#9: Drive
Pairing: UsUk
Words: 910
Once again Alfred F. Jones was leaving the airport with his boyfriend, Arthur Kirkland. Usually when it was his turn to visit the short blonde's home Arthur insisted on driving. Every time he would try to slip into the driver's seat before him, but epically failed every attempt made. He always raced over to the left side, while Arthur jogged at an easy pace over to the right. It irked the American how European cars had the wheels on the right, unlike his own nation. Pure habit made him want to swerve to the left, giving Arthur a consistent easy path to the driver's seat.
This time he wasn't going to lose.
Tightening his muscles he forced himself to walk out to the parking lot. Arthur, who was visibly drooping, seemed to be oblivious to the obvious behavior change. So for once in a mad dash to the vehicle a few feet away he finally procured the driver's seat for himself. Hissing Arthur tried to claw him out of the seat, in the end only convincing the American that he would make a good cat. After thirty seconds Alfred yanked the shorter into the car.
"Git! What do you think you're doing?!" Laughing at Arthur's embarrassed expression he let the shorter man climb across his lap and into the passenger's side.
"Bloody fool! You're going to get us killed in the near future, please just let me drive."
"Nope. I'm pretty sure I know how to get to your flat by now Artie." Still grumbling to himself Arthur flipped himself onto his side, facing Alfred. He hadn't really slept that well the night before and Alfred had flown in on a later flight. Giving in to his aching mind and hazy mind he fell asleep.
Quickly he glanced over at Arthur, hoping that he wouldn't notice. To his relief Arthur's emerald eyes were closed. As he drove down the street Alfred had to work had to suppress the habit part of him that was saying "drive on the right side of the road." Turning down a side street the American realized that he had no idea where he was anymore. It was already starting to get dark and any illumination the sun might have given to help him find his way was swiftly going away. Cursing quietly Alfred considered his options. He could,
a) try to backtrack to the airport,
b) keep driving and hope that he found something that he recognized, or
c) wake up Arthur and basically admit to defeat.
Obviously that third option was out, Arthur would never let him hear the end of it. He really didn't think that he would be able to find his way back to the airport at this point, so option b it was.
After driving around aimlessly for about an hour Alfred felt like he was going to fall asleep leaning on the wheel. Now he really did have to admire Arthur for navigating through the complicated streets of England. Finally he pulled over and slumped down into the seat, making himself comfortable before drifting off.
The sun was illuminating his entire face… That never happened because he always took care to close his blinds and sleep facing the wall, not the window. What the bloody hell was going on? Oh that's right, Alfred came to visit. He probably flipped him over and shoved to over towards the window. Ready to complain Arthur cracked his eyes open, only to be met with the sight of his car's interior. Come to think of it, he didn't remember getting home last night, because he fell asleep after Alfred snagged the driver's seat for once. Looking out the windows he found that they were quite far away from his flat.
"What did he do, try to get as far away as possible?" Whispering various things to himself Arthur opened his car door and walked over to Alfred's side. Unceremoniously he flung the door open and attempted to pull out the slumbering American. Eventually his efforts were recognized by the said American and he woke up.
"Hey Artie! About last night… I'm s-"
"Git! Wanker! To get to my flat we'll have to drive for over an hour! From the airport it would have been fifteen minutes. I will be driving when you visit me from now on, no buts. If you object you will never, ever even see these car keys ever again."
Flinching Arthur's (well deserved) yelling Alfred put on his best pouty face, with a hint of guilt.
"I'm sorry okay! I'll even, even… Break up with you if that's what you want!" Tears began to form in the corners of his eyes.
Rubbing his forehead Arthur patted the American's shoulder awkwardly.
"Look, let's just pretend that this never happened and I took you sight-seeing." Arthur slid into the car behind the wheel and waited for Alfred to enter the vehicle as well. "After having such a glorious time I'm sure you want to chatter about it. Don't."
"Fine with me dude. By the way, is it true what all the American tourists are reporting after being here?"
"What are they saying about England? If it's offensive-"
"They're saying that the burgers here are better than back in the states!"
That's actually true. One of my best friends went to England and when she came back she said that the hamburgers there were better than in the US. Go figure.
