Bright sunlight crept under Arthur's eyelids and forced them open. He groaned loudly and threw the blanket over his head to block it out. Weeks of overcast days and it had to be sunny on this one. Arthur clasped his head in his hands and tried to stop it exploding. Why the hell did he feel so… Suddenly the memory of the night before hit him like a fist, his stomach turning violently. What had he done? What had he said? Oh God how had he ended up in bed without his shoes and… Arthur quickly patted himself down and thankfully found his clothing intact, although he had lost his tie, apron and shoes somewhere along the way. He buried his head in the pillow and tried not to scream. Well that was the last time he would ever see that bloody American… but that was a good thing, yes? Arthur only felt sick at the thought. But that might also be from the copious quantities of rum he'd consumed the night before. What on earth had he been thinking?
Well, to be completely honest, he knew what he'd been thinking. He'd been thinking that Alfred was the most handsome man he'd ever laid eyes on. He'd been thinking that no one else in the world laughed like him, spoke like him, smiled like him. He'd been wondering what the hell a handsome, popular, confident young fighter pilot like Alfred was doing wasting his time talking to a boring old bartender like him. And he had drunk heavily to try and make sense of it, obviously scaring Alfred off in the process.
Trying to throw it all out of his mind, Arthur dragged himself out of bed to begin getting ready for the day ahead. It wasn't like he had never dealt with a hangover before. It was just the sudden memories that kept appearing unbidden… Alfred grinning and winking, Alfred leaning towards him, Alfred laughing, Alfred carrying him… "AGH!" Arthur tried to shake his head of the unwanted recollections. They just grew stronger, replaying over and over. Arthur decided there was nothing to be done but get dressed, go down to work, and forget he had ever met an American pilot named Alfred F. Jones.
The morning passed uneventfully. A few Americans came in for an early lunch with local girls on their arms, but the place was generally quiet. Arthur gave thanks for small mercies and spent his time avoiding a certain table by the window, while running a cold cloth over his forehead when no one was looking.
At noon, Arthur stood behind the bar, the cold cloth over his face, working hard on erasing the last week from his memory when it was all blown to hell by two words.
"Howdy, Arthur!"
Arthur jumped in surprise, the cloth falling to the floor. He looked up at Alfred, his face dripping, his heart suddenly thundering in his chest. All he could think to say was, "Good God man, do you have to yell so loud?"
Alfred looked amused. "I didn't yell…"
Arthur pressed on, slightly embarrassed. "Well I just have this flipping great headache…"
"Yeah, I'm not surprised," laughed Alfred. Arthur glared at him and Alfred cleared his throat. "So anyway," he continued, leaning on the bar, "I was thinking, that if this relationship is ever gonna go anywhere, we'd better start seeing each other in the daytime."
"Relationship?" Arthur's head still felt fuzzy… he must have heard that wrong.
"Show me the sights of London!" Alfred was all intensity and eagerness, dressed immaculately in his military uniform and cap along with the ever-present bomber jacket. Arthur tried very hard not to acknowledge the effect it had on him and tried instead to look annoyed.
"What? I'm working, I'm… I'm…"
Alfred grinned. "It's a beautiful sunny day out there, you're gonna spend it all in here with a cloth on your face?"
Arthur closed his eyes. Why could he not resist that bloody grin? "Very well," he said through gritted teeth. "Let me fetch my coat."
An hour later they had hardly seen anything of interest in Arthur's mind, but Alfred was fairly hopping in excitement. As they stood on the deck of a river boat crossing the Thames, Arthur was quickly growing embarrassed by all the stares the energetic American drew from fellow passengers.
"Wow, wow, oh my gosh! What do you call that thing again?"
Arthur peered sideways at Alfred pointing madly. "London Bridge."
"Wow!" Alfred's face lit up like a Christmas tree as he craned his neck looking upwards.
Arthur could not see why Alfred was impressed. "…It's just a bridge."
