A.N

Oooop! A.N is at the beginning! You know what that means...
Anyway!
Nice to see you again! Thanks for sticking with me so far, and for all the lovely reviews and stuff :3 it makes me very happy :D
This chapter wrote itself very very quickly, so I apologise if there are any mistakes and stuff! It was so exciting this one, and I have this perfect mental image in my mind of the end scene :3
How is your summer going peoples? I go back to school for my last year of GCSEs on the fourth of September - so later than a lot of people! But yeah, just one more year of school uniform, and then I'm college age and I'll be going to sixth form! I'm actually the baby of my school year - my birthday is this Friday (the 30th of August) - and so then I finally turn 15!
And another little tidbit, some people have asked me where my username comes from. My real name actually is Charli (it's on my birth certificate spelt that way p:) but Petidei is a mash up of the French words 'petit' and 'fidei' - which is 'LittleFaith' (a name I called myself for a while. And French is my fave language that I'm learning, so yeah!

The fic 'This Time' (Pol/Liet) is now out! It is in the same AU as thisa but concerning Poland and Lithuania :3 Check it out, i'm really proud of it (all my fics are my babies)!

Anyway, hope you guys are all ok, thanks so much for reading and sticking with me so far, reviews would be adored, and love y'all!
Keep dreaming!
Charli x

Chapter Four: Of Confrontations And Kisses

Arthur smiled lazily across the table at Alfred, who grinned back at him, a hand resting on the table, jacket slung over the back of his chair. He had quite nice eyes, Arthur supposed; a nice bright blue that reminded him of skies and swimming pools and summer and...
Arthur pulled himself back quickly, colour rising to his cheeks. Now was not the time to think about...Alfred, and...his feelings for him...
Focus.
Breathe.
"So... Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Alfred asked suddenly, providing a welcome distraction from Arthur's whirling thoughts. Alfred ran his fingers through his hair and grinned. "I just realised that I never asked."
Arthur laughed. "Uh, yeah, I do. I have two older brothers, and a younger half sister as well. We're all kind of split up around the UK: none of us live close together anymore. The eldest, Hamish, he went off a couple of years ago to live in Scotland with his wife, and my other brother Jake is travelling all around the country at the moment, just getting work where he can and staying wherever. I think he's working in Wales at the moment. And then my half sister Chloë is younger than all of us and is still at university, studying science in Belfast. I haven't seen any of them for a while. But Jake drops in occasionally," Arthur told him.
Alfred grinned. "Wow. I just have one half brother. Matthew. You'll probably run into him at some point. He looks like me, but a couple of years younger and with a Canadian accent."
Arthur looked at him quizzically and Alfred laughed and took a sip of his coke. "My dad ran off to Canada the year after I was born and got another woman pregnant. Hence Mattie. He and I only met one another recently when we had both moved to England and our dad realised it might actually be nice to inform us of one another's existence."
Arthur laughed and quirked an eyebrow mischievously. "So there's a difference between American and Canadian accents?"
Alfred looked offended and Arthur laughed again. "Of course! Americans accents are much sexier!" Alfred told him with a grin.
Arthur snorted derisively and Alfred put his hands on his hips. "It's true! Canadians speak funny. Plus they think hockey is better than baseball! And they sell milk in bags. How weird is that?!"
Arthur laughed again and Alfred joined in, his hair bouncing animatedly with every chuckle. His blue eyes gleamed in the flickering amber light from the candle in the middle of the table - how the hell had it gotten this dark already?! - and the soft blue lights on the wall around the restaurant cast gentle shadows on his hair. Arthur had always thought of Alfred's hair as a golden blonde but here it looked much lighter...like barley in the summer. Alfred's hair was still bouncing up and down as he laughed, and after a bit Arthur realised that he giggling more about the comical bounce of Alfred's cowlick than his original comment. His eyes travelled down to Alfred's eyes and the American grinned at him.
And again Arthur felt that surge rushing up into him, as he had felt back in the teashop when he'd seen Alfred sitting on the counter...the realisation of how good-looking Alfred really was...
