Warnings~: I always forget to mention they've all got potty mouths because they're teenagers and I think people forget that teenagers (and I know, I am one) tend to curse a LOT. ^_^ And in case you haven't read the title of the chapter yet, there's going to be some sexual-like content. So yeah, like... Don't know how to describe it without giving away the fun, but it's not full-blown sex or whatnot so you can just skip over a few paragraphs when you get to it, b/c this chapter's got some valuable information in it~, I think. Also! I'm going to introduce Denmark in this chapter. I've heard SO many human names for him, so I'm going to stick to Matthias. I've gotten a few PM's telling me to 'hurry the fuck up' on my chapters. Look at my name, and then say that to my face. I try to update a lot, but schools kicking my ass and I'm just starting my finals this Friday! But hey, this chapter's 20 goddamn pages so I think it's worth the wait.
By the way, last year I did this too, but at my school there's this amazing thing called the Fine Art's Center, that I can apply for. There's a Creative Writing section I'm trying to get into, but about only 5-7 people get in, out of 100 or so auditions. So, I'm working on one HELL of a portfolio for that. (PM me if you don't mind/ would love to read over what I have so far and criticize me on them! I'd very much appreciate the help!) I wish you all a belated Happy New year, and I hope your year will be AMAZING.
Thanks,
Mrs. Procrastination
(P.S no promises I reply to every comment unless you ask a question or something! I've gotten some people saying 'great job' then get mad when I won't respond! Sorry, my email isn't sending me whenever you comment, so I have to go read them from the comments section, so I only check every few weeks! Thank you though, and PLEASE comment, it helps me get the chapters out faster!)
Chapter 3:
Booze and Lap Dances
Arthur couldn't quite remember what had happened as he woke up a good while later in a small pool of his own blood. The first sign of his consciousness was a quiet groan, then his eyes fluttering open just a bit. His body felt ten times heavier than it ever had, almost like someone was pinning him down with the weight of an elephant. But after a moment of slowly bending his fingers and toes, trying to regain feeling in his body, he slowly managed to lose the extra weight baring down on him, and he sat up. He realized almost immediately that surrounding his head had been a small pool of blood, and no doubt the crusty, drying liquid was all over the side of his face and his forehead, and it'd matted up his already-blood red hair.
He inhaled sharply as the memory of the flying bottle slowly pieced itself together in his mind, and he shivered, wrapping his arms around himself as he looked around. It was just the same as it had been before, bottles lying askew. Although, it didn't smell quite as bad. Arthur could only guess his father had bolted off to another bar after throwing the bottle. For a moment he gave up on his defenses and let out a soft sniffle, lips turning down into a quivering frown as he looked to the ground, leaning against the wall close to him and hiding his head gingerly in his knees. His body hurt, all over. He had no doubt his father had probably 'nudged' him with his toe once or twice in the stomach to see if he was okay before he'd taken off. It would sure explain the fact it hurt to breathe regularly.
After a moment he slowly inhaled, letting the breath go as slowly as he could to calm his nerves. He hated that feeling, that feeling where the world seemed like it held nothing in his favor. There wasn't one person, one single damn human being, or even a pet cat he could talk to about his issues. His mom, although she'd promised to get him back over to England after he graduated, hadn't contacted him in the past half year. Well, Arthur didn't count those short, 'Love you!' texts he got once every other week. He used to reply with long texts, begging, pleading for her to somehow sum up the money to at least take him away from his father. But she never even responded to those. He had a sickening feeling it was his youngest brother sending those texts just so Arthur wouldn't feel so alone.
The Brit placed one hand on the wall, slowly willing himself to his feet. Instantly, the room swayed, and he leaned heavily into the darkly colored wall, groaning quietly. There was another feeling he despised, dizziness. After a while of mentally willing himself to move, he managed to make it up the stairs and into his bathroom. Closing the door with a shaky hand, he turned on the light and quite literally yelped at his reflexion. Blood covered a good portion of his face, not to mention the bags under his eyes, or all the small cuts that were all over his forehead. He looked like he'd run through a goddamn glass door. He sighed, grabbing a pair of tweezers and leaning over the sink, steadying his head with one hand, observing the two small glass shards embedded in his skin. Sucking in a breath to prepare himself, he took hold of one of the pieces, then slowly pulled it out of his skin.
A low groan of pain slipped from his lips as he pulled it out, letting the bloody shard of glass drop into a trashcan as he quickly got the second out of his head, swallowing thickly as he reached for a washcloth. This was scary. There was no other way to say it, but it was scary that Arthur's father had flung a bottle so violently, he'd left his son in a pool of his own blood. That just showed how little he actually cared for him. Arthur wet the cloth with water, leaning against the wall slightly as he slowly cleaned away at the dried blood, revealing one or two deeper cuts, then half a dozen or so smaller ones scattered around that one spot. Not to mention all of the skin there was bruised.
After cleaning the blood up, he began the slow process of cleaning it with alcohol, and oh-so carefully covering all of them in bandages before he sluggishly moved to his room, where he collapsed limply onto the bed. He curled up in the oversized blanket that Cynthia had left over, burying his nose in it and inhaling slowly. It was the one thing in the house that didn't smell like alcohol. The one thing that was pure.
And that was how he calmed himself down from the state of fear he was in, inhaling and exhaling slowly, absorbing the sweet scent. He didn't even care that it smelled like Alfred just a bit. He just wanted to think about anything but his father, and the hellish home he lived in. Ten minutes later and Arthur had almost managed to drift off. It was already 8:00PM, the sky slowly getting darker and darker. But the Brit had no doubt his dad would be out for at least five more hours. That was when he heard a knock on the door of his bedroom. He jumped a foot up in the air, almost literally, as he looked over to see Alfred standing in an open doorway.
