Too British

For the next minute or so Arthur found himself unable to do anything else other than stare. (If it were of any comfort to his dignity, at least his mouth wasn't hanging wide open.) Why was his date a male? It was probably his fault, since he did not bother to check the full profile of the person who had asked him out - but surely most normal people would not ask someone of the same gender out-

... Unless of course... Arthur's fingers twitched slightly on top of the table. Oh how tempting it was for him to reach right into his pocket and produce his Blackberry and double check his own profile. Surely he had not accidentally put in anything about being interested in people of his gender? He didn't remember doing anything so silly, but just what if in his haste of filling in his profile-

"So, did you wait long?" The question snapped him out of his temporary inner panic. Did he wait long? Arthur wrung together the threads of his shaky composure and straightened his back unconsciously,

"Oh, no, of course not," Arthur bit out. "I just came on time and waited around twenty minutes sitting here for you to arrive. That's not too long is it?"

The young man opposite him blinked twice, then his face cracked into a lopsided grin, "That's good then!"

Arthur tried not to click his tongue. Judging from his accent and his inability to read sarcasm, his date was most probably American. God, American. The word felt like half a cuss on his tongue, and there was just something about the man in front of him which seemed to effortlessly rub him the wrong way.

Or maybe I'm just being a tad too judgmental. Just because he was late doesn't mean that-

"Man," commented the American, flipping through the menu, a slight frown on his face. "I had no idea that all this place sold was..." A few more flips, and he clicked his tongue disdainfully. "Stogey old British food."

-Sod that, he is an uncultured American git. A late, uncultured, American git.

"I've been here for a few years now but," he grinned, not at all remorseful, and waved the waitress over. "Between you and me, I never really got British food, y'know what I mean? I still think most of it's pretty awful aha!"

Arthur could feel a vein bulge out in his neck. Personal differences aside, this was now a matter of cultural pride, dammit.

"Hello there," the man grinned, up at the waitress, who (much to Arthur's chagrin - don't encourage the git) blushed happily at his attention. "Could I get a coffee please? And my friend here," He gestured at Arthur, who was gripping his menu a little tighter than necessary. "He'd like-"

"A club sandwich." Arthur frowned, glaring at the American, as if daring him to comment, before smacking his menu down, loudly.

The man, thankfully, remained silent, and instead gathered up the menus and returned them to the waitress with a winning smile.

"So! Introductions, yeah?" He stuck his hand out for a handshake. "Alfred F. Jones, delighted to make your acquaintance!" Alfred smiled, jokingly putting on a (horrible sounding, Arthur noted with disdain) fake British accent.

"Arthur Kirkland." He reached across the table to shake Alfred's hand in a firm business-like manner, only to have Alfred swing his hand up and down cheerfully, then let go in midswing. Arthur withdrew his hand, trying very hard to keep his face a facade of cool indifference.

Alfred seemed to pay no heed for the tension in the air, picking up his glass of water and downing it in a few gulps. "How long have you been using Heartstrings by the way?"

A strange start to a conversation, Arthur decided, especially for one on a date. Still, it was definitely an easier question to answer to compared to other social niceties ("Good weather today isn't it?") and some other more prying questions ("You a virgin?"). "Two weeks or so."

"Ah. New to the system then!" Alfred seemed genuinely happy at that, for what reason Arthur could not comprehend. "How're you finding the dates so far then? Any happy successes?"

Arthur's brows furrowed slightly. "If there were happy successes why would I be going out on more dates?"

A pause. Alfred was blinking surprised blue eyes at him as if he just said one of the strangest things in the world.

"Uh, I meant that if I had found a significant other through the service it wouldn't be very fair to be accepting other dates would it?" Arthur tried, slower this time, thinking perhaps Alfred was just a little bit slow. One could only hope.

"Oh." Alfred nodded, but the pause that followed made Arthur feel a little uneasy. It almost looked like Alfred was making mental notes (and judgements) of Arthur's character. "In other words... not working yet? Any good follow-ups then?"

Follow-ups...? "If you mean that if I dated someone for more than once, then" Arthur gave a slightly awkward cough. "No..."

