Hey guys! Continuing with my story, I'd just like to say for those interested ALL of the places I mention in this chapter are real (wowza). So if you ever want to get a feel for them, GOOGLE 'EM. Haha.
ORIGINAL AUTHOR's NOTE BELOW:
Someone asked me quite awhile ago (Sorry i'm so bad at replying!:P) if I used music to write my stories. Um, yes! I do, haha, a lot- that and the little hard citrus Japanese candies where you can eat the wrapper! :0 (Channeling my inner Alfred... It's made of rice paper). However, this story is based more on personal experience and has less of that musical quality :P.
I just realized recently that I meant for this story to be in real time, so now it's slightly off and suddenly almost Christmas. Sorry to pounce finals on you like that, Artie. :) Much love, doze.
"Show-toe-qua." Alfred enunciates, grinning in amusement as Arthur tries to form the word correctly. It's been ten minutes and every time he attempts, it sends Alfred laughing. Damn Indian pronunciations.
"But it's not spelled that way..." Arthur insists, feeling his ears go red all the same as Alfred starts to giggle. "Why did you have to be born in such a weird place?"
"Chautauqua is not a weird place." Alfred says indignantly, sticking his tongue out. "It's New York and it's beautiful and I'm very proud."
"God only knows why," Arthur shakes his head, earning himself a playful push from Alfred. They're sitting cross-legged on his dorm bed, exchanging information about themselves on a Sunday. It had come to Arthur's attention that since Alfred didn't even know what he was majoring in, they should have this talk.
The incident with the nurse, now several days past, has no effect but to make Arthur smile now and then. He missed Professor Germaine's class that day, but he has decided to put it firmly from his mind until next Wednesday. Having Alfred back is all the distraction he needs. "Alright, so what's... what's that city like?" He asks.
Alfred grins, shaking his head. "Oh, I didn't grow up there. Just born there. I visited my grandparents last summer though. It's on the lake, which is absolutely fantastic! The boating and fishing are great, but my favorite parts are all the old mansions. I think you would really like it. It still has a lot of old 1900s architecture. We stayed in a bed and breakfast that used to be a mansion. It was incredible!"
Arthur nods. "That sounds fascinating."
"I'll bring pictures next time." Alfred promises brightly.
"New York is quite far away from here." Arthur notes. "How did you end up in Seattle?"
"Well..." Alfred trails thoughtfully. "I grew up in Leavenworth which is here in Washington. It's a pretty small town. I'll take you some time. There's a lot of German buildings. It looks like it should always be covered in snow since it borders the mountains and stuff. I came to Seattle because I wanted to go to a good culinary school. My parents weren't exactly thrilled since we've always lived in small towns, but I was excited to see the city." Arthur nods along, trying to picture the places that Alfred is describing to him. What Alfred must have seen and felt. Where he went to school and what he did for fun. Hearing about the boating and fishing in Chautauqua brings back memories from his own childhood.
"So," Alfred prompts, reaching suddenly forward to claim Arthur's hands with his large ones. "What about you? This isn't just an Alfred talks for ten years thing. The nurse said you grew up in London? That's a huge city."
"Well, sort of. We moved there when I was fourteen." Arthur slips his fingers between Alfred's, smiling slightly as Alfred traces a thumb over his knuckles. "I was born in Whitby. It's a small fishermen's town on the harbor. My father used to manage a small company there, before he moved to London to try his luck at my uncle's department shop. We used to have a boat and I would go out with my brothers sometimes and we would fish." Arthur trails to smile quietly.
Alfred nudges forward eagerly. "Tell me more about it."
"Of more interest to me now and perhaps to you," Arthur looks up to meet Alfred's blue eyes curiously. "It was the setting of Bram Stoker's Dracula. There's an abandoned abbey there that played a part in the story. I didn't know it then, but I'd been to the ruins and always found them quite wonderful."
