Author's note: Sorry for the wait. Starting a new story a few weeks before finals was clearly not the best idea. :) Second to last chapter.


Chapter 2

A few weeks later, Arthur was feeling a bit . . . Well, he wasn't sure what, really. He couldn't seem to sit still. He found himself thinking of Alfred almost all the time. Since the incident during the rainstorm, he hadn't talked much with Alfred. Yes, sometimes Alfred would stop during his run and chat with Arthur a little, leaning over the fence casually, but it didn't feel the same. Arthur had invited him in for a snack once, but Alfred had brushed him off easily with a laugh. Alfred still called him "Artie," but there was something more distant in his smile. It wasn't much of a difference, and most people wouldn't have noticed, but Arthur was looking for it, and it was there.

One day, Arthur decided that he needed to do something different. He had done almost nothing but read since he had moved there, which normally he would have enjoyed, but he was starting to feel bored out of his mind. He decided that he was going to finish unpacking if it killed him. He watered his roses earlier than usual (purposefully pretending not to mind missing Alfred), rolled up his sleeves, opened the garage door to let in some sunlight, and set to work.

He worked for a little under an hour and a half and got, if not all the boxes, at least enough of them cleared out so that he could park his car. It had taken him a much shorter time than he had expected to unpack them, so he decided that he might as well not stop there. He had unpacked all of the boxes in the garage that he knew contained things he was likely to need or want, but there were still a few more boxes somewhere that he knew contained a few things he had found himself wanting (namely, his toaster and a set of silverware his mother had given him). He had had the foresight when he first moved in to have the movers put some of the boxes in the attic above the garage, and he could only assume that this was where these particular boxes were hiding. He positioned his step-ladder underneath it, climbed up, and tugged on the trap door.

Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. It barely moved. There was no lock, and he knew that the movers had been able to open it the first time around. There was no other conclusion to be drawn: It was stuck.

Arthur deliberated. He could try to pry it open – but he didn't have a crowbar, or anything even remotely strong enough. He could unscrew the hinges or something equally ridiculous, but that was a last resort. He thought of the number, carefully placed by the phone in his kitchen. He knew Alfred was awake, because they had waved at each other when he ran by about an hour earlier. Alfred was also much more likely than Arthur to be able to force the dratted thing open, judging from the biceps that his t-shirts and tank tops so nicely displayed, and the abs that were hinted at by the way his shirt clung to him when he ran – er. Strong, yes.

Arthur bit his lip. He knew that he was deceiving himself – he didn't really need to get into the attic right then, so he didn't really need Alfred's help. He was coming up with an excuse to spend some time with Alfred. "Well, there's no harm in that," he muttered to himself determinedly. He went inside, picked up his phone, and dialed.

Alfred picked up quickly. He sounded somewhat breathless, but his voice was loud and clear in Arthur's ear. "Hello?"

"Hello, Alfred. Sorry to trouble you. It's Arthur. I'm clearing out my garage, but I'm having some trouble getting the blasted trapdoor to the attic open, and I was wondering, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, if you could help me." He wished that his phone still had a cord so that he could twist it around his finger. He drummed his fingers on the counter instead.

"Trapdoor, huh? Yeah, sure. I'll be over in a minute."

"Thanks so much," Arthur said, relieved. "That would be great."

"See ya in a sec."

"Right. Bye." He hung up and let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding. Now he just had to wait. He went out to the garage and started sorting through the remaining boxes. For the most part, they contained things which only had sentimental value. He had accumulated a lot of possessions that he had no reason to have, but that he couldn't bring himself to throw away. He found a box of old books he had forgotten he had and became so immersed in it, he almost didn't notice when Alfred showed up. He heard footsteps on the pavement of the driveway and looked up.

"Hey Artie," Alfred said with a tired grin.

"Hello Alfred," Arthur barely managed. And then he stared.