"It's LONDON bridge!" Alfred cried excitedly. "Like that song! You know… London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down, London Bridge is…"
"Yes, yes all right, for heaven's sake…" Arthur tried to quiet Alfred as his raucous singing caught the humoured and surprised attention of several onlookers. "I know the blasted song."
"Are we hopping off over the river? Where are we going next? Can we see the bridge closer? I tell ya, all this walking is making me hungry." Alfred pulled something out of his pocket and starting unwrapping it. Arthur groaned when he realised it was a chocolate bar. He put his hand to his head, exasperated, and hoped the other passengers wouldn't notice.
"Alfred."
"Hmm?"
"You're eating chocolate."
"I know. Do you want some?" Alfred held out the bar.
"No… I…" Arthur didn't know quite how to tell Alfred that he was being rather rude considering everyone in Britain had been on sweets rations for years. He leant in and whispered. "We've been at war for quite a while here. Things like this are very hard to come by for us."
"Ohh," breathed Alfred, his eyes going wide. He glanced around guiltily. "I have more, should I offer everyone else some?"
Arthur almost laughed, but quickly stopped when he realised Alfred was serious. "Wait, Alfred, what are you…"
"Greetings folks!" Alfred turned and called out cheerfully to the passengers behind him. Arthur was horrified as everyone stared openly, obviously unsure what to make of this loud, strange American. "I'm Lieutenant Alfred Jones, all the way from the US of A, and I just wanted to say that I'm honoured to be here in your terrific city! Now I'm hoping some of you fine people can help me out with a small problem I have. You see, I'm shipping out soon to fight the Krauts in Italy, and I have all this candy I don't know what to do with!" Alfred pulled out a handful of chocolate bars, attracting the immediate attention of several small children who inched closer.
"Candy?" asked a little girl, tilting her head in confusion.
Alfred shot Arthur an inquiring look. "Sweets," Arthur managed to murmur in bewildered explanation.
Alfred turned back to the girl, laughed raucously, and explained, "That's what we Americans call sweets! Now I don't know what might happen if I took these sweets over to Italy with me..."
A little boy gasped and said, "The Krauts might steal 'em off you!"
Alfred gasped also, his expression drawn in mock horror. "They might, too! Well, we can't let that happen can we?"
The children shook their heads, moving slowly towards Alfred, their eyes fixed on the chocolate in his hands. Arthur's face was frozen in shock, as were some of the passengers'. Others, however, were smiling, a few of the women were giggling to each other, and the children were positively enthralled.
"Do you think you might be able to help an ally out and take 'em off my hands?" asked Alfred, smiling widely and offering the chocolate bars to the children. "It's really good... Hershey's, all the way from America!" Each of them took a bar, giggling happily, before running back to their parents. Alfred tipped his hat to his gawking audience. "Have a good day, folks!" He turned back around and winked at Arthur.
Arthur shook his head. "You're quite mad."
Alfred just laughed, then pulled another bar from his pocket. "I saved the last one for you."
Arthur could not stop his lips pulling into a smile. He tried in vain to furrow his brows and wipe the smile from his face. "Fine." He snatched the bar and jammed it in his own pocket.
"I like that," said Alfred, staring at Arthur.
"What?" asked Arthur huffily. How bloody irritating that he could not even control his facial expressions around the American.
"When you smile."
Arthur cast his eyes out at the river, the smile finally falling from his face and the back of his neck flushing with heat. They stood in silence, but he could feel Alfred's eyes on him for the rest of the short journey.
"What is that tall bridge over there?" asked Alfred, after they had arrived at the port across the river and walked a while along the bank. It was the finest day in months, the sun high and a gentle breeze blowing. It was hard to believe it was winter - Arthur could not ever remember a milder one in London.
"That there is Tower Bridge."
Alfred's face lit up again. "That one is terrific!"
"And that is the Tower of London," said Arthur, pointing over the street.
"Ooh, fantastic!" cried Alfred. They stopped and stared over at the imposing buildings. "What's in there?"
"German prisoners of war, currently. And traitors, and enemy spies." Arthur wracked his brains to think of what else they were keeping in the tower these days. "And, uh… ravens."
