Arthur's eyes blearily blinked open, beams of daylight cascading from the drawn curtains in his bedroom tearing him from his slumber. How long had he slept last night? Maybe five hours?
He sat up and stretched languidly as he recalled the conversation with Alfred, and his chest felt light and content. It was so rare to meet a person so genuine and good-natured, and he truly felt that Alfred was like a rare daisy blooming amidst a field of rubbish. After everything that poor boy went through, he still smiled as if the sun had manifested itself on his face. He was beautiful and charismatic and although Arthur still couldn't believe it, the urge to help this man was so strong that he was unsure the lengths he would go in order to make Alfred happy.
Arthur couldn't even remember the last time he had felt this way. In fact, had he ever felt this way? Even his past relationships seemed selfish, each person trying to take as much as they could from the other. It was exhausting at times, but Arthur was always one for competition and had no qualms when presented with the opportunity to get the upper hand. It made him an integral role at work, but bitter and heartless in any sort of dating scenario.
So what a breath of fresh air this was. Not feeling the need to take, but actually caring to give. And give he would!
He was in a rather peppy mood, and he climbed out of bed to go make himself a cup of tea. He wasn't sure if Alfred liked tea, or when the man would wake up, so just a cup for himself would do for now.
With a spring in his step, he set about boiling the water in the kettle and taking a seat by a lovely little alcove in his living room, but not before selecting a book off the shelf. With the book sat in his hands, he took a moment to stare out the window, taking in the way the sunbeams scattered through the windows of the buildings surrounding his own. It must have been early still, but he had no desire to return to bed.
Arthur got in a few minutes of peaceful reading before his kettle whistled, prompting him to fill his mug and dunk a sweet-smelling teabag into it. He returned to the alcove and resumed reading for a while longer.
A decent amount of time had passed before he heard the guestroom door opening, and out strolled Alfred lugging his feet and rubbing the sleep from his tired blue eyes. He looked exhausted as he glanced around before his eyes settled on Arthur nestled by the window. He smiled slightly before making his way over.
Arthur smiled back. "Good morning sleeping beauty," silently snickering at the mussed up hair and barely concealed yawn. "Have you decided to rejoin the land of the living?"
Alfred smirked at the sarcasm. "Aw c'mon, it can't be that late, can it?"
"It's half ten."
"Oh please, that's nothing. I used to sleep until two in the afternoon when I was a teen!"
He gaped at the man standing in front of him. That was an entire half-day wasted! "Are you taking the piss?" He questioned, surely the man couldn't be serious.
Alfred's eyes widened comically before he looked down at his pants, looking for all the world as if he were about to have a meltdown. "What the hell are you talking about? I didn't piss myself!" He pulled at the crotch area of the sleep pants before smoothing it out again quickly. The blush on his face was humorous enough but the misunderstanding in general was too much for Arthur. He had forgotten that not all Americans understood good old British slang.
The laughter bubbled up inside him until he had nearly doubled over with an incessant cackle, clutching his chest until he almost couldn't breathe. Alfred just stood there blushing, but starting to look more amused rather than embarrassed as Arthur's laughter finally subsided.
He wiped at a tear in his eye. "Oh my, that was funny."
"…What the hell man," Alfred replied with false ferocity, unable to keep the smile from his lips. "What was funny about that? You nearly gave me a heart attack; I thought I had actually wet myself for a second there." He huffed childishly.
"It's an expression. I just meant 'are you joking', that's all."
"Ahh." His mouth pressed into a straight line and he nodded thoughtfully. "Welp. Learn something new every day, amiright?" He looked to Arthur with a bashful expression, the residual pinkness of his flush still apparent. At least he looked more awake. "I can't believe you had that laugh in you."
"What do you mean?" His brows furrowed.
"I don't know, I just feel like your laughs are rare. I may be wrong, obviously I don't know you that well," the yet was left unsaid. "But still, it threw me off. You're unpredictable, Arthur." He flashed his teeth in a grin.
"Are you insinuating that you thought I was just a stuffy old Englishman?"
Alfred laughed, "Nah you can't be that old. You look like you're 28, max."
"First of all I'm thirty years old. Second of all now you're implying that you do think I'm stuffy." Arthur was trying and failing to keep a straight face, and Alfred must have noticed.