Arthur felt his face heat up and he looked away shyly, swallowing. "Um, I'll be back in a minute, just going to go the gents," he said breathlessly, getting up from his chair and tucking it ungracefully beneath the table.
Alfred nodded. "Okay! Just don't be gone too long or I'll look like a total loner!"
Arthur snorted and held up a brief middle finger, making Alfred snigger, and then turned and headed towards the back of the restaurant, where he was fairly sure the toilets were.
Arthur located the gents at last, pushed the door open and sighed with relief as the small room revealed itself to be empty. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the sinks and rested his elbows on the cool surface. He looked up and stared at himself in the soap marked mirror.
Someone had drawn a smiley face in soapsuds on the mirror and it now looked as if it was crying, as the soap continued to drip silently down.
Arthur guessed he needed a moment to collect his thoughts and slow his breathing. Why did Alfred have to be so goddamn infuriatingly...attractive?!
-Not that Arthur noticed.
He went red again and awkwardly shifted to turn the tap on, before reaching into the cold flow, and splashing it over his face.
Shuddering from the abrupt chill, he looked back up into the mirror, water dripping from his face, and to his embarrassment, saw the door behind him swing open. A man made his way inside, and Arthur felt himself involuntarily shrink into himself. The guy was built like a tank, with dark close-cropped hair and metallic grey eyes that Arthur really did not want to meet. He was very pale but wearing a dark grey suit that made him seem angular, stiff, cold. He made his way arrogantly into the room, and as he looked up his eyes met Arthur's, who was still looking at him through the mirror. His lip curled in distaste and Arthur went red.
Crap.
Arthur wanted nothing more than to duck under the man's immense arm and run into the restaurant, away from his accusing glare that seemed to suggest a deep-rooted prejudice that didn't seen justified to be aimed so aggressively at him - a mere stranger. And he was staring so cold-heartedly at him that Arthur couldn't help but wonder what he had done to make him dislike him so much. The man glared at him.
"Faggot."
Arthur's blood ran cold.
He turned as if to quickly duck out of the room, but the man was blocking the door.
Arthur swallowed. "I don't-"
"You dirty faggot," the man repeated, and Arthur's heart started beating faster, wilder and wilder until it was flying into a frenzied dance in his ribcage.
"I don't know what you mean," he said slowly despite the roaring in his ears, voice shaking, terrified. He reached up and swiped the water from his face, hand quivering.
"How can you even sit there?" the man spat, and Arthur flinched though he was still a couple of meters away. "How can you sit there, with us normal people, sitting and laughing with him like you're not the disgusting leech on the world you are?! Like you're normal." he continued, a revolted look on his face. "You're a fucking parasite."
Homophobic.
The word drifted into Arthur's mind, and he flinched. He knew people like this existed - he'd experienced it firsthand for his whole childhood - but...but he had never expected that there was people who behaved this way to complete strangers.
The man crossed the room, and leaned closer, leering into Arthur's face. "Disgusting," he spat, and Arthur smelt for the first time the reek of alcohol on his breath.
Arthur flinched away from him. "Please, I don't-"
"Dirty faggot!"
And Arthur ran.
Slipping under his arm, he bolted for the nearest cubicle and raced inside, slamming the door and locking it forcefully.
He couldn't go back into the restaurant, back to Alfred, like this. He was sure his face was bright red, he knew his breathing was ragged, and his heart was beating so fast he thought he was going to faint.
He was terrified.
The man laughed, an ugly distorted sound that sent unbidden memories rushing into Arthur's mind. He blanched.
"You are disgusting," the man sneered, and the walls of the cubicle shook as he aimed a kick at it. Even from here Arthur could tell it was a wild, misjudged, inaccurate swing and as the man swore loudly, Arthur guessed the attack had hurt the stranger more than the cubicle.
Arthur couldn't speak. He was paralysed, and couldn't help himself shaking as memories leaped up at him, clawing at his body, renewing old scars and reopening ancient wounds, ones he'd thought had healed but he'd simply spent so long ignoring them he didn't notice the severity anymore...