Alfred chuckles, suddenly reaching to swing an arm around Arthur's neck. "Only you would call ruins wonderful, Art."
Arthur shrugs, falling quiet.
"Do you have pictures?" Alfred asks, his tone warmer. He always sounds genuinely interested. Since Arthur came to Seattle for college, no one has ever really asked him about his childhood. Alfred's curiosity makes his ears burn. Alfred doesn't fail to notice and laughs.
"Okay, later, then. What about London? I can't even imagine living there. I mean, I've been to New York City once or twice, but living there sounds both impossible and amazing."
"At first, it was difficult." Arthur admits. "I didn't know anyone at school. The city was very large and we moved into a wealthy district where I was expected to act a certain way. I had never really experienced anything like it before. We'd never visited my uncle in London. I didn't know what to expect. I was..." Arthur breathes out. He wonders how honest he should be. Meeting Alfred's warm blue gaze, he knows he has the tendency to spill more than he should."I was angry with my parents for a long time. I wasn't, well, particularly excellent at making friends. The ones I did have in Whitby I hardly got to speak to anymore. I did some," he chuckles nervously. "pretty stupid things when I was fifteen. I regret most of it now."
"Stupid things like what?" Alfred asks.
Arthur snorts in disbelief. "I have an image to maintain, Mr. Jones." He says wryly, lips quirking in amusement as Alfred begins to pout. "I can hardly spill all my secrets."
"Come on," Alfred pleads. "I'll bet you can't even begin to match some of the stupid stuff I've done. How about we swap? One stupid story for another?"
Arthur pretends to consider. It's not that he wouldn't share stories with Alfred, but some of his particularly angsty teenage moments still make him want to strangle his former self. He gets to his feet, coming to a compromise. "I'll show you a picture."
Alfred's eyes widen and he looks like he might complain, but the prospect of being shown a photo is too wonderful. He doesn't want to ruin it. Arthur nearly laughs at his anticipation. Alfred has the bed shaking with his bouncing. Various trinkets on his desk rattle. Arthur can't help but smirk as he leans under the bed to pull out a cardboard box. He settles back on his haunches to look through it, feeling Alfred watch from above.
As he goes, he finds things that he realizes he wouldn't mind showing Alfred anyway. Bits and pieces of life in England. Old writing awards, a Cadbury wrapper, a tie from sixth form, his first ever Bic lighter, a rare one pound lion coin, a dog- eared Oyster card. He proceeds to toss those on the bed and Alfred examines them curiously.
"Ah, Arthur! You were so cute!" Alfred exclaims suddenly, holding up the first of many small photo albums. Arthur doesn't even remember packing them, but his mum never fails to be overly sentimental.
The picture is one of him at around four or five being held by his older brother Murtagh in the dining room of their old kitchen. His brother is sporting a semi-fashionable mullet and Arthur himself is dressed in his Halloween bunny costume, holding a carrot. He remembers that year. Murtagh took him out trick-or-treating and James pantsed Henry in front of the Mason's house.
"Yeah..." He says noncommittally, feeling his cheeks grow red as Alfred proceeds to fawn over the rest of the pictures in the small album. He wonders what his mum could have possibly been thinking- that he would somehow need his first- day-of-school photos through sixth year. Let alone, the fact that Alfred discovers a photo of one year old Arthur in the bathtub that he proceeds to rip away quickly. Alfred pouts, while Arthur makes the vehement promise that he will burn it.
Arthur is still searching for the particular photo when he feels Alfred slide off the bed to sit next to him on the floor. "Wha-" He turns to look, but he doesn't even finish the word. Alfred's hand rests against the back of his neck and Alfred's warm lips press against his. Arthur is too surprised to return the kiss, but Alfred doesn't seem bothered. He pulls back with a soft grin, abruptly kissing Arthur on the tip of his nose.
