Coition: Chapter 7:
In which...
"Alfred. "
"Yes, Artie?"
Arthur's brow twitched forward at the nickname as he sent a sideways glare to his neighbor in the bar, who had been babbling loudly with Emma, a nice Belgian girl with a sweet smile, over his shoulder. He was leaning back against the counter, his long legs curled precariously on the foothold of his stool, and his elbows offending Arthur as they spread over it's surface, taking way too much room for Arthur's liking; for the third time he pointedly scooted his glass away from the intrusion.
"Why are you here?"
It was a slow day at Pele's Hideaway. Midmorning was always the emptiest point of the day; the sun outside was shining it's usual glow in the middle of a crystal sky, and although there was an abundance of people hurrying along the busy streets of Vegas, they were more focused on finding something to eat for their lunchbreak, more than entertainment.
As it was the girls mostly remained in the front of the store, chatting away amongst themselves and a couple of men who'd wandered in not too long ago. On one side of the room Elizebeta was taking orders for lunch for the other girls, while Xiao Mei, the new Taiwanese showgirl, sat on the edge of the stage for a break.
But all of this Arthur was unable to focus much of his attention on.
Sitting in his lacy underthings in the middle of a bar next to the one man in the world who could both endear and annoy Arthur so much with his dorky, quirky, overly-friendly, behavior, simultaneously making him angry at himself for finding it all endearing when he really just wanted to be left to hate the world in peace, but could not because Alfred seemed on a mission to irritate him into a coma by giving him too large smiles, and big manly hugs, and none of the personal space that Arthur tended to treasure, when he leaned forward into said personal bubble to describe some idiotic idea with all the enthusiasm of an overgrown child, or to ask Arthur of his opinion on some inane subject that Arthur had neither the patience or the understanding of to articulate his thoughts, or other ways to get under Arthur's skin with all his goofy, repellent, charming, Alfred-ness, was far too distracting.
And what made it worse was how oblivious Alfred seemed to Arthur's obvious and largely vocal discomfort.
Even now a grin was splitting on that golden face, his slim eyebrows raising over happy too-blue eyes as his leaned forward on his stool towards the Brit, making Arthur lean back ever so slightly to gain some amount of room and avoid the solid gaze of the young man. Looking away from Alfred's face, Arthur noted the fact Alfred's plaid shirt was a merry array of white, blue, and yellow; the same colors that made up the American.
It also twisted his heart the way Alfred seemed to express complete and undivided attention to everything he said; even the most unobtrusive and petty statements and, more popularly, insults. While he did indeed enjoy being listened to whenever he gave out such gems of wit and sarcasm by others, the way in which Alfred seemed to absorb everything he said only made him self conscious, although that may have had more to do with the accusations of Arthur being a 'grump' coming from the taller blonde of late. It was hard keeping keeping his sarcastic and unyielding aura up while also proving that he was indeed, not a grumpy old man with a stick up his ass.
Tentatively he raised his eyes.
"Ha! I'm always around here, Arthur!"
Arthur considered hitting that face.
"What I mean is, why are you here now. I would assume that you do indeed have a job, correct? Or some sort of vocation, like volunteer work, or university, or anything else deemed an acceptable way of furthering your career to prevent the fate of a freeloader, who leech off our society by wasting our hard earned tax-payer money, which I actually do pay a share of every year mind you, despite the fact that they are completely capable of labor and are just too damned lazy to go day in and day out to work for what they want. You do look like a self-sufficient and healthy young man. Do you have some sort of disability that keeps you from-?"
"Okay! Okay! Chill out!" Alfred said, waving his hands to stop Arthur mid-rant.
With all his might Alfred tried not to smile the Brit down. He just found it amusing the way Arthur could turn one statement of his into an entire tirade about what was wrong with Alfred and the rest of the world. And he almost laughed at loud as the Englishman raised a brow, silently warning that this was what to be expected, if he ever deemed it wise to get cheeky again, should Arthur ever feel the need to ask something of him. There were very few times when Arthur did betray his interest in Alfred's actions. He should treat each one of them preciously.
Nervously, should Arthur decide he didn't care for an answer at the last moment, Alfred scratched at his neck, glancing around the still-unbusy room. Nobody seemed to be listening in at any rate, so he shrugged.
"Well, I guess you can say I'm not here just to hang out. As much as I enjoy your company of course!" He added at the furrowing of that bushy brow. He inwardly gloated as the brow deepened and Arthur's face turned a shade darker. How adorable.
"But, the reason that I'm here-, I'm only telling you so you can look out for it too, by the way. I know you two always fight but I'd really appreciate it if you-"
Now it was Arthur's turn to pause the boy mid-sentence.
"-Now, hold on a moment, what exactly are you talking about? I only asked you why you decide to grace us with your perpetually annoying presence every week?!"
