Alfred and Arthur had kissed; to put it bluntly. Arthur was trying to heave in breath after breath to soothe his ongoing episode, while Alfred cupped the elder's cheeks and kept the teacher up close and personal with him. Nonetheless, the calming kiss had ceased eventually-the human necessity for air is to blame-though the Englishman had had his mood significantly altered. He was still crying, yes-with a displeasing frown on his face-but after they pulled apart; Arthur buried his face into Alfred's well-rounded shoulder. The fuzz from the collar of the bomber jacket tickled at Arthur's forehead as he sniffled and allowed forlorn tears to leak from his eyes, and soak into Alfred's clothing.
Out of sheer impulse, Alfred ensnared his arms around the curve of Arthur's waist-his arms fitting like a glove around the professor's body. His baby-blue eyes were squinted just a smudge, listening to the Englishman regain his once discarded composure.
They remained like so for quite the lot of time. Alfred physically being able to feel Arthur quiet down in his embrace, until the Englishman's breaths were near silent. "I'm sorry." Mr. Kirkland eventually croaked, sniffling back mucus that threatened to run free from his nostrils, as he forced himself away from his student. There was a wry smile beginning to build itself on Arthur's lips; a smile that caused Alfred's heart to flutter but made his mind worried. "I haven't cried so much ever since I left England."
Alfred smiled back, using his thumb to wipe away stray tears off Arthur's face-well any stray tears the Briton may have missed after the man himself used his clothed wrist as a towel. "It's okay. At least it's nice to know that you have a heart."
"You better shut it, you bloke, or I'll regret kissing you."
After that hectic episode, Alfred had been taught the entire story to Peter's mother. (Of course, only after Arthur had brewed himself some lovely tea with honey stirred in to combat his sickening headache.)
Arthur's former lover is, well to put it nicely, infertile from approximately five years of smoking-beginning one weak before Peter was born, in order to soothe the pain in her midsection. She had remarried rather recently, in fact, nearly one year ago-her first husband had mysteriously disappeared but had left his wife a gargantuan sum of inheritance for her to fuel her shopping sprees with. She wedded some CEO of a rising social media platform, something involving music and some bloke lip-syncing to it, Arthur forgot the name of it since he hadn't cared about it to begin with. This man adored her with every fiber of his being, however, he had desired a child. Which was something she couldn't gift him. Though, after the knowledge of Peter-her bastard-had arose to the husband, he was more than willing to welcome in little Peter with open arms. So, in the end, the expedition to ruin Arthur's all ready demolished life and steal Peter away had begun!
Oh, and the story that the mother was going to weave to steal Peter! That one is quite simple actually. Arthur had raped her long ago, and forced her to keep the child that was growing within. Before she could escape Arthur and his 'treacherous' ways, she gave her child to the landlord; so that Arthur's rage after discovering her gone wouldn't be inflicted on Peter. Now, she wants her baby back to keep him sheltered from his psychopathic father. Quite the fib now, isn't it?
Alfred had to survey Arthur numerous times after in order to confirm, that yes, the Arthur in front of him wasn't capable of doing whatever the mother had crafted. It even went to the extent of a game of Twenty Questions for Alfred's mind to label Arthur as innocent.
And with that story being branded in Alfred's mind, Alfred had decided to take his leave. Of course, making sure Arthur was going to be all right for the remainder of the night beforehand.
Alfred had thought that would be the end of things; intimately, romantically, any word that are synonymous with those two, between himself and Arthur. They had shared a kiss, neither of them would deny that, but that was in the heat of the moment. A quick action by the American in order to calm the Englishman. Not some catalyst for some relationship Alfred would hold onto throughout college.
Or so he thought.
After class, a week having passed since they had connected lips, Arthur had summoned Alfred up to his desk. The professor had awkwardly asked Alfred out for dinner for that night, with stumbled words and references to Jane Eyre. Even though Arthur's skills on asking an individual out needed some polishing, Alfred had accepted the invitation-after poking fun at Arthur's conversation skills.
Though, Arthur could not believe he was not turned down. Considering their relationship is strictly taboo, and could get the Englishman some quality jail time.
Nonetheless, the American rushed on home after that encounter. He combed through his hair over and over, showered four times (using different soaps and shampoos each time), tried on four suits his roommate recommended to him, and used an entire bottle of mouthwash. All in preparation for the date that was at five that evening.
Once ready, he departed to Arthur's apartment, picked the grumpy male up, and ensured the landlord could watch over Peter until later that night. That's all it took before Alfred and Arthur had disembarked-in Alfred's own car.
Right as a blue-eyed lady, the same shade as Peter's own, had parked her car in the apartment's parking lot.
AN: Peter's mom decided to pop by for a visit.
Thank you all for reading! I greatly appreciate it!