CHAPTER TWO: FIRST DATE

On Saturday, Arthur spent the entire morning daydreaming about Alfred. He had a few customers who came in, mostly regulars who would browse his used books and occasionally sit in a comfy armchair to while away the day. He was pleasant and as attentive as he could be, pointing customers to newer selections and old favourites, but his heart wasn't really in it. He was too distracted thinking about his upcoming date. Francis stopped by at noon with some croissants and fruit and the two had a casual lunch while discussing the events of the last week.

"I'm glad to see your window is fixed," Francis pointed toward the front of the store as he munched on some cheese. "It's almost as though this entire nightmare never happened."

"Well, not completely," Arthur said, smiling softly. "I have a date tonight. With Alfred."

"That handsome police officer?" Francis clapped his hands. "Oh, do tell."

"He asked me out for tonight," Arthur blushed. "He's been coming by the shop every few days just to say hello."

"Is he in uniform when he stops by?" Francis leered.

"Sometimes," Arthur's blush deepened and he brushed imaginary dust off of the counter.

"I'll bet he looks divine," Francis sighed. "To think, your shop got robbed and you got a boyfriend out of it."

"He's not my boyfriend." Arthur insisted. "He's just a friend and we're going out for dinner or something tonight. That's all."

"You don't even call me a friend to my face," Francis pouted. "It must be love."

"I'm not in love with him you twat."

"Careful Arthur, lies do not become you." The Frenchman wiggled his eyebrows and laughed. Arthur felt his stomach roll over. He didn't want it to be so obvious how much he had already fallen for the attractive young cop. Francis was reading more into the situation than what was warranted, that was all.

When he finally shooed Francis and his lunch offerings away, Arthur tried to force himself to relax for the rest of the day as he busied himself with work, but it was no use. His French friend's words had left their mark. Did he love Alfred? It seemed impossible to love someone who he had just met, but he couldn't deny that there was at least a very strong attraction to Alfred. Perhaps he was just coming down with the flu and that was why his face felt so flushed.

Five o'clock came and went and Arthur counted out the money in the drawers, locking most of it away in the little safe in the back before he flipped the sign out front from open to closed. He wandered upstairs slowly, watching his feet as they took each step. Unlocking the door to his modest flat, he knelt down and greeted his cat, Crumpet when he entered. The feline wound around his legs begging for food.

Arthur wasted as much time as he could feeding Crumpet and then he had the arduous task of finding something decent to wear. He had no idea where Alfred was taking him tonight, and he found himself confused as to what the appropriate attire would be. Finally settling on a pair of skinny jeans and his favourite sweater vest, the Englishman proceeded to make himself a cup of tea to calm his nerves. He felt completely frayed. He hadn't been on a date in so long and he didn't remember them being this stressful.

At precisely six o clock, Arthur was prepared for a knock on the door, but it didn't come. By ten after six, the Englishman was pacing his apartment, scaring Crumpet to no end and glaring at the door. Was Alfred really standing him up? Was this all some sort of joke on the police officer's part? Arthur didn't know and he was beginning to fume. At fifteen after six he made himself another cup of tea and finally sat down at his small kitchen table, sipping the soothing beverage and trying to convince himself that he wasn't upset. Finally at twenty after, there came a loud knock at the door, which startled both the Englishman and his cat. Arthur turned and met Crumpet's glare before he got up and went to the door.

Opening the front door of his apartment, Arthur was stunned to see Alfred standing on the threshold, his hand raised, ready to knock once again. The cop was wearing dark jeans and a grey sweater, with the sleeves pushed up. He had a bouquet of wilting flowers in his left hand and he looked completely gorgeous. Arthur's breath caught.

"Hey Artie," Alfred grinned sheepishly. "Sorry I'm late. We had a staff meeting that ran over."

Forgetting all about his earlier anger, Arthur melted. "It's perfectly all right Alfred." He managed. "I wasn't waiting long."

"Great!" the American chirped. Holding out the bouquet with a stiff arm, he smiled brightly at Arthur and said, "These are for you. I hope you like daisies."

"I like all sorts of flowers," Arthur tentatively reached for the flowers and held them to his nose, inhaling the scent. "Thank you Alfred." Moving into his apartment, Arthur began to search for a vase to place the flowers in and waved his hand inviting Alfred to enter the small flat.

"You've got a real nice place here," Alfred nodded as he looked around the bright and sunny kitchen. "Much better than mine."

"Oh," Arthur placed the flowers in the vase he had discovered. "Where do you live?"

"I have a basement apartment a few miles from here." Alfred said. "I want to move because the people who own the house are kind of weird and don't appreciate it when I have to work the night shift, but it's okay for now."