Alfred had clearly gone on a very long run. His thin grey t-shirt was soaked with sweat and it clung to him like a second skin. Arthur could see every line of every muscle of his torso. Sweat beaded at his temples and the hollow of his throat. He was wearing a headband, and as Arthur watched he took it off and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Arthur had always thought that in real life, sweaty men were disgusting. A starched, clean shirt and slacks was his idea of a sexy outfit. But Alfred looked like he had just stepped out of a deodorant commercial – and Arthur was having a very hard time figuring out how to deal with the situation.

"What do you need help with?" Alfred asked. He walked into the garage and looked around curiously at the half-opened boxes strewn about the floor.

Please, don't come any closer, Arthur begged. He cleared his throat. "The trapdoor." He pointed at it. "It's stuck."

Alfred looked up at it. "Huh. Here, hold this, will you?" He stepped closer to Arthur and handed him his mp3 player.

Alfred smelled. So. Good.

Arthur had met only a few men who smelled good when they were covered in sweat. Alfred was one of them, and he smelled like spices and cinnamon. Alfred noticed Arthur's stunned expression and grimaced apologetically. "Yeah, I really need to shower, I know. Sorry about that." (Oh, please don't, thought Arthur miserably.) He climbed up the step-ladder, and then reached up and tugged at the trapdoor. It didn't budge. He got a good grip with both hands on the handle and pulled as hard as he could. His muscles strained, and finally it popped open. He poked his head up in the attic and looked around. "Wow, you have a lot of boxes in here. Do you want help getting them down?"

"If you could. I mean, you must have been in the middle of your run. I wouldn't want to keep you any longer," Arthur said hastily.

"Nah, it's no problem. I was on my way back when you called. Just gave me the extra incentive to sprint the rest of the way back." Alfred looked down at Arthur and grinned. Arthur's breath hitched. He turned back to the attic, picked up a box, and handed it down to Arthur.

It didn't take them long to bring down all the boxes. Arthur slowly placed the last one onto of a stack of boxes and wiped his hands shakily on his trousers. "Would you like to come in?" he asked. "I could get you something to drink."

Alfred grinned. "That would be great, but I don't think you want me around like this. How about I go home and shower and then come back?"

"Sure," Arthur said, forcing the casual tone of voice. He handed the mp3 player back to Alfred.

"See ya," Alfred said with a grin, and then he was off.

"Bye," Arthur said rather belatedly. He bit his lip and watched Alfred jog off. "So what if he's a little . . . charming," he muttered to himself. "No need to get all worked up about it." When Alfred was out of sight, Arthur turned away, closed the garage door, and went back inside.


Alfred returned some time later, freshly showered and in clean clothes. "Hey," said Alfred.

"Hello again," Arthur said, and let Alfred inside. He had rather given up on unpacking for the time being and decided to just shove all the remaining half-packed boxes back in the garage instead. While waiting for Alfred, he had made himself a cup of tea. He had even bought some coffee for Alfred a few days previous, and had made a cup – though he was fairly certain his attempt at making it hadn't turned out very well.

Alfred's eyes lit up when he walked in the room. "Whoa, do I smell coffee?"

Arthur smiled. "Indeed you do. It's all yours."

"Great, thanks," Alfred said happily, and sat down at the table. He sipped at the coffee a little and made a bit of a face, but Arthur pretended that he didn't notice and Alfred didn't say anything.

"Did you have a good run?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah, great," Alfred replied. "I love the sunny weather like this." He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Really, I just love the summer. I can't believe school's almost here."

Arthur's heart sank a little. Oh dear, he really is in university. "Erm, right."

"But autumn's cool too, right?" Alfred said with a grin. "Uh, no pun intended."

Arthur rolled his eyes and smiled. "Sure it wasn't."

"What's your favorite season?"

"Hmm." Arthur looked into his cup of tea. "Autumn, actually, I think. I don't like the cold so much, but I love the colors the trees turn, especially out here. And it's the kind of weather that makes me want to sit by the fire with a book." Arthur smiled slightly. "You?"

"Summer," Alfred said immediately. He grinned. "Because of my birthday, of course!"

