grin on his face, a face not even a mother could love.
I could just pay Braginski….. Arthur grinned as he attempted to kick Alfred back from his more concentrated strokes. Get his face bashed in with that lead pipe of Braginski's. Never being to tease me again, never being able to flash that stupid smile. Never smash my pride at work again. Oh yes, Alfred F. Jones. Watch out you stupid so-
"So that's why both Jones and Kirkland are on this case together." Announced Ludwig. Arthur's head spun round like a shot.
Arthur's mind went blank.
" L-L-Ludwig" Arthur stuttered. No, this couldn't be right. He just couldn't escape Alfred, and everything right now just seemed to be more and more of a sick coincidence. Francis let out a snigger.
"Arthur?"
" I-I can't-"
"I will take no more of your pathetic excuses." Ludwig said defiantly. He shuffled his papers and continued with the meeting.
"Moving on… the case with Clark…."
Arthur gazed his focus onto Alfred who too, seemed bewildered and the slammed the case box in front of Arthur.
"It's time to get started dude! I went to Starbucks to get some coffee, and your stupid tea."
Arthur took his tea and sipped on the usual comforting taste of Earl Grey, but it wasn't as comforting due to the company around him. He was in the conference room alone, with Alfred.
"Dude, this is awesome! Look at all this evidence!" Alfred exclaimed holding up a pair of blood stained gloves taking it out of the sealed bag.
"Alfred! Put that down! You're like an insolent child!"
"Nah dude. You're just a sour old man" he grinned.
Arthur refrained from bursting out at him and his snide remark. "Careful this burning water doesn't end up on your face"
" What kind of AWESOME would you have the pleasure of looking at…?" Alfred stroked his own cheek. "So smooth…"
Arthur pulled the box towards his self and dug out the victim's profile, ignoring his coworker. "The report that Ludwig wants in by tomorrow has to have both Braginski's and Moloney's analysis and outline of this case."
"Oh man. It's going to take foreverrrrrrr"
" Welcome to the real world of work, Jones. Even though I don't know how you've got this far and high up…it's still a mystery to me."
"Whatever dude. We both know it's my godly sexy looks." Alfred said stroking back his hair and sticking out his chest.
" Alfred, stop being a bloody self centred git and write up Moloney."
"Why do I have to do the dead guy?" He whined sitting down next to Arthur.
"Because it's the easiest option that won't burn out your only brain cell. Besides, I know Ivan well." He shoved the box between them, to prevent Alfred's attempts of this stupid Friday business lurking back on him.
"That box isn't going to help you…"
STOP READING MY MIND YOU BLOODY WANKER. "Stop fucking around and let's get on with this case." Arthur rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie, and dug into the box.
"You're teasing me Arthur Kirkland…." Purred Alfred touching his hand in the evidence box.
"Oh am I…?" Arthur turned to face Alfred and gave him a sweet smile.
"Digging into that box like you would di- WHAT THE FUCK DUDE?" Alfred retreated his hand that just got savagely stabbed by Arthur's pen. "I COULD HAVE INK POISONING!"
"Get to work. It's going to be a long night."
"You're a bastard Arthur."
He smiled sweetly, "I try."Arthur put his pen down in triumph and yawned. He had accomplished the seemingly daunting task that Ludwig ordered, no thanks to Alfred, who had been sleeping for the past hour. Arthur gazed at his watch – 2am, no wonder the brainless git had been knocked out.
Alfred head rested flat on the table with his arms sprawled out, with one hand still clutching his patriotically American pen. His glasses rested awkwardly on his face and his gentle, childlike happiness was undisturbed and peaceful in his dormancy.
Arthur's heart warmed - he actually looked cute. Until you open that fucking awful mouth of yours.
Arthur poked him. "It's time to wake up."
'Huh?" His eyes fluttered open.
"It's time to go. We've done the work."
"Awesome dude" he yawned.
"I'll give you a lift back to your place."
Alfred nodded with a sleepy smile.
