Chapter Two

Alfred had found himself thinking about the stranger from the coffee shop all day. He had planned on spending the evening alone, maybe with a take-out pizza and with the XBOX but found that, for some reason, he just needed to go out. And this was how he came to be in a bar all by himself, trying to blend in and not look like a total loser at the same time.

He had finally found an empty booth and was nestled into the far corner; his bottle of beer looked lonely on the excessively large table. He wished that he had gotten that man-Arthur's- number or something. The man had seemed interesting and as of late, Alfred had found himself pining for something interesting and he longed for the company of somebody new. He could have started up a new friendship or, maybe, something more intense than that which he wouldn't have exactly minded either. Alfred sighed, accepting his lifelong fate as a bachelor and took another swig of his beer.

"Well, if it isn't you again," spoke a familiar voice and Alfred found himself looking into those forest eyes once again. "Do you mind?" Arthur asked, gesturing to the seat, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "Only there's nowhere else to go…" His eyes travelled the room, probably clarifying the lack of seating space.

"Sure!" Alfred beamed, happy to have company and even happier to find that it was the company of one Arthur Kirkland. Arthur smiled softly before settling into the cushioned seat opposite Alfred. "Hey, it's like we've swapped roles or something," when Arthur looked confused Alfred explained further, "you know, because I asked you for a seat earlier and now you're doing the same thing."

"Oh," Arthur said in understanding, "yes, I see what you mean. This is a rather peculiar situation. I hadn't expected to be seeing you again actually."

Alfred noticed that everything about Arthur was shaped to an odd sort of perfection. He was almost like looking at a piece of art in a gallery for he was beautiful to look at but there was also a sense of meaning , of depth, behind his appearance- something you couldn't quite understand but still appreciate nonetheless. He wondered if everyone else thought that, if they looked at Arthur in the same way and he found himself hoping that they didn't, for it to be only Alfred who saw him in that sense. Alfred shook himself out of his reverie only to consider whether Arthur had spent the day thinking of him and, if so, was that a good thing?

"Uh, yeah, same here. I mean, I was just thinking about you and-," Arthur raised an eyebrow at this and Alfred rushed to correct himself, "not about you specifically. I was thinking about that book from earlier, you know, Peter Pan, and that led me to- to think about…You." Wow good job there Al, Alfred chastised himself, now you look like a total creep.

To Alfred's surprise, Arthur simply smiled and raised his glass to his lips, downing the contents. "Well," he said with a smirk, "I'm glad I left such a good impression."

Alfred felt himself flush slightly. He picked up his bottle only to find it empty; he placed it back on the table with a sigh. "I'm all out," he said, noticing that Arthur's drink was also gone, "do you want me to get you another?"


Alfred, in his typical style, was twenty minutes late. He knew that, whilst Arthur would be annoyed, he would wait for him to show up so Alfred wasn't all that bothered.

The night air was bitterly cold and he was relieved as he walked through the open door of the bar and scanned the room searching for the Arthur. Spotting the Brit, he settled into the seat opposite and smiled apologetically. "Sorry for being so late, I made a last-minute decision to shower before coming here and then I remembered that I needed to record something on TV and-,"

Arthur broke Alfred off with a chuckle. "Alfred, there's no need to apologise. I'm perfectly used to it by now."

For some reason, that made Alfred feel happy. That Arthur had "perfectly gotten used" to Alfred's habits and traits said something about their relationship, something that had meaning and was significant. Alfred saw that Arthur had already ordered their drinks (he knew Alfred's favourite- Budweiser) and nodded his thanks as he sipped from his bottle.

"So," Alfred began, "how was the rest of your day?"

Arthur shrugged as he drank some more of his whisky. "It's been alright I suppose, the book's been a bloody nightmare to write though," Alfred raised an eyebrow asking a silent how come? "I don't know, I think it's my characters," Arthur explained with a sigh. "I'm having trouble understanding how they feel and I'm finding it particularly difficult to illustrate said feelings through their relationship."

Well, didn't that sound eerily close to Alfred's internal struggle? "I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually," he said, "I mean, you're pretty good with that sort of thing, right?"

"I'm okay at it," Arthur said slowly, his bright eyes narrowing as he studied Alfred's face, "are you sure you're alright? You're acting a little…Off." By that he meant that Alfred wasn't bouncing off the walls or revelling in his own obnoxiousness by teasing Arthur over his new knitted sweater (which, Alfred had to admit, was taking things a little too far) so clearly something was wrong. And, whilst Arthur's assumption was correct, Alfred wasn't quite ready to divulge his inner turmoil (it could totally end up stopping the sex that they were supposed to have and, if Alfred's feelings resulted in them separating, he'd rather they part on a good note) so he simply stretched his smile wider.

"What are you on about Arthur?" Alfred asked, fluttering his eyelashes innocently and feigning ignorance, "I'm great!"