"You're adorable." He says in admiration, causing even more color to rise to Arthur's cheeks. If he had known this was going to be so embarrassing, perhaps he would have suggested they go see another movie. But then Alfred works Arthur's hands away from the cardboard box, guiding them to wrap around his waist. At the same time, he pulls Arthur easily into his lap. Arthur can feel the warmth of Alfred's large hands against his back through the thin fabric of his button up.
On second thought, he decides he can deal with a bit of embarrassment for this.
Alfred doesn't really seem in the mood for anything more than cuddling. Arthur is too afraid to ask for anything more after the catastrophe that occurred earlier. Besides, as Alfred lifts him and tows him over to the bed, he feels a lot more comfortable when all they do is lay on top of each other.
"We're going for tea," Alfred determines later. The way he says it shows that he won't take no for an answer.
Arthur chuckles, tracing Alfred's cheek with his finger. "Do you even like tea?"
"No, but you like tea." Alfred insists. "I've found this really cute place downtown. They've put up their Christmas lights already. We can go shopping afterwards. It'll be fun."
"I'm having fun right now." Arthur half-groans as Alfred slips away from him.
"Come on, Arthur. I have school tomorrow, so we can't hang out until late. I want to take you somewhere."
"Why do we always have to do what you want to do?" Arthur puts on a half-whining tone, turning his face into his pillow. He can feel himself starting to smile.
"Uh, that is not true." Alfred puts a hand on his hip in the way of all sassy mums everywhere. "We stayed in this afternoon and talked about our feelings like you wanted."
Arthur blusters for a minute, sitting up with wild hair. That is not what happened. "You didn't want to do anything!"
"Yeah, and you wanted to talk." Alfred smiles devilishly. Arthur knows he's teasing, but that doesn't make it any less annoying.
"Oh, so it's all on me."
"It is." Alfred agrees. He's already slipped on his coat and gloves. He bites his lip in a goofy smile as he creeps forward. "You need to get out more. It'll be fun, Arthur." Arthur scowls, but Alfred is close enough that his breath tickles against Arthur's fringe and it's doing something odd with his heart. "Though I'll admit," Alfred continues, looking through his eyelashes at the different strains of color in Arthur's eyes. His voice grows huskier. "You are so cute when you're lazy."
Before Arthur can retort to that, Alfred kisses him fondly on the forehead, then the nose. He pauses before he kisses Arthur's mouth, but Arthur has already tipped his chin up in anticipation. Alfred laughs again, kissing him. The warmth of the sound reverberates against Arthur's lips and ultimately gets him out of bed. More or less like Alfred planned it.
Arthur wants to put on something nicer, but Alfred rushes him to the door, shoving a jumper over his head and grabbing his scarf and causing him to start cursing the day Alfred was born. Once they're out in the wet snow, he gives that up reluctantly. He likes it better when he and Alfred press against each other in the cold.
"So..." Alfred says, his arm swung over Arthur's shoulders as they walk downtown. Fairy lights hang across the buildings, sparking like little beacons against the general gray of things. There are several people out walking like them, laden with their Christmas shopping. Rosy cheeks and bustling strangers, places to be. "So..." Alfred repeats after he's gathered his thoughts. "What are you doing for Christmas?"
Arthur shrugs lightly, mind flying back to his Macbook on his dorm room desk. He's supposed to book tickets back home, but he's been avoiding it.
"Are you going back to England?" Alfred asks curiously.
"I haven't decided," Arthur says. "And before you lecture me, I know, I know. Ticket prices will go up as it gets nearer. I'm aware."
Alfred's lips twitch. "I wasn't going to say that." He breathes out, a giant cloud of white that hangs for a moment before dissipating. "I'm staying here. My parents wanted me to drive down to Leavenworth, but I've been interning at a restaurant and they really need me for the holidays. The head chef and I get on really well. I'm hoping that he'll offer me a job once I finish this year."
"Mmmm..." Arthur adds that to his mental catalogue of things he's learned about Alfred. "I'm sure he will. You're a brilliant chef."