They gathered their belongings and they headed to the garage basement to Arthur's modest little car, a small red Mini Cooper.
"Your car is so stereotypically British, Arthur" He sighed getting into the passengers side.
"I've got to show some pride in the ex-Colony's capital." Arthur got in and turned on the ignition.
"It's a damn pain in the ass that I'm too tall for this…" Arthur turned to look at Alfred and laughed. Sure enough he was all hunched up and squashed.
They were silent for a good ten minutes, quietly listening to Arthur's eclectic music – which consisted of some hipster bands, but the silence was getting to Arthur, who was usually subjected to Alfred's unsubtle outbursts.
"Alfred. You're quiet for once… everything okay?"
"Don't worry dude. I'm just tired and I'm thinking."
"Splendid."
"You're not shouting at me or swearing at me…. Are you okay, Artie?"
"Don't call me that."
" Fine dude."
"Are you sure you're okay?" Arthur glanced him a smile at the surprisingly sad Alfred.
"Since when have you cared, Arthur?" Alfred shot him an accusing glare.
"Well. Fuck. Sorry for aski-"
"All you've ever done to me is insult me." Alfred continued. His voice getting more and more strained "I'm sick of this. I feel like all you do it take what I give to you and give NOTHING back. All I want is for you give something to me… I wish you would treat me like a person you can care for and be happy to see, but you ALWAYS act like I'm s-some… some… thing repulsive!"
Arthur stopped the car in a layby, and looked sincerely at Alfred.
"…I never wanted to seem I was treating you that way…" Arthur whispered. Shit. No. No. Not now…
" Arthur, I may act stupid, but it's not who I really am." He looked out the window. " I will show you."
"You're showing me now, Alfred." Arthur admitted. This was a side of Alfred he had never seen and it was scary, and it wasn't the use of extensive vocabulary.
"Then why do you still treat me like I'm nothing to you?"
"Because… because… it's hard for me…."
"To be less of an asshole?"
Arthur sighed. "To convey emotion…"
"That English stiff upper lip?'
"…I guess. Look Alfred – I didn't mean for-"
"Forget it. Let's just continue home." Alfred muttered.
"If that's what you want…" Arthur turned back into the lane.
"You can drop me off at the metro station that's coming up." Alfred told him.
"No. I'm dropping you off at your place. Besides we live in the same neighbourhood and it's late."
"Whatever. Just… " Alfred yawned. "Just… stick on some Kings of Leon."
They rode the remainder of the car ride in silence, and the tension of unspoken words, unspoken emotion that were on both of their minds.
"We're here" Arthur poked a dozing Alfred.
Alfred opened the door and got out as soon as Arthur parked. "Thanks for the lift. See you in the morning." And he headed up the stairs to his modest home.
"Bye."
Alfred Jones. What are you doing to me?
Arthur slammed the door shut behind him and grabbed the nearest alcoholic beverage his hands could grab in his drinks cabinet. He didn't bother to look what it was as it warmed his throat and spilled onto his shirt. He didn't care as he slunk to the floor clutching the bottle at his side. His emotions and thoughts were disarrayed and only alcohol could clear it and he took another chug of the liquid.
I'm trying so hard to suppress my feelings for him. Yet every time I always go back to him. I can't keep going on like this… he annoys the shit out of me with his arrogance yet his smile and the perfection in his touch…
Arthur ran his fingers through his hair and twisted his hair in sheer frustration.
That yankie is right… I do want him, and yet I push him away. But… I can't get deeply emotionally involved again... not after last time.
He glugged the remaining liquor and threw the bottle across the room and the defiant thud echoed in his head.
I …. I can't… do it again. I just can't. I can't go through the heartbreak of being insignificant to someone I thought I loved…
But I can't carry on being bitter about the past… I have to move on…. And what if Alfred is right? What if he does want to be the reason I look forward to seeing everyday?
I don't…
No.
Why do you always turn to alcohol to face your true emotions?
No.
One minute you love his physique, and the next you want to smash his face in….