"Okay," Arthur said. He hesitated before saying, "but if something was wrong, you'd tell me right?"

Alfred quelled the surge of guilt that rushed through him and he forced himself to look into Arthur's eyes as he spoke. "I promise I'd tell you." Arthur still looked dubious, his arms were folded and his bushy eyebrows were raised. Alfred seriously needed to derail the conversation before they got too deep. "I'm starving," he said, grabbing the bar's haphazardly-made menu from the table, "can we order some fries?"


"What's your poison?" Alfred asked, nearly falling from his seat in a graceful attempt to escape the booth.

"Scotch please," Arthur said with a chuckle. Alfred felt his face heat up at the fact that, not only was Arthur aware of Alfred's small crush on the Brit, he now knew that Alfred was a complete klutz too. Great, Alfred thought as he headed towards the bar, I have the sex appeal of a potato.

Not that he was thinking about sex, of course. That would be totally ridiculous and besides, apart from the odd slip-up, Alfred wasn't the type of guy who slept with total strangers. Even if they were totally gorgeous and had the sexiest accent imaginable. Alfred did have a slight kink for accents- especially smooth, British ones. Oh God, what was he doing? He needed to stop. He was not drunk enough to be having those kind of thoughts about someone he had only just met that day. He banished his thoughts of all things sexy from his mind and picked up his ordered drinks.

"Is there a queue of some sort?" Arthur asked when Alfred placed the drinks on the table and slid into his seat.

"Yeah, it's pretty busy and you're welcome," Alfred quipped, the corners of his mouth perking upwards as he smiled.

"Sorry, that was terribly rude of me," Arthur said, surprising Alfred with how sincere he seemed, "I assure you I do actually possess manners."

"I'm sure you do."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only movement coming from whenever Alfred drank and from Arthur who was drumming his fingers on the table. "So," Arthur said, breaking the silence, "have you lived here long?"

Alfred started, surprised at being asked the question. Arthur didn't seem the type for small talk but Alfred was happy to indulge. "What, as in, New York?" Arthur nodded and Alfred thought for a moment. Jeez, how long had it been? "I think it's been about five years. Yeah, that's right, five years. I moved with my family when I started high school," Alfred shuddered at the memory, "and you?"

"It's been about a year for me. I decided that, if I were to pursue a writing career, the best place to go would be the Big Apple. It made sense at the time, now though, I'm not too sure."

Something in the Brit's tone made Alfred feel a sudden rush of sympathy towards Arthur and, for some reason; he just wanted to hug him. "Aw, how come?"

"Honestly?" He asked- Alfred knew he wasn't looking for an answer so he remained silent, "it's just so damn lonely. I miss England and my family, I miss having friends and going to parties."

"Really?" Alfred asked, incredulous, causing Arthur to look at him sharply. "You're lonely?" When Arthur nodded, Alfred rolled his eyes, slightly exasperatedly. "You're clearly not going to the right places. I mean, you would definitely get all the chicks, you know? All girls love a Brit."

Arthur scoffed. "As much as I appreciate your belief that I have the ability to, as you so eloquently put it, 'get all of the chicks' I'll have you know that they're not really my type." Again, Alfred saw Arthur do that thing where his eyes scanned Alfred and Alfred felt as though an electric current was running throughout his body. "I'm gay," he stated, leaning back in his seat. His eyes dared Alfred for a response and his smile was smug.

"Well then join the club," Alfred shrugged. "In all seriousness though, you really could pull whoever you liked. I mean, you have that weird aura of self-assurance which is totally sexy and you sound really intelligent because you talk so poshly and use long words all the time which is really cool and-," Alfred stopped then, suddenly realising how much of an idiot he sounded. "And yeah- there's not really much of an explanation for your loneliness. Just saying."

Arthur's lips were curved into a perfect smirk as he watched Alfred with what could only be described as amusement. "So you think I'm sexy?"

Alfred's mouth fell open. He tried to say 'no, weren't you listening? I said your self-assurance was sexy, not you' but couldn't due to the fact that he had been rendered speechless.

"I suppose it's a common belief so don't feel bad about thinking it."

Wow, this guy was totally overly-confident and up himself and Christ if Alfred didn't find that sexy as hell. "Well," Alfred began, trying to regain some dignity, "there has to be some that would beg to differ, surely? Not everyone can fall for the," Alfred paused as he tried to remember the man's surname, "Kirkland charm now, can they?" It was risky, he knew. But some part of him hoped that Arthur would rise to the challenge, would invite him to test it out, to test him out. But that was wrong, wasn't it? And why did Alfred want this man so badly? It wasn't love: that much he knew. Even a hopeless romantic like Alfred knew that love and lust were two different things but he wanted Arthur and it puzzled him greatly.

"Is that a challenge, Alfred Jones?" The tantalizing way in which Arthur drawled Alfred's name made Alfred tingle all over. "I am more than able to show you just how… Satisfactory I can be."