Alfred's eyebrows raise in shock for the compliment. Arthur wonders if it's really that hard to wring praise out of him. For Alfred at least, he feels like he gives it rather freely. "Wow, thanks Arthur," His smile turns joking. "But it's a bit hard taking your word for it when the one time you tried my food, you threw up."
Arthur's nose wrinkles. "I was sick," he says petulantly, though his heart thuds a bit faster.
"Yeah..." Alfred trails uncertainly, looking like he regrets bringing it up. "Well, if you stay in town, you outta come stay at my place for Christmas. I won't have anybody around, and it's not much fun being alone." Alfred's grin widens ruefully. "We can do stupid couple things, if you want."
"Like?"
Alfred tugs him into the tea shop, walking backwards so that he can continue their conversation. "Like decorate the tree and watch Christmas movies and go see light displays and sing Christmas carols and eat Christmas cookies. You have to try my cookies, Arthur. They're what I'm most proud of." He shrugs out of his winter coat dropping it into a red leather booth.
The place is piping warm. Fog steams on the giant windows looking out over the main street. The table is rugged wood and so are the floors. Quaint pictures of country towns done in modern style adorn the pale blue walls. Christmas wreaths are looped around the light fixtures. Fairy lights hang sparkling over an ancient T.V. set in the corner. A wireless on the counter drones out Bing Crosby into the silence. Several college students sit huddled up with homework and a few elderly couples share entirely silent conversations, speaking only in the slight raise of an eyebrow or brush of a hand.
"Arthur?" Alfred prompts, a faint note of worry in his voice.
Arthur shrugs out of his jacket, dropping it onto the table. "Yes, Alfred. I heard you. I'll have to try your cookies. They're to die for."
Alfred relaxes a bit, though he still looks uneasy. They stand in awkward silence at the table, before Alfred waves towards the counter. "Order whatever you want. It's on me."
"Not likely." Arthur replies neatly, pulling out his own wallet.
Alfred groans good-naturedly, but doesn't make a fuss. "Fine... But only because you'll feel super guilty about what I'm getting you for Christmas."
Arthur spins to look at him.
"What? I didn't say anything."
"Goddamn you, Alfred Jones." He mutters, barely holding a scowl. Something about Alfred that he's realized recently- Alfred enjoys being cursed at.
Alfred grins, throwing an arm over his shoulder. "Whatever you say."
Wait. Scratch that. Alfred enjoys being cursed at when he knows Arthur doesn't mean it.
Once they've settled with stoneware mugs and Alfred with an array of pastries, they sit in silence for some time watching the snow. As Arthur sips his tea, he feels smug for managing to shove his card into the cashier's hand before Alfred, effectively paying for both of their drinks. He feels Alfred's foot brush against his under the table and looks over curiously. It bothers him that Alfred looks sad. He does look sad, doesn't he? Maybe it's the fact that he's not bloody beaming at the moment, but...
Alfred gives him a small half-smile.
"What?" He says, feeling out of his depth. The elderly couple next to them may be excellent at having silent conversations, but Arthur is still fleshing out how to have talking conversations, let alone soundless ones, full of depth and meaning.
"Nothing," Alfred shakes his head, looking bothered. He looks down into his mug quietly. "Actually... Arthur, can I ask you something?"
"If you must." Arthur says, hoping for a grin from Alfred, but Alfred only shrugs.
"I'm having a hard time with something. I was wondering if you could give me some advice."
"Oh." Arthur says, feeling uneasy. He wouldn't call himself the real life issues guru. It's odd to him that Alfred would even consider confiding anything.
"Yeah." Alfred breathes out. He bites his lip. "Basically... my friend's been really down on himself lately. I'm not sure what exactly is going on, but I really want to help him, you know? He doesn't seem very willing to talk to me, though."
