Notes: You know you're a terrible person when the first 1k words or so are basically the same as the previous chapter except from another character's point of view.
Somewhere in a box at his parents' house, there was a tape of a two year old Alfred happily gurgling along to his mother's favorite golden oldies songs. The family joke claimed that Alfred's first words were a mangled attempt at Animal Crackers in My Soup instead of "Mama" or "Papa."
Alfred loved telling the story, especially when his fans squealed about how adorable he was and asked for hugs. Hugs were always the best; they were part of the reason why Alfred typically liked girls better. Women were usually more open to the kind of friendly octopus-arm cuddles Alfred was fond of...men, not so much.
It didn't stop him from wanting a hug from Arthur. Anybody who liked the same bands as he did immediately won points in Alfred's book, so Alfred knew he was fighting a losing battle from the moment Arthur auditioned wearing that ratty concert shirt and sweatpants. Arthur had adopted –and perfected- a cool, smirky I-don't-care attitude while he waited for the transition to his freestyle music. Part of Alfred wanted to fan himself and swoon, or maybe follow him around in the way a younger child adored their older idol. (Arthur had looked so composed and almost bored at the audition, as if he was the judge and they the nervous performers.) And then he moved.
Arthur clearly didn't realize just how good he was, because he would be infinitely more cocky if he did and still deserve it. But what really sealed the deal wasn't the effortless way Arthur moved with the music; Alfred had hung out with many a talented artist in his rise to stardom. No, the deciding matter was the little smile Arthur had been wearing as he finished dancing; he had looked so pleased with himself, almost giddy.
He would have to forgive Alfred for seizing the opportunity to scribble down hasty song lyrics about that little smile, Alfred thought guiltily to himself later that night. Part of him selfishly wanted to keep that secret smile all to himself, but the more reasonable part of Alfred jumped in. Woah, it said. Back off there, buddy. It was just a harmless little infatuation, and nobody would ever have to know exactly who inspired him, right? Even if it was just a little crush, Alfred wanted to share his feelings with everyone –and he could, he was famous.
It was probably for the best that Alfred was up front with his back to the dancers, because Arthur was a danger to what Ludwig claimed was already a fragile attention span. They had been standing relatively close together when Alfred made his introduction, something Alfred was hyper-aware of. He rattled off an easy answer about autographs and tried not to focus his gaze on Arthur as he said it.
Fortunately, Ludwig unknowingly swooped in and saved him from doing something embarrassing like mooning over a crush like it was his first by introducing himself and starting the music. Ah, good old no-nonsense Ludwig. Alfred silently resolved to reward him by not acting up as usual.
A glance in the mirror later, and Alfred knew he would be breaking his silent promise. Ludwig was a good instructor and all, Alfred just didn't think he had the qualifications for helping those poor beginners relax their postures.
"Remember not to feel too pressured, okay?" Alfred gave up all pretense of seriousness and turned around to face the backup dancers. "Dancing should be about having fun and enjoying the music."
He probably didn't need to do part of the tap number to Singing in the Rain, nor did he need to do a (crappy) moonwalk, but at least more people looked embarrassed for him and not themselves, so Alfred considered it a win and returned to doing the warm up.
Alfred managed to hold out for a good fifteen minutes or so before he got bored and his mind started to wander. The giant robot in his last video had been pretty awesome; it was a pity it hadn't been a real giant robot... A small injustice though it may be, boring the dancers out of their mind was still an injustice. And as a hero, it was his job to save them, right? Mind made up, Alfred decided that he could direct the whole show as well as he could perform. With little warning, Alfred snatched up the remote and changed the music with a push of a button.
He wasn't the best at reading the atmosphere, but Alfred had the feeling that Ludwig had actually hoped for an orderly session this time around. Alfred felt somewhat bad for the man. Maybe he could make it up for him by finding a way to get him a week off? Ludwig wasn't out like he was, but Alfred knew he had been seeing a new boyfriend recently.
His choreographer admitted surrender faster than Alfred had anticipated, taking the change in music in stride as he gave one last lesson before backing off. Alfred couldn't help the wide smile that stretched at his cheeks; Ludwig was getting that one week break and Alfred would treat him out somewhere nice.
"I don't know about you guys but I think there's no better way to practice what Luddy just taught us than a dance off, am I right?" Alfred's declaration was followed by some cheers. Arthur's scowling face was just as attractive as his collected smirk, and Alfred found himself endeared to the way those heavy brows would draw closer together in irritation.
To Alfred's delight, a good majority of the dancers gathered around had joined the impromptu dance-off, even if it was to hang close to the edge of the ring instead of dancing in the thick of it. Professional or beginner, it didn't matter; some of the professional backup dancers danced with less technique than the beginners. Some wandered off disinterestedly, including a man with incredibly silvery hair. Alfred briefly pondered if it was natural or dyed before directing his attention back to the group gathered around him waiting for instructions.