"And what if you're not?" Alfred asked, all too aware of the situation he was immersing himself in, "satisfactory, I mean."

"Well, I've yet to receive any complaints."

I'll bet you haven't…Alfred thought as he finished his drink and placed the empty bottle on the table with a resounding thud. Again, Arthur's glass was also empty. "Want another?" Alfred asked, preparing to stand up when a hand grabbed his wrist and he found himself gazing into those vibrant eyes once more.

"Actually," Arthur began, his voice lower and smoother than it had been before, "I'd rather not. It would only waste time and I can't help but think of all the other, better things I could be doing in its stead," Arthur's expression was questioning and Alfred felt as though the Brit could ask him to do anything and he would do it. "Like you, perhaps."

Well, if that wasn't smooth as fuck.


They had eaten the fries (well, Alfred had eaten the fries, anyway) and Arthur was in the midst of a rant about the quality of Doctor Who when Alfred saw him. His goddamn psychology professor, who hated Alfred with all his being, was in the same bar as him.

"Oh my god, I don't believe it," Alfred muttered, unable to remove his eyes from the sight of the professor who was out with who Alfred presumed were his friends. Did professors even have social lives?

"What?" Arthur asked, noticing Alfred's alarm and now seemed panicked himself judging by the pitch of his voice which had risen. "What is it?"

"My fucking psychology professor," Alfred groaned, sinking into his seat in the hope that Braginsky wouldn't notice him.

"The one who hates you?" Arthur asked, looking behind him to find the right man, "is he the tall one?"

"Yes- and Arthur quit staring! You're making it obvious," Alfred's warning came too late as the professor had spotted him and was headed his way. "Fuck," Alfred muttered.

"Ah, hello Mister Jones. What a nice pleasure it is to be seeing you here," Braginsky was smiling but Alfred didn't let that fool him. "I missed you in class today, you were sick?"

Alfred scowled. What the hell was he on about? Alfred didn't have any classes on Fridays; he wasn't the type of person who would skip lessons no matter how much he despised his teacher. "We don't have any classes on Fridays, Professor," Alfred said, taking care to keep his voice low.

"No?" Braginsky titled his head to the side. "It must have been another class then, my mistake." His eyes shifted over to Arthur who was finding the surface of the table very interesting. "Ah, hello Arthur. It's nice to be seeing you again."

"Ivan," Arthur nodded before looking away.

To Alfred's relief, Ivan Braginsky walked away and Alfred let out a breath that he was unaware he had been holding. "Ivan?" Alfred asked. "How do you even know him?"

"Ah," Arthur began awkwardly, his hands knotted together. "He's actually my next-door neighbour."

Alfred's eyes widened. Arthur lived in a close-knit neighbourhood where all of the houses were packed together. "Do you think he ever saw us together?"

Arthur shrugged. "It's possible, but I hardly see that it matters. If he ever tried to us that against you, I have loads of dirt on him so he'd regret it."

"Oh my god, he has dirt? Tell me!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "We all have dirt, Alfred." He checked his watch and raised an eyebrow; Alfred supposed that it was getting late. He seemed to lose track of time whenever he was with Arthur. "It's getting kind of late, do you want to leave now?"

Alfred felt his face get hot as he realised, yet again, what was going to happen next. "Sure, I'm ready to go now."

"I bet you are," Arthur said dryly before getting up, "your place, right?"

Alfred nodded. "Yeah." He pulled himself out of his seat and grabbed Arthur's hand, surprising both himself and Arthur. They rarely held hands; that was more of a relationship thing not a casual-sex-with-some-flirting thing. Alfred gave Arthur's hand a light squeeze as they exited the bar and Arthur smiled softly, the corners of his mouth perking up.

Alfred was beginning to regret his decision on telling Arthur how he felt tomorrow. Sure, their arrangement had its flaws but god, was Alfred going to miss it.

He just hoped that it wouldn't come to that. That Arthur would feel the same way too and that his love for the man wasn't unrequited. They climbed into a cab that Arthur had flagged and headed for Alfred's house and it took all of Alfred's strength to not start attacking the Brit with kisses there and then. What if this was the last time they would catch a cab together? Or the last time Arthur would rest his head on Alfred's shoulder?

Alfred shook his head. He wouldn't allow himself to fall into the dark abyss of what ifs. He just hoped for the best and wrapped his arms around Arthur a little tighter.

All Alfred had was hope and Arthur and, maybe, that was all he needed.


A/N: Thanks for reading! :')

GUEST REVIEW RESPONSES

To: Yes, Alfred is a dirty ho, but can you really blame him?

Guest (1): Thank you so much and here's more for you! Glad you like it.

Guest (2): Thanks, I really wanted to try some smut that had an essence of plot to it so here it is I guess. :')

~BooksAreLikeChocolateButBetter