"Oh?" Arthur asked curiously. "Your birthday's in the summer?"

"Yeah! July 4th, same as the US of A."

"Were you one of the ones setting off firecrackers?" Arthur asked dryly. He remembered July 4th. He had been kept up until the wee hours of the morning by the fireworks, firecrackers, and a significant amount of cheering and music from down the street.

Alfred laughed. "Yup. I have a giant party every year. But no, there's more to the summer than that." His smile softened. "I love being able to go outside every day. And the smells, and the sunshine, and – yeah."

Arthur was fairly certain he had never seen such an expression on Alfred's face before. For once, Alfred looked content and thoughtful. He pulled his tea a little closer to him. Alfred really was handsome, but it was more than that. It was the look his eyes got when he was out in the sunshine, the way he smiled so easily and how it always felt genuine, the way he found the most unexpected things interesting. Arthur couldn't think of a single thing about Alfred that honestly bothered him. In fact, Arthur couldn't think of a single reason why he would ever want to stop seeing Alfred's smile every day.

Oh, he was falling hard.


Alfred seemed to relax a little after that. Now, he didn't stop in his run to chat every once in a while; no, he stopped every day. Sometimes they would chat for so long, Arthur had to turn off the hose lest he drown his roses and his lawn. Arthur was beginning to hope that Alfred would suggest they go out to the movies again, for Arthur was beginning to think that he should have said yes, but Alfred didn't bring it up again.

One night, Arthur was sitting in his living room, reading a book by lamplight. He was having a harder time concentrating than usual, but he was far too awake to want to go to bed. His cat jumped up onto the couch beside him, but instead of curling up contentedly, it sat down and looked at him. Arthur set his book in his lap with a sigh and looked back. "I suppose I'm being silly about this whole thing, aren't I?" he asked his cat. It twitched its tail impatiently. He scratched it between the ears. "I'm acting like I've never had a crush before. If I want to see him, I should do something about it." He stood up, despite a mew of protest from his cat, and walked to the kitchen. He picked up the phone and dialed the number he had already memorized.

"Hey Artie! What's up?"

"Hello Alfred." Arthur leaned against the counter. "I was wondering if you were free tonight."

"Tonight?"

Arthur closed his eyes and took a small breath. "Yes. As in, at the moment."

"Sure, I'm not really doing anything. What's up?"

"Do you like to play – hmm, let's see. Monopoly?"

"You have a Monopoly set? I haven't played that in ages!"

Arthur smiled. "Actually, I don't. I was wondering if you do."

"Yeah! Can I bring it over?"

"Yes please."

"Great! I'll be over in a few!"

"See you then." Arthur hung up, a smile still teasing at his lips.


When Arthur opened the door a few minutes later, it was to the sight of Alfred with a large box under one arm and an enormous tupperware container under the other. "I brought cookies," he explained. "We can have milk and cookies while we play!"

Arthur smiled a little. "Sounds good."

Alfred went to set up the game in the living room while Arthur got them glasses of milk. When he got back, Alfred had the board spread out on the floor and was doling out fake money. Arthur settled down across from him. "Cookie?" Alfred asked, offering him his pick from the container. "They're chocolate chip."

"Why thank you," Arthur said, and took one.

"You know," Alfred said as he officially appointed himself banker and picked out his token, "This game is going to take forever with just two people."

"Oh, I wasn't really planning on finishing," Arthur said with a glance at the clock. "I haven't played in forever, anyway. I'm sure I'll do horribly."

"Not finish?" Alfred exclaimed, horrified. "But we have to finish!"

Alfred looked so panicked, Arthur was tempted to chuckle. "Okay, okay. But we might have to continue it another day. I can only stay up so late."

Half an hour later, Arthur was much more into the game than he had expected and feeling very competitive. "I'll trade you Atlantic Avenue for Boardwalk."

Alfred laughed. "Are you kidding?"

Arthur looked up at him with a deadpan expression. "I never kid."