His mouth went dry, realizing he'd left his door open, not to mention the front door had probably been unlocked. With a churn of his stomach he realized how weak and vulnerable he must of looked, half awake and with half of his face bandaged up. "..A-Alfred..." He said after a moment in a weaker tone than he would of liked, staying curled up in the soft blanket, clinging onto it like a lifeline.
Alfred didn't look too pleased to be there either. He was standing in the doorway with hunched shoulders, combing a hand through his messy honey-blond hair, eyes averted from the other. "My mom said she wanted her damn blanket back, or somethin'..." He grumbled awkwardly, slowly glancing over to the Brit.
"Oh." 'It'll be so simple to get him to leave. Just give it to him. Give it up Arthur.' The emerald-eyed teen thought to himself, looking down to the soft, faded maroon blanket. "Well, I, um..." 'Give it back, dammit.'
"Oh, and she... Also said somethin' bout me checking up on you or some shit?" Alfred continued after a moment, seeming irritated he had to ask such a question. "I mean... She just said your dad was some stuck up asshole and.. she wanted to make sure you were alright." Alfred's words seemed forced, but not fake. Just like he was having trouble saying them, having trouble admitting it. But why? If he was just conveying some message.
"I'm perfectly alright. Here's your blanket." Arthur replied cooly, almost reluctantly unwrapping himself from the blanket and holding it out to him with near-shaking arms. Yet Alfred didn't take it, rather he pushed it back at him thoughtlessly, letting it drape back around Arthur's shoulders.
"There's literally a pool of blood on the floor downstairs and it smells like you doused the place in the worst-brand beer." Alfred retorted calmly, although there was a hint of agitation in his tone.
"I'm fine, just an accident."
"He threw something at you, didn't he? That's why you've got all of those bandages..."
"No, he didn't. I slipped on a bottle."
"You may be a clumsy queer, but you're not that stupid."
"Maybe I am that fucking stupid. Why does it matter? Tell your mum I'm perfectly fine, and get the hell out of my house."
Alfred seemed to be very torn, his mouth opening then closing again as he debated on what to say. He was still in the doorway, although his fists were clenched and he was leaning forward a bit. "Goddammit, I'm bothering to give a shit. Why don't you just shut the hell up and let someone be worried, for once."
"I would let someone be worried, but not you. Because you hate me, and I hate you, there's no kind of worry between the either of us." Arthur snapped back, sitting in the middle of the bed with the blankets draped around his shoulders, covering a good portion of his face. He was attempting to hide all of the bandages.
"Shut the fuck up," Alfred hissed suddenly, walking across the room at an alarming speed, grabbing Arthur by the collar of his shirt and pulling him up off the bed a bit. "You don't get to fucking say if I'm worried or not. I can be fucking worried if I want to be. And don't say that I hate you."
Arthur squeaked as his shirt was grabbed, a hand shooting out to hold onto Alfred's wrist, trying to prevent him from pulling his shirt up any further. "L-let me go!" He could feel a bit of fear building up in the pit of his stomach, and he struggled against the American's grasp. He really couldn't afford yet another bruise on his face.
It took Alfred a split second to realize his other hand was curled up into a fist, and he'd let his anger get the better of him. He abruptly let go of the Brit, taking several steps back, unfurling the both of his hands. It was almost painful to watch Arthur sink back down, hide under the covers partially. He was dizzy again, his body not wanting to move. "I-..." The American made a 'tsk' sound, scoffing as he walked over to the door. "I'm going to be downstairs watching something, come down whenever."
"Alfred, this isn't your house." Arthur pointed out in a quiet, but assertive tone.
"Yeah? Well I, being your father's ex-girlfriend's son, get's to yell at him for being a low-life, retarded, worthless piece of shit to my mom. Stay up here if you want, but I'm hanging around until he get's back." Alfred stormed out of the room and stomped down the steps, Arthur could hear angered muttering as the tv flickered to life. Some sitcom was on, Arthur could easily distinguish the cheesy female actress sobbing hysterically over something that was probably unimportant. He lay back down under the blanket, burying his face in a pillow and staying there, even though the applied pressure to the injuries on his head didn't feel wonderful. He was just thankful it was the weekend, and he had another day to rest before he had to go back to hell.
Another hour of laying there and he started to get paranoid about the fact Alfred was in his house. Hell, he could of been doing anything. Going through his or his dads stuff, finding things he shouldn't have... Hopping out of bed, he stopped by the bathroom on his way down to look at the bandage he'd applied to his head just to make sure his head had stopped bleeding. He walked down the stairs slowly, glancing to his left to see Alfred, plopped down on the couch and eating a bowl of popcorn.
"I never said you could have that, you know." Arthur said in a low, emotionless tone. It wasn't like he meant it, he just couldn't accept the thought that Alfred didn't completely hate his guts. Alfred shrugged slightly and rolled his eyes.
"Bite me..." The American mumbled in reply, glancing over to the Brit after a moment and rolling his eyes. "And knowing you, I have to say not literally, I don't want your teeth anywhere near me."
"Damn right you don't... Hand it over." Arthur grumbled, taking a seat in an comfortable arm chair near the couch, reaching over when the popcorn was handed to him. He grabbed a handful, sitting back and plopping the pieces in his mouth one by one. He looked over to see Alfred was watching the last thing he expected to see. "You're watching... Sherlock?" Arthur asked, sparing a questioning glance in the direction of the honey blond. Alfred frowned slightly, glancing to the remote as if debating to change it.