"I'd love to see it sometime," Arthur said without thinking. He immediately flushed, thinking that he had just invited himself over to Alfred's place. It was rude and ungentlemanly, which Arthur couldn't abide by.

Alfred just chuckled and nodded. "You're welcome to come by any time Artie," he smiled. "So, I got us a reservation," he looked at the floor and seemed to study it with great interest. "Would you want to get going?"

"Yes, that would be lovely," Arthur was preoccupied with staring at the wall. Anywhere he could look that wasn't Alfred's chest was a win.

Gathering his keys and a light jacket, Arthur ushered Alfred out of the door and down the steps to the sidewalk. The light was still bright but beginning to fade as they met on the street. Alfred looked anxious as Arthur walked toward him. "Hey Artie?"

"It's Arthur," Arthur huffed. He didn't understand where the beautiful young cop got off on calling him by a shortened version of his name. But his reprimand didn't have much bite behind it.

"Arthur," Alfred amended. "Could I hold your hand?" He reached his own palm out toward the Englishman with a small smile on his handsome face.

"I suppose that would be all right," Arthur laced his fingers with Alfred's and both men felt a jolt as they touched. It was electric and charged. "So where are you taking me?" Arthur finally looked up into Alfred's eyes. As soon as their gaze met, he wished he hadn't made eye contact. Alfred's eyes were impossibly blue behind his glasses and Arthur wasn't sure if he was still breathing.

"Just a little place down the street," Alfred whispered. "We can walk."

"Okay," Arthur said stiffly. He dropped his gaze to the sidewalk and took his place next to Alfred, their finger still entwined together.

The pair made their way down the street, hand in hand, occasionally brushing shoulders. Arthur found it very comforting, but at the same time he was on edge. He hadn't been out on a date in years. What if he did or said something that he would regret? He already knew that he wanted more dates with Alfred beyond this one. He had to be perfect.

Alfred made small talk about the weather for a few moments before he asked Arthur how his day had been. "It was fine," Arthur began. "Francis stopped by for lunch and we talked for a while. The shop was quite busy today as well. It kept me distracted."

"Distracted from what"

"From you." The words were out of Arthur's mouth before he even had time to think. Oh, what had he said? Alfred would surely think him a pathetic old man now.

Alfred simply chuckled lightly and said, "So I distract you huh?"

"A bit," Arthur admitted, his face flushing.

"That's good to know."

Arthur wanted to fall into a hole in the sidewalk. He couldn't believe he had actually admitted that to Alfred. What the young police officer must think about him. Clearing his throat, Arthur attempted to change the subject by asking Alfred how long he had been a cop.

"Only two years," Alfred said cheerfully. "I'm still kind of the new guy on the force. I graduated from the academy two and a half years ago and got a job with our station right away. I hope that one day I can make detective."

"That seems like a worthy goal," Arthur said.

"Yeah, it would be awesome!" Alfred agreed. "Well, here we are." He pointed to the front of a small, quaint restaurant that Arthur had passed many times before, but had never entered. "It's mostly Italian food," Alfred said apologetically, "But they have great steaks too."

"It sounds lovely," Arthur squeezed Alfred's hand. The American beamed.

Stepping away from Arthur, Alfred reached for the door and held it open for the Englishman. Arthur felt a little sad at the loss of Alfred's hand in his own, but he found the concept of a man holding open the door for him to be truly refreshing. His last date hadn't done anything like this.

They entered the darkened restaurant and were immediately given a table near the back where it was quieter. Alfred pulled out Arthur's chair for him and the Englishman couldn't help but smile. Once they were seated and had ordered drinks, coke for Alfred and a white wine for Arthur, they simply stared across the table at one another in silence.

"Don't you want wine?" Arthur finally asked.

"Nah," Alfred shook his head. "I don't drink that much. Usually I'm on duty, but I like to have my wits about me at all times. Only on special occasions like weddings and stuff."

"That's admirable," Arthur said as he thought of his own well-stocked liquor cabinet. He liked the taste of alcohol a little too much sometimes.

"So Artie," Alfred leaned his elbows on the table and smiled at Arthur. "Tell me all about yourself."

Arthur explained that he was born and raised in a small suburb of London but had moved to the states for university when he was in his teens. He graduated with a degree in English literature and immediately found that there were no jobs to be had with his major with the exception of retail and waiting tables. At the urging of his friend Francis who he had met at college, he bought a small shop front and opened his used bookstore three years previously. It was doing a rather steady business and Arthur was pleased and proud of his accomplishments. Alfred listened attentively and nodded in all the right places and asked pointed questions that delved deeper into the Brit's background. Arthur didn't feel as though he were being interrogated, but he found himself admitting to things that he normally wouldn't on a first date. It was rather unnerving.