Alfred chuckled. "No way. I can give you another cookie, though." He took one for himself and then offered the container to Arthur.

Arthur reached into the container and his hand met empty air. He frowned and peered inside. He could have sworn that when he first saw it, it was full. It was now almost entirely empty. "Alfred, how many of those did you eat?"

Alfred looked at him innocently, a cookie half-way to his mouth. Then he grinned. "Oh, you haven't seen me eat much, huh?"

"I can't say I had until now," Arthur said dryly.

"Yeah, I eat a ton." Alfred popped the cookie in his mouth. "It's actually kind of embarrassing ordering at restaurants."

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm. We should go to McDonald's sometime. They know me there."

Arthur wasn't exactly sure whether having a fast-food chain "know" you was a good thing or not, but Alfred did not elaborate. A thought occurred to Arthur which had been lurking in the back of his mind for some time. He considered it. "Actually," he said carefully as he moved his piece farther along on the board, "Would you like to go out for coffee some time? Work's about to start, so I'll be a little busier than usual."

There was a slight pause. "Really?" asked Alfred.

Arthur was busy drawing a card from the Community Chest. "I haven't been out of the house much, as you know. If you have anywhere to suggest . . ."

"I know the perfect place! It's not far from here." Arthur looked up and Alfred flashed him a grin. "You'll like it. It's small and cozy."

Arthur relaxed, relieved that Alfred hadn't questioned his motives. "That sounds nice."

"Do you want to go tomorrow? Are you free? I can pick you up."

"Yes, I'm free," Arthur said, looking down to hide his pleased smile at Alfred's enthusiasm.

Alfred grinned. "Then it's a date!"


The next afternoon, Alfred showed up at Arthur's door – or rather, he opened it, poked his head inside, and said cautiously, "Artie?"

Arthur came in out of the living room, already prepared to leave. "Hello. Are you ready?"

Alfred smiled sheepishly and didn't come inside. "Yeah, but there's something I kinda forgot to tell you."

"Oh?" Arthur grabbed his keys off the counter and followed Alfred outside. "What is it?"

"You might not really want me to drive you to coffee."

"Why not?" Arthur asked curiously.

"I'll show you," Alfred said. Arthur followed him down the path and onto the sidewalk. They walked down the street for a bit, and then Alfred paused, glanced at Arthur, and turned up the driveway of a neatly painted house.

Alfred's house was larger than Arthur's. It had a sort of sprawling quality to it, but it was identical to the two houses on either side. It had a freshly mowed lawn in front and there were a few shrubs planted against the tall wooden fence separating it from its neighbor. Arthur had no chance to see the inside of it, however, for Alfred pressed a button and his garage door opened. Inside was a motorcycle.

Alfred looked back at Arthur and grinned hopefully. Arthur's face went white. "I'm driving," he said flatly.

"Aw, I have an extra helmet," Alfred said pleadingly. "It would be an adventure!"

"No," Arthur said. "And don't try to tell me that it would be exciting. I am being perfectly sensible in not wanting to get myself killed."

"Fine," Alfred said with a little sigh. He closed his garage door and fell in beside Arthur as he began to walk back to his own house. "But I'm really safe about it, I swear."

"I'm sure you are," Arthur said.

When they got back to Arthur's house, Arthur pulled the car out onto the driveway. Alfred obediently got into the passenger seat and fastened his seatbelt. Arthur started his car (which had long since been fixed) and began to back out of the driveway. "Hey," Alfred said suddenly, "You do know that we drive on the right side of the road here, right?"

Arthur looked at him and saw that Alfred was grinning at him, but there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. Arthur had to smile a little bit at that. "Alfred," he said exasperatedly, "I'm not going to kill you. I have lived here for a quite a while now. My accent does not affect my driving capabilities."

Alfred grinned. "Okay, I trust you, fuzzy-brows."

"Don't call me that," Arthur said as he pulled into the street, but there was no venom in it.

"Yes, Artie."

Arthur rolled his eyes.


