Water splashed the fading red out of Arthur's hair.
Fine steel tweezers plucked at Arthur's infinite brows.
Should Arthur wear his white silk shirt or was that too intimate? Then again, what about a ripped black metal band top says 'kiss me'? Especially to someone like Alfred?
Right, Alfred. His date was with Alfred. What would Alfred be into?
He swallowed his nervousness and hardened his resolve.
Time for some investigation.
Alfred was a frat boy. He was sure to use all kinds of social media.
Arthur whipped out his phone.
Flags, trucks, bottles of rum mixed with coke and tea in mason jars- all these frivolities and more dotted Alfred's pictures. He was such a "southern boy": Arthur scoffed. At the same time there were strangely artful pictures of coffee and rain, the synthetic lights of Manhattan and the stars reflected on the river water of rural Arkansas. The longer Arthur scrolled through Alfred's profile, the more he began to believe Alfred's complexity transcended Arthur's first impression of him. He held up a movie poster for Citizen Kane in one photo and for the Micheal Bay Transformers movie in the next. As incomprehensible as a fan of both of these movies had to be, Arthur did glean at least one thing from this: Alfred loved the cinema.
That was enough for Arthur!
He had cut an old Pulp Fiction shirt his brother used to own sleeveless earlier that year out of spite. What a lucky coincidence that turned out to be.
Slipping it on, he inspected his waist and arms. Should he wear eyeliner or skip it?
In the end, Arthur settled on actually wearing his cartilage piercing for once. He inspected himself in the mirror and realised a grave error- his face was natural, freckles and all.
Well, we couldn't have that.
Arthur rummaged quickly in his drawer.
Aha! There it was. Pale powder foundation that long stopped belonging to his mother.
He dusted his face with it, hiding his blemishes behind a convincing mask.
That would do it! He looked good, great even.
No way he wouldn't get a shag out of this.
Even through the foundation, Arthur could tell his cheeks reddened.
He applied more foundation.
Knock-knock.
Arthur's heart lurched forward. He tried not to rush to the front of the apartment, but he tipped over a full glass of water and dropped his phone on the way to the door.
Knock knock knock knock!
Well, Alfred was sure patient, Arthur thought sarcastically as he wiped the wet floor with a paper towel. It wasn't cold outside, and Arthur wasn't aching to see him or anything, so he had no reason to expect a delinquent like Arthur to rush to see him like some lovestruck schoolgirl.
And yet, before Arthur opened the door, he breathed deeply and smoothed his hair in the window.
Here goes nothing.
"Hey, Arthur," Alfred greeted chipperly.
Why did Arthur believe he could avoid being smitten?
This jocky, fit, unbelievable fucker- ugh, his teeth were sublime, how dare he smile so charmingly. Even his glasses, which should have detracted from his overall attractiveness, actually managed to accentuate his high cheekbones and great jawline making him sexier than he would be otherwise.
Not that he wouldn't be goddamn sexy otherwise. He picked a shirt that matched his endless blue eyes, which by the way, complimented the tan skin and honey-blond hair.
Arthur slapped himself.
He had to snap out of it! At this point, he had been staring at Alfred and practically drooling for what seemed like an eternity.
He wouldn't mind spending eternity staring into those sea blue eyes though… maybe Alfred fucked as gentle, as rough, as turbulent as the waves, too…
He really needed to get a hold of himself.
"Like what you see?" Alfred laughed with a shit eating grin.
Slam.
Arthur shut the door on him.
"Aw, Arthur come on, I was teasing!" Alfred pleaded for perhaps the twentieth time. "Please come out."
Arms wrapped around his legs protectively, he didn't want to admit that he enjoyed Alfred's pleading or that it was moving him. Why couldn't he control his stupid heartbeat or his stupid eyes? His stupid imagination running wild.
Why was he getting this embarrassed about sex?
Arthur had been a sexual deviant for years now! Any other day, any other time, any other man and Arthur would have answered that blatant sexual advance with his lips and his hips.
Why was Alfred any different?
Was he too beautiful?
Arthur swallowed. How Alfred was even interested in someone like Arthur in the first place was silly.
'You don't know anything about me,' Arthur thought dejectedly. 'If you did, you wouldn't want to pursue an actual relationship with me.'
Alfred's banging and pleading stopped.
Did he leave?
Did he actually leave?
Arthur's heart sank into his stomach.
"Arthur," Alfred spoke gently from the other side of the door.
His breath hitched in his throat.
"Don't be scared to go on this date with me. If you don't want to be my boyfriend, you don't have to. It's just one date," Alfred assured. "I won't force you to be anything you aren't."
Silence.
Then, stuttered breathing.
Hesitantly, Arthur rose to his feet. He opened the door.
"I wasn't worried about that, stupid," he muttered ingenuously.