It turned out that Alfred had lived in the area his whole life and had originally attended university with the idea to study criminal law. But the boisterous young American soon found out that studying law was rather boring and he dropped out of school and entered the police academy to follow in his father and grandfather's footsteps. He was fresh faced and excited about being a cop and he honestly said he couldn't imagine a more rewarding career. Arthur listened to the young man speak and found himself almost lulled by the American's soothing accent.

Before they knew it, Arthur had consumed an entire bottle of wine and their food was arriving. Alfred looked ecstatic at the plate of lasagna that was placed in front of him and even more excited about the juicy steak on the plate next to it. Arthur smiled, thinking that there was no way that the police officer would be able to finish all that food. He was proven wrong. Alfred had a substantial appetite. Throughout the remainder of their meal, Alfred continued to ask Arthur questions even as he stuffed his face with the delicious food. Arthur was mildly horrified at the American's table manners but he soon got over it, as he looked into Alfred's bright blue eyes.

When their plates were finally cleared away, the waiter came by with a hand printed dessert menu that they both poured over very quickly. Alfred immediately decided on a piece of chocolate cake and Arthur went for an after dinner cocktail. He was feeling pleasantly buzzed and he enjoyed the illusion of relaxation that the liquor brought. He wasn't usually this pleasant and he wanted to make sure that Alfred asked for another date. The cake arrived with two forks and Alfred insisted that Arthur at least try one little bite. The Englishman acquiesced and found the cake to be moist and delicious. Alfred joked about ordering a second piece and Arthur's eyes bugged out of his head for a moment.

The large plate glass window at the front of the restaurant showed that the sun was nearly set by this time and Arthur found himself relaxing even more into the agreeable atmosphere. There was something nagging at the back of Arthur's mind though. "Alfred," he leaned forward. "Why did you come back that day to help me at the shop?"

"Well," Alfred shrugged and blushed. "I just really liked you and I wanted an excuse to see you again."

"Seriously?" Arthur sat back in his chair with a surprised look on his face.

"Seriously," Alfred nodded. "I didn't want to ask for your number or anything while we were still in the middle of a crime scene but then I couldn't stop thinking about you and how your eyes are so green and I couldn't help myself. I had to stop by and see you again as soon as I was off shift."

"I find that hard to believe," Arthur looked down at the drink in front of him and played with the stirring straw.

"Believe it," Alfred said sincerely. "I had to see you again."

Arthur felt the blush race across his cheeks and was grateful for the dim lighting of the restaurant. "That's a very kind sentiment," he whispered.

"It's the truth." Alfred said vehemently. "I've never met anyone like you before. You were so calm and together at the crime scene and you handled it really well. And then talking to you more, I couldn't get your accent out of my head." Alfred himself blushed then. "I really like you Arthur."

"I like you too Alfred."

Alfred's smile lit up the room. "I'm glad."

The bill came and they played a little game of who was going to pay, but Alfred won, pushing Arthur's wallet back towards the Englishman with a laugh. "My treat," the American said firmly.

"If you insist," Arthur demurred. He put away his wallet and said, "But I'm paying next time."

"Next time?" Alfred teased as he placed his credit card on the bill. "So I take it you want to go out again?"

"Most definitely Jones," Arthur smiled wider than he could remember in recent memory. He felt light and content. This date had gone better than he expected. All his nerves were for naught.

As they walked back to Arthur's apartment, their hands clasped together once again, Arthur realized that he did have reason to be nervous. Would Alfred try to kiss him goodnight? Would he let him? The answer was immediate in the Englishman's mind. Of course! Alfred had been the perfect gentleman all night, of course Arthur would let him have a goodnight kiss. That is, if the American wanted one. Arthur immediately began stressing over whether or not Alfred would want to kiss him. It made for a quiet walk back.

Once they reached Arthur's shop, Alfred insisted on walking Arthur all the way up the stairs to the door. Navigating the stairs with their hands clasped together proved difficult but they managed. Standing on the little stoop in front of Arthur's door, Alfred shifted a bit on the balls of his feet. He gazed into Arthur's eyes and Arthur could feel how intense the moment became in that instant.

The Englishman's eyelids fluttered shut as Alfred leaned in. Their lips met in a soft press, barely touching, with their hands still clasped tightly. Alfred's hand came up to cup Arthur's cheek softly and Arthur leaned into the touch. Their breath mingled in the night air and Arthur could feel his heartbeat speed up. After what seemed like no time at all, Alfred pulled away slowly and watched Arthur's pale face.

"That was amazing," Alfred whispered, his breath brushing against Arthur's ear.

