When we got inside, I paid for the both of us at the counter like a man, with light protests from the Brit scowling beside me, which I ignored. We were taken to a table by a small, very petite Asian girl who looked tiny even next to Arthur, who wasn't all that tall himself. She asked what we would like to drink in a heavy accent, making it difficult for me to understand her. Seemingly unaffected by the confusing words, the Englishman across from me ordered some type of tea that I didn't know about. I didn't know much about tea in general, so that wasn't really a shocker. I ordered some Coke and the woman nodded once, jerkily, and left, her strides surprisingly long for someone with such short legs.
"Alright!" I said, leaping up. "I want some food! I'm starving!"
Arthur looked uncertain. "But shouldn't we wait for her to get back so we can get our drinks first?"
I brushed off his worry with a wave. "Nah, she'll remember where we were sitting!"
"But what if they give the table to someone else?"
"Man, you are such a worrywart!" I told him, ruffling his hair, which earned me an infuriated glare. "C'mon, leave your manpurse on the seat and they won't give the table up! I want to show you some of the awesome food they have here!"
He stuck his nose up at me with an offended air, closing his eyes and crossing his arms. "It is NOT a manpurse. It is a satchel. Common enough mistake… For the uneducated, that is. And I am staying here until she gets back, because I am not a rude bastard like you."
With a theatrical sigh, I sat down again. "Kay, if that's what you wanna do I guess… Y'know, I don't really see the difference between satchels and manpurses. They're both handbags that men carry around like purses, so shouldn't they just be manpurses? Why give them a fancy, gayer sounding name? Seriously, I just don't get it!"
Arthur looked like he had been mortally wounded in a battle or something. "BECAUSE, you simple minded idiot, they are FAR FROM the same thing!" Then he went on to tell me the history or something about satchels and how they have been worn by all sorts of important foreign dudes that I didn't care about. I spaced about halfway through, staring at his mouth moving intently, wondering what it would taste like, imagining what it would feel like pressed against my own.
Not long after he had finished, the little Asian lady came back with our drinks, which I thanked her for politely, mimicking Arthur's sweet, British words without the accent.
"So now do you understand?" he asked, gently taking a sip of his tea.
I did the same with my Coke, unnecessary slurping noises coming from my straw. "Uh huh! Can we go now? Please? I'm practically dying from starvation over here!"
He rolled his eyes at me, but got up, leaving his "satchel" on his seat and following behind me as I strode over to the buffet and began to fill my plate ten miles high with every food that didn't look like it was an egg or eyeball of some sort. I got some weird smelling noodles, lots of chicken, rices, and sushi, plus those delicious rolls that only Asian people could pull off, the ones that melted in your mouth. When I checked behind me to see how Arthur was doing, I found him a little ways away, staring with unbridled concern at some kind of food, nothing on his plate yet. Balancing my own dish on my hands, I came over to see what was up.
"Hey, what's going on dude?" I asked him.
"Is this… EDIBLE?" he gasped, looking like he felt sick.
I investigated it, staring at the brown liquid with all sorts of chunks floating in it with my keen eyes, picking up on anything that looked unusual or dangerous. "Well, yeah, I'd say it IS edible, but not even I would eat that! Don't dwell too much on the weird foods, and go more for the ones you can recognize. Here," I added, taking some chicken off my plate and putting it on his.
"That's chicken, right?" I couldn't blame him for being hesitant after whatever it was we had just seen.
I gave him an enthusiastic nod before taking his arm and gently dragging him over to where there was more chicken and rice and then, letting him have at it, went back to the table and began to shove all my food into my mouth, taking minute breaks so that I could take a sip of Coke, only to start piling food back into my mouth again seconds later. He came over after a little bit, his plate still virtually empty, only covered by a few pieces of chicken, a roll, and a pile of one type of rice. He ate all of them delicately, quietly testing the flavors of each before sticking it into his mouth all the way.
I finished long before he did, getting a few more plates full every few minutes. When I decided I was done with the normal food, and he had finally finished, I took him over to the ice cream and dessert counter, which he seemed to enjoy much more immensely. We both got a small ceramic bowl full of chocolate ice cream, mine smothered with gummy bears, jelly beans, and chocolate chips, his with only whipped cream on the top. Sitting back down, I glimpsed over at him as he took the first bite of his, causing the fluffy white cream to get all over his face.
With a thump, my heart took off as his tongue flicked out and licked up all that it could reach, which left the majority of it, really. I felt my own tongue twitch in desire, wanting so badly to just press my mouth to his and let myself go. It was like he was BAITING me, the way he acted and how he moved. Surely he had to be doing it all on purpose…
"Why are you staring at me like that?" he growled, finally seeming to notice I was looking at him. "I know I have whipped cream on me, but I was just about to wipe it off, so go back to your own ice cream." Just then, he brought a napkin to his face, about to take away the mess and bring my fantasies with it.
"Wait!" I called unintentionally.