"And I'm trying to tell you." Alfred said, holding his hands in a gesture of peace once more. "As I was about to say, the reason that I am always here all the time is I am acting as a body guard for Francis."
What?
"What?" Arthur's voice repeated as the question flashed across his mind. But what the hell did the frenchman need a bodyguard for?
Alfred gave a sigh in a tone reminiscent of one you'd give to a child who kept failing to get a point you kept going over, that made Arthur's eyebrow twitch.
"You know how Francis and I have been friends for years right?"
Arthur nodded.
"And I'm sure you already know since you guys get along so well, that Francis is all about free love and whatever, and he's not exactly the most morally correct of men. He met some girl at a bar and they sorta hit it off;- "
Ignoring the common misconception that he and Francis shared anything but a mutual hatred for each other, Arthur could already see where this conversation was going. Free love was codename for 'sleeps with anything' and he certainly knew that Francis was about as hard to fend off as a mosquito. Even worse, he made it extremely hard to want to fend him off.
"So, who was dating the lass?"
Alfred shrugged.
"Some college football star or something, anyway; he didn't exactly like the idea of having his girlfriend stolen, so for the last few months we've they've been threatening to jump him. I mean, they were posting letters on his door and everything! So, yeah. I basically try to stick around, you know, make sure nobody tries anything funny."
"Hmm. That explains why he needs a bodyguard, but not quite why he needs you as a bodyguard. Plus, if the man is in hiding, why the devil would he pick a...a place like this, to work at?"
Alfred's easy grin flitted across his face, and once more Arthur felt like knocking those pearly white teeth in.
"Oh ye of little faith! I may not look it, but I've been doing sports for years, plus I'm always at the gym. Gotta keep in top form for you and the ladies." He laughed as Arthur punched him in the arm. "But don't worry; I can definitely handle it!"
At the implication that Alfred's safety had been anywhere near the forefront of his mind, ignoring the fact that, that had been one of the first thoughts that flitted through at the mention of a group of burly college students skulking around, wishing ill harm, with Alfred being the only thing standing between him and that cowardly frenchman, Arthur turned his head as far a degree as he could to avoid that stupid smile.
"It's n-not like I was worried or anything. I was just thinking if it had to be you- and not because I want you around or anything!-Quite the opposite!"
At that Alfred leaned back in his stool, ignoring Arthur's protests to laugh and scan the room missing Arthur's nervous glance.
"Alfred I'm just wondering,"
Even to himself Arthur thought he sounded weak, and he cleared his throat, but he really couldn't the wave of embarrassment. It wasn't as if he cared if the American was around or not...
"If Francis were not here,-lets say he decides this isn't as fun a past time anymore… does that mean you'd leave too?" adding "Not that I care either way!" with a blush as the taller man looked back.
There was a pause in which Arthur, staring at the next bar stool as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, fidgeted anxiously at his bold question. Of course Alfred wouldn't take time out his schedule, if he had one, to come visit a place like this, unless he had a big reason to. But after a moment of silence he forced himself to look back, startling himself when he met blue eyes and realized that Alfred had been staring at him, smile etched on his face as he'd waited for Arthur to actually look him in the eye. And after a moment of staring at each other, the American laughed, and shocking Arthur out of his thoughts, patted one of his bare knees in a gesture that was supposed to be comforting, but only embarrassed the Brit all the same.
"Don't worry Arthur, I would always come and visit you; I'd hate to leave you all sad and lonely." The he ducked at the resulting aim to his head.
"I'm neither sad nor lonely, you git!"
"Hahahahaha!"
-
"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you two are doing this just for attention."
"Belt up, you twat!"
Alfred paused in his bandaging to laugh as he dodged a blow to the head, fingers moving deftly around the white gauge he was wrapping around the Brit's scraped knee.
Sitting across from Arthur in the back room of the Hideaway Alfred also sent a smirk at Francis, who looked worse for wear, sprawled out on the other side of the large black couch as far away from the green eyed man as possible. His leg was raised up on a pillow, while his torso was lifted up the back of the couch, holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose. He had scrapes on his face, his long hair was tossled, and he was rubbing a bandage that covered very large bruise in the middle of his stomach as he and Arthur sent daggers between each other.
Arthur only looked marginally better; his already messy hair stood up in random places, there was a patch on his cheek covering a purplish splotch, and he was massaging his scrapped knuckles menacingly.
"So," Alfred said, clapping his hands against his knees as he stood off the coffee table and looked between the two men, "Who started it?"
"Why don't you ask the frog?" Arthur said, glaring at the Frenchman.
"Non! It was not I who started throwing punches!"
"You said my cooking was terrible!"
"And I was telling the truth! Your cooking is equivalent to a weapon!"
"It is not! I'll have you know my food is tasty!"
"Lies! Lies! All of them!"