"Well... There was nothing else on, and I remember you mentioning it was a good show earlier on... Whatever, I'll just turn the damn news on if it's that big of a deal." Alfred seemed to get embarrassed for a moment, reaching for the remote. Arthur suddenly remembered that awkward pizza meal he'd shared with Alfred all that time ago. He remembered very briefly bringing up Sherlock. Wow, to be honest Arthur hadn't thought he'd been paying any attention at all to what he'd said.
"No, no, by all means, leave it on... This is a good episode." Arthur mused after a moment, leaning back into the plush chair.
"Yeah..." Alfred seemed to realize that he'd agreed with the other, and quickly came up with a way to argue. "But they're totally gay, like, ew."
Arthur crinkled his nose at the second comment, deciding not to risk getting in an argument. He went silent, mouth forming a thin line as he pulled his knees into his chest, resting his chin on his knees. The wound on his head felt terrible, sending waves of pain throughout his body every time he tried to move. He glanced over to the dried blood on the floor, figuring if his father wanted to hide the fact he abused his son, he could clean it up his damn self. "Is it... Really hard for you to accept the fact that two people can be in love? Regardless of gender?" Arthur mumbled after a moment, keeping his eyes on the blood for a while before looking up to the tv. Alfred seemed to tense up at this reasoning, frowning.
"It's just the fact they think they're so high and mighty! And they hit on us straight people all the damn time!" Alfred replied in defense, raising his voice a bit more than he should have. "And nothing's more gross than being hit on by the same gender! Like, the Bible said it's a sin!"
"The Bible also says, and I quote, 'You are to keep My statutes. You shall not breed together two kinds of your cattle; you shall not sow your field with two kinds of seed, nor wear a garment upon you of two kinds of material mixed together'." Arthur stated word for word. He always liked to use that simple argument, it made lots of sense. "Looks like we're both going to bloody hell, Alfred, we're mixing cotton with polyester. And plus, last time I checked you weren't even religious."
"Well... The bible was just confused then! And I'm not, but it's a- it's like a-..." Alfred trailed off, not able to find the correct words.
"A good scapegoat for why people shouldn't be able to love freely?" Arthur mused dryly in response, "And who's to say that if it was confused then, why not when it says people can't be gay?"
Alfred was more or less, speechless. Arthur struck several wonderful points right on the head, not leaving much room for argument. "It's just... Gross, to be hit on by dudes... And when they won't leave ya alone even when you ask 'em to..."
"Alfred, I can't tell you how many times I've seen boys keep going after girls once they tell them to stop. They'll just assume that the girl's playing 'hard to get'. But never, in my life, have I seem a man go after another man after he says stop."
"Okay! Okay! Shut up, Jesus Christ! Whatever, you win, I just don't like the idea of people being gay! Is that so hard to understand?" Alfred snapped at him, growling in a dangerously low tone. Arthur glanced over to him, giving an amused little smirk before nodding and going mute.
"No, not at all. It's just hard to understand with some phony bible claim."
Alfred seemed to firstly be annoyed by this statement, shoulders tensing as he sent a venomous glare. Then he calmed down, shoulder's slacking like he'd more or less understood Arthur's reasoning. The Briton didn't want bullshit reasons. Alfred looked down to the now empty popcorn bowl, rising to his feet with a little sigh. He headed into the kitchen without a word, grabbing one of the microwavable bags. He waited for the kernels to start screaming in agony as their insides imploded, busying himself by looking at the pictures on the fridge. Arthur's father had both he and his mother almost completely fooled that he was a good parent. The pictures were obviously of Arthur and his siblings, laughing, happy, innocent. He frowned slightly, looking away from them.
His phone startled him out of his stupor, a very loud version of 'Bringing Sexy Back' sounding in the kitchen. Normally it was funny around his friends, and girls would just giggle and whisper, 'yes you are'. But he was very flustered to hear Arthur full out having a laughing attack, which was both very annoying... But very good to hear he could laugh. Picking up his phone, he held it to his ear. "Hey, mom... Yeah no, he's good... I'm waiting here... Yes, I do, mom the guys an asshole I need to-... It is my business... No I'm not alone, Arthur's here... Mom, no... Mom, not fair! It's not his type of party anyways... Because I know this kind of thing, he wouldn't enjoy it-"
"I love parties!" He heard Arthur shout in a sarcastic tone from the other room, although his very dense mother didn't pick up on the sarcastic part.
"Mom, no... C'mon, this isn't fair, I've been waiting to go for months, he'll drag me down... Mooooom, not cool... Seriously... Pick some other kind of punishment... Fine, whatever... Yeah, you too, bye." Alfred hung up his phone with an irritable sigh, hearing Arthur still chuckling from the other room. "Goddammit Arthur! Not funny, this parties not your type of thing. Everyone that likes to beat the shit out of you'll be there!"
"Will there be Westside students there too?" Came a voice from the other room.
"Well, yeah, but why?"
"All of the guys there seem to like my ass. I'll chill with them."
"And you know how? Maybe you're just making assumptions, being an arrogant gay."
"Hm, yes, maybe I am. Maybe when one walked up to me, grabbed my ass, and said, 'Nice ass, wanna fuck sometime?' is just me making an assumption half of that school is gay."
"Ewwww, why'd you tell me that?"
"Thought you should know."
"You're a sarcastic little shit, you know that?"
Arthur laughed quietly, rising up to his feet slowly and walking into the kitchen so he wouldn't have to raise his voice. "So I've been told... Where's the party, then?"