"Alright...the rules are this: two people at a time will dance! There really isn't a winner or a loser, but remember to take turns!"
Every now and then, Alfred would shoot glances at Arthur, who seemed quite content with just observing. At least he was smirking, Alfred thought. He much preferred Arthur's smile, but at least he didn't seem upset and even seemed to be amused by the mutiny, so Alfred considered his job as an entertainer more or less fulfilled.
When Alfred's gaze landed on two dancers who kept glancing at the loud crowd on the opposite site of the studio and then back down to the floor, stepped away from the crowd and towards them. They looked like they wanted to join, Alfred was sure of it. Just a little push...
If he capitalized on the opportunity to possibly drag Arthur into the dance-off as well, nobody needed to know. It was the friendly thing to do, right?
Alfred's effort was totally worth it when Arthur and a young woman with firetruck red hair started rocking out to the music without a care, and he couldn't help the manic grin when the man he had roped into dancing along with Arthur led a giggling woman to dance with him.
But the dance off began to wind down as people either grew bored or got tired or realized that they were being paid to shoot a music video, possibly a mix of any of the previous. Alfred graciously stepped aside and allowed Ludwig to take command of the sweaty group of people chattering with new acquaintances.
And during the fifteen minute break, Alfred managed to seek out and hold a conversation with Arthur! Granted, it hadn't been much beyond basic chit-chat about their careers, but still. Alfred hadn't known the man was British (or English? Alfred remembered something about a tumblr post explaining the differences, but he hadn't asked and he didn't want to jump to an assumption) and he counted that as one more fact he now knew about Arthur...
Alfred then proceeded to have an internal crisis over whether or not his crush was heading into creeper territory; the results were uncertain and he suddenly felt a lot more self-aware.
He figured that Arthur probably heard enough remarks about his country of origin though, and stayed silent on the matter. Alfred could sympathize; there were times he wished he could don a disguise as an ordinary civilian and leave his growing fame and glory to his superhero alter-ego.
But he had so many questions! His mother had gone to London as an exchange student in college. The way she talked excitedly about her time there had instilled in Alfred an almost lifelong desire to visit himself, even if Alfred knew little else about the country beyond what his mother had told him about London and search results from wistful Google searches. That, and that the British had kind of been assholes during the colonial era but that was centuries ago.
Where did Arthur live? What was his childhood like? (Even Alfred knew this was kind of personal but he wanted to know Arthur better, maybe even become friends.) He ran out of time to talk to Arthur though, which was a little disappointing.
Through trial and error Alfred had learned that Ludwig could usually tolerate roughly one or two of his various brilliant ideas to liven up rehearsals before he got mad and started shouting at Alfred in German, so he didn't really have an excuse to talk to Arthur beyond breaks.
When Ludwig called another break around an hour and a half later, Arthur had already sought out the silvery-blonde haired man and the two looked to be deep in conversation. Arthur looked vaguely amused and almost pitying, while the other blonde had a look of exasperation his face as he explained something.
Alfred wondered if he could take credit for the almost empty water bottle Arthur gripped in his right hand. As he watched, Arthur gulped down the last of the water, and Alfred found himself drawn to his neck and the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He swallowed nervously himself and looked around the room for an opportunity to join a conversation with the other dancers.
Alfred didn't have to wait long before a brunette woman wearing a floral-print sports bra and yoga pants waved him over, becoming him to join her conversation with a blonde woman wearing a cat-eared hoodie.
"Nice hoodie!" He said immediately. "And you are...?"
The brunette crossed her arms, a playful look on her face. "Erzsébet Héderváry." Alfred pulled a face and she laughed. "You can call me Eliza."
Alfred exhaled gratefully. "I always worry I'll pronounce peoples' names horribly wrong, and it's really embarrassing because I know I can't get it right." He shrugged and smiled. "But that's what's great about this place, I guess. There are people here from all over the world!"
Eliza looked thoughtful. "You know, that's right...There are a lot of people in this area who're immigrants or had parents who were immigrants. Like, a strangely high proportion."
"My name's slightly easier to pronounce," the blonde woman said with a tongue-rolling chirp to her words. "Emma Peeters. My older brother sent this to me. He acts all macho but he secretly likes fluffy animals." She smiled and pulled on the strings of the complimented hoodie. Alfred liked both of them, but if fluffy animals didn't tip the balance in Emma's favor...
"Oh, fluffy animals huh? Hero's the size of a small bear and acts like a dog, but he's really just a big cat." He fished his phone out from the depths of his pocket and turned it on. The lockscreen featured a large, fluffy white cat with a mane of darker fur and blue eyes, caught in the act of batting inquisitively at the phone.