Instantly, he froze, his eyes sliding to mine over the nicely folded piece of paper. "What?"
Going with my feelings, I just said what was on my mind, no filters. "Don't move…" I whispered in a husky, deeper tone that caused him to flush pink.
"A-Alfred, wha…"
But he never got to finish, because I had already leaned over the table and placed my lips unhesitatingly onto his, silencing whatever he was about to say. The sweet taste of the cream he had put onto his ice cream filled my mouth, and I parted his lips, searching hungrily for more. I heard a noise of surprise come from his throat, but it didn't sound like he was protesting to me. Encouraged, I deepened the kiss, letting my tongue roam through his mouth.
But that was too much for him. Suddenly, the surprised noise DID sound like protest and I felt his weak shove on my shoulders. I pulled away from him, opening my eyes and sucking in air, smiling to myself because I had DONE it. He, however, didn't look so pleased. His face was dark red, his hand pressed to his mouth, his green eyes bright and suspiciously damp. Okay, so kissing him like that out of the blue hadn't been the best idea… The more he stared at me with those violated eyes, the more like a jerk I felt. Especially when he stood up, grabbed his coat and manpu… satchel, and stalked out of the building, telling me that he would wait in the car, his voice wavering.
I hopped up after him, grabbing two fortune cookies from the basket on the front desk before we left. He got to the car and I unlocked it, letting him get in and then sitting down on the driver's side next to him. I quietly put a cookie in the hand closest to me, which his fingers closed against with a violent crushing sound. I bet he had thought that was my hand or something.
"Arthur?" I tried to make my voice light and muted, but as usual it came out loud and abrupt.
He didn't respond, only sniffled a little. Had I really made him cry with just one kiss?
"Arthur, I'm really sorry! I didn't mean to kiss you like that, I just… I mean, with the whipped cream… you looked… I wasn't thinking. It was stupid, just like me." It was a stretch to say that line, but I had a feeling he was the kind of guy it would work on, the kind who felt superior to all other human beings on the face of the planet.
When he turned to look at me, eyes puffy and red from crying, I couldn't help the mental "bingo!" that shot through my head. "You ARE stupid, you bloody wanker!"
Looking as sad as I possibly could, feeling fake tears welling up behind my own eyes, I jutted my bottom lip out and looked down miserably. "Yeah… I know."
"Stop trying to make yourself look bad, you bastard! I'm not falling for the 'I'm so innocent, look at my puppy dog face that will make you want to love me' thing that you're trying to use! That may have worked for you before," he added on, "but it'll never work on me. You're too old to be cute, anyway." His voice was less wavering and upset now, and more fierce and sure.
Success! "You're right; I AM too old to be cute. But I'm the perfect age to be sexy!"
He made a scoffing noise and took out the hanky I had slobbered on so that he could blow his nose on it. I wondered if he used the same hanky for everything, then decided I didn't really want to know the answer to that. "But I really am sorry… I didn't exactly mean to do that."
"You're a wanker," he responded.
"Hey, what IS a wanker exactly?"
Looking out into the blackened sky, his face lit up with a dark humor. "I'm not quite sure that you really want to know."
Frowning at the road, I whined, "But I do! Tell me tell me tell me!"
"No, no. I'm positive it would ruin life for you."
"Just one word? Dude, I'm pretty sure my life won't be changed by much. I'll just have a bigger vocabulary!"
With a snarky grin he said, "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. The technical dictionary definition says, and I quote, "A male masturbator."
I couldn't help the stunned look that shot across my face. "So… like, this whole time you've been calling me a masturbator? How would you even know if…?" I paused for a moment, realizing something else. "Wait, did you say "…and I quote?" Does that mean you've been looking up "wanker" in the dictionary?"
Whatever response he had had to my question died after I said that. It was replaced with a whole lot of stuttering and blushing that had me laughing my butt off at him. "N-no! I did NOT look it up in the dictionary!"
"But you said…"
"FORGET WHAT I SAID!" he shouted furiously.
I chuckled some more at him while he steamed, until we pulled back into the parking lot of the theatre, which was already extremely filled. Almost reluctantly, I looked at the time on my car's clock, and realized we were about fifteen minutes late. Arthur had noticed too and looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown. We ran inside, both praying that the director, Elizaveta, wouldn't be TOO mad at us.
Unfortunately, if Arthur had looked like he was going to have a freak out, Elizaveta looked positively psychotic. She was running around, pulling on people, and begging them to tell her where the two most main characters of the story were. While she was hanging off a guy I recognized as Feliks, we spazzed in and he told her, "They're like, totally right there!"
She stilled and turned around extremely slowly to look at us, dark purple waves of anger visibly emanating from her, her eyes hell bent. Her long, wavy brown hair flowed around her almost like Medusa. "And just what do you two THINK YOU'RE DOING?" she shrieked, throwing a shaking finger to point at us.
"Uh… sorry! Traffic was a serious nightmare!" I said quickly, scared for my life. "We tried to get here as fast as we could!"