Arthur shifts his weight. He hates being asked for advice. He always has these ridiculous dreams that people are going to come back and haunt him if he gives them the wrong sort. "You'd have to give me more information than that, Alfred. I mean, from a purely friendly standpoint, you should make it really obvious that you care about him. Perhaps, then he'd open up."
Alfred exhales with a slight smile. "You'd think, wouldn't you? I don't know. It's kind of sensitive. He's a private person and I don't want to seem like I'm prying. We haven't been friends for very long."
"Are you sure there's something wrong then?" Arthur puts forth, willing to give this friend the benefit of the doubt. Though, if nearly oblivious Alfred is worried about him, it's likely that something is wrong.
"Yeah, well, pretty sure. He acts odd sometimes and gets really defensive. I don't mean to upset him, but... I just do. I was wondering... I mean, it's bothering me because..." Alfred trails off into silence, looking frustrated. Arthur has never seen him act this way and he doesn't like it. He reaches forward putting his hand over Alfred's.
"Don't worry about it too much, Alfred. You're a wonderful friend. I'm sure he knows that too. If he doesn't want to open up, it's his own fault, not yours."
"But I care about him!" Alfred blurts out in disbelief. "You're saying I should sit on my ass and do nothing?"
"No..." Arthur swallows, taking his hand back at Alfred's surprisingly volatile reaction. "I didn't mean... I..." He feels color rise to his cheeks. How is it that he always says the wrong thing?
Alfred sees him looking upset and he sighs guiltily. "Sorry, Arthur, really. I'm just frustrated. I want him to feel better is all. He... he seems like he's hiding stuff from everybody and it's not good for him. You can understand why I'm worried?"
"You care a lot about this friend," is all Arthur says, abruptly feeling irrationally jealous.
Alfred is thrown by his mood change, but rather than offer reassurance, he laughs. "More than you realize."
"Hmm." Arthur grunts into his tea. His generous advice giving mood has evaporated. He now feels grouchy and irritable thinking about a person Alfred cares for so much. Here he was just feeling special too. The fairy lights were getting to him. "Well, if he won't tell you how he feels, he's obviously not worth your time. I know you care about him, and because you're so goddamn stubborn you'll never stop caring about him, but he doesn't deserve it if he's going to shut you out so much. Sounds bloody ungrateful to me."
Alfred's brow furrows quizzically, an odd smile quirking his lips. "I think I agree with you. I should punish him. Sometimes I think he does it on purpose." He looks near laughing. Arthur doesn't understand why his somber mood has changed to this bemused one.
"If it'll get him to open his damned eyes to the fact that he has a wonderful, very handsome friend, then I don't see why not."
Alfred laughs this time, reaching for Arthur's hands. "You're cruel, Arthur. What would you have me do?"
Arthur frowns skeptically. I would have you spend more time with me is what I'd do. He exhales, squeezing Alfred's hands as he does it. He's acting a bit ridiculous, getting jealous over something silly. "Don't give up on him. He... he probably doesn't know how to react to someone that actually cares to know the truth."
Alfred looks shocked by the seriousness of his advice, and also oddly suspicious.
Arthur scowls. "I can give good advice now and then, git."
"Riiiiiight." Alfred draws out, squinting his eyes.
Alfred then pushes himself forward to kiss Arthur across the table. "Thank you, then."
"Y-You're welcome." Arthur has to clear his throat, blushing a bit.
Afterwards, they spend time idling in the little shops. Alfred bursts with excitement for Christmas, loading up on lights and wreaths and decorations until he and Arthur are both struggling with the bags.
"You're helping me decorate." Alfred says with no room for argument. "This week some time. My roomie's leaving for
Nebraska, so we'll have the place to ourselves to be loud and crazy and do whatever we want."
Arthur huffs under his load of cookie cutters and holly. "Perhaps, you're going a bit overboard."
"Nah," Alfred snorts. "Me? Overboard? Never."
"Have you met yourself?"
