Chapter 6: Vivid and in Your Prime

Author's note: There's a song in this one, though I used all the lyrics this time: "These Things Take Time," by the Smiths. (It took me a while to find just the right one. ;) )

Alfred called Arthur every night that week with some excuse or another. At first they would talk for only a few minutes, but soon they were talking regularly for over an hour. Arthur adjusted the time he ate dinner so that he would never be eating when Alfred called. Sometimes he cooked while they talked and he would forget ingredients or leave things in the oven for too long, but he never really minded. The food seemed to taste better when he had just gotten off the phone with Alfred.

Finally it was Saturday. It turned out that getting to Alfred's house was actually relatively difficult without a car. Alfred had offered to pick him up, but Arthur had insisted that that would be silly. After pouring over maps for far too long, he finally figured out which subway stop would get him closest and which route would be the most pleasant for walking. He would have to walk a fair distance, so he left a bit early. The subway ride was not long and he got off at the right stop.

The sun was shining and he took a deep breath of the crisp air. His cheeks and nose quickly became flushed from the chill, but with his black trench coat and a scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, it was actually pleasant outside. Despite the length of the walk, he couldn't really resent it. He could never resent weather that involved bright sunlight.

Nervousness slowly crept up on him as he turned onto the street that Alfred's house was on. When he found the right one, he paused a moment. It was in a nice place, though small. He took a deep breath and walked up the short walkway. It doesn't matter if one of his roommates answers the door, he told himself sternly as he walked up the steps. It's fine. He found the doorbell and rang it. He heard heavy footsteps, as though someone were bounding down a staircase, a few more footsteps, and then the door shot open. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding; it was Alfred.

"Arthur!" he cried, grinning, and pulled him into a tight hug. Arthur felt like he was suffocating, but before he could protest Alfred let go. "Come on in! How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you," Arthur said, stepping inside and looking away to hide the pink tinge on his cheeks. He loosened his scarf while Alfred closed the door behind him.

"You can just dump your coat by the door, don't worry about it," he said, walking half backwards, half sideways as he talked. "You want something to drink? Coffee?"

"Tea, thanks – if you have any," he added.

"Yeah, yeah, Yao drinks tons of the stuff, I'm sure we have some. Want a kind in particular?" He disappeared around a corner while Arthur was still taking off his shoes and coat. He folded his coat neatly and set it by the door before heading in the direction that Alfred had gone.

"Black, please, if you have any." What a sad day when I have to add "If you have any" to the end of a sentence about tea twice in one day.

The kitchen was shiny and new, though the effect was ruined somewhat by the dirty plates and bowls that cluttered the counters. Alfred was making a pot of what appeared to be instant coffee. "You have a nice place," Arthur said.

"Thanks. I can't quite get over how much it costs. It's so small."

"It is New York."

"Well yeah, but jeez!" He shook his head. "Anyway, Yao and Ivan are off at a concert or something, and I don't know where Kiku is." Alfred finished making the coffee and poured himself a giant mug-full. He handed Arthur a cup of lightly coloured water with a rather sad looking teabag floating in it, anchored only by the small white string. "Come on, I'll show you around a little."

Arthur followed him with the teacup in hand. Alfred gestured at the stairs. "There really isn't a whole lot to see. Up there is just the bedrooms. Bathroom's over that way." He gestured vaguely to their right. "And this is the living room." There was a slight step from the entrance way into the living room. It was filled with comfortable-looking couches and armchairs, and a flat-screen TV dominated one wall. Bookshelves were mostly filled with what looked like DVDs and video games. "Hey, let's play a game or something. I've got this awesome vintage version of Chutes and Ladders." He set down his coffee on a crowded coffee table and began rummaging through the lower shelf of a cabinet. Arthur wandered over to the bookshelf nearest him and began to examine its contents.

The three shelves at eye-level were stuffed with CDs. They were mostly bands he recognised as being American. They spanned most genres he had heard of, though Rock n' Roll dominated. They seemed to be in no particular order at all, and though most were shelved like books, some were stacked one on top of another and leaned precariously. He made a small "tsk" noise; no one would be able to find anything in such a mess.