"T-T-TRAFFIC? TRAFFIC, YOU SAY? WELL MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE THE COMMON SENSE TO PLAN FOR TRAFFIC!" Out of nowhere, a frying pan appeared in her grip and she came toward us, shaking with pure, unadulterated ferocity.
"D-don't blame me! This wanker took me to eat! I wasn't driving, nor did I have the time on me!" Arthur squeaked in an attempt to save himself, cowering behind me.
She stopped right in front of us, fire blazing in her eyes, frying pan poised to smack, teeth gritted into a mentally unstable smile… and handed us our scripts joyfully. "I have finally revealed the second act! It took me awhile to write, but I did it! I DID IT! And now, you two need to get up on the stage like good little boys and NEVER BE LATE AGAIN!"
We did as she said, seeing how she had a weapon and all. Roderick was already onstage, investigating his girlfriend's script with an unwavering, level gaze. I almost looked away, to start reading my own part, when I heard him gasp. "Elizaveta, though I realize that you are the director here, I would like to make a protest to this!"
She smiled maniacally and shook her head no. "There is ABSOLUTELY no complaining, Roddy dear! I already wrote it, and that is how it STAYS! Now, all of you! Set up for the first scene! Let's go, go, go people! Feli, dear, go get me a water from the vending machine, will you? Okay, aaaaaaand….. ACTION!"
In the first part of the second act, something suddenly had happened to our teacher, or Cedric and he had fallen ill, sending us on the bartender murder mystery all alone. I had assumed this was the plot twist, but as I went through, I realized that it couldn't be, that the climax hadn't even come yet. When it finally did come, Daniel caught the criminal, or who he THOUGHT had been the criminal. We had put him in jail, the cops taken him in, when suddenly, all alone in our room together, relieved about putting a criminal away, Thomas and Daniel… and suddenly, we got to what Roderick had obviously protested to Elizaveta about.
"Wh-wh-what is this?" Arthur gasped, staring at his script in sheer horror. "We have to KISS? And have SEX? And why in bloody hell am I ON THE BOTTOM?"
"CUT! Like I said, Arthur, I already wrote it and that is how it STAYS! I realize while it may not be the most… desired thing for you, you are an actor, and your character wants Thomas like that. I was really on a role this time! And then, in the midst of their passionate embrace… Thomas makes a confession! HE is in fact, the murderer all along! It's… it's… BRILLIANT!" She erupted into psychotic laughter before calming down again. "Oh, and try to make your sex look realistic, okay? Plus, you're on bottom because you look more like a woman and, let's face it, you are SO AN UKE!"
"I'm a WHAT?" Arthur demanded angrily.
"It's the girl in a homosexual relationship," Roderick explained hastily. "But, Eliza, why do I have to walk in on them doing THAT?"
"So you can hear Thomas's confession, duh! Then you can put him behind bars and the world can be safe from the menace of innocent, clueless little Alfred! Alright, enough complaints, let's get back to the show! And yes, you two, I DO expect you to get naked in front of everyone. Okay, start the scene, and… ACTION!"
I looked at my words, barely believing this was actually happening to me. I was actually going to get to pretend to have SEX with him. Blushing lightly, I said my lines, seducing my co-detective with my most warm, intoxicating bedroom voice, almost not acting anymore, though I wouldn't have chosen those lines in specific. He turned a much deeper red than me, obviously resisting the urge to hide his face as my intimate words echoed off the back walls for everyone to hear. It was his turn to speak, but he seemed frozen in the moment as I loomed over him, taking his head in my hands. Under my breath, I whispered, "Say your line."
He complied, saying his line, but his voice was way too quiet and wavering, and I knew before she did that Elizaveta would scream, "CUT! Project, Arthur, PROJECT! I want to be able to hear you in the very back of the auditorium! I want people OUTSIDE to be able to hear you!"
"I-I… I can't do it!" he yelled, sounding seriously ticked off. "I just can't!"
"You ARE AN ACTOR! You don't get to say that you can't! So get your butt back over there so Alfred can do it already!"
"Well then maybe I QUIT!" he spat back, embarrassment written heavily on every feature of him, even in his stance.
He was embarrassed to be pretending to do that with ME, I told myself. He was willing to quit because of ME. Feeling my heart begin to ache, I pulled my hamburger from earlier out of my pocket as a nervous habit and began to eat it, upset.
Talk of quitting got Elizaveta to pay a little more attention than before. "Okay, okay. Please don't quit. But, Arthur, hon, I really do need you to do this part, because it's the whole ending of the play! It's the climax! It's the big surprise that nobody expects! Don't worry, it'll only last as long as you make it last. Okay, now I need you to reset and do it again!"
To my surprise, Arthur complied, letting me back on top of him like before. "If I have to do it," he said, seeing my expression, "then I'm going to do it as fast as I bloody can."
With Elizaveta's cue, we started the scene again, and this time, we made it all the way to the end.