"How many times have you dated then?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. This seemed to be a rather pressing issue for Alfred. "Around... six people or so."

"Six! And no follow-ups? Whoa. Dude, you're pretty bad at this aren't you?"

Arthur flinched internally at the remark.

"I'll have you know that I'm plenty accomplished in other areas," he sniffed, mildly irate at how much the jab had hurt.

Alfred's interest seemed to be piqued at this, strangely enough. He put his coffee cup down, and leaned over the booth seat slightly, eyes curious. "Oh? What do you do then? For a job, I mean," he asked.

Arthur could feel the corner of his lips upturn slightly, at the mention of his career. He couldn't help it, honest. It wasn't exactly arrogance or anything nearly as clear cut and cleanly defined, it was just that he had a great deal of pride in knowing that he had a good, fantastic job, and that he did it well.

"I'm in publishing," Arthur smiled, for the first time during the meeting. "To be exact, I'm the London Branch Manager and Chief Editor for Albion Publishing."

"OH! Albion Publishing! Hey, I've actually heard of you guys!" Arthur prepared himself to preen, until-

"Don't you guys do comics too?"

Arthur frowned. Comics? The company had just finished publishing the final book of the wildly popular, internationally-bestselling fantasy series, and obtained several publishing rights to the translated copies of several large names in books about management and self-help! They weren't just any old publishing company that produced comics.

Nevertheless Arthur swallowed his urge to scoff, "... Amongst other things, yes."

"Aw man, that's so cool! I'm a huge fan of that Hetalia series that you guys have published! One of my friends - he's Japanese, see - he already has the fourth book in his possession and I just can't wait to get my hands on a copy!" Alfred was giving him a look which bore a striking resemblance to an excited puppy, Arthur thought. "When are you guys getting that out?"

"... The team's in the process of vetting the translation at the moment, but I suppose it should be ready for publication anytime within next month."

"Really! Awesome! Dude, I can't wait!" Alfred grinned, "Save a copy for me? If you guys are still doing the limited editions..."

Arthur frowned slightly, "I can't really do that-" He was interrupted by a bubble of rather amused laughter.

"You need to chill, man. I was kidding! I'll queue at the bookstores like every other loyal fan of the series when it's released!" Alfred waved a hand at him, rather good-naturedly adding, "The trick to getting popular with the ladies is to not be so stiff and play along ya know?"

Arthur made a face. He really didn't need an American git out of all people telling him how to get a girlfriend.

The waitress arrived shortly with their order of food and drinks. Arthur helped himself to his club sandwich, throwing a glance at his watch to check how much time he had left.

"Though, hey," Alfred leant forward rather earnestly over his cup of coffee, "Could I just ask something though? Since you're in the industry and all that?"

Arthur looked up from his sandwich. "Mm?"

"Any plans to bring in Light Novels? That Japanese friend of mine, he keeps telling me about how well-written these stories he's reading are, and how I really should read them... but they're all in Japanese you know..." Alfred pulled a face, "And it's not like I don't want to learn the language, it's just... there's so many... funny characters. I'd take ten years before I can actually read those books!"

Arthur blinked a few times, then started a little cautiously, "... We were considering bringing those in. After all it is a rather untouched market outside Japan."

Alfred's face lit up immediately. "Really!"

"But." He continued, stressing slightly on the word - Alfred's face fell back to the sad-kicked-puppy look at that (it was strangely amusing to see someone whose facial expressions changed so drastically within a few split seconds)- "... It's not an easy business. The thing about Light Novels is that they often play with the structure of a novel, and you know how translation between languages like English and Japanese go..." He trailed off, then stopped himself forcefully, his eyes warily darting over to watch Alfred's face. The last time he went on a tangent like that, he lost his date, and she forcefully changed the conversation topic to the latest Hollywood movie in the cinemas (which subsequently lost him).

"Oh oh! I know right?" Alfred was so excited he nearly spilled some of his coffee as he set his cup down just so he could gesture to make his points. "Kiku showed me this book he had before- oh, that's the Japanese friend I was talking about - and there was this entire page that was apparently just a chunk of laughter, but according to him he said that the point was to-"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Watching Alfred gesture animatedly, Arthur was surprised to say the least.