"Damnnn you're thirty? Wow you are old!"
Arthur tried very hard not to admire Alfred's dimples as he laughed at his expense. "Oh shut up," he said with absolutely no malice in his voice.
He wasn't accustomed to starting his weekend off with playful banter but he had to admit it was infinitely more enjoyable than his normal routine of sipping his tea in the dead silence of his lonely flat. Alfred certainly kept things more lively and interesting.
"So would you care for some tea?"
Alfred hid his grimace a second too late. "Uh no thanks, I'm more of a coffee guy haha. Plus, tea doesn't have too much flavor."
Arthur resented that. "It does if you make it correctly! Come now, I'll fix you a cup and you can see for yourself." He got up and made his way to the kitchen, beckoning Alfred to follow. He would prove to his guest that tea was better than coffee.
After preparing the mug, he placed it on the table in front of where Alfred was sitting. And although he never put sugar in his own tea, he had a feeling Alfred had a sweet tooth and so he added a spoonful and stirred it in.
Arthur sat there, waiting expectantly as Alfred sipped at the tea.
"So? How does it fare?"
"Well..I guess it's pretty good but I still prefer coffee. Sorry," Alfred said with a shrug on his shoulders.
Arthur grumbled to himself. Now that was complete blasphemy. He was preparing a counterargument when all of a sudden his phone started to vibrate. He glanced down at it and groaned audibly upon seeing who was calling him. Francis Bonnefoy.
Arthur was hoping he had gotten rid of that imbecile for good when he left Europe, but it seemed no matter the distance put between them, Francis still managed to worm his way back into Arthur's life.
After scowling at his screen for a few seconds, he answered the call. "You better make this quick," he stated in his most acidic tone.
He heard a chortle on the other end. "Ah mon ami, always so kind to me. I wanted to check on you to see if you are surviving the American lifestyle."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Of course I am!" He snapped before realizing that Alfred was staring at him openly from the other side of the table. Deciding that this conversation was better to be had behind closed doors, he got up and said with all the politeness he could muster, "Would you excuse me for a moment."
"Sure, go ahead," Alfred replied, hint of curiosity in his voice.
Arthur went down the hallway and into his room, shutting the door behind him, all the while with the phone pressed up against his ear and not a peep coming from Francis. It was a very telling pause and Arthur knew exactly what the Frenchman was thinking.
"Arthur…who was that?"
"No one."
"No, I must know," Francis drawled in that smarmy French way of his. "Are you not at home? Why is there another man with you? You told me you would be living alone." Arthur could practically hearthe smirk on his face.
"It's absolutely none of your business."
"Oh ho ho, it is! Big brother was so worried you would not even make a single friend, but here you are with a man in your home after only two weeks in New York! He must be very special, no?"
Arthur felt his face turning red and his lips furled as he growled out, "He IS just a friend. Nothing more."
"Ah, but is it not morning there? You invited a new friend to your house so early? Or was it a sleepover?"
Curse the frog for being so astute and nosy. Arthur was sure the Frenchman's eyebrows were wiggling up and down and he wanted nothing more at that moment than to buy a flight to France to strangle the insufferable buffoon.
He took a deep breath to reduce the anger that was brewing inside of him. "As I said before, it's none of your business."
There was a sigh on the other end. "At least tell me where you met him. Did you finally go to a pub or one of those crazy nightclubs I always see in the movies? I would be surprised, you know how hard I tried to take you out to dance, but you never would! It was tragic for me. And now you move to a different continent and you go to a nightclub without me!"
Arthur could definitely feel an oncoming headache; he pinched the bridge of his nose. Why did he answer the phone again?
"I didn't go to a bloody nightclub! I've been much too busy with my new job to partake in such fruitless activities."
"So then this man is a coworker of yours! I'm impressed with you, Arthur. I did not think you were capable of taking such a high risk like this."
"He's not a coworker! I met him on the street!" Arthur shouted angrily, before quickly replaying his own words in his head and realizing how it suggestive it sounded.
There was another long pause from the other end of the line. "My my … You have become a completely new person! I cannot believe you hired a prostitute you met on the street! Big brother is so proud of you!"