As he read the titles, he realised that some of them were British. Actually, quite a few of them were. The full set of Beatles albums (though scattered throughout the shelves) were a given, as were the Rolling Stones, but lesser-known bands he recognised from his youth were not. There was a clattering of game pieces from Alfred's direction and a triumphant, "Found it!" He heard Alfred pull himself to his feet and then dump the box somewhere. "Whatchya looking at?" Arthur turned around just as Alfred stopped by his left shoulder, and he suddenly found it harder to breathe. "Oh, yeah, my CD collection. It's kinda small because I left a lot of them back home when I moved out here. See anything you like?"

"No, no, I was just, uh – I see you found it."

"Yeah. Wanna just sit on the floor?"

"Sure." He followed Alfred over to a clear spot on the carpet where he was began setting up the game. "Oh," he said, recognising it. "Snakes and ladders. I played this all the time with I was little."

Alfred looked up at him, smiling. "Chutes and Ladders. Yeah, me too. One of my favourite games."

"Snakes and Ladders."

Alfred flipped the box over. "No, Chutes and Ladders."

Arthur frowned. "Well, my copy is called Snakes and Ladders."

"What, like a novelty edition or something?" Alfred rolled the die for first turn and handed it to Arthur.

"No. That was what it was always called." Arthur rolled the die. He got a two. Alfred went first. Arthur decided to change the subject. "So tell me about your other roommates. You mentioned Kiku, but not the others."

"Well. . . ." Alfred chewed his lip. "Yao's kinda . . . weird. I don't know, he's got a hot temper sometimes, but sometimes he just isn't bothered by anything. He really likes food and drinks tea constantly, but I swear he never works out and is still super skinny. Ivan's mostly quiet and he looks friendly, but don't let it fool you." Alfred gave him a serious look. "I swear, that guy's going to murder someone some day." Arthur gave him a disbelieving look, but he couldn't help shivering a little. Alfred looked dead serious. "And I already told you about Kiku. He loves technology and computers and stuff. He's always making things and he's a really good cook. Do you cook much?"

Arthur stopped in the middle of moving his piece, refusing to meet Alfred's eyes. "Uh," he said. "Yeah, I do."

"What kind of stuff do you cook?"

"Uh. Meat pies, fish and chips, bangers and mash, you know."

"So, totally standard British stuff."

"Well, yeah," said Arthur, a little miffed. He finished his turn. "It's what I grew up with."

"Huh. You know, I don't think I've ever had British food before."

"Oh, I'm sure you have," he said condescendingly. "We did colonise the United States, you know."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I mean, we both have french fries." (Arthur bit his tongue to keep from crying out, "Chips! They aren't French!") There was a moment of silence as Alfred rolled the die. "You should cook something the next time I come over."

"Heh, yeah," said Arthur with a strained smile, keenly reminded of previous unsuspecting acquaintances and friends. Maybe he'll like your cooking. You never know.

Arthur got set back about twenty spaces. Alfred took his turn and cried out, "I won!" as if it were a great accomplishment.

"It's just a game of chance," Arthur told him crossly as they began to put it away.

"Yeah, but I won." Alfred grinned and put the lid on the box decisively. "How about some music?" Arthur shrugged and Alfred seemed to take it as a yes. He uncrossed his legs and walked over to his collection of CDs. He came back with an armful of jewel cases and dumped them on the empty space in front of Arthur. He sat back down and began to sort through them. Arthur watched for a moment and then picked up one near him. "Lady Gaga," it said in large letters. It took him a moment to find the name of the album: The Fame. He put it down and picked up another. "Coldplay - Parachutes," it said.

"Huh," said Arthur. "This is a British band."

Alfred leaned over to see what he was looking at. He put his hand on the case and angled it towards him, brushing against Arthur's fingers as he did so. "Really? I didn't know that."

Arthur blinked but didn't relinquish his grip. "You didn't?"

"Nope. They're pretty popular over here." Alfred let go. "Man, you guys really do have all the good bands, huh?"

