It's not like he planned it. It just happened. Those late-night role plays slowly trickled away. They weren't Captain Steve Rogers and Tony Stark anymore. They were just Alfred and Arthur, and Al couldn't bring himself to complain.

His atrocious sleeping patterns didn't get any better, however. Streams of constant conversations between him and Arthur replaced the weakening role plays. Conversation shifted from fandom and shipping (which Alfred decided he would never fully understand.) Instead they talked about how their day had gone, their pet peeves, and their annoying relatives. They talked about which season was the best, which month, and when their birthdays were.

It was only a matter of time before one of them suggested it.

"Want to do a video call?"

Alfred, in later times, wouldn't be able to remember who was the first to suggest it. Either way, he remembered his heart pounding in his chest as someone agreed. He felt like a complete moron. They talked all the time. What is so scary about talking to a face?

The screen blinked, and he numbly heard the skype-dial up noise in the background. He needed to get himself together. It was just a call. It was just Arthur. It wasn't a big deal.

"Hey."

Alfred's eyes shot up, and there he was. His camera was actually pretty decent, and Alfred could tell that the man's eyes were quite lively. He wasn't exactly smiling, it was more of a smirk, if Alfred was completely honest. Arthur was propped up on his elbows, probably laying out in his bed. He was wearing a white button-up and some sort of undershirt. That made Alfred feel extremely under-dressed, which was ridiculous, because he had every right to sit at home in a T-shirt and sweat pants if he so desired.

"Can you speak, or should we just go back to typing...?" Arthur asked. His accent twisted his words wonderfully.

"No! No, I can talk. It's all good. I'm just tired."

Arthur chuckled, shifting so he could adjust his lap top screen. "You don't look tired at all. Besides, it's only half past midnight. You stay up much later than this all the time."

Alfred pressed his lips together. "Your accent is distracting me."

Arthur seemed to decide that the angle on his laptop was satisfactory, and he plopped his head back into his hand. "My accent? How so?"

Alfred fumbled with something on his bedside table, not really looking at the screen. God, he looked so shabby and Arthur looked really great...

"I always read your messages in an American accent. This is weird."

Arthur laughed again. Alfred liked the sound of it. "Well, I read your messages in an English accent, so I suppose we're even."

After that, everything just went back to usual. Alfred stopped fumbling with things in his room and instead relaxed into the conversation, telling Arthur about the prank Gilbert pulled on the customers that day, and how he'd almost been blamed for it. Arthur laughed along with him as he explained his manager's face when the ketchup trap was sprung. Arthur talked about how his oldest brother would be coming to New York soon, and how he was not very happy about it.

"He's not too bad, though. Better than Scott."

It was nice to be able to explain that he was just getting a snack, instead of typing an unfeeling 'brb.'

He liked being able to watch Arthur switch tabs, scroll through something and then return to skype, never breaking conversation. He liked watching the man puff out his cheeks at a rude email, and he liked watching him blush every now and again, for whatever reason.

"Bloody hell," Arthur said, catching Al off guard. "I forgot about the sports column..."

Alfred sat up straighter. "Sports column? I thought you said you only did foreign affairs and liberal opinions."

Arthur shrugged. "Becky was going off about how 'creative juices are worn by repetition' and she had us switch up our topics for the week. Of course I got sports. I know nothing about American football or baseball."

Alfred smiled. "Well, you know me! I was really into sports as a kid. Not so much anymore, but I can tell you who's who and what team you should talk smack about."

Arthur's eyes widened. He quickly clicked a few pages on his computer, what, Alfred wouldn't know, and then looked back up.

"Alfred, you're a lifesaver. Tell me about this week's...scores. I suppose."

…

Their instant messaging didn't vanish, but their video calls became more and more frequent. Alfred soon grew used to the lop-sided smile, the messy blonde hair, and the way his thick eyebrows drew together in frustration. They began to bicker, and bicker often. The fought over whose day was worse, whose relatives were more annoying, and which season or month was the best. They argued about music. They argued about language. They just argued.