The topic didn't get rejected? That's new.

"- So how the bloody hell can you argue that burgers are better than fish and chips?"

"Well it's not rocket science," pouted Alfred. "I mean, logically, burgers have more ingredients in them yeah? And they've been tested and tried to prove that they all taste awesome together! So you have variety and awesome taste! Fish and chips just has... Fish and chips! How boring is that?" Alfred sat back in his seat, grinning.

Smug little git.

"Tradition is one of the things innovation just cannot beat, Alfred. And if I had the time, I'd drag you down to-"

Oh fuck, the time.

In his scramble for his Blackberry to check the time, Arthur knocked over the bottle of sauce on the table, leaving Alfred to catch it just in time, raising an eyebrow at the sudden movement.

"Woah there, alright alright, I get you. Tradition's important, yes, but-"

"That's not what I'm in a hurry over!" Arthur nearly shouted, simultaneously feeling around the booth for his wallet, and waving the waitress over. "Oh bloody hell I'm late," he mumbled to himself, accidentally shoving his wallet onto the floor in his hurry.

"Oh for-"

Alfred's laugh, loud and amused, cut over Arthur's agitated voice. Arthur looked over the edge of the booth, glaring what he hoped was daggers over the oak table, just about to ask what the hell was so bloody funny about being late, and you surely wouldn't get it, you were twenty minutes late yourself today-

"Relax, I've got it, don't worry," he grinned easily, pushing Arthur's wallet over the tabletop. "You're in a hurry right? I'll take care of if." He seemed to catch Arthur's wary look. "I'm serious! Don't worry about it, go. You look like someone who'd get his panties in a twist over being a second late."

Arthur was just about to shoot back about how Alfred certainly couldn't speak of lateness when he was reminded of the time and decided to take up Alfred's offer instead, seeing as how the waitress seemed to be content with casually sauntering up and down the aisles of the shop, not heeding his wave.

"F-Fine then, thank you. I'll owe you one?" He called over his shoulder, pulling on his coat, and pushing the pub's door open.

"Holding you to that!" Arthur could hear right before the door slammed shut, as he ran off in the direction of his office.

The next few days at work had proved to be a little overwhelming for Arthur to keep to that promise though. As much as he had considered inviting Alfred out (just to pay back for the lunch that he owed him, of course), work flooded in almost immediately. Lunch with Alfred would have to wait, Arthur decided, and busied himself with the negotiation of licenses for a few new books.

He was considering sending out the invite through Heartstrings sometime in the weekends, and with that noted in his brain he set off to do things further up his priority list of urgent and important matters.

It was four days after, sometime during his lunch break when his Blackberry buzzed merrily, doing that little dance that all cellphones did when you set them on vibrate, and put them on a flat surface. Arthur picked it up, thinking that it was probably a new business related email, when instead a message window cheerily blinked back at him:

freedomandliberty would like to invite you to lunch on Thursday (24 Mar 2011, 12:00) at Gourmet Burgers! Accept/Reject?

Arthur stared at his screen for much longer than it was necessary to read a message of that length. Alfred? Was asking him out to lunch? But why?

Arthur himself had a reason to (he owed Alfred one), but Alfred most certainly did not. Unless - and Arthur found himself accepting this possibility very quickly - he was actually worried that Arthur was not going to uphold his end of the bargain and pay him back for a lunch?

"... Impatient git." He double checked his schedule for that week. Thursday was free, the blank box on his Blackberry seemingly taunting him.

... Ah well, why not?

Most of the date, unsurprisingly, consisted of the two of them bickering over the merits of British cuisine versus American fare (although they both were inclined to agree that HP sauce was excellent). However, the two of them found enough time to branch out and expand their little heated arguments to other arenas, such as the role comics played in culture today ("Absolute rubbish," Arthur had frowned), to theater ("But how can you just sit there for so long?" Alfred whined, until Arthur threw a fry at him), and back to books again.