No.
That smile, those piercing blue eyes….
No.
No.
NO.
Arthur got up from the floor and smoothed out his shirt. He knew what he was going to do.
You can do it Kirkland. Arthur reassured himself as he ascended in the lift up to the office. His own thoughts were starting to piss him off; they just didn't shut up. The lift cracked open and Arthur took a deep breath and walked to his cubicle, which of course, he had to go past Alfred's. He glanced quickly and Alfred wasn't there, which was strange because he was mostly there early, blowing himself kisses in the window.
Arthur darted across the hall is case of a surprise attack from the said abuser. Stupid Yank, making me fear even a small walk to my own workplace. Bollocks. He collapsed into his chair and took out a teabag from his drawer.
"Arthur. The meeting is in ten minutes." Ludwig barked from around the corner.
" 'Kay!" Arthur sighed, he completely forgot about that. He slammed the drawer shut, not even time for a cup of tea. He headed towards that meeting room of doom.
Arthur opened the meeting room door and was instantly suspicious; folders and papers were stacked neatly at each seat. Arthur opened one of them and sure enough, it was the Braginski case.
"Well, fuck me…" whispered Arthur.
"Good Morning Arthur." Alfred chirped from the doorway. He was leaning on the door sipping on his usual overpriced Vanilla Latte from Starbucks. He looked particularly smart (and dashing) today in his tailored black Armani suit complimented by the subtle silver shine of his red tie.
"You'll notice that I've compiled both the victim and Braginski into the folder. I've also made a PowerPoint for the images we analysed last night. "
"Alfred."
"I've also prepared a small personal analysis about the case. Is it okay if I share it?"
"..Um… sure… Alfr-"
"Perfect. Okay, I'm just going to get my notes."
"Wait!" Twat.
Alfred spun around. "What is it?"
I want to smother you. "… uh…Thanks?"
Alfred nodded and left leaving Arthur in a slight confused daze.
"…And that concludes the Braginski case and the initial analysis." Alfred finished with, what Arthur had never seen before, pure professionalism.
"Jones. That was excellent." Ludwig stood up. "I guess I have nothing to add due to that comprehensive analysis." He looked around to the others, who too, where taken back with Alfred, and confirmed Ludwig's astonishment, and walked out of the meeting with satisfaction.
Arthur however was trying to understand the whole meeting. Throughout it all Alfred remained composed, serious and for once, didn't bluff his way through. He actually sounded like he knew the case, thoroughly. And Arthur, who had been up all night revising the smallest detail, was amazed at the facts that Alfred picked up on the small details that he had missed. It wasn't jealousy, no, it was far from that, it was sheer awe.
As the room began to thin out Alfred packed up the papers from the meeting and Arthur leaned against the door, observing Alfred in a perplexed manner.
"That was … an amazing presentation."
Alfred gazed up. "It was nothing."
"Really…?" Arthur slowly moved towards Alfred.
" Yeah, I just looked at your notes last night, and made up my own ideas from there."
Alfred looked at Arthur expectantly and paused. "I… should thank you…"
"Why?" Arthur smiled.
"B-b-because... it was your work."
"Shut up you twat." He was face to face with Alfred and his eyes were looking straight into Arthur's and they said so many unsaid things. Desire. Lust. Restraint…
"Did… the presenta-"
Arthur silenced him by pressing his finger to Alfred's lips.
"Shhhh…" He teased smirking at the American's blush.
Alfred moved his head back and looked sincerely into the Englishman's eyes.
"What if you're just going to push me away again…? He whispered.
"I won't…" Arthur brushed his nose against Alfred's.
"Aren't you going to deny it, like you've done before?" Alfred whispered, hesitant, pulling away, but Arthur had different plans – he pulled him in with the tug of his shirt collar and kissed him.
-
A/N - This is my first ever public fanfic, so I'm a little anxious of how it will be received!
It's the work on here that's inspired me to write this.
There is a continuation (yet to be written), but of course, still a little shy if I should continue this.