"Who in the world says you're going?"
"Your mum. Come on, I'll stay out of your way. It's a Friday night and I want to get out of the house." Well, it was already nearing nine thirty at this point, but judging highschoolers, the party had just begun.
"You're hurt, you've been stumbling around like you're half dead." Alfred frowned, not wanting to have to tote Arthur around. Even more so, he didn't want to feel responsible for him. Because now he did, even if it was a little. He'd seen how Arthur lived, how he never got a break from being called worthless. And now he almost couldn't bring himself to do it. In reality, the Brit seemed like a decent enough guy... He just liked to broadcast about being gay a bit more than Alfred was comfortable with.
"I'm fine, you've done worse yourself and not cared."
Oh, ouch. Alfred frowned, turning his head away with a little scowl, going to fetch his popcorn from the microwave. Usually the buttery aroma of freshly popped popcorn got him happy, but Arthur'd spoiled it. He frowned, saying nothing and avoiding looking at Arthur all together. He wanted to yell at the Brit, oddly enough. But he couldn't because Arthur was one hundred percent correct. He had done worse.
"Fine, fine, we're leaving in half an hour... Go get dressed, and not all in black. You'll stick out like a sore thumb." Alfred said finally. Arthur didn't bother to argue, heading out of the kitchen and slowly making his way up the steps. He didn't feel great, but after taking two advil once he got to his room, he knew the pain would disappear soon enough. He changed out of his current clothing, throwing on a pair of blue jeans (hey, not black at least) and a My Chemical Romance band shirt on, black. He walked back down, not really expecting much commentary. But oh, Alfred frowned and shook his head.
"In case you didn't get the memo, this is the kind of party where people, including I, intend on getting laid. Not a 'chill' party." Alfred sighed and took his bowl of popcorn up to Arthur's room, the other following after him with a frown.
"I don't intend on getting laid, I don't see why it matters what I wear."
"Ugh... Stop arguing, listen to me! Just... Trust me on this, I know what I'm doing."
Arthur chuckled, seeing how frustrated the other was getting by something as trivial as clothing. "Fine, fine, choose an outfit for me, mum." He motioned to his closet with a jerk of the head. Arthur didn't feel great, no part of his body did. But he wouldn't turn down a chance to party, because it rarely ever came up. Last time he'd partied had been the time Gilbert had gotten him in one all those years ago.
Alfred walked into Arthur's small, cramped closet, looking amongst the sea of black. He seemed to try to grab things, but dropped them when realizing they were too baggy or too 'emo' looking, as he mumbled every few moments as he tossed down some band shirts. Finally though, he came out with a pair of bight red skinny (painfully skinny) jeans and (thank god) black tank-top like band shirt, with 'Green Day' written in bright red stenciling.
"Here, wear this." Alfred said, tossing it over. "You've gotta learn to like.. pop at these parties. Get people's attention."
Arthur looked at the pants, frowning. "God, I didn't even realized I owned such a color any more... Can't I wear black ones?" Arthur said in an almost whiny tone.
"No! Pop, pop, ya hear me? Black doesn't make you pop, red makes you pop." Alfred said matter-o-factly. Arthur huffed, seeming to give up. He unbuttoned his current jeans, slipping them down (showing completely awesome British flag briefs) before he heard Alfred yelp. "Woah dude, goddamn, let me get out of the room!" He said loudly, taking his eyes off of the other quickly. Arthur scoffed.
"Oh please, it's no different than changing in the gym locker room. What, scared my body's gonna turn you gay?" Arthur emphasized the last word in a very sarcastic voice, tossing the blue jeans in the hamper and grabbing the red ones, having a bit of difficulty pulling the clingy material up all the way. It fit his hips well still, at least, but it left no mercy for clinging onto his bum and thighs. He sighed, pulling off his shirt and reaching for the band shirt, pulling it on over his head. Thankfully it seemed the few bruises he had on his stomach were lingering, almost not there at all.
"Oh shut your mouth, Kirkland, I just don't like seeing dudes change. That's gay."
"Yes, very good Jones, very good deduction."
Alfred huffed, walking back and tossing Arthur a pair of bright red Doc Martin's for shoes, the Brit making more commentary about 'not owning such colors'. "Fuck off man... Put these on and let's go." Arthur slid on the shoes without complaint, grabbing a bottle of concealer and eyeliner from his desktop, heading in the direction of the bathroom. Alfred noticed this, grabbing him by the back of his shirt, "Lose the makeup, Kirkland, you look fine without it."
Arthur frowned slightly at him, raising a thick eyebrow as if to ask, 'are you shitting me?' before he set the items back down on his desk and nodded. "Whatever." He simply wouldn't accept the fact Alfred had come close to complimenting him. Out the front door they walked, the affect of the advil he'd earlier taken had finally kicked in, making everything feel almost numb. Usually at least something in his body hurt, and since it was hard to come by any type of pills he didn't often take any unless he was absolutely dying. But tonight seemed reason enough to. Alfred hopped in the Jeep parked in front, Arthur getting in the passengers side. He didn't bother to tell Alfred just how filthy his car was, with old McDonalds wrappers in the floorboards and the very tacky Christmas tree air freshener hanging from the middle mirror.