And then the two were arguing again, throwing insults back and forth across the couch as Alfred shook his head and turned to Madame in the doorway, cigarette in hand. "Geeze. They're almost like children."
"Ohhohoho! That's to be expected with close friends." She said waving her hand dramatically.
"WE ARE NOT FRIENDS!" The two blondes yelled, pausing with Arthur pulling Francis beard, and Francis pulling Arthur's hair. Easily Alfred worked his hands through their fists to break them apart and apologized to Madam as the two grown men sat, glaring away from each other with their arms crossed.
"I think these two are done for the night; sorry again Madam."
"Not at all, not at all. Lucky there was a big strong man there to break them up." Batting her heavily lashed eyes at Alfred as she left.
"Come on you two, I'll bring you home." Alfred said, helping to hold up his French companion whose swollen leg was currently preventing him from walking, and then grabbing Arthur's hand to pull him up.
"Oh Thank you, mon cher, I know I can always rely on you in my times of need!"
"Yeah, yeah Francis, you're still not off the hook."
The two paused at the door as Alfred realized the Brit wasn't following.
"Aren't you coming?"
Arthur who'd been standing back, waiting for the two to leave started, avoiding the American's gaze, and waving him off nonchalantly.
"Oh no, It's fine. I'll be heading home soon enough."
"Are you sure Arthur? I can give you a ride, it'd be no trouble at all!"
Arthur almost smirked at the blatant lie; everyone knew by now that Francis and Alfred lived in the same building, and he highly doubted he would bring and injured Francis along when the man had no patience for the American's driving on any given day. It was nice for him to care at least.
"No, Alfred. I am perfectly capable of getting home by myself. Go take care of the frog. He needs it more than I do" he said, smirking as Francis tried to protest, needing to be grabbed out by the taller blonde.
"Just be careful okay?" the man called over his shoulder as he left, and Arthur almost sighed as he left before he caught himself.
He had another reason to decline the offer, he thought, smiling anxiously as Charlie's car pulled up to the curb.
"How you doing babe?" The brunette greeted cheerfully.
Ever since their last conversation, Charlie was slowly winning his way back. Every night Charlie would pick him up from work, would have dinner ready for Arthur, since admittedly all of Arthur's experiments in the kitchen tended to turn into lumps of burn charcoal, and then they went to sleep together. He didn't see him drink if he still did it, and the attention was starting to thaw him. Just a little.
-
It was on the next Thursday that instead of the boisterous American he'd learn to expect, disturbing the peace of the bar and distracting Arthur from his work with his cheeriness, another man with the same face appeared, quietly tucking himself on the opposite side of the room, and scanning the room anxiously as though something were going to attack him.
For a while he put it off as coincidence the resemblance they had; after all the man's hair was was much paler,and his eyes were violet,not blue, and he shrugged it off, returning to focus on running the bar. .
It wasn't until Francis appeared at the door in a flourish, without Alfred he noted, greeting the violet eyed man with a hug and bringing him over to the bar.
"-You are impossible; don't sit in the corner like a wallflower, your brother and I are always telling you, you are too shy, mon ami."
Arthur'd paused at the bar as Francis forced the taller man into a stool, and leaned an arm over the counter merrily.
"Mon cher, Arthur! How lovely it is to see those large eyebrows of your's!"
"I was wondering when you'd show up, frog!"
"Ahon honhon!" The Frenchman laughed, patting the confused man beside them happily. "Matthew! This is my good not-friend Arthur! Whatever you do, do not accept any of his cooking. It will kill you. And Arthur," he said facing the Brit he'd just insulted, "this little kitten is my friend Matthew! He's Alfred's twin brother, by the way, although I've sure you noticed the similarities, mmh?"
"Oh, belt up Francis!" Arthur glared, holding his fist up threateningly although in a swift movement he was smiling at Matthew, turning the first into a handshake merrily.
"Good to meet you old chap. You can ignore anything Francis says about my cooking."
"H-hello, Arthur. Alfred has told me a lot about you."
If anything Arthur had to be surprised that this man could possibly be related to that obnoxious git he claimed for a brother. He and Matthew were exact opposites.
"So, you and Alfred are twins?"
'Why have I not heard anything about it?' Arthur pondered as the younger man stuttered.
After Francis left to go entertain some guests Arthur learned that although Alfred and Matthew were twins they'd grown up separately after the divorce of their parents. Their father raised up Alfred in the states, while Matthew's mother moved back up to Ontario where she ended up marrying. Despite the separation however, the two were still able to see much of each other growing up, especially when Matthew came down to visit every summer.
Apparently he'd moved back to the states a few years ago when he went to University along with his brother and ended up staying around. He also explained that he was filling in looking after Francis, being also a close friend to the Frenchman, since Alfred was busy with work.
By the time Francis was back, insulting Arthur to make Matthew more comfortable, the Brit thought he rather liked the young man, although he didn't carry much presence.
-