Emma squealed and clapped her hands. "Oh, he's adorable! His fur must be really high-maintenance though."
Alfred laughed. "You've got that right! It's at the point where I've just resigned myself to having a cat-hair carpet when he sheds, but at least it's soft!"
He felt bad for leaving Eliza out of the conversation though. "Not a cat person?"
She smiled wryly. "The only real experience I have with animals is Animal Crossing." Emma snorted. Alfred perked up.
"Oh, you play that too?"
Only Ludwig could manage to put a halt to Alfred's fanboying, and so he reluctantly parted with Emma and Eliza.
Alfred really loved performing, he really did. He put all of his energy into the creative process, and he was rewarded when fans wrote in to tell him why they loved his songs. But something about repetitive rehearsal got boring fast, and knowing Ludwig they would probably be kept until dark today and tomorrow and possibly forever, if he thought they weren't good enough. Alfred itched to get to the actual video shoot, because the director had finally thrown him a bone and agreed to parts of his space cowboy proposal.
It wasn't too hard to tune Ludwig out and just let his body repeat the same moves over and over again –Alfred did the estimates and realized with a feeling of despair that they hadn't even gotten through the first minute of his five-minute single. He let out a quiet groan.
At the three hour mark, the backup dancers who had been pulled from off the streets had been released to go home, leaving only those who had auditioned. There had been a half-hour break in between and some of the dancers went to say goodbye to new friends. As promised, Alfred had indeed signed autographs for anybody who asked for one.
For the next five hours, the instruction would be more intensive and the pace would be much faster, to properly challenge them, or whatever. Alfred relished the change in pace, although it also meant he actually had to focus on his movements and couldn't keep sneaking glances at Arthur's reflection in the mirror.
It was definitely a shame; Alfred felt Arthur's dancing would only get much, much better when he was properly challenged and giving his all.
Alfred ended up having to repeat a sequence fifteen times more than the backup dancers because Ludwig caught him slacking off. Unfortunately, Alfred knew he couldn't plead that he had been distracted by Arthur -not that Ludwig would have accepted his answer. His hypothesis had been confirmed, which made it totally worth it. Arthur was a brilliant dancer and Alfred loved how he could express so much without saying a word, but it only cemented the desire to to know what song and dance couldn't tell him.
When Ludwig decided that he couldn't work them any further before they collapsed or something along the lines of complaints guaranteed bad PR and possibly a lawsuit, he finally agreed to let them go. Alfred had grown up baking under hot Texas summers and typically felt he had the qualifications to deal with heat and therefore sweat, but he found the back of his shirt damp and practically plastered to his back. Again.
Everyone left in the studio had filed out into the small side room with the cubbyholes and the stink of sweaty people intensified along with the heat. All around him, dancers were stripping off unnecessary layers and toweling off, so Alfred didn't think twice before taking off his shirt.
He thanked the lucky coincidence of having placed his bag next to Arthur's. Arthur had what seemed to be a thermos pressed against his neck and Alfred laughed slightly. The air conditioner unit had started acting up and then flat out died, and it appeared that Arthur wasn't used to the heat. The poor man was slumped against the wall from his position sitting in the corner, wearing only a large t-shirt which clung to his damp skin.
Alfred could sympathize. His first day with Ludwig, he almost thought he would collapse and need to be sent to the hospital. "Yeah, Ludwig's pretty intense, isn't he?"
Arthur groaned in response. "I suppose it would be silly of me to assume this was a one-time thing."
"Nope." Alfred popped the p. "In fact, I think he was being relatively soft on us today." Arthur's expression morphed into shocked horror and Alfred laughed again. "Woah dude, I was joking. It'll get better once they fix the air conditioning in here."
Arthur scoffed. "You'd think with their budget they would have had the damn thing fixed already, before we got here. This maintenance is bloody terrible."
Alfred had no response for that, not that he felt the particular need to defend whoever had sent them to this studio. "Meh. What can we do?"
Arthur pulled himself up into a more dignified sitting position and rummaged for his phone. Alfred found it somewhat entertaining, despite his own organizational problems. When he finally pulled it out to check the time, he cursed under his breath.
"What's wrong? Missed the bus or something? And yeesh, your mouth is dirty enough to make a sailor blush."
"I missed the bus," Arthur grumbled. "It only comes every half hour." Alfred wondered if "rumpled kitten" was an acceptable description of his behavior, but he didn't think he was that far gone and reconsidered it.
"Oh." The answer followed almost immediately after. "I've got it! I could drive you home or something, or at least closer to your house so you don't have to wait around in sweaty clothes."
Arthur looked at him. "Aren't you worried about paparazzi or something?"
Alfred laughed. "Aw, do you really think so highly of me? I'm touched. Nah, I'm pretty boring. I do this kind of thing all of the time."