Alfred laughs. "I suppose I am making you carry ten tons of stuff. Look, we'll drop it off at my apartment in a second. There's one more store I want to check out."
Arthur huffs irritably, but trails along after him, nearly dragging the bags on the ground by this point. His arms burn but he doesn't want to ask Alfred for help. He's perfectly capable by himself. Alfred leans up against the door of a beautifully decorated shop, humming Christmas music absently under his breath.
He walks backwards to push it open, dictating a spot on the floor for Arthur to dump their purchases. As he straightens up, he looks about himself.
"Oh." He says quietly, eyeing the glass displays of fudge and sweets.
Alfred doesn't hear him, skipping up to exchange pithy words with the familiar albino cashier. "Gilbert, my man," Alfred high fives him ecstatically. "Nice elf ears."
"I scared a child. It's victory enough for me." Gilbert retorts, leaning lazily against the counter. Alfred and Arthur are the only customers at the moment. It should feel empty, but to Arthur it feels extremely claustrophobic. The sickly sweetness of the fudge- he feels that the place needs to be fumigated.
"If you're looking for free samples, you can fuck off," Gilbert continues. "I got busted for giving Lizzy some the other day. Manager was not too thrilled." He lets loose a low whistle. "I think he was really just mad that she wouldn't give him her number. Sorry motherfucker." Gilbert shakes his head.
Alfred laughs lightly. "He shouldn't be too upset. I mean, when you first asked, she kicked you in the dong."
"That was an accident." Gilbert growls, wincing as the memory returns. "She thought I was flirting when I so obviously wasn't. I asked so that I could use my new prank call scheme."
"Sure." Alfred sticks his tongue out slightly. His blue eyes glitter as he begins to examine the different treats in the display cases. "Any suggestions? I'm loading up in case there's a blizzard."
"Aren't you always, Jones? You can at least try looking fit now that you've got a boyfriend." Gilbert smirks.
Alfred puffs out his cheeks. "Not funny. I'm a chef. It's in the DNA. I look alright, don't I, Artie?"
Alfred throws a look back at him imploringly. It comes to Arthur's slight amusement that he actually seems concerned.
"Like a runway model." Arthur rolls his eyes. Alfred doesn't have to know that that's the actual truth.
Assuaged, Alfred winks. "Thanks, rockstar."
After Alfred loads up on sweets and exchanges a few more insults with Gilbert, they walk out into the mushy Seattle snow. As they go, Alfred starts up a running critique, not seeming to realize he's doing it. "I'd add more nuts to this. This one's too dry. Mixing pumpkin with peanut butter sounds interesting in theory, but I'm not entirely sure in practice. Possibly more milk?"
Arthur listens to his commentary with a slight smile.
"I really like the peppermint pieces in this. Super festive, but also crunchy..." He trails, looking at the block of white and red fudge. "Do you want to try some, Arthur?"
Arthur's heart skips a beat. He swallows roughly, forcing himself to meet Alfred's curious blue eyes. "I'd rather not."
"Oh, yeah." Alfred frowns, fidgeting. Not seeming to know what to do, he shoves the whole block of fudge in his mouth.
Arthur's brow furrows skeptically. "Really?"
Alfred forces a grin and a defensive, "It's good."
"You were just criticizing it."
"So? It's sweet and I like it."
Arthur rolls his eyes. "You're sweet and I like you. Doesn't mean I just go shoving you into my mouth."
Alfred snickers. "Well, not all at once."
Arthur turns on Alfred, ready to beat him a new one. But the silly fear on Alfred's face as he hastily swallows his fudge so he can run without choking causes Arthur to nearly laugh instead. "You're an idiot," he settles to say.
"I know. I always do the wrong thing." Alfred smiles helplessly. Arthur frowns because it's the same smile he wore back in the tea shop.
For the record, his "friend" is Arthur. Haha. I can't have anyone missing that.