Chapter 4: Meaningless Anxiety

Arthur felt uneasy about his date with Alfred. The last date he remembered was with Tom and it was a disaster. He had forced himself on Arthur with proclamations of love, and so they ended up going farther than Arthur would have liked, but Alfred seemed as if he was above that. Still, he couldn't help having his usual doubts with what was expected of him. He wanted it to be perfect and he didn't want to end up feeling regret in the pit of his stomach, the regret he felt with Tom. He was fond of Alfred's company and hoped that this date would lead to more time spent with him, if it ended well. Arthur sighed, he was overthinking this. It was just a date, he shouldn't be worrying over it as much as he was. Either the connection between Alfred and him worked, or they went their separate ways. He began rummaging through his old notebooks preparing the design for the Queen's wedding anniversary, he needed to create an event that the Queen would approve of but his mind was still concentrated on the date. He didn't even know where he was going, all Alfred had told him was to dress nicely and that it was a dinner at about 7 pm. He didn't know if he should be the one to pay, or if Alfred would take up that responsibility, or that they would both split the bill. He didn't want to rely on intuition, so he, against his better judgment, decided to call Francis about one of the only subjects the Frenchman was useful in.

"What iz it?" Francis asked.

"I just wanted to ask...never mind."

"Non! Tell me!"

"..."

"Arthur? Are you zere?" a smirk spread across Francis' face, "does it 'ave to do with zat américain?"

"...Yes, I suppose, but just a bit. Come to my flat at eight tonight. I'm at work, so don't bother pestering me until then" Arthur hung up the phone and tossed it in his briefcase. He combed his fingers through his unruly hair, took a swig from his tea, and tried to immerse himself in his work. The preparations were coming along smoothly, all the orders were placed and shipped. He hurried down the corridors ready to give the preparations to his supervisor to have them approved.

"Kirkland, there you are, I was wondering when I would be getting these," he said.

"Sorry, sir, I've just been a little distracted recently but I can promise that it won't happen again," Arthur apologized. He handed the papers in and waited for his reaction.

"You're shaking, Kirkland."

"I am? I didn't notice...it must have been the coffee, yes, the coffee. I tried some and apparently it doesn't agree with me," Arthur managed to stumble out. "if that is all, I must be getting back to work, sir."

Arthur hurried back to his desk collapsed on the chair. His nerves had been eating him up ever since the date was presented to him. He finished the rest of his tea and tapped his fingers on the wood of the desk. The day continued on in cycles - Arthur would start his work then his mind would wander towards Alfred, until he would try to finish up his work. He sighed, he was acting like a teenage girl that had been asked on her very first date and he was certainly not a teenage girl. But, he hadn't gone on a formal date for about two years, and hadn't had a relationship since Tom. Which Arthur preferred to not think about it and continued through the day distracting himself with his usual work tasks. He pushed through the long hours of work, avoiding any thought of Alfred. After what seemed like several long hours of agonizing torture Arthur finally got off of work.

Walking his way from the station, he arrived back inside of the lobby of his apartment. Using the elevator, and approaching his flat at the end of the hallway he saw someone leaning against the door. He squinted his eyes to peer at the person but could barely get a good look due to the dimmer lighting at the end of the hall. He considered turning back and asking the manager for assistance with the strange man near his door when he heard something.

"Arthur, is zat you?"

Arthur was exhausted after working from the early morning until nightfall and managed to forget about his meeting with Francis. "Ohnohnohnohnohnohn." A frown began to form on his face and he stormed over to where the man stood. 'I completely forgot about that French fool'

"You nearly gave me a heart attack, you bloody frog. Why didn't you call me when you got here?" he asked, pushing Francis away from his door long enough to bring out his keys and unlock the door.

When they entered the flat, it was completely dark except for the soft light leaking in from his curtains, and since Arthur preferred to conserve money it was almost as cold as it was out in the biting, autumn weather. He flicked the light switch on and turned back on the heat, snickering as Francis whined about the freezing temperature inside his flat.

"...someone would zink you are 'ousing a polar bear in 'ere, Arthur. 'ave you no 'eart? I was freezing in ze 'allway and I am freezing now! I don't zink I can even feel mes orteils (my toes)!"

