Summary: Dr. Kirkland, after a long string of events, finds himself shuttled into the dusty old town of Sandy Flats, adjusting to the hilarious characters, dark villains, and charming heroes of a classic but eccentric Western town.

Pairings: USUK, PRUCAN, GERITA, SPAMANO, HUNGAUST, possible GIRIPAN.

Warnings: Yaoi/Boys-Love, heavy language and possible suggestive situations. Minor violence.

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Chapter Twenty One: Companionship Unwanted

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"Right o'er here, she is. You've seen her before, but only in action, and I thoughtchya might like a change t' see her up close, y'know?" Alfred said warmly, pulling Arthur around the corner to another row of horses. Arthur was still a vibrant red, looking sheepishly down at their interlocked hands. Alfred's, just as warm and callused as he remembered, held his. Truly, Arthur couldn't care less about a silly mare, but after the almost-kiss yesterday, he was willing to kill for some time alone with the blond, certain that all of this meant that Alfred returned his feelings. There was no way Arthur could mistake what they had almost done for anything else in the world.

They lingered in front of the pinto's stall, still holding hands and avoiding one another's eyes. Arthur couldn't think of anything to say for the life of him. Should they confess their feelings? What if he was mistaken all of this time? What if Alfred didn't feel the same way, and that he had simply imagined all of those sweet moments that made him act so girlish and strange? Seconds passed slowly by. Arthur wanted to badly to cut the formalities and kiss the damned bloke, but his pride would hear none of it.

"Alfred, I-"

"Arthur-"

They chuckled nervously, palms sweating, before insisting that the other talk first. Eventually, Arthur won and Alfred stood awkwardly, trying to think of something to say.

"I think I have an' idea that'll cover both our statements at once," he said formally. Arthur nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging manner, butterflies reaching a dangerous population.

Alfred chuckled quietly, his breathing suddenly distant, but his heartbeat so much louder. The doctor wondered if Alfred could hear his as well.

Suddenly, he was quite close. Where his eyes always that breath-taking blue? Curiously, Arthur wondered how many people had seen the blonde so close. Close enough to count those faint freckles that dotted his cheeks, or see the smudges on his glasses as he removed them. The Brit shuffled a little closer, trying to spur Alfred on, show him that he wanted this. That he should bloody kiss him already instead of staring like he's some exquisite piece of art.

Their breath began to mingle, eyelashes nearly close enough to brush. They were alone, close and pressed to one another. Arthur couldn't recall when Alfred's arm had wrapped around his waist, or when that warm hand had started holding his face. Their chests bumped against one another occasionally as they stood there, close, staring at one another a little awkwardly, a little lustfully. Arthur closed his eyes, leaning further into he embrace and pulling Alfred down. Their lips almost touched.

"Alfred! Alfred Jones!" A smooth, French voice commanded. Arthur growled, the ghost of the other's lips on his own.

"Don't answer him," he fussed.

Alfred chuckled, nearly purring his response, "Wasn't gonna."

But before they could finally engage in intimate lip-lock, Francis strolled around the corner, and the two sprang apart. Francis sniggered.

"I suppose both of you can help. Come on- I need you to talk some sense into Matthew." The pair grumbled, ready to scream with frustration, angry and feeling perfectly unwilling to help Francis with any sort of favours. "I've decided that I've had enough with his crushing after Gilbo and he won't listen to me, so I hunted down Alfred, but Arthur, you're good friends with him as well. Surely on of you can put an end to this ridiculous business." The pair grunted noncommitantly.

They rounded the corner, looking at a disgruntled Matthew. He shuffled, ready for a lashing. However, Arthur just gave an exasperated sigh while Alfred looked generally miffed. "He really is an ass, Matthew. You deserve someone better- someone who treats you properly," Arthur finally said, chucking diplomacy in the bin. Matthew gave a forced nod.

"Well, I know, but I can't exactly stop caring about him," he protested. Francis snorted and there was a pregnant pause before Alfred spoke up.

"There are better people than Gilbert, Mattie. Ya'll find someone!" he said optimistically.

"Easy for you to say, eh?" he growled, shooting Arthur a venomous look. The Englishman, affronted, glared back.

"Come off it, you're being ridiculous. I don't see what you could even like about him, could were so about to list all of his flaws before!" he huffed, angry and offended, but he wasn't sure what for. Matthew's face was beyond guilty. He looked away. Francis had said nothing for a long time and Alfred was now observing a spot on the floor as if it might explode.

"I mean, I can't really explain what I find charming about him. He's brash and crude and obnoxious, I know – I mean – I can't …" he found himself talking in circles. "What do you find so attractive about my brother?"

Arthur turned maroon, Francis' attention had been piqued, and Alfred's stare had switched to the rafters, expression as if they might give way. "I – I don't know what you're talking about!" he finally managed to stammer.

"Oh, please, Arthur, I'm sure the whole town-"

"I THINK ZAT CROISSANTS ARE MOST LOVELY, BUT I CONFESS TO LIKING CREPES MORE. WHAT DO YOU SAY, ALFRED?" Francis jutted in, trying to keep the conversation from straying into even more dangerous waters.

Alfred stared at Francis, and there was another long pause before he finally said, "I don't know what gosh darn crepes are."

Francis then leapt into an intricate discussion with himself about French delicacies. Arthur examined his fingernails, pointedly ignoring Francis' gestures, which Alfred watched with unusual interest while Matthew entertained himself by trying to snap a particularly pliant piece of hay in two with his feet. Overall, the entire afternoon was ruined, for Arthur knew that there was simply no way he could do anything with Alfred after Matthew's comment.

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LOLDOUBLECOCKBLOCK.

Written: December 13, 2009.