"Well, I don't know if I'd say that," Arthur said, preening a little and setting down the case.

"I mean, I'm not saying that we're doing so badly ourselves. You've got the Beatles, Pink Floyd, the Rolling Stones, the Who, U2, Radiohead –"

"Suede, Blur –" Alfred looked at him blankly. "You haven't heard of them?" Alfred shook his head and Arthur bit his lip, trying to think of how to explain. "They're both from the 90s, alternative Britpop. I guess you wouldn't really get that over here."

Alfred just shrugged. "I was thinking of, like, Led Zeppelin, Queen, the Police. Anyway, we've got fucking Elvis Presley! The King! And Nirvana, and Guns N' Roses, and the Pixies, and Prince, and Madonna, and Michael Jackson, and Bob Dylan, and Eminem, and Pearl Jam! And the Doors! And Jimi Hendrix!"

"Tsk." Arthur leaned towards him without thinking about it. "But you have to admit that we started most of the major musical movements in the United States. The British Invasion is the most obvious example, of course, but it's not the only one."

Alfred set down the jewel case he was holding and leaned in a little too. "Nah, you guys just gave us a little push in the right direction. Since then we've been doing fine."

"But you admit you needed our help."

Alfred grinned. "Of course not," he said, and darted forward to press his lips against Arthur's.

Arthur stared at him, wide-eyed, before he remembered that it was alright to relax and close his eyes. Alfred gently put a hand on his knee, steading himself, and leaned in a little farther. Arthur automatically put a hand on the side of Alfred's neck and let his thumb rest on his jawline, tracing the faint stubble that was shaved almost smooth. He moved his hand to the back of his neck and buried his fingers into his hair as Alfred deepened the kiss. They drew apart, both panting just a little. Alfred smiled, smoothly took off his glasses, and leaned in again.

The whole thing seemed surreal. Arthur felt like he was a teenager again, kissing clumsily on the living room floor while his parents were out of the house – and yet Alfred's kisses were not the kisses of a teenager at all. He could feel that Alfred wanted him, and that strengthened his own desire and made him forget all about their age difference and his probable greater experience. He ran his hands down Alfred's back and nipped at his ear, making Alfred sigh. He leaned in with the intention of taking control of the situation, but Alfred got a hand to the back of his head and kissed him fiercely. When they parted again, Alfred put a hand along side Arthur's face and held him there, just looking for a moment. Arthur was flushed, and he could see a slight pink tinge to Alfred's cheeks as well. It made him bold, and he stared back at Alfred without blinking. It was strange seeing Alfred without his glasses. His eyelashes made fine shadows on his face that he hadn't noticed before, and his eyes seemed a more vibrant blue.

"How bad is your eyesight?" he asked. Alfred drew his hand away and Arthur felt disappointment tug at the corners of his mouth. Damn. Ruined it again. But then CD cases clattered as Alfred pushed them out of the way. He shifted so that he was sitting beside Arthur but still facing him. He rested a hand on the side of Arthur's leg, but carefully, as if asking quietly, "Is this ok?"

"It's pretty bad when I'm far away from stuff, but this close it makes no difference." He leaned in so that their noses touched and grinned. "Up this close everything's kinda blurry no matter what." And he quickly kissed Arthur on the mouth.

Arthur pushed Alfred away, annoyed because the kiss had surprised him so much. "Tsk," was all he could manage to say.

Alfred laughed. "Don't like surprises?"

Arthur sighed. "No, not really. Sorry, I didn't mind that much."

"It's fine."

Arthur saw an album by The Smiths on the floor beside him. He picked it up. "Huh, you listen to them?"

"Yeah, of course." Alfred grinned. "They're awesome."

"They used to be one of my favourites."

"Good choice. Wanna put them on?"

Arthur shrugged. "Sure." To his confusion, Alfred left the CD on the ground and disappeared into another room. He returned with an iPod and put it into place in a pair of iPod speakers on the desk in the corner of the room.

"Why do you have all the CDs, then?" Arthur asked, keenly feeling the differences between their lives. He had a CD player at home and it served him perfectly well.