"Yeah, you were," Alfred chuckled, then leaned over to whisper, "I know 'cause you definitely were speaking your thoughts out loud just now."
Arthur's face went hot, numb, red.
Prat! He ought to go back inside and slam the door on him again. He would have done it, too, if Alfred hadn't jammed his foot into the doorframe.
Sneaky bastard.
A smile flickered across Arthur's lips.
"Fine," he sighed, "Here's your one date."
A wide grin spread across Alfred's face. "Alright!"
"By the way," A finger gently prodded Arthur's chest.
Unwittingly wide and hopeful, emerald eyes looked up.
"I like your shirt."
Alfred was spoiling Arthur, but of course he didn't want a relationship. The frat boy himself had said so at the door of Arthur's apartment.
Frat boys aren't faithful anyway. Arthur knew because he had assisted some in cheating before.
Besides, who was he really spoiling by taking Arthur to a high-end movie theatre? Rich boy.
Arthur glanced over at said rich boy, who was buried up to his neck in junk food.
Yep, he was spoiling himself alright!
But Alfred did take him to a nice French restaurant and weathered Arthur's argument with their French waiter over superior cheeses. He laughed as Arthur tried to sneak wine into Alfred's glass conspicuously and bought Arthur's dinner and shared his dessert generously. He let Arthur pick the music in the car. He had brought him to the overly pretentious indie romance thriller that he had wanted to see with no moaning or complaining. Actually, he seemed more into it than Arthur, who was struggling to understand the main character's motivations and desperately wanted to complain about it during the movie.
As soon as he was about to voice his opinions to Alfred, though, his hand was encircled warmly by another.
It was soft and calloused at the same time. Warm and welcoming.
Arthur resisted.
But the urge was too strong.
He entangled his fingers with Alfred's.
Their hands sat like that for shorter than Arthur would have liked.
He wanted to rub the back of Alfred's hand with his thumb. He wanted to bring it to his lips.
Why did he want to be so tender? When had his heart grown so weak?
Alfred disengaged his hand, though, and Arthur just had to comply sadly.
Gazing at Arthur's pursed lips and light blush, Alfred felt his own cheeks warm. Arthur was so much cuter than he imagined. At first, Alfred was expecting them to be a much cooler coupling- a quick flame all that he thought a striking flirt like Arthur would want from him.
But as Arthur squirmed, seeming to want to touch Alfred again but unable to push himself to do it, Alfred realised that there was probably more to the British man than booze and beauty.
He smiled sweetly. "If you want to hold hands, Arthur, all you have to do is say so," he whispered.
Damn.
Arthur turned away.
Quickly, as if it were painful, his hand ran down Alfred's arm.
Arthur inhaled sharply. He was so toned.
Slowly, tentatively, Arthur wrapped his slender fingers around Alfred's. Gentle, but sure, he nestled his palm into Alfred's.
He could feel the beam of that smile on the nape of his neck and it just made him heat up even more.
Oh, why? Why was he so soft?
Arthur smiled gently to himself.
Who was Arthur fooling? He had always been this weak.
"What's this?"
The wind breathed on Alfred's neck. Good. It'd suddenly gotten warm and sweaty.
Arthur stammered, retracting his hand snappily, fingertips electric, "I-it's my phone number."
Emerald eyes avoided sapphire.
Alfred smirked. "Usually people just take my phone and add their contact info or text themselves."
Arthur's mouth upturned in a small bashful frown. Of course. Alfred thought he was cliche and stupid.
"You're so cute."
Well, that was unexpected. Arthur's eyes widened in shock.
"I'll text you- actually, better yet, I'll call you," Alfred proclaimed giddily, and rubbed his arm.
"So... I'll see you later?"
Arthur swallowed. His hopes had been dashed.
His dejection must have been more evident than he thought because Alfred moved closer.
Wrapping his strong arms around Arthur's small frame, he closed the distance between them.
"Hey," he said.
Arthur could hear him speak against his chest, the vibrations enveloping him sweetly. He felt close. Comfortable.
Loved.
Why did tears well in Arthur's eyes and his heart lurch out of his chest? Why did he feel like everything was perfect and he made a mistake all at once?
It was only one date!
Only one.
Only once wouldn't hurt. Alfred said.
Maybe… just a little more.
"Hello," Arthur whispered into Alfred, nuzzling his face into Arthur's collarbone.
Just this. Maybe just this would be okay.
Just close enough.
But who was Arthur kidding?
He was too weak to leave it at this.
A flash, a spark, over as soon as it happened, Arthur's lips touched Alfred's.
And he'd started the fire.
The fire that would burn down Arthur's walls.
a/n: gotta go to work, so these'll be short. Arthur isn't enough of a punk, lol…. He's so bashful. Thanks for reading! -morethanjust-usuk / sam