'artie! :D i have some great news!'
Message received at 2:09 pm.
'here! YOU'RE door was unlocked, so i'll meet you back YOU'RE apartment, kk?'
Message received at 2:11 pm.
That… He…
Arthur felt a slight twitch of irritation as he read Alfred's latest messages. Alfred was in his apartment? The idiot was trespassing! And to make matters worse, he didn't seem to care! He sighed. That prick surely wouldn't care, even if he got angry, now would he? In fact, he'd probably just laugh it off and tell him that he needed to chill out. The messages had been received over an hour ago, right when he was speaking with Francis at Central Park. The encounter was currently pushed to the back of his mind, and it was taking all of his might to force it back from entering his thoughts right now. Or ever, for that matter. It was bordered close to disturbing when he thought of Alfred in that sort of way, but at the same time, he couldn't deny that the thoughts made his heart pace quicken and his cheeks redden slightly. Damn git.
Alfred is just a friend, he thought to himself. Just a friend and a neighbor.
Yes. That sounded right. As he walked through the sliding glass doors, he allowed himself a small smile at the doorman and a curt nod to Angelique, who was propped up at the front desk with a donut and her assistant running circles around her.
The elevator ride was rather quiet, aside from his thoughts plaguing him. It honestly worried him that he even considered Alfred as a love interest. He had so many flaws, it was ridiculous. Alfred was much better suited to remain as a friend. For starters, he was hyperactive and energetic. He was childish. He was naïve. He had an infuriating hero complex. He was bothersome. He was clingy. Apparently, he was a trespasser as well. He was considerate. He was kind. He was passionate. He was ambitious. He was infectiously happy. He was silly, giddy, and wanted to spread his joy and youth with the world. Wait.
Fuck. No, this was all wrong.
The elevator let him off at the top floor with a ding and a creek. For such a nice building, you'd think that they'd be able to maintain the elevators. Arthur was just about to open his door when it swung open and revealed a smiling Alfred, holding both Hero and Crumpets in his arms.
"Hey, Artie! Get in here, I have some great news!"
Arthur sighed and flopped down his coat onto the rack. "Don't you always."
The other maintained his flawless smile as the two cats nuzzled each other. "I think they're in kitty love." Alfred grinned. Arthur's head perked up as he watched the pair of felines be released onto the floor only to bound over to the large window that held the skyscape of New York and lie down as they intertwined their tails together. Hero rolled over and pulled Crumpets onto his stomach as they laid on the wood. Seemingly content with this position, the grumpier of the two cats begrudgingly allowed himself to lay his head down onto the other's mane of fluff. Hero reminded Arthur somewhat of a lion.
"How adorable. Is this why you broke into my apartment?" He asked as he raised an eyebrow at Alfred.
"Nope! I have more news," Alfred began as he waltzed over to the couch and plopped himself down, patting the spot next to him in an invitation for Arthur to sit next to him. On the coffee table rested a plate of donuts that had been tactfully arranged to look like edible finger foods. It might had worked if it weren't for the Dunkin' Donuts bag in the trash can, which hadn't even been attempted to be pushed further down. Next to the donuts rested a still steaming mug of tea and a mug of coffee. Upon closer inspection and sip of the tea, it was too milky and weak for his taste, but at least he tried.
He certainly wasn't going to let up on this, was he? It was just like Alfred to pull out all of the stops when trying to tell something (which he expected to be nothing big) to someone.
"I see you've gone out of your way to announce your big news. What exactly is it?" Arthur asked as he took another sip of the tea. How long had Alfred steeped this, exactly? It was practically water and milk. However a gentleman always finishes what others have put in front of him, so he held his breath and took a large gulp.
Alfred was drinking his coffee with vigor and nearly twitching with excitement. "Okay, so basically, this chick quit her job at The Times. And she was working on a big story? I don't really know, but Gilbert wants me to pick up on where she left off. And you'll never guess what the story is on."
"McDonalds?" The Englishman asked dully.
"Nope, but nice guess. It's about the Thorns series. You know, that romance novel thingy?"
Arthur nearly spit his tea out onto the table.
"E-Excuse me?"
"Thorns. My job is pretty much to find out who Janice Mayflower is." Alfred grinned. When there was no response from Arthur, he gently nudged him with his shoulder. "Arthur? You okay, dude?"
He could nearly vomit at this very moment. It was just his luck that his neighbor and the closest thing of a friend he had would be assigned something like this. What would this mean? Alfred was going to find out. There was no doubt about it, he would eventually. There had been some close brushes with the press before, but not this close. As much as Arthur didn't want to admit it, Alfred wasn't an idiot. He was rather intelligent and persistent when he wanted to be. This was the one thing that would top off all of his problems. Perfect, just perfect. The cherry on top of a lovely heaping sundae of conflicting feelings for Alfred, trust issues, and writers block.
"Arthur?"