Arthur had no words. He simply leaned in again and felt his lips meet Alfred's in a soft brush. They kissed slowly and gently, their lips melding together once again. This time Arthur pulled away first and his breath caught at the sight of Alfred's flushed face. The policeman's eyes stayed closed for a moment before his lashes fluttered and his brilliant blue eyes met Arthur's stare.

"I should be going," Alfred said softly.

"Wouldn't you like to come in for…some tea?" Arthur searched his mind for a reason to get Alfred to stay.

"I'd love to," Alfred breathed. "But I really can't. I have work early tomorrow."

"Oh," Arthur said in disappointment.

"But I'll stop by tomorrow sometime, I promise," Alfred nodded his head vigorously. "I promise," he repeated.

Arthur could only nod slowly and say, "Okay."

Alfred leaned in and placed a quick kiss on Arthur's cheek before turning and bounding down the stairs. Arthur watched him go and when Alfred's presence was nothing but a memory, he turned and let himself into his lonely apartment.

Arthur had a hard time falling asleep that night, his mind full of thoughts of Alfred's kisses. He woke the next morning a little more grumpy than usual from his lack of shut eye. He puttered around his apartment and fed Crumpet, finally gathering the ball of fur up to take him downstairs to the shop. Crumpet liked to sleep on a pillow by the window usually and Arthur found that the customers were intrigued by the large ginger cat.

Looking out of his newly restored window, Arthur admired the view he had of the street. The main street of town where his shop was located was a quaint and quiet little place that spoke of times past. Most of the building were brick and large elm trees ran along the sidewalk. It was a cozy place to be and Arthur loved it. Soon enough, his thoughts turned to Alfred and it took him a few moments to realize the phone was ringing.

"Bonjour mon ami," came the accented French voice on the other end of the line.

"What do you want frog?" Arthur spat into the phone.

Francis chuckled. "I was just calling to see how the date went last night? Do you need me to come by tonight to help you drown your sorrows, or did it perhaps go well?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, knowing full well that while Francis couldn't see him, that the Frenchman knew exactly what he was doing. "It went well, I don't need any liquor."

"That's good," Francis purred. "So, did you invite him in? I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

"He didn't come home with me," Arthur said peevishly. He was still a little hurt that Alfred had to run off after dinner. The boy was being responsible since he had to get up early, but the rejection still stung a bit. "He had an early day."

"Oh, that is sad," Francis simpered. "But at least he had a good reason and he wasn't turned off by your awful personality. So, when is the wedding?"

"Come off it," Arthur hissed into the phone. "We've only had one date. It was an excellent date, mind you, but still only one. Stop planning my wedding."

"You know I always hold out hope that one day you'll settle down," Francis said.

Arthur rolled his eyes again. He was very settled. "I'm perfectly fine frog," he deadpanned.

"I can tell." Francis was smiling. "You are your usual grumpy self this morning."

"I have to go," Arthur lied. "I have customers."

"Au revoir," Francis hung up.

Arthur placed the phone back in it's cradle and stared at it. He didn't know exactly why he had rushed his only friend off of the phone when he didn't actually have any customers or any reason to distract himself. He just hated the sound of Francis' voice so early in the morning. That had to be it. Absently reaching over to stroke Crumpet's back, Arthur gazed out the window again, his thoughts lost in Alfred.

He wondered if it was too early to call the boy. After all, they had only exchanged numbers a few days ago and the date was last night. Best to wait. Arthur sighed. He hated waiting. But he didn't want to be too forward and scare the young man off. Arthur took one more glance out the window in case Alfred would magically appear and then decided to get back to work. The rest of the day passed slowly for the Englishman.

"Hey Artie," the chipper voice rang out over the phone later that night. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Arthur wracked his brain trying to come up with something. He failed miserably. "Nothing," he sighed. "Nothing at all. Why?"

"Cause I wanna take you out again," Alfred's voice sounded so happy and carefree. Arthur was a little jealous.

The Englishman smiled softly, "Take me out where?"

"I thought we could go for a walk in the park and maybe get a cup of coffee…or tea if you want," Alfred said.

Arthur played with a piece of his unruly hair and contemplated the offer. "That sounds lovely Alfred. What time should I expect you?"

"About four? Is that okay?"

"That would be fine."

"Okay, by Arthur, see you tomorrow!"

When the phone had been hung up, Arthur looked over at Crumpet and smiled a genuine smile. "He wants to go out again," Arthur couldn't seem to stop grinning at his cat. He found himself rather excited at the prospect of seeing Alfred again for another date.

He made himself a cup of tea from the kettle on the stove and picked a book off of his shelf to read. He planned on spending the rest of the night relaxing and enjoying the solitude. He would be plenty busy tomorrow if Alfred had anything to say about it. Arthur felt content. He stroked his cat and read his book and thoroughly enjoyed his evening in.