Alfred looked truly fascinated. "Ravens, really?" He looked around eagerly. "Is there any way we can get in there?"
"Well, there is one." Alfred raised his eyebrows inquisitively and Arthur smirked. "Betray Britain."
Alfred's face fell in disappointment. "Oh. I don't think I want to do that. Even to see the ravens."
"Oh, the ravens aren't the most interesting thing about the place," said Arthur.
"Really?" asked Alfred, intrigued. "What else is in there?"
"Ghosts," said Arthur wickedly. He gazed across at the tower as he spoke. "The Tower of London is the most haunted place in Britain, if not the entire world. There are dozens of ghosts in there… Lady Jane Grey, the Princes in the tower, Sir Walter Raleigh…" Arthur found ghost stories fascinating, and he'd always loved the ones about the tower. "On stormy nights, the ghost of Anne Boleyn is said to walk the tower, dressed all in white and carrying her severed head under her arm…" Arthur turned to find that Alfred was no longer standing beside him. He looked around, confused. "Alfred?" He walked a few paces before spotting Alfred further down the road, leaning against a tree and looking like he couldn't breathe. Arthur gasped and ran to him. "Blimey man, are you all right?" he asked, concerned by the pale green colour of Alfred's face.
Alfred looked up with wide eyes, clutching his chest, sweat beading his brow. "I… don't… like… ghosts!"
Arthur tried not to, but he burst into hysterical laughter. They quickly left, steered away insistently by Alfred, who kept glancing back fearfully as though the ghost of Anne Boleyn was on his heels. Arthur had been happy to walk along the river, but Alfred was desperate to get far away, as fast as possible, and headed straight for the nearest bus stop. Arthur couldn't stop snickering… the loud, brash, swaggering American was afraid of ghosts.
Alfred seemed to get over his terror rather quickly however, and whistled as the red double-decker pulled up at the bus stop. "Wow! It's one of those super tall ones!" he said as he swung himself up onto the platform. "Howdy, Miss." Alfred tipped his hat to the pretty young conductor who giggled and smiled at him. She barely even looked at Arthur as he purchased their tickets.
Arthur made his way into the crowded bus. Finding an empty seat, he was just about to sit down when he realised Alfred was, once again, nowhere to be seen. "What now?" he muttered, then winced when he heard a familiar loud voice shout down the stairs.
"Hey Arthur! There's a whole other bus up here!"
Arthur felt every passenger's eyes stare at him. He smiled apologetically. "Sorry. Uh… he's American." Arthur hurried up the stairs. He proceeded to spend the rest of the drive trying to get Alfred to sit down, apologising to the other passengers, and on one occasion having to haul the stupid Yank back into the bus when he tried to lean out the window to shout a greeting to some American soldiers on the sidewalk. Arthur was relieved when they finally reached their destination, though probably not so relieved as the other commuters.
It was difficult to keep up with Alfred. Arthur didn't know where he got his energy from, but it was endless. He tried to keep pace as Alfred barrelled down the busy streets, weaving amongst the mass of pedestrians, talking non-stop as he went.
"I've really never been in a city this big before, you know? This place is huge! I mean, I was in New York, but not for long, before we shipped out. Now that was one wild city! I'll take you there after the war, Arthur. We'll see it all together. And then I'll show you where I live. It's only a small town… we don't have nothing so fancy as all this, but you'll really love it, Arthur, I know you will."
"I… I…" Arthur was a little thrown, unable to believe Alfred, and unsure whether he wanted to. "That's rather a long way to go, isn't it?"
"Nah, it'll be fine! I'll fly you there in Lady Beth!"
Arthur raised his eyebrows skeptically. "I don't think your plane will make it from England to America, Alfred."
"'Course she will!" Alfred grinned, and even in this bright, busy street, Arthur felt his breath knocked from him. That bloody grin.
"And how will… um… 'she'… manage that?" Arthur was caught in Alfred's gaze as they walked, unheeding of the street traffic that narrowly avoided them.