Arthur drove them to the coffee shop without incident, though it was not much due to Alfred's extremely difficult-to-follow directions. He kept saying things like, "Turn right" when they were in the middle of an intersection and Arthur could not possibly get across the other lane of traffic to make the required turn. Then Alfred would sigh a little and tell him to turn right when they got to "the billboard with the cows on it."

Arthur parked his car and they went inside. Alfred was nearly bouncing up and down in excitement as they waited in line. Arthur eyed the menu warily. He skimmed past the disgustingly sweet coffee options and considered the pitifully limited tea selection. Alfred ordered something with lots of carmel and extra whipped cream, which somehow didn't surprise Arthur.

"Are you together?" the woman behind the counter asked politely.

"Yes," said Alfred.

"No," said Arthur at exactly the same time. They looked at each other. Alfred whipped out a gift card and waved it triumphantly in Arthur's face. Arthur rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said. "Yes, we're together. I'll have the . . . black tea. And a blueberry scone."

Alfred handed over his gift card and chuckled a little. He glanced at Arthur with a grin.

"What?" Arthur asked.

"You say 'blueberry' funny," Alfred said. "Bloooburry."

"Excuse me for speaking properly," Arthur muttered. He was so preoccupied with not smiling, he almost didn't notice that his "black tea" was really just a pitifully weak teabag floating in a sea of hot water.

After Alfred's coffee-related beverage appeared, they settled themselves at a table for two against the window. The sun streamed in. Arthur nibbled at the scone contentedly. "So, work's starting soon?" Alfred asked.

"Yes. I'm going to start going in regularly next week, but classes won't really start until the week after."

"Are you still going to have time to water your roses, then?" Alfred asked with a crooked smile.

"Well, I'll wake up early," Arthur said. "On Tuesdays and Thursdays classes start later, so I should be around then for your run – if you still have time for it."

Alfred nodded. "Yeah, I'll still be around on those days. Maybe we could start going out for coffee more regularly?" he hinted.

Arthur eyed him carefully. Alfred's expression was carefully neutral, but Arthur could see something else in his eyes. "Mmm," Arthur said noncommittally. Well, Arthur, he thought, Are you going to take the chance? "Would you consider this a date?" he asked as carelessly as he could.

Alfred made a strange coughing noise and spluttered into his coffee. He hastily wiped his mouth and looked up at Arthur with wide eyes. "What?"

"Would you consider this a date?" Arthur repeated. "Or is this the sort of thing you do with friends?"

Alfred eyed him cautiously. "Do you want it to be a date?"

"What I want is immaterial if you're not interested."

Alfred cocked his head to the side. A slow grin appeared on his face. "You're asking me out."

"We're already out," Arthur pointed out, but the growing blush on his cheeks gave him away.

Alfred leaned a little farther across the table, now fully grinning. "You know, you could have just asked me straight out."

"I'm not sure 'straight' is the correct adjective here," Arthur said, dodging the rest of the statement.

Alfred sat back in his chair. "Yes, I think this is a date."

"Oh?" Arthur asked faintly.

"Yes," Alfred said firmly. He gulped down the rest of his coffee, still grinning.

Well then, thought Arthur as he sipped at his weak cup of tea.


Alfred became a bit ridiculous after that – in Arthur's opinion, at any rate. The next time he showed up at Arthur's house, he was holding a box of chocolates and grinning. After that, he brought Arthur a stuffed bear with a red ribbon tied around its neck ("It has eyebrows like yours, Artie"). They started watching movies together on a regular basis, and Alfred always insisted on wrapping his arms around Arthur and resting his chin on Arthur's shoulder. It was adorable, Arthur had to admit, but still. Arthur's roses were starting to bud, and once Alfred even brought him one of them. It was pink and barely open. Arthur kept it in a vase in the living room and watched as its petals slowly unfurled.

Then it was the beginning of September, and school started.


Author's note: Of course the "coffee shop" is a Starbucks. Why would Alfred go anywhere else?