He snapped back into reality with a start. The other was now staring at him with a rather confused expression on his face. A bit of concern was evident as well.
"Oh. Yes, good job. I wish you luck." He muttered and stood up with the empty mug of tea and placed it in the sink, splashing some cool water over his face. And if Alfred found out… ugh. Humiliating. He could feel a migraine coming on. A strong one, that started in a secluded section of his brain and spread to everywhere in his body.
"I know, right? This is gonna be so much fun," The American smiled, picking apart a donut and chewing on it in small bites. "And in celebration, I say we go out for drinks tonight!" Arthur dried off his face and shot him a look.
"I have work to do. Writer's stuff, very busy and boring." He began, but his further excuses died in his throat when he saw the dejected look on Alfred's face.
"Come on, Artie! I want you to go out with me! It'll just be for a little while, we can chill and have some fun, and then you can come back here." He smiled hopefully. "Please?"
Arthur sighed and stared into those deep blue eyes. He didn't want to go. He definitely didn't want to go and celebrate his possible unraveling that he had worked so hard on over the past few years. But at the same time, Alfred was staring at him with such pleading eyes, full of kindness and hope.
He stared down at the sensible brown shoes he was sporting.
"I suppose we could go out for a bit," The voice that protruded from him sounded raspy and soft, but Alfred didn't appear to notice as he grabbed him from the back and spun him around in a bear hug. And he felt his scowl melt in those warm arms. Stupid, stupid Alfred. Why did he make it so hard to hate him?
xxx
The bar was deep into Harlem, but there was no shortage of crowds in the small place. Arthur wrinkled his nose almost immediately as he stepped in and smelled the condensed scent of perfume, alcohol and cologne. Disgusting. This scene was exactly why he bought his own liquor and consumed it at home. Why exactly had he agreed to come here again? He looked up and saw Alfred heading directly for the bar. He seemed to say something amusing, because the girl behind the bar laughed and smiled at him. In the split second that Alfred had turned his head, she pulled down her V-neck just a bit more and seemed to adjust her bra. Right, that was why.
The dance floor was sweaty and horrifying, so he sidestepped around the narrow area to the bar and avoided the dry-humping. Arthur slunk into the chair next to Alfred and tried to hide his discomfort in the place. By the looks from the other patrons, he didn't seem to be hiding it very well.
"Scotch. Whatever's strong. I don't really care." He said with a nod to the girl.
"Heavy drinker, I see," Alfred said with a laugh and a tip of his glass. "You sure you can hold your liquor, man? I don't really feel like carrying you home."
Arthur scowled. "Of course I can hold my liquor! Good god, Alfred, is that really what you think of me? An idiotic drunkard who relies on other people to get him home?"
"Chill. Drink your scotch, ya drunk," Alfred grinned as the glass was set in front of him. He downed it with a nary a moment's hesitation and a huff of relaxation. On second thought, perhaps alcohol was exactly what he needed to get his mind off of things after all.
"Another, miss."
The other gave a slow, long whistle. "Drunkard."
"Shut your mouth! Respect your elders!"
"Oh, so you're an elder now?"
"You are absolutely infuriating, Alfred F. Jones," Arthur growled as he downed another glass. "Another?" He nodded to the bartender.
Alfred shrugged and could barely keep himself from laughing as he watched the other down glass after glass. The guy didn't seem like much of a drinker, but then again, Angelique had said something about him being a bit of a punk back in high school. After thinking a bit about it, it suddenly didn't seem so surprising.
He glanced around the room. It was full, that was for sure. And there was probably a great chance of someone getting lucky in the corner somewhere. One head, however, stood out to him in particular.
"Francis! Hey, man! How's it hangin'?"
The Frenchman spun around and smiled as he pulled a stool up next to Alfred. "Ah, Alfred! I am doing very well! It's nice to see you here, have you brought anyone with you?" His eyes darted to Arthur, who was now focusing directly at the ice in his glass. He didn't appear to notice Francis's appearance. And if he did, he didn't appear to care. It was honestly more likely that he just hadn't noticed him all together.
Alfred draped his arm over Arthur and grinned. Arthur murmured something unintelligent and pushed the hand away from him as if it was something revolting. "Yup, I brought Artie here with me! He's a writer, too. You know him?"
"Oui," Francis affirmed with a nod. A small smirk began to work its way onto his face. This was just perfect. "We have met. In fact, I had a rather interesting conversation with him earlier today at the park."
"Oh?" He cocked his head to the side.
"We were actually speaking about how lonel-"
"Shut your mouth!" Arthur suddenly burst out. "I am not lonely! Don't tell Al this!" He paused and looked confused as his drunken mind struggled to reconstruct the sentence he had just slaughtered. "I mean, don't tell Alfred. Yeah, dun' tell Alfred that!" He seemed pleased with his outburst and nodded as he went back to downing glasses of scotch.