"Magic." Alfred winked. Arthur stared, transfixed, until Alfred looked away and gasped loudly. "Ooh, ooh!" Alfred practically skidded to a stop, his eyes fixed upward. "I know that one!" he cried. "That's Big Bob!"
The spell was broken, and Arthur again burst into laughter. "Ben."
"Huh?"
"It's called Big Ben!" Arthur explained. "Well, actually, it's not the tower that's named Big Ben… that happens to be the name of one of the bells."
"Really? Huh. You sure know a lot, Arthur." Alfred stood stock still in the middle of the footpath, staring up at the clock tower. A busy crowd surged around him, but he didn't move.
"Alfred?" Arthur waited a few moments, but Alfred did not budge. "What are you doing?"
"Waiting for it to ding." Alfred said it like it was obvious.
Arthur did not fancy his chances of getting Alfred to move, so he simply stood still as the passing pedestrians shot them strange looks and parted around them. He watched Alfred watching the clock, until after only a few minutes it rang in the hour.
"Haha, fantastic! All righty, where to now? Ooh, can we go in that strange looking building over there?" And Alfred took off, headed towards Westminster Abbey down the road. "Keep up, old man!"
Arthur scowled. "I beg your pardon?" he called, hurrying to catch up. He was, however, grateful for the tiny break. He really was starting to feeling like an old man today.
Once inside the dark abbey, Alfred quickly lost his cheerful grin. He moved along slowly, glancing around suspiciously, pressed quite close to Arthur's side. Arthur couldn't help finding it rather amusing.
"This place is creepy," Alfred whispered nervously as they walked slowly past the low stone coffins. "There aren't dead bodies in these things, are there?"
Arthur wasn't quite sure if he was serious. They were coffins, after all. "Oh, no," he said sarcastically. "They're stone all the way through."
"Oh." Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. "Well that's okay then."
Arthur glanced at Alfred quizzically. Surely he hadn't taken him seriously... "They're coffins, of course there are bodies…" He fell quiet as Alfred tensed up again. Apparently he had. "Ah, just forget it, Alfred."
Alfred was quite insistent they leave after that. "You Brits sure are big on the scary old buildings, ain't ya?" he asked as he hurried out into the street. Again, Arthur couldn't help laughing.
The pedestrian traffic thinned as they walked further down the street. Alfred started to slow, and eventually came to a stop in front of a roped off bomb site. Only one wall of the building was left standing, fixed at a dangerously skewed angle; the rest reduced to flattened rubble around it. Alfred whistled. "Whew, the Krauts sure did a number on that one."
Arthur nodded. "Quite. We still have quite a lot of sites left like this one. From the Blitz, you know." It suddenly struck Arthur how young Alfred looked, standing there in shock, gazing into the ruins.
"Innocent people shouldn't have to go through this," said Alfred, shaking his head as though he did not understand. "Women and old people and kids and stuff. That's just not right." He turned and looked at Arthur with wide, bright eyes. "That's why I'm doing this, you know." Alfred gestured over the wreckage. "I'm gonna stop this happening here, or back home, or anywhere else. Because we're the good guys, Arthur. I'm gonna go to Europe and put a stop to this, you'll see. I'm gonna save London!"
And Alfred sounded so young also, like he honestly believed he could take on the world. Arthur's heart swelled despite himself. Why did Alfred have to be so naive, so good, so stupid... "Come on, Alfred. There's a lovely park just up here I want to show you."
"Oh, great!" Alfred fell briskly into pace beside Arthur, snapping back into high spirits; but he didn't have quite the same spring in his step as before.
Alfred finally slowed down when they reached St James Park. The air started to chill as they wandered aimlessly past trees and gardens and couples taking an afternoon stroll. As they passed a park bench beneath a dense, leafy tree, Alfred lightly took Arthur's arm and led him over to it. Arthur felt the touch shoot through his nerves, and was surprised by the sudden nervousness it evoked. He sat down and felt something pull tight in his pocket. Confused, he reached in and pulled out the chocolate bar Alfred had handed him earlier. "Oh," he said in realisation. "Blimey, forgot about that."