Alfred began to drive, long past dark out at this point. Arthur was about to point out Alfred wasn't dressed up at all for the event, before realizing he was. He hadn't really noticed it when he'd been almost blinded with pain earlier, but the American was in white skinny jeans (not quite the soul-suckingly tight ones Arthur wore) and a button-up American flag shirt, which had been 'accidentally' halfway buttoned up, showing off the tan skin that rested on his collarbone, which to anyone-man or woman- looked perfectly bitable. Arthur looked back out his own window, sighing. The lights passed in a blur, and he could of sworn he saw his dads car passing as they drove. But that wasn't likely, the man never got home before four. Plus, he wouldn't care if Arthur wasn't there, if he returned earlier than four in the morning, then he found some girl who would roll around in the sheets with. And boy, Arthur never wanted to walk in on that again.
What seemed like minutes later they were pulling up to a house that made Arthur's jaw drop. It was pretty much the picture perfect vision of 'that rich-ass kid who's parents lent them a mansion for a party' kind of thing. There were spotlights shining up on four stories of marble pillars, the yard neatly trimmed down to the last hair of grass. The walls were paved smoothly with a creme color. Arthur found himself staring for a moment, before he heard Alfred tapping on the passenger side window. "Stop gawking, come on in."
Arthur did as he was told without waiting, hopping out of the car and closing the door, following Alfred in. When the American had said 'party' earlier, he imagined twenty or so people in a basement, sharing a few lukewarm beers they'd stolen from their parents. But oh no, half the school had to be there. Well, the popular half anyways. Inside was even more grand, the front room had a whole buffet with nothing but alcohol. Like... How? How had they never been busted for that? Arthur'd followed his dad into a few bars once, and even they didn't have that quantity. "Heh... Pretty cool, am I right?"
"Yes... Very..." Arthur suddenly felt very small. Not like the 'cornered and being beaten' kind of small. But like the 'insignificant human being' kind of small. "It's really nea-... Well fuck you too." Arthur looked over to see Alfred had disappeared, already chatting up his current girlfriend. Arthur looked around, not seeing a single face, not one that he wanted to talk to at least. Arthur wandered over to a corner after a while, regretting going to the party for the next ten minutes. He saw flashes of Alfred, usually making out with the girl of talking to other people.
"Heyyyy, it's cuteee asssss boyyy," Came a very drawn out voice from his left suddenly, feeling an arm be slung around his arm instantly. Arthur almost stumbled, feeling pain managing to make its way through his body despite the pain medicine. He turned to look at who it was, having to really analyze his face.
"Oh, hey... You're the Westside boy, the one that..."
"Commented your ass a few weeks ago, yeah, that was me."
"Wow, didn't think you'd remember me. It was all of a two second meeting."
"I never forget a pretty face."
Arthur, for some reason, smiled. He usually hated other people flirting with him, regardless of gender. But it felt nice for someone to compliment him once, someone that thought he was somewhat attractive. "Dayum, your ass looks even better in these pants!" The teen was peeking behind the Briton, grinning at what he saw. Arthur mentally thanked Alfred, chuckling lowly.
"Why thanks, love. You know, I don't believe I ever got your name."
"Matthias."
"Arthur."
"It's nice to officially meet you Arthur, mind if I hang out with you? No one else here likes to hang out with me. They think hanging out with that 'gay emo' kid isn't socially acceptable."
Arthur felt a connection immediately, and he nodded with a little excited smile. "I know! Bloody 'ell, it's not emo, it's-"
"Punk!" They both exclaimed at the same time with a joyful smile, laughing.
"Oh God, someone understands!" The blue eyed boy said happily, his spiked up hair bouncing slightly as he jumped slightly from excitement. "Well, in honor of one human being understanding me, may I go get you a drink, Arthur?"
Oh fucking finally, a teen who knew how to treat someone. Arthur nodded almost immediately, wandering with the other over out of the crowd a bit. "That would be lovely, thanks. Nothing too strong..."
"Nooo man, you need to be on this level with meee, everything's a blur." Matthias exclaimed with a laugh, wandering off in the crowd of dancing bodies. People were pressed together, some just dancing, some grinding. He leaned up against a wall, seeing a few of the jocks from his school. Every time his eyes locked with a new one, they seemed to have this weird... acceptance. Like, 'okay, you got someone cool to bring you in. We'll let you go for now.' kind of thing. He sighed in relief, looking as the Nordic wandered back over with a small glass filled with a light brown liquid.
"Dare I ask what it is?"
"A mix of vodka, ouzo, arak, and two or three other alcohols... I dunno man, one shot get's ya completely stoned."
Arthur took the glass, looking down at it doubtfully. He'd been tipsy a few times, but since his dad was such a drunken bastard... He was almost scared he'd turn into some horrendous beast if he got drunk. However, Matthias was standing there like a puppy, a rather joyous expression on his face as he waited. With a sigh, Arthur tilted his head back and downed it, making a rather disgusted face as he felt it burn down his throat. "Ugh! Ew, god g-gross!" He coughed, leaning over slightly. He felt a hand gently patting his back, and heard a joyful laugh.
"I know man, I know, it's disgusting. But none of the alcohol here's quality, so it's the best way to get the great affects without downing that shit for more than a second." Matthias said, rubbing his back. Arthur slowly straightened up, making another face as he felt the burn disappear. As soon as the burn died away though, he felt his brain become fuzzy. Thoughts such as, 'I probably shouldn't sleep with a guy I just met,' changed to, 'I hope he's got a condom on him,' as he looked up to Matthias, grinning loosely. "Good shit, right?" The taller of the two asked happily.