The two were silent for a moment before Alfred's case of giggles burst forth and he collapsed in laughter.
"Oh my god, he's so fucking drunk."
"And he's lonely," Francis tipped his glass. "You heard him, oui? Earlier, we were speaking about how he wishes someone would cuddle and kiss him and make l-"
"Shut it, frog!" The drunk slurred as he collapsed on top of the bar.
Alfred had to laugh once again as he patted Arthur's head in sympathy. This guy would have one hell of a hangover tomorrow. But Francis… "He really said that?"
"Oui! I think he mentioned your name somewhere in there, as well."
Arthur actually said that? And mentioned his name? Alfred had to admit, he was taken aback by the mere notion of Arthur even saying something about him to anyone.
"I didn't say nuthin' about Al!" Arthur yelled almost pathetically as he slammed down his glass to the table. He almost immediately held a look of bleary confusion and concentration. "I mean, Alfred."
Alfred stared at Arthur, then back at Francis. "Come on. You're just messing with me, aren't you, Francey-pants?" He grabbed a pen out from his pocket and scribbled on the bar napkin in front of him.
'Did he really talk about me like that?'
Subtly, he passed the napkin to Francis.
'He did.'
"Ah, you got me, friend. It was all just a joke. Right, Arthur?" Francis said with a heavy note of sarcasm that he was sure in Arthur's drunken state, wouldn't be able to pick up in the slightest.
"Damn right," He nodded and took another swig of his scotch. And that was the one sip that managed to send him tumbling onto Alfred's lap. Actually, he wouldn't have fallen onto Alfred's lap, but the floor if he had not managed to catch him.
"Well, looks like this guy is tuckered out. I think I'm gonna carry him home now, if ya' don't mind, Francis." Alfred said with a hefty sigh as he lifted Arthur up into his arms. "Thanks for the info!"
"Anytime!" Francis smiled. "And good luck."
The American nodded and parted with a wave and grin. Arthur was about to curse him out, but chose to remain silent in Alfred's arms.
xxx
"Ya' know, you're handsome."
"Uh-huh, yup, whatever you say."
Arthur had been rather… affectionate the entire time Alfred had carried him home. Not that he minded, it was a nice change from the other being his grumpy self. But the sudden change in attitude was a bit disconcerting. For the first compliments, he was blushing like crazy and wondering if what Francis had said was actually true, but after a while, he paid little attention to it. He was drunk, after all. And according to stories from his coworkers, the Frenchman was always trying to set people up with each other. But Arthur had said himself that he was lonely. And that just wouldn't do.
"I wanna kiss you."
"Okay, Artie. You do that."
He huffed. "No, I wan'… I want you to kiss me."
Alfred sighed. "No, Artie."
Arthur glared at him. "And why not?"
"Because you're drunk."
Below him, the drunk stayed silent for a moment before speaking again. "So, if I wasn' drunk, you'd kiss me?"
"Maybe," Alfred responded. This seemed to be a good enough answer for Arthur as they made their way across the lobby. Angelique took noticed and gave a sadistic giggle. The look in her eyes was clearly saturated with pity for the American, but at the same time, she seemed to enjoy his clear discomfort.
They rode up the elevator in silence, aside from Arthur's occasional hiccups. Everything was silent as Alfred carried him through the apartment. Hero and Crumpets were now sleeping on the couch together. From what he could see, they looked very comfortable together. For a brief moment, he thought that maybe he could just drop off Arthur onto his bed and make his escape back into his own apartment, but as soon as he set him down onto the comforter, a sharp tug pulled him down.
"Stay," Arthur mumbled, his eyes already closed and drifting off into sleep.
"Artie, I gotta go back to my place an-"
His eyes immediately snapped open and he growled with such ferocity that Alfred didn't dare move, for fear of having his head chopped off. "Stay or I swear to god, I will set your entire apartment on fire."
That just about did it for him. Kicking off his shoes, he made his way into the bed and settled down next to him. Arthur moved over to drape his arms around Alfred's chest and bury his head in the crook of his neck. Alfred sighed. He could already tell that Arthur was going to be pissed off when they woke up in the morning.
The Englishman had already fallen fast asleep. He let out soft snores and gentle breathing, which was all rather mesmerizing to him. Yeah, Arthur would be pissed off in the morning. Whatever. But right now, he was fast asleep and quite comfortable lying on his chest. And Alfred felt that he fit perfectly in his arms.
As Alfred drifted off, he couldn't help but think that he could definitely get used to this.
Hello, guys. The new chapter is here! I don't really have much to say right now. But bluh. Oh, Francis. You were just trying to help, but you don't have to make Arthur look like such a lovestruck softie! He can do that on his own. With the help of alcohol. I do love affectionate drunk!Arthur, so here's a little bit of that for you guys. Thanks for reading! If you have time, drop by and tell me what you think. Next chapter up next Sunday.
chibitalex