"Try it!" said Alfred fervently. "American chocolate is the best chocolate in the whole world!"
Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Is that so."
"It is! Try it! Don't you like chocolate?"
Arthur sighed wearily, ripped open the bar, and took a bite. He paused, surprised. It actually was very good. "It's passable, I suppose."
Alfred looked amusedly doubtful. "Passable."
"Mm-hm."
"That must be why you're scoffing the whole thing."
Bollocks. Arthur glared at Alfred. He hurried to finish his mouthful.
"So it's that hard to get candy here, huh?"
Arthur shrugged, discreetly wrapping the last of the chocolate in its wrapper. "Well, we're on rations. Everything is hard to get right now."
Alfred sighed and leant back, throwing his arms across the top of the bench. Arthur jumped nervously when Alfred's hand brushed his back. "You Brits have had it tough for a few years, haven't ya."
Arthur almost laughed incredulously. Alfred had no idea. "London is different now from a few years ago. So much has been destroyed. After the Blitz…" Arthur broke off and shuddered, still overwhelmed by awful memories. The dread of the coming nightfall, the evil of the air raid signal, those horrifying moments crouching in shelters and unable to sleep through the noise. The terror which quickly gave way to a numbing acceptance; never knowing what would be standing and who would be breathing in the morning. Arthur felt a brief brush of Alfred's hand against his.
"I remember seeing a film about it back home a few years ago," said Alfred quietly. "A docmenary."
Arthur tried not to laugh. It was a welcome distraction. "Documentary."
"Yeah, one of them." Alfred shook his head and stared up at the sky. "People all huddled in bomb shelters, and sirens going off, and dozens of Heinkel bombers flying over and flattening buildings to rubble - just like that one in the street before. It looked like you really had it rough."
"We did. We still do." So Alfred did know a little of the earlier war after all. His words brought back memories far too easily. "But we're strong. We made it through then, and we'll make it through now. We're British, after all."
Alfred smiled at that. "I'm starting to see quite a bit about you Brits."
"And does the American like what he sees?" asked Arthur.
"Yes," said Alfred softly, his eyes intense as he stared at Arthur. "He certainly does."
Arthur's neck burned despite the chilly wind. He dropped his gaze to his feet.
"Well, I'm impressed," said Alfred, his voice rising to its usual loud volume. "Your city is fantastic."
Arthur raised his eyes to Alfred's grinning face and smiled back. "I know."
The air was near freezing and the sun quickly descending in the sky by the time they strolled slowly passed the gates of Buckingham Palace. Alfred, as usual, looked excited and fascinated. Arthur could not understand how he was still so energetic.
"Oh, gosh! Oh, wow! That's where the king lives!"
Arthur nodded wearily. "Yes, Alfred."
"Can we see him?"
Arthur furrowed his brows, taken aback. "The king?"
"Yeah!"
"Oh yes, absolutely, I'll just trot right in and see if old George will have us for afternoon tea, shall I?"
Alfred looked gobsmacked. "You can do that?"
Arthur shook his head, partly amused, partly exasperated. Alfred obviously had a little trouble with the concept of sarcasm. "Why don't we go back to the Emerald Lion and have afternoon tea there, instead?"
"With the king?" asked Alfred eagerly. Arthur just looked at him. "Oh, you mean, obviously... right." Alfred coughed and Arthur hid a smirk behind his hand. "Well sure, Art, that sounds swell. Only, I don't actually have to drink tea, do I?"
"No. And Alfred?"
"Yeah?"
"It's Arthur."
"Of course it is."
But Arthur couldn't feel angry. Sure, he was a little tired, slightly exasperated, and quite confused as to why Alfred was still intent on spending time with him. But he was also happier than he could remember feeling in years. And he had just spent the best day of his life, in the greatest city in the world, with a slight hangover and the most interesting, wonderful, bloody frustrating American he had ever met.