"I'm sure you can deal with it for a little while longer, or are you that big of a princesse?" Arthur mocked, over exaggerating his French accent. Francis sat on the couch with his legs crossed and rubbing his arms in an attempt to get warm.
"Even ze couch is cold!" the Frenchman hissed.
"I don't want you to get too comfortable there, you're not staying for long," Arthur warned him giving him a threatening look.
"Zen 'ow long am I staying? If you need amour advice zen I'd would 'ave to stay ze night. At least," he paused, "who iz it? Ze américain? I 'ope you're not rekindling your "love" with zat Tom again."
"God no, if anything I hate him more. I called you over here because I...I have a...dat - meeting with that American, yes."
"A date?"
"...Yes."
"When?"
"Friday night."
"Zat's tomorrow! I bet you 'ave no idea what you are doing!"
"Why the bloody hell do you think I called you over here! You know what, I'll just handle it myself. I have enough experience to know what to do, yeah. I don't need your creepy tips!" Arthur scoffed.
Francis raised an eyebrow and stood from the couch. He was shocked, Arthur never acted this hysterical especially when it came to something as simple as a date. Francis was sure Tom was the only other man Arthur had been with, granting Arthur little knowledge in the art of Romance. Although he had only exchanged a few words with Alfred in a supermarket, Francis deemed he was a good person, a simpleton, and probably naive, but a good person. He wanted his English friend to be happy, his last relationship breakup had cost Francis nearly 20 pounds in comfort ice cream and tea.
"If you're sure about zis, zen I will leave," he started for the door, and nearly got there when he felt Arthur pull him back. Francis smirked at him.
Arthur cleared his throat, "...I suppose I do need your help, just a bit though. I mean...I know the basics and all. So...just some things need clarification so don't get too comfortable!"
Nevertheless, Francis sat back down on the couch, "Zen what do you need 'elp on? Clothing, 'ow to act, ze date in general?"
"Now that I think about it...a little more help than just a bit."
"You do know what you will be wearing? I 'ope it's not one of your disgusting sweaters."
"What's wrong with them! I think they look nice!"
"You were really planning on wearing zem? Mon dieu (My god), Arthur," Francis sighed. "I will just 'ave to pick somezing out for you. No friend of mine will be dressed as a sad librarian"
"I don't dress like a sad librarian! What does it matter what I look like? He should care about my personality rather than my appearance especially if I want to wear my comfortable sweater vests."
"Ah! Zat is where you are wrong mon ami. Your appearance is what sets ze first impression," Francis laughed while walking into Arthur's bedroom. He turned on the light and immediately started for the closet and was appalled at what he found neatly pressed on the hangers. "'ow many sweaters do you 'ave! Zis is 'ow a grand-père would dress."
"G-Get out of my closet! I like the way I dress, it's comfortable and some of those suits are expensive, I don't want your grubby mits on them," Arthur snatched his sweater from Francis' grasp, "And this one happens to be my favorite."
"Zat thing? It looks like the remains of a fat orangutan. Look at ze color! 'ow could you possibly buy zis? It isn't even flattering," Francis complained, throwing the sweater on the floor.
"A fat orangutan? If it looks so monstrous then why don't you suggest what I wear?" Francis began rummaging through Arthur's closet tossing aside any piece of clothing that gave him displeasure. He was disappointed with Arthur, he truly believed his friend had a better sense in style and would refuse to wear anything that would make him looked like a hideous species of animal that had yet to be discovered by scientists.

He managed to find a decent outfit for Arthur hung in the back of his closet. It was a simple suit, not fancy but still a suit. It would have to do for now, none of Francis' clothes would fit Arthur and he doubted he would wear them nor did they have enough time to buy a new one. "Zis will do for now, mon dieu, Arthur when was the last time you wore zis it is so dusty."

Arthur looked at the suit, captured in his own nostalgia, it had been a cherished belonging of his that was kept hidden deep in his closet and protected from any harm. It was the suit that he wore when he had first met the queen, he hadn't had much money at the time to afford a brand name as he could now, but nonetheless she had complimented him on it. Arthur grabbed the suit and without a second thought he returned it to its rightful place, inside his closet.

"I'll wear it if that is the only thing you deem attractive."

Francis smiled, satisfied with Arthur's reaction. He was as nervous as Arthur was for his date with the American and couldn't afford any mishaps, which wouldn't look good for his reputation as a self-proclaimed love councilor. He needed Arthur to not only dress great but act as a proper gentleman would when he is on a date with a handsome man. Not the Arthur he knew that would criticize the poor man's appearance, grammar, and manners out of retaliation. This was a side of Arthur that made him come off as an uptight, detestable jerk with no sense of respect. Unfortunately Francis had the pleasure of coming across Arthur during one of his terrible fits and thought of him in the same manner. If Arthur acted the same way, there would be no hope for a second date. Francis couldn't allow that to happen and knew exactly what he had to do. He pulled out his phone dialed a set of numbers and put it to his ear.