"Dude!" Alfred gasped, appalled. "You mean to tell me that you've never seen The Breakfast Club?"

Arthur's lower lip protruded, and his eyebrows dipped down. "Isn't it a chick flic? What's the big deal?"

"It's classic! You have to watch it! What about Interview With A Vampire?"

Arthur clicked something on his computer, as he often did when he didn't feel in the mood for an argument. "I've read the book."

"But the movie is great! Oh, please tell me that you've seen Star Wars. Please."

Arthur scrolled down a page. He mumbled something unintelligible. "Yep. That's nice, Alfred."

"Are you ever listening to me?" Alfred shouted, wishing he could shake Arthur's shoulder. Wishing he could just snap his fingers in front of his face. Something.

"Not really, no. What's so special about movies?"

"Movies are great! Filmology is great! They're powerful, and meaningful, and they just leave you raw."

Arthur looked up, his eyes going wider than usual. "That was rather deep, Alfred. Is something the matter?"

Alfred huffed. "No! I can have my deep sides! When I'm passionate about something then I tend to go into detail, that's all"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but he didn't click back to whatever tab had been so interesting before. "Only you could be this passionate about films."

Alfred felt his hand go to his heart in a gesture of mock-hurt, and he began his rant. "Movies are amazing! What's better than curling up under a big warm quilt, on the floor with your back against the sofa and watching a movie in the dark with someone, a bowl of popcorn between you?"

Arthur's mouth made the slightest little "o" shape for a bit. His eyes seemed a little out of focus, and when he finally did come back down to Earth, his voice was quiet.

"Sounds like a fantasy between two lovers, to me."

Alfred sat back from the computer. He hadn't noticed that he was inching close to the screen. "Oh, well I uh...I never thought about it that way."

That was a lie. Alfred thought about it a lot 'that way.' He was a complete dork for movies, and nothing suited him better than being able to share great films with someone he loved. Cuddling into the darkness, just being with the person...

Alfred stared through the pixels, and just pictured Arthur with him. On the floor of his tiny apartment, carting his hand through Alfred's hair, barely paying any attention to the movie making noise in the background. Alfred's heart thumped loudly in his chest.

He hadn't wanted the fantasy to go that far. He hadn't wanted to think about it at all.

But now he had. And he was in deep, deep shit.

…

"Oh my god," Gilbert said, his eyes lighting up dangerously. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"

Alfred blushed crimson, and tried to pull in on himself like a turtle would into it's shell. "No!" He protested.

Gilbert laughed. "Oh my god, you absolute loser! You've never even talked to him face to face!"

"Exactly!" Alfred shouted. "That's why I can't be in love with him. I mean, god. We've only been talking for a few months..."

Gilbert shook his head, fiddling through the cash in the register. "Man, it's been nearly half a year, at least. I know because you haven't shut up about him since...what do you call it? The 'movie fantasy incident'?"

Alfred dropped his head onto the counter. "Oh god," he groaned. "I can't really be in love, can I?"

Gilbert snorted. "Dude. I know his favorite color, his hobbies, and probably a very accurate description of what he looks like just from listening to your constant babble."

Alfred groaned again. Gilbert was right. About everything. He was in love with Arthur. And he was a complete loser. Arthur didn't like him that way. He constantly put him down, called him annoying and hopeless and stupid...

But then why would he keep talking to you?

"What am I supposed to do, Gil?"

Gilbert snapped to cash register shut with a click. "I dunno, why're you asking me? Figure it out yourself. Or at least meet him in person and stop being so un-awesome."

Alfred's head peeked out from where it was resting in his arms. "You mean like, hang out with him?"

Gilbert sighed. "You're done for."

Okay, first of all: WOW.

Thank you guys so much! I never expected this story to catch on so quickly, and I'm really glad you guys like it! If you have any critique, however, feel free to throw some at me. I don't bite.

Second: Thanks again to thenameisiggykirkland for providing even more inspiration.

Sorry for any mistakes! I'm American!

-Mallory