Pointless Author's Note: First of all, I don't know why this is the longest chapter. Maybe it's because telling the story of prom is a very…complicated process. Sure, let's go with that. Rest assured, it's totally not because I had way too much fun writing this. XD By the way, this chapter isn't smutty or anything, but it's the closest I'll ever get, so if the thought of two males kissing is an issue with you, skip this chapter. I doubt you care, though, because if you do I'm going to be honest here, you're probably in the wrong place. ;D
Oh my gosh, when I uploaded this I didn't think anybody would read it at all. I really appreciate every favorite, author alert, and review! That being said, here's the prom chapter. I can only hope I did a good job with what is, in all honesty, a touchy subject. Thank you! After this is the last chapter. (By the way, Salli is Seychelles, but I seriously don't blame you if you want to pretend she's a total stranger, I think I butchered her character. x.x)
Everybody knows about prom night.
Sure, the pretense is a dance, and yes, for most this is more or less what prom is about. Some people, though not all, care about the prom king and the prom queen. Others care about dancing and hanging out with friends. However, for the depraved public that is the majority of high school students, prom night only equals one thing, and that is sex: ranging anywhere from reckless to romantic, casual to committed.
At the very least, this was how Arthur saw it, though he knew that others did as well, and in all honesty he didn't care about prom one way or the other. In fact, his "date" was his ex-girlfriend, Salli, who he had dated briefly his sophomore year. She had wanted a date simply because she felt the "prom experience" would not be complete without one, and she had asked Arthur because she knew he would say yes.
Arthur didn't have any romantic feelings toward Salli, and told her this, but she had only responded with, "I know that, but I still need a date. Just go with me? You don't even have to talk to me or hang out with me once we get there." Whatever Salli's motives were, Arthur didn't particularly care. They had broken up on peaceful terms, and he didn't dislike her, so here he was, standing outside of her door on prom night.
"Hello, Arthur," she said, her voice neither hostile nor friendly. Salli was wearing her hair down, which was incredibly rare for her, and was wearing a sea-foam colored dress. Arthur was only a little bit surprised when found himself admiring the dress itself more than the way Salli looked in it. What was there to say? Arthur loved formal clothing.
After a grueling session of pictures from Salli's parents, who also seemed to be obsessed with getting prom "right", Arthur opened the limo door for Salli. In a way, this night reminded him of the Winter Formal, in that his closest friends would be sharing a limo with him. The only difference was that this time, he was the one with a date, and Alfred was the one without one.
In all honesty, when he had informed Alfred of his date with Salli, he had noted the fact that it wasn't romantic in any way, and the fact that it was incredibly unlikely that they would even speak to each other at the dance. "So, no hotel room, then?" Alfred had asked, and Arthur had just rolled his eyes. Alfred had shrugged and said, "I bought one. You never know," and he had winked, and Arthur had just laughed at him for his wishful thinking.
"Hey, Arthur!" said Alfred, greeting him with a smile and a one-armed hug. He glanced at Salli. "Hey, Salli," he said, his voice less friendly. Arthur didn't think Alfred and Salli were friends, but they weren't enemies either. She gave him a polite nod.
"Bonjour, Salli," said Francis, smiling at her with what was probably lust in his eyes. Salli smiled faintly. "Hello, Francis. How are you?" She was only asking to be polite, Arthur was sure of it, but any attention towards Francis could be dangerous. He beckoned her to lean over with his index finger, and whispered something in her ear. When she heard it her eyes got wide and she turned away, her face completely red.
"Wow, Francis, are you going to steal Artie's date just like you did mine?" Alfred was smiling, so it was a bit hard to tell if he was joking or not.
"Oh please, Alfred, are we still upset over that? I thought you had moved on, really." He turned to Salli. "Don't listen to Alfred, he doesn't know anything at all, poor boy," Salli laughed politely and turned away from both of them.
"I can't wait! I'm so excited, we're finally going to our senior prom, aru!" Wang seemed to be the happiest over going to prom, a role normally filled by Alfred. This time, however, the enthusiasm award unmistakably went to Wang.
"I just hope this dance lives up to your standards. I don't want you to be disappointed," said Ivan, looking slightly concerned.
"I won't be," said