"HE'S NOT A BLOODY PROSTITUTE!" Arthur roared, feeling utterly embarrassed and irritated. He recognized too late the volume of his voice most definitely penetrated the walls of his flat, and he felt his heart drop into his stomach at the prospect of Alfred hearing this entire humiliating conversation. He lowered his voice significantly before he ground out, "I will tell you only a few things about him and then you'll leave it be. Understand?"
There was snickering on the other end. "Oui, oui."
He sighed. "I am housing a homeless man in the guest room of my flat. Not with me in my bed! I don't know for how long, and I've only just met him the other day. He's incredibly kind and I am happy to help him for as long as he needs it. That's it!"
Arthur heard an audible "hmmmmm" from Francis, he wasn't sure what to make of that but he could feel his headache worsening. "So you are telling me that you willingly have a homeless person sleeping in your house? You have no…ah what do you call it…ulterior motives? Has the brutish Arthur Kirkland finally grown a heart?"
"Yeah," he stated flatly. He wanted to be done with this already. "Was that all? Can I hang up now?"
"Hmm, you gave me a lot to think about. And I have more questions that I'll save for a later time."
"Wonderful. Goodbye."
Francis laughed briefly, "Yes okay. Goodbye mon petit amour!"
Arthur growled, "Don't call me that!" before hitting the 'end call' button more ferociously than necessary. What a complete tool. He swore that man would be the death of him one day.
He let his heart rate slow before delicately exiting his room to rejoin Alfred in the kitchen area.
Alfred had definitely heard most, if not all, of the conversation that had just taken place because he was sitting with the empty mug in his hands, twisting it around, as it seemed to be his telltale sign of nervousness. Alfred was also staring at the mug too intently, trying and failing to appear inconspicuous.
While it was amusing to watch the other man try so hard, Arthur decided not to beat around the bush; there was no use skirting around each other awkwardly all the time. "I'm sorry if you uh…heard all that. The man who called me is an absolute pain in my arse and never leaves me alone. Always with the constant questions and prying."
Alfred finally looked up at him. "Seems like a fun guy."
"That's not the adjective I'd use to describe him, but he certainly can be entertaining. He just doesn't understand boundaries."
"Gotcha. Sooo he thought I was…like…a hooker?"
Arthur grimaced and prayed that he wouldn't start blushing. "You could say that. He has a very dirty mind. It's a French thing I suppose."
Alfred exhaled a laugh, "That's true. Is it bad that I've thought about it though? Like being a hooker? They actually make really good money."
His eyes widened considerably as the shock played out on his face. "Oh my god. Please don't. You don't need to start doing that to make money! What you need is a stable form of employment. I can help you apply for jobs if you'd like! Please tell me you won't resort to that out of desperation."
The poor man hung his head in what looked like shame. "You're right. I'm sorry."
"You don't need to be apologising!" he said frantically. "Now then, let's change the subject. Would you like to go for a bite to eat somewhere? And we could go shopping for clothes afterward? I'll bet we can find you a nice suit to impress the hiring managers at your future interviews." The optimism was flowing out of him like lava, which was so different from his normal pessimistic attitude but he felt the irresistible need to overcompensate for the sadness on Alfred's face.
"Uh well...it's all up to you," his voice was small and uncomfortable and Arthur didn't like it one bit. He was hoping that they had moved past the uncertainty because Arthur had made it clear that he didn't mind spending money on his guest. But it seemed that the other man did still have qualms about accepting the help. Was it out of pride? Or modesty? He suspected it was the latter.
Arthur moved closer to him and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You don't need to feel bad about getting help. I've already told you that I want to do this for you. If there is anything that you want or need, don't hesitate to ask."
Alfred sat there contemplating this before saying rather humorously, "Sounds kinda like a sugar daddy to me."
He let his hand drop off Alfred's shoulder dramatically. Well that completely ruined the comforting mood he had worked so hard to construct. He knew Alfred was just pushing his buttons to get a reaction, so he glared at the younger man scornfully. "Oh shut up, will you?"
Even as Alfred giggled at him, he felt content.
A/N: How's my British? LOL I struggle so hard to not make Arthur sound American, some things I get right but other times I literally have to google "DO PEOPLE IN ENGLAND SAY…"
Super pathetic hahaha but I bet there are more Americans reading this story than English people so I should be safe right? XD