"'Ello?"

"Who are you calling - "

"Sshh! Oui, I need you to come over quickly. Non I don't care, get over 'ere. Arthur's. I don't want any Indian food. Non...I said non! Arthur doesn't want any either!" he sighed and turned to Arthur, "Do you want any Indian food?"

"Who are you inviting to my house? I will not have it...Indian? Hmm, I am a bit peckish."

"Arthur doesn't want any food. Oui, au revoir." he hung up his phone and placed in his pocket.

"Will you please tell me who the bloody hell you invited over my house! Last time you didn't tell me there were several naked people running around my home and I had to sleep outside, it was very uncomfortable."

"Zat was for your birthday et you didn't plan on doing anyzing, as a good friend I planned a party. And zat was a year ago!"

"That was the worst birthday party I have ever had in my life. It's completely unforgivable. The only decent thing about it was the wine you brought from France."

"Do you still 'ave it?"

"Are you bloody kidding? I finished the bottle the moment you gave it to me, along with other bottles. I got the worst hangover."

"Oh that sounds terrible" Francis mocked.

"Shut up, git."

The sound of the doorbell ringing throughout the flat drowned out most of what Arthur was saying. He hurried to the door and peeked through the eyehole. He gave out an unhappy groan and opened the door.

"Antonio. Why are you here?" Arthur questioned as Antonio walked into Arthur's flat and made himself comfortable on his couch.

"You could tell me the same thing." asked the puzzled Spaniard devouring a huge plate of spicy curry. "I was just at home with mi novio (my boyfriend)then Francis called me over. Did something happen? You didn't poison him with your meatloaf again, did you?"

"I never poisoned him! It was just in a little overcooked thats all!"

"I'm sure it was, amigo," Antonio said sarcastically. Arthur threw him a nasty look.
"Francis would you care to explain the meaning of all this?"
"Of course. Frankly Arthur you need 'elp from both of us if you want to impress zat américain."
"He shouldn't care how I act. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. Oh well, we'll move on," Arthur grumbled, crossing his arms. He didn't need to be coached by these two morons. He knew enough and Alfred shouldn't care if he wasn't some expert on love like them. It is just a date.
"So what do I need to do amigo?"
"Well we can all agree zat when Arthur gets grumpy he tends to be quite..." Francis paused searching for a word that wasn't too unpleasant, when he couldn't find one, he just said, "an angry, old, grouchy, screaming, caterpillar leprechaun man, non, thing."

"I will wring your hairy neck!"

"Prime example of an angry thing. Now we must get to business. In order to fix this zis petit issue Antonio must teach you 'ow to be a polite gentleman."

"Antonio?" Arthur scoffed, "A gentleman? Did you see him during the World Cup? He was a loon!"

"Hey! España won! I had a right to!"

"Now now let's try and get along. Arthur, Antonio can act like a gentleman when he wants to. I think it would be best if he helped you with your attitude."

With the three of them arguing back and forth and raising their volume to an unfathomable level it was a miracle they could hear Arthur's phone ring. They all stood silent wondering who could be calling this late at night. Arthur quickly ran to his phone and looked at the caller ID.

"It's... It's Alfred's number."

"What are you waiting for pick it up!" Francis urged.

Arthur snatched the phone from off of its platform and answered "Hello?"

"Arthur? It's me Alfred."

"Oh. Hello" he said trying to ignore Francis and Antonio's whispering and snickers.

"I was just wondering if the date is still on for tomorrow. I mean you said you had work and I don't want to make it a hassle for you, you know?"

"No tomorrow's fine Alfred." he mentally groaned, he sounded like he was on a business call.

"Be a little more enthusiastic Arthur" the Spaniard whispered.

"Is there someone there? I dunno, I hear someone. Could just be the T.V. maybe. What shows are you watching?" Alfred asked.

"I'm watching. . . . .Dr. Who."

"I never got that show, but it seems okay."

"I see. Well it's pretty late and-"

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"I'm gonna be honest here, I haven't had a date in a while and I'm sorta, you know... nervous. So I'm sorry if I might screw up some parts." England was surprised, he'd never think Alfred would be as inexperienced as he is.

"It's okay Alfred. I'm a bit nervous too."

"Really? Dude, you don't even know how relieved I am right now. Anyway you probably want to go back to watching T.V., and I have a paper to finish...so I'll see you tomorrow then! I'll pick you up at 7 o'clock sharp."