Arthur still seemed ready to refuse and Alfred began preparing an argument about why one shouldn't wander around in an unfamiliar neighborhood at night (even if it was only around nine-thirty), but then he sighed. "That would be lovely, thank you."
"Great!" Alfred slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and Arthur stood up, doing the same. "Um...though you might want to put pants on first." He said, blushing in embarrassment as he gestured at his own legs.
"Pants...?" Arthur looked down, and although Alfred couldn't see his face clearly behind his bangs the tips of his ears were red. Arthur cleared his throat. "Ah, yes." He grabbed a pair of cargo pants from his bag and tugged them on, before looking at Alfred expectantly.
Alfred blinked once and then smiled again. "Just follow me, I guess."
"See? No paparazzi," Alfred proclaimed smugly.
"Alright, so you were right this once. Turn left, before you miss it."
"Don't you have other things to do?" Arthur asked after a lull in their conversation. There wasn't silence of course; Alfred had the radio on, as he always did.
Alfred would have turned around to level Arthur a sceptical look had he not been focused on the road. "You're already in my car, Artie."
"Don't call me that," Arthur snapped quickly. "I mean, I just don't want to be a bother, that's all."
"You're not being a bother, Arthur," Alfred replied earnestly, although he couldn't help the ridiculous emphasis on Arthur's name. He didn't need to look behind him to know that Arthur had rolled his eyes and maybe scowled.
The teasing was relaxed in the way of familiar, meaningless old banter, and Alfred wanted that. Alfred wanted to get to know all of his backup dancers, it just happened to be that Alfred thought Arthur was cute on top of all of that. It didn't have to be anything more than that.
Cute? His word choice threw Alfred for a loop. Arthur was hot, yeah. In an unconventional manner, but Alfred was sure anybody but the most jaded or critical of people would agree with him. Cute, cute was for his cat and small children and maybe some people he liked.
But Alfred liked Arthur. It wasn't weird. Guys could be cute.
Running out of time had been a factor with each their conversations. Alfred hoped the streak didn't last. Arthur seemed like the kind of person to take to so-so movies, if his criticism of the messages behind the songs playing on Alfred's radio was anything to go by. It might get them kicked out of the theater though.
"This the place?" He asked when they turned into what seemed to be a pleasant suburban neighborhood. "Because I was always really bad at reading maps. Plus, ever since Ludwig got us lost for half an hour in like, Chinatown I don't think I trust the GPS either." Alfred grinned and hoped Arthur would catch it in the rear view mirror. "But I can give you recommendations for good places to eat, if you're ever in the San Francisco area."
"This is the place," Arthur confirmed. "Congratulations, you've made it without getting us lost. You can let me out now, I can walk from here."
"You sure? It'll take less than five minutes at the most, right?" Alfred stopped the car anyway.
Arthur already had the car door open, and Alfred heard the seatbelt click and release. "You don't need to walk me home to the front door, Alfred." He gathered up his belongings and closed the door, so Alfred rolled down his window. "Go on, shoo. Go back to whatever it is you celebrities do after hours."
"Really, Arthur?" Alfred had a feeling Arthur was being sarcastic though. "Right now, all I have to do is feed my cat and go to sleep. And call home, maybe. Ma's been complaining."
"You shouldn't keep your mother waiting. Or your cat. Goodbye Alfred, and thank you." Arthur shifted the weight of his bag on his shoulder as he stood on the edge of the sidewalk.
Alfred smiled. "You're probably right about Ma. And Hero too. You don't need to thank me though. Night, Arthur!"
The backup dancer gave him a polite smile and a wave, before turning around and heading for home. Alfred waved back and wished he could have dropped Arthur off at a cul-de-sac or something instead of having to back up in the narrow street. He narrowly missed a house's mailbox but managed to leave the neighborhood behind and get home without further incident.
Alfred wanted to jump with excitement and so he did as he fished out the key to his apartment. He decided it was probably too late to call his parents on the East Coast, fed his cat, and made himself a quick meal. A shower later and Alfred felt relaxed and comfortable, even if he was too excited to want to go to bed. Hero jumped onto his bed to join him as he crawled underneath the covers, and Alfred shot the cat what was almost guaranteed to be a sappy smile as he stroked the fluffy cat behind his ears.
Everything about this shoot promised it would be one of his favorite videos. He resolved to maybe post a little something about it tomorrow, maybe a video clip of the rehearsal process. Alfred wrapped his arms around his pillow and squeezed, nuzzling into the fabric as he drifted off.
His positivity was a little harder to find when Hero woke him up by sitting on his face at four in the morning, but Alfred wouldn't let that ruin his day.
The more I write the more I realize how terribly underqualified I am to write this.