"What are you," scoffed Alfred, after finding out that no, Arthur Kirkland did not believe in ebook readers. "Stuck in the middle ages? Everyone uses ebook readers now!"

Arthur was aghast, to say the least. "They do not! My company and I are living evidence of how not everyone cares for this- This new fangled technology!"

Alfred snorted, draining the remains of his Coke. "Whatever man. Denial's more than just a river in Egypt and all that jazz. Books are gonna go down eventually, and you know it."

Arthur tried to seethe in anger for the remainder of the lunch, but it was sadly broken by his inevitable laughter at seeing Alfred gag at the experimental mix of sauces he'd concocted.

Arthur K.: I have come up with a British dish you will never say is disgusting. (10.04am)

Alfred, looking away from Matthew (who was unsuccessfully trying to chair the meeting), laughed silently at the text before replying.

Alfred J.: u sure? ;) (10.05am)
Arthur K.: Very. And what is that wink for. (10.08am)
Alfred J.: lol nothing (10.08am)
Arthur K.: ... Tch, git. (10.10am)
Arthur K.: I'll prove you wrong. Meet me at the corner of Tooley Street and Weaver's Lane, Tuesday, 2pm. Have your lunch first. (10.21am)
Alfred J.: ok, see ya :D (10.22am)

Tuesday afternoon turns out fairly well, as far as their record has gone, with the two of them walking around Potter's Fields Park with a 99p Flake in each hand.

"So this effectively proves that not all British food is bad, doesn't it," smirked Arthur, biting the top of his Flake, before licking off some ice-cream.

Alfred gave a half shrug, concentrating on chasing the dribble of melted ice cream which dripped down the side of his cone.

"I dunno," he mused, cleaning off the remnants of crumbs off his lips with the back of his sleeve. "This feels like an exception, don't y'think? I mean, the ice-cream wasn't even really British-"

Laughing, and trying to protect his Flake, Alfred couldn't quite come to blame Arthur for cuffing him on his head.

Alfred leaned back in his chair, kicking up his legs to rest on the desk, as he contemplated his phone.

His fingers hovered above the text box for his message history with one Arthur Kirkland, hesitating. Biting his lip, Alfred seriously began to question himself, and his motives for this whole... Thing he had going on. With Arthur.

A moment paused, and acceptance, for today, did not come.

So more information then. I mean, he is our target group, really, and these are the kinds of people we're trying to help and-

In an attempt to drown his own thoughts out, Alfred put on some loud music, and tried to focus on the spreadsheets he had open on his mac.

Alfred J.: wanna lunch on tues? (4.13pm)

He almost missed the buzz of his phone when a new text came in, and he most certainly did not give a little fist-pump of victory.

Arthur K.: 1pm, that Indian place on More London Place. Don't be late. Again.

Alfred tried, during that lunch, he honestly did. He didn't even start off with the usual jab at Arthur which had become routine (Routine? Routine? When the hell did that happen?), instead going back to his original reason for asking Arthur out. In the first place. Three dates ago.

"So you know, about Heartstrings?" He tried, poking around his naan with a fork.

Arthur looked up, seemingly startled at the mention of it. "Heartst- Oh. That. Right. How did you know I-" A pause, and Alfred noticed how Arthur's eyes widened minutely, as if taking Alfred in for the first time. He gave a short cough. "Y-Yes. Heartstrings. What about it?"

Alfred looked back down at his food, still poking at it with his fork. He realized, a little belatedly, that he had to make a decision.

Well, professionalism's already this far gone...

"Oh um, nothing," he grinned weakly, looking back up at Arthur, who had gone considerably pink, around his mouthful of curry, and tried to pretend he didn't find the blush attractive. Instead, he found himself laughing.

"God you British are pansies. Can't even handle some curry?"

He watched (strangely happy), as Arthur spluttered and swallowed, and made another jab at Alfred for something or another of him, usually due to his apparent "American-ness", which annoyed Arthur, or so he often proclaimed.

Business as usual then, Alfred thought, retorting by pointing out the amount of water Arthur had to down with every few spoonfuls, grinning at how easily flustered the other man got.

Except slightly different.