"You spend too much time with that O'dell kid, Arthur, you need to act like a real man..."

"I don't want you hanging around with that poofter anymore, boy... He'll go wrong and take you with him..."

"You shut your mouth, boy, I am your father and if I say he's a disgusting waste of space and you are not to speak to him, you do not speak to him, do you hear?"

"What the hell are you doing? How dare you?!"

Arthur let out a choked gasp of pain, head swimming. Another loosely aimed kick at the door brought his thoughts back to reality, and he shakily wiped the remains of the water from his face.
Damn it!
Arthur rubbed at his eyes, shrinking further into himself. No. He couldn't let himself remember. It was too painful.
A flash of metal burned suddenly through the haze of memories clouding his mind...
Arthur took a breath. "Go away!"
The man outside laughed again. "And what, little fag?"
I wasn't talking to you!
Arthur swore under his breath, desperately trying not to fall into the swirling whirlpool of memories and emotions and fear.
"Disgusting," the man spat again, but there were no more kicks coming. Arthur said nothing, just willed himself not to react.
There was a slight moment of silence, then Arthur heard footsteps as the man finally walked over the the urinals at the side of the room, and there was the telltale sound of flies being undone, and the man got on with what he'd been planning to do before he'd noticed Arthur.
Arthur hardly dared breathe. This was not someone he could beat, not somewhere he could run to his room and barricade the door. This was a stranger, with muscles like an ox and such a severe hatred for Arthur that there was no telling what he might do.
So all Arthur could do was sit there, slumped on the toilet seat, head in his hands, hushing his own breaths and running his fingers through his hair in attempt to feel normal again.
He thought he'd got rid of the fear.
But he guessed not.
The man finished and went over to the sinks, and Arthur finally dared to breathe as the loud noise of water splashing onto the ceramic filled the room.
There were footsteps again, and Arthur's heart jumped into his throat as he saw the man's shadow outside his cubicle.
There was another moment of silence, then with a last 'dirty faggot!' yelled through the door, the man moved away and the door to the gents opened and closed again.
Heart still beating fast, Arthur got to his feet and slowly undid the lock to his cubicle. Peeking out, he realised with relief that the man gone.
Drained, Arthur slumped against the sinks, struggling to breathe properly. In itself, the event wasn't as terrifying as his frenzied heart rate and uneven breathing would have you believe, but it was Arthur's history, his childhood, his previous memories, that made it so much more real, so much more petrifying.
Fuck.
Arthur knew he would have to get out soon and join Alfred again. Idly he washed his hands, not knowing why. He looked up in the mirror again, at the soapy smiley face, then scowled and wiped it away.
His face wasn't as red now. He guessed it was a good a time as any to go back.
He opened the door and the sudden swell of noise from the restaurant hit him like a tide, but he surged forward against it, until he found the table by the window, and perfect, forbidden Alfred sitting at it, waiting for him.
Arthur smiled shakily at him and was rewarded with a beaming grin back from the American.
"You took a while. I think I definitely would have classified as a loner for several minutes there," Alfred said cheekily, and Arthur laughed, despite the nausea growing in his stomach.
Back to forgetting.

Alfred had a habit of swinging his arms back and forth slightly as he walked, something Arthur noticed with a fond smile.
They were walking through the massive car park about half an hour later, after having paid for their meal, and it was late evening by now; the shadows of he streetlights playing over their skin. Arthur dug his hands in his pockets against the cold, his breath coming in clouds.
"So am I walking you to your car or driving you home or what?" Alfred asked suddenly. Arthur found himself blushing.
"Um. Well, I've got my car parked nearby, I'll drive myself. Unless you need a lift back...?" he answered, and told himself he wasn't hoping Alfred would accept the lift.
Alfred smiled. "No, my house is in walking distance, don't worry. So I...guess I'll just walk you to your car then...?"
"Yeah, sure." Arthur tried dispel the disappointed feeling in his heart.
They walked in silence for a moment, side by side. And then at last Arthur spotted his car to the side of the pavement, stopped, and turned to Alfred.
"Well, uh... I guess I'll be seeing you then," he said. Alfred smiled at him and Arthur blushed again, looking away.
"Sure. I'll probably come into the TeaFairy tomorrow," Alfred replied, with a grin Arthur only just caught out of the corner of his eye, but still managed to make his heart leap.
There was a pause while they looked at one another. And after a bit Arthur realised he was very reluctant to get into his car and end the wonderful night, but Alfred was showing no signs of walking off.
"I had a great time tonight," Arthur told him, then flushed. What a stupid thing to-
Alfred smiled gently. "Yeah, me too."
They looked at one another again, and then suddenly there was an imperceptible change in Alfred's position, something Arthur would barely have noticed if it wasn't for the streetlight shadows just shifting slightly over his face at the movement. He seemed to be getting closer.
Arthur felt Alfred's warm hand on his arm and as he looked up to question him, mouth open, Alfred moved to take a step forward.
Arthur's heart stopped.
Was he going to...? He wouldn't, would he?
And then there was no space for thinking or or panicking or worrying because Alfred was so close, so close, and his hands were warm on Arthur's back, and his soft breath was on his lips and his blonde hair was tickling Arthur's forehead and Alfred was leaning down and Arthur didn't know what was going on and crap he was so close and Alfred smelt of sugar and cologne and help help help and Arthur was thoroughly, completely, utterly terrified-
-And then Alfred pushed Arthur's hair back with one hand, leaned closer, and pressed his lips softly to Arthur's.
The world stopped spinning.
Every muscle in Arthur's body stiffened, and every instinct, every nerve, every idea that had ever been drilled into him since he was born, started screaming at him that this was wrong; but oh, how could this be wrong, when this just felt so wonderful and beautiful and perfect and all Arthur wanted to do was just melt into him and fist his hands in Alfred's hair and pull him even closer, closer, closer...
Dirty faggot!
And Arthur cried out and shoved Alfred away from him with all the force he could muster.
Alfred fell back, a startled noise of shock falling from his lips. "Arthur? I thought-"
"Don't! I can't! Please!" Arthur shouted, heart thumping wildly; so fast the blood was pounding through his ears and making it difficult to hear anything else over the roar.
Alfred pressed a hand to his mouth, shock and shame written all over his features. "Crap Arthur, I'm so sorry!"
But Arthur wouldn't, couldn't, listen. He fumbled for his keys and scrambled ungracefully into his car, not daring to look back.
Hands shaking, he started the engine and drove away as fast as he possibly could; Alfred on his lips, and sorry on his tongue, and love in his mind, yet desperate fear in his heart.