"Eh," said Alfred, adjusting the placement of the iPod and scrolling through the artists, "I just like having them. I did used to have a CD player, but this is just so much easier and more compact. Now I mostly use the CDs in the car." He straightened up and gave Arthur a hand, pulling him to his feet. The song started playing. Arthur didn't recognise it immediately, but it was familiar and soothing. "I could hook the iPod up to my car, I know, but I like being able to flip easily through the tracks, and otherwise they'd never get any use." He smiled charmingly at Arthur and led him to the couch.

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the sacred wunderkind

You took me behind a dis-used railway line

And said "I know a place where we can go

Where we are not known"

And then you gave me something that I won't forget too soon

But I can't believe that you'd ever care

And this is why you will never care

But these things take time

I know that I'm

The most inept

That ever stepped

Alfred snuggled up against him and nuzzled his neck innocently. Arthur smiled; even his hair smelled like coffee. He just sat, letting thrills run through him as Alfred played with the buttons on his shirt and trailed fingers down his sides. He could tell that Alfred was exploring him, slowly but thoroughly. Alfred had a strange moral code, he decided. He clearly wouldn't unbutton Arthur's shirt without permission, but he slipped his hand under his shirt and began to run his fingers along his back and chest without the slightest hesitation. Arthur's breath quickened but he slowed it carefully. When Alfred kissed him sweetly, he finally responded, looping a hand lazily around his neck and running the other along his hip and down the line of his leg. Alfred laughed softly into the crook of his neck and pulled him closer.

I'm spellbound, oh . . . but a woman divides

And the hills are alive with celibate cries

But you know where you came from, you know where

You're going and you know where you belong

You said I was ill, and you were not wrong

But I can't believe that you'd ever care

And so, you will never care

But these things take time

And I know that I'm

The most inept

That ever stepped

Alfred continued to touch him lightly, and Arthur found that he had to pay attention to make sure that he subtly indicated what he enjoyed. He found Alfred's slow pace endearing, but the need for concentration was tiring, and Alfred seemed to think that Arthur wanted him to barely touch him. In that, he was utterly wrong, and Arthur decided tell him so and to flaunt his experience a little through confidence. He swung a leg across Alfred's lap, straddling him, and slid forward. They fit against each other neatly. He was looking down on Alfred for once, and Alfred was grinning. He put both hands on Arthur's lower back and pulled him against his chest as Arthur kissed him firmly.

No longer needing to worry about what Alfred was doing, Arthur's mind wandered for just a moment and he finally really listened to the music. The lyrics had reached a part that resonated with him strongly, and it filled him with nostalgia and sadness for what he had lost and what he could loose. He kissed Alfred with a sudden passion in an attempt to drive the emotions away.

Oh, the alcoholic afternoons

When we sat in your rooms

They meant more to me

Than any, than any living thing on earth

They had more worth

Than any living thing on earth

On earth, on earth, oh . . .

Vivid and in your prime

You will leave me behind

You will leave me behind.

Arthur swung off of Alfred when the song ended. The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. He turned his head away slightly and Alfred shifted a little. "'These Things Take Time,' from Hatful of Hollow," Arthur said. "I don't believe it got much press in the U.S."

Alfred shrugged, unaware of the affect the song had had on Arthur. "Great thing about the internet, right? You can find anything." He smirked and leaned forward. "I was starting to get worried you were just like that when you were a little drunk, but I guess not."

Arthur's left eyebrow jerked upwards. "Pardon?"

"Just now, being all assertive." He gave Arthur a flirtatious look but Arthur just looked back blankly. "Oh, right, you don't remember that, huh? In the cab you were kinda coming onto me. It's all good," he added quickly as both of Arthur's eyebrows shot up and he gripped the seat cushion, trying not to turn bright red. "It wasn't like a big deal, and I asked for it, trying to get your wallet out of your pocket." He chuckled and picked up his glasses from the coffee table. "You just kinda got on top of me a bit. It all worked out okay." He ran a few fingers through his hair and sat back, still smiling at Arthur.

"Anything else of which you'd like to enlighten me?" Arthur asked, blushing furiously despite his efforts.