"Oh yeah... This is great... What should we go do now?" Arthur looked up to the other, setting down the glass somewhere. Who knew where~? Who cared~? He hadn't let himself smile, be happy, have fun in three years, and tonight- he was sure as hell going to have the time of his life. He looked across the room, seeing Alfred. Mh... 'When Alfred's not being a total dickhead... He's kinda.. hot... Hehe, wonder if he'd be a little less straight for the night~?' Arthur thought to himself, feeling Matthias take his hand and guide him out of the main room.
"There's lots of games, ya know, spin the bottle, seven minutes in heaven... You know, all of the ones that can get people laid without looking like whores. Or, there's a pool in the back." Matthias said, looking in each room as they passed them.
"Mh... It's early, how about a swim first?"
"You bring swim trunks?"
"I'm wearing underwear."
"Ah damn, thought ya woulda left those as home... Skinny-dipping's hot."
Arthur grinned like a goofball, having completely lost any shred of sobriety. "Mh, not in front of half a hundred people... Maybe later for you, though, love~"
Matthias grinned, whistling. "Ooooh goodie! Well, swimming it is. Everyone's swimming in under-shit, so don't worry 'bout it." The both of them walked out two held open tall, glass doors and out into the back. Although it was chilly out, there were heaters pumping out hot air, and it kept it mildly warm, not to mention Arthur didn't doubt the pool was heated. He looked around to all of the teens, the girls in bra's and their underwear, the braver ones (or the ones that didn't intend to swim) wearing thongs. He looked away, not finding it fitting to his tastes. They were already revealing enough skin, in his opinion. Why show even more? Looking over to Matthias, he saw the teen had already pulled off of his shirt and was unbuttoning his pants. Arthur, had he been the tiniest bit sober, would of admired how absolutely gorgeous his body was. But all he could focus on was the water.
Pulling off his own shirt, he ignored the few remaining bruises, glad it was dark out to distract from those. He had to really struggle to get off the tight red skinny jeans, folding them up and leaving them next to the Nordic's. "Hey, you've got... I didn't want to ask about your head, but are you alright?" Matthias questioned suddenly, nose scrunching up as he squinted his eyes, leaning in a bit to look at the assorted bruises.
"Oh, yeah..." Arthur strained to think of a legible reason, head swimming in a land of magical unicorns at this point. "Don'ttt worry about it~ I just fell down the stairs, hit pretty much every damn step on the way down." Anyone from his school knew that was a lie, but at least Matthias wouldn't.
"Oh, okay. I know the guy throwing this party, so let me know if you need any kind of medicine. I can get some from him."
Arthur nodded with a half smile, before walking over to the pool and slipping in. It wasn't a five year olds party so he knew he couldn't cannon ball in, but he wished he could of. A little sigh left his lips in comfort as he was encased in lukewarm water, feeling the air was slightly cooler than the water. He sunk in further, up to his nose, not wanting to get the bandages on his head wet. Matthias slid in next to him, grinning and going completely under, coming back up, his hair now plastered to his forehead. "Oh god, that feels goooood." Both of them said in unison, giggling like idiots at the perfect timing. In the back of his mind, Arthur was glad he didn't feel anger like his father did. He just felt... loopy, like he'd spill all of his secrets if somebody asked.
"Wanna go over to the hot tub? No one else is in there," Matthias said after a moment of relaxing, looking over to the small tub connected to the end of the pool. Arthur's feet landed on the ground of the shallow end after a moment, looking over. They'd have to cross through the deep end to get there... It wasn't to say that Arthur couldn't swim, but he hadn't in years, and the thought of going over eight feet of danger didn't appeal to him.
"Hm.. Sure, let's." He replied, staying close to the side as he began to swim idly, hoping Matthias would just assume he was moving slow because of the alcohol or the serenity, not because he really hated deep water. After a few minutes of weaving through the water not-so-gracefully, Arthur pulled himself into the hot tub, immediately sinking in with a content sigh. The wind was cold on his shoulders, but it only made it all the much better as he sunk further in. Matthias moved to take a seat next to the Brit, in a not-so-innocent way. He wrapped his arm around the Brit's shoulders, looking out around all of the people.
Arthur wasn't used to all of the sweet attention, the fact he felt Matthias's lips pressed against his cheek in a moment, then his jawline, then down his throat slowly was a bit unsettling. Not that he didn't enjoy it, quite the contrary, but he hadn't felt that since he'd been with Gilbert for those few weeks. And even then, the Prussian was never one for being very gentle, he preferred making out heavily on a grassy bank. Arthur didn't say anything about the lips, instead tilting his head to the side, letting him continue. Most people would of jumped back and shouted, 'I don't know you that well!' or something of the like, but Arthur didn't really care. No one knew him, and if a cute Nordic man wanted to make out and leave early, why the hell not?
"Mh... Usually when I do this people have something to say about it..." Matthias whispered against his collarbone, licking there gently before kissing back up to his ear, sucking on the lobe of it.
"What's there to say? Thanks?" Arthur replied in a quiet but teasing tone, earning a little laugh from the blond.
"I like your hair... I've never had the guts to dye mine a bright color like that..."
"O-oh, thanks..." Arthur felt his cheeks light up as the other continued with the light, teasing motions, never leaving a mark on his skin. He felt a hand on his stomach, rubbing slowly and daring to slide down a bit, almost close to-
"What the holy fuck are you doing, Arthur? What the holy fuck?" Alfred, who was magically standing right on the edge of the hot tub, said in a strong tone. Arthur jumped away from the Nordic man, flushing slightly.
"Er... Having funnn?" He cooed slowly, grinning lightly. He was blushing, although it was hard to tell if he was embarrassed, or if it was the strong alcohol. "You said this was a party to get laid at, Alfie, why can't I?"
"Because, it's gross. C'mon, we're going upstairs to play games." Alfred said sternly. Matthias sat back slightly, glancing between the two of them. It was evident that they had a bit of a history, the way they spoke to each other showed it.
"Noooo, I wanna stay here with Matthiassss..." Arthur whined, feeling a hand on his arm. He yelped quietly, shivering at the cold that greeted his body. Alfred flushed slightly at the water clinging to the other, which made the briefs he were wearing even tighter. God, he could see every curve of his bum-...
"Get dried off, you can lay your pretty lil' boyfriend later, since I brought you here you're my responsibility and I need to keep some what of a watch over you." Alfred threw a towel at the Brit, looking away with a little frown. Matthias chuckled lightly, sinking further in the water, looking up to Arthur with a kind smile.
"I'll be here dude, go have some fun~" The Nordic cooed happily, leaning back. Arthur nodded, drying off his legs and having to scrub his briefs to dry them off, slipping on the skinny jeans again, pulling on his shirt and following Alfred as he headed back into the house. He felt like this party gave him a bit of a social status, no one was messing with him, a few girls were even eyeing him. He doubted they knew he was gay.
Up the stairs they walked, down a few halls and into a room. It wasn't particularly big, with carpeted floors and a few huge bean bags that everyone was sitting in. Alfred walked over and plopped down in one, ignoring the couple a few feet away, groaning and grinding, tongues tangled together. It seemed like a completely normal thing. "Er... What's this game?" Arthur asked, watching as Alfred opened a beer and chugged down half of one.
"Pretty much a combination of spin the bottle, truth or dare, and seven minutes in heaven. Sit down, get laid, the dude directing it will be back in a little bit." Alfred, who sounded slightly less sober and a little more relaxed, said. Arthur nodded, taking a seat , leaning against the beanbag Alfred was in. But seriously, that thing was as big as a bed, four people could of sat in it. His eyes wandered around the room, hearing bumping sounds coming from the closet not far away. Two girls, that's right, two girls, were all-out snogging in a corner, a good deal of groping going on. Arthur was a little bit amazed Alfred wasn't even phased, considering the amount of dislike for gays. Arthur looked up as an older teen came back in, probably the host of the place. He looked to be about nineteen, if not in his early twenties.
"Alright, let's lay down the rules since I see some new faces! You don't like your dare, too fucking bad. Either do it, or get out. Not just out of this room, I will personally escort you fifty miles away. Either get with the game or leave now. This is a party, bros, I won't go around gossiping you were dared to do something you didn't like. Comprendo?" Arthur, along with everyone else in the room, nodded. The few kissing couples separated slowly in hopes of an even more lewd dare. Arthur found this particularly exciting, and looked around to everyone in the room. Either this could go badly, like being dared to make out with some girl... Or maybe, hopefully, someone would dare him to do something with Alfred. Now that he thought about it... Alfred wasn't bad looking, and this whole 'watch out for you thing' was kind of adorable. Not to mention he wasn't rough with him, and earlier it seemed he'd come as close to an apology as Arthur would ever get. He supposed it'd be nice to... try to forgive him, or at least make a mutual alliance. It would be heaven if he could get people to stop bullying him in school.
The Englishman looked down to his hand, seeing the bruised skin of his fingers. At least they were out of that god awful splint now, well on their way to healing. Drawing caused them to cramp though, so he steered away from it for a while longer. "Goodie! Let's do a little spin the bottle and get some of you lovebirds together, first... Hey, Liz and Roderich, out of the closet." The man looked over to the doors of the little room, seeing two flustered looking teenagers step out, taking a seat in one of the beanbags. Arthur noted the hickies on each other's necks, chuckling quietly to himself.
And thus the game begun, with more than twenty teens in the room now, spin the bottle got rid of eight of them, having two more intimate pairings 'go to the spare rooms upstairs', whilst the other two settled somewhere in the depths of the room. Spin the bottle ended, replaced by a round of seven minutes in heaven. Arthur found himself holding his breath the one time all of their names went into a hat, although in the end it was two girls names sitting on the opposite sides of the room. One of them, most likely a straighter girl, opposed for a minute then went silent at the threat of leaving. Someone handed her a beer, which she chugged before walking into the closet, the door closing with a soft 'thud' of a back being pressed to it. Wolf whistles sounded around the room, and slowly the man decided the last game, truth or dare. Arthur was especially excited for this one, straightening up and glancing to Alfred, a bit surprised to see he'd downed two more beers in less than ten minutes.
"Fun, fun, well let's see who the next victims are..." It was obvious by the black-headed man's tone of voice he was enjoying himself thoroughly, and he clasped his hands together. His eyes wandered over the crowd of hopeful faces, stopping on Alfred. The American was no longer sober, eyeing one of the bigger-chested girls in the corner of the room. He then looked to Arthur, who was hopefully looking up to the American. Chuckling softly, he spoke. "Hm, your names Alfred, right?" The leader walked over to the American, standing in front of the beanbag. The American looked up, smiling.
"Yeaaaah, that's the name bro!" He replied happily.
"You've got someone eyeing you, how 'bout you let them give you a little dance~?"
Alfred looked around to all of the girls in the room, most of which had their eyes trained one each other, not Alfred. "Someone was... eyeing...?" Not that he was surprised, people tended to have their eyes on him a lot. The man chuckled and nodded, motioning to Arthur. The American's eyes landed on the Brit for a moment, cheeks lighting up, though it may have just been from all of the beer. "No, no way man, I'm not even-"
"Yeah yeah, no one ever is. Well, you can either get it over with or get out. No one'll tell in here, don't worry man." Alfred knew no one in the room, so he guessed they were from other schools. Still...