"Nope. You up for some lunch?"

Arthur frowned. He disliked the obvious change of subject. "Alright," he said. "What would you like to have?"

"That's what I was going to ask you." He stood up. "Come on, let's go see. I mean, normally I'd go out for burgers, but I know you disapprove of that kind of thing." He grinned and disappeared into the kitchen.

Arthur followed him and peered over his shoulder into a refrigerator filled with every kind of leftover imaginable. Quite a lot of them, he noticed, were labeled – some more neatly than others.

"What do you say to enchiladas?" Alfred asked.

"Sure."

Alfred pulled the appropriate container out of the fridge and popped it into the microwave. He hit "start" and effortlessly hopped up onto the counter. He swung his legs back and forth, looking at Arthur. Arthur elected to lean elegantly against the island of counters in the centre of the kitchen and gaze at him with feigned disinterest. In reality, he was extremely interested, for he would have quite happily traded any number of things to press Alfred roughly against that counter and. . . .

"You don't seem like the kind of guy who likes sports," Alfred said, interrupting his stream of thought.

Arthur adapted quickly. "I told you, I'm very fond of the proper kind of football. I can't say I have much interest in other sports." He thought a moment. "Cricket can be kind of nice to play, though I can't say I much like watching it." Alfred nodded, though Arthur had to wonder if he actually knew what cricket was. It was never mentioned in the states, he had found. Quite a disappointment. "And you like your kind of football?"

"Yeah, but I'm good with pretty much everything. I used to collect baseball cards like crazy when I was little, but I kinda grew out of it, I guess. I'll watch pretty much anything that's playing."

Arthur nodded. The microwave beeped and Alfred jumped down from the counter. He had doubtless played football in what they called high school; he certainly had the shoulders for it, from what Arthur could tell about the requirements of football. He had a certain grace when he moved, though, that didn't fit at all with what Arthur had generally found American sports to be like.

Alfred served up the enchiladas, which didn't actually look very appetising at this point in their life cycle. Arthur ate it all, but it wasn't really to his taste. They talked while they ate, and Alfred mentioned that his roommates would probably not be gone for much longer. Arthur expressed interest in meeting them, but it was mostly for politeness's sake, and he was glad when Alfred came up with excuses why that wouldn't be necessary. Arthur expressed a need to be going. Alfred protested a little but gave in. "If you want to borrow a CD or something, let me know," he said. "I can burn you pretty much anything you want."

"Thank you for the offer. I'll let you know." Arthur didn't have much intention of taking him up on the offer, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt it if he did.

"Cool." Alfred smiled warmly and walked Arthur to the door. He seemed content to watch him without speaking as he pulled on his coat and then his scarf, all very slowly. This was fine with Arthur, as he was deep in thought.

"I'd like to take you out to dinner," Arthur said finally. "You've spent a lot of time driving me around, and that isn't fair."

"It's no problem, really," Alfred said, waving his hand dismissively. "I like driving you around."

"I mean it," Arthur said. "Call me and we'll figure out a date and time, but I'll be picking you up."

Alfred shook his head with a smile. "Alright." He held the door open, again careful not to touch Arthur, as though afraid to ever leave Arthur with a bad impression. A touch or a kiss would never be a bad impression, Arthur thought, but he didn't act on it. He slid on his gloves and stepped outside. "Goodbye," he said, "And thank you for having me over."

"You're welcome. See ya," Alfred said with a gentle, happy smile, and closed the door.

Arthur turned and walked down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets. He had walked a block before his thoughts turned into something cohesive. "Oh God, you are beautiful," he whispered into the chill air. A sharp emotion bit into his heart at the words. Hadn't he been done with all the heartbreak and all the pain? And yet here he was again. He was being serenaded by a man in the only way he knew how, through other people's words and other people's music, and it was working. (His damn smile didn't help.) He knew it didn't matter whose words they were as long as the emotion behind them rang true, and in this case, he thought that it just might. That was the best thing about this, he decided; but also the worst thing, because the end would hurt all the more for it.

Vivid and in your prime

You will leave me behind

You will leave me behind.