Arthur perked up at the mention of him, grinning coyly. The alcohol in his body only got stronger and stronger it seemed, and all he was waiting for was Alfred's reaction. Alfred seemed to look from the door, to Arthur, debating on what to do. After a few moments of debating, he sighed and rolled his eyes, nodding his head. The taller man running the show, who's name was revealed to be Mike, whooted and walked back in the middle of everyone, continuing the show. More people meandered in, sitting down and staying until they got paired and left. Arthur grinned, crawling onto the beanbag and moving to straddle Alfred's lap. The American frowned, fidgeting slightly, resting his hands on the beanbag unsurely. Arthur didn't feel petite like girls did, his body was well filled out, and as much as the blue eyed teen dreaded admitting it, he liked the feeling of the other not being so breakable.
The redhead waited for a minute, looking straight down at Alfred with a drunken grin before beginning to move his hips, hard. Alfred let out a little moan in surprise and pleasure as he felt their hips pressed together, inhaling sharply as Arthur began to move his body rhythmically, grinding his arse back against his upper thighs. Alfred felt his cheeks heat up brighter than they should have, not liking the fact that this was... kind of turning him on. If he stopped looking at Arthur and focusing on the fact he was, well.. Arthur, all he could feel was a wonderful pleasure on his genitals. A quiet moan escaped the Brit's lips as he ground with more pressure, speeding up his hips as he imagined how it'd feel if they were naked, how it'd feel if Alfred was actually enjoyed himself. His hands moved to rest on the American's shoulders, eyes having closed a few minutes prior. He focused on moving his hips, on enjoying himself and trying to remember how the hell to give a decent lap dance.
When he opened his eyes though, Alfred was enjoying it. He'd leaned back into the beanbag, head falling back as his eyes closed. His cheeks were flushed a dark color, eyebrows furrowed a bit (whether in pleasure or distaste Arthur wasn't sure). The only thing that sold him was the little moans passing through the other's lips, the way his hips jolted up a bit every so often, and the feeling of his hands moving to rest on Arthur's thighs confirmed it. Arthur rolled his hips again, groaning deeply. There was certainly action going on in the both of their pants, for the Brit's pants only got tighter than originally, and he could feel something pressing back against him.
Alfred was trying not to like it too much, unluckily for him Arthur had a talent for moving his hips. Moaning, he opened his and leaned forward suddenly, smashing his lips into Arthur's. Because why not? He was drunk, so hopelessly drunk at this point, and he didn't care anymore. So maybe he wasn't 100% straight... Was there such a thing as Arthursexual? Was that a sexuality? God, he didn't know, or care. Arthur, even through his drunken haze, was shocked. Alfred tasted like alcohol and some other chick's cherry lipstick, his skin was hot against Arthur's. The Brit leaned in and kissed him back, hearing a few whoots coming from the few remaining people that were playing the game. He closed his eyes tightly, rolling his hips at a steady rate as he crashed their lips together again.
It was no sensual kissing like Matthias had done, rather quick, sloppy, tongue-on-tongue action. Alfred had this 'I don't care if you kiss back or not' kind of thinking to it, feeling their teeth clash. He finally had enough of the lapdance, not able to be as close as he'd like to. Grabbing Arthur by the bum, he flipped them over and pressed the Brit's lithe body against the beanbag, pinning him with his own body. Arthur's legs wrapped around his waist, thankful for the dimmed lights of the room now, hearing most of the other teens leaving the area, although there were still a few couples on other beanbags doing what they were. He ground his hips up against Alfred's, hands burying themselves into the honey blond hair of the other, groaning desperately into his mouth and pressing closer.
Arthur broke apart for air a moment later, panting heavily as he looked up to the American, feeling lips on his neck. Not like Matthias's though, rough, biting lips. He turned his head to the side, suddenly feeling his stomach lurch. 'Uh oh...' Arthur squirmed slightly, pushing at the other. "A-Al, I think I'm go-gonna be..." He jumped up, nearly stumbling across the room and clinging onto the sides of the trash bin as he threw up, mostly liquid; obviously the alcohol. He coughed dryly for a moment longer, his throat on fire. Arthur slowly walked back over to the beanbag on shaky legs, collapsing on it. Alfred was sitting criss cross, panting as he tried to reason with himself that in no way, had the makeout section with Arthur had been gay.
"Uh, you okay...? Arthur...? Arthur?" Alfred poked the other's shoulder, seeing his eyes close. "Ah, shit." The American sat back with an irritated sigh, a hand moving to run through Arthur's hair slowly, knowing the Brit had gone unconscious. So much for his night of mumbling 'no homo' as he rolled around in the sheets with the punk. Instead, he leaned over to gently pick up the other, surprised at how light he was. He weaved his way through the crowd of people and up the stairs slowly. He thought about driving, but upon realizing that he couldn't read simple words even with his glasses on, he decided it was best not to. The mansion they were in had a whole floor full of rooms, probably meant for servants or maids. Instead he lay Arthur back on one, tossing the blankets on top of him, deliberately trying not to be too gentle or too affectionate. That had been too close to gay. Surely though, he'd just responded because the damn Brit got him horny, right? Deciding on that, he left a glass of water on the bedside table and then walked out, going to solve his little problem between his legs with his girlfriend. Oh god, his girlfriend, what if someone told her about that little mishap!? He shook his head, clearing his throat as he headed back downstairs.
No way, no way in the world he was gay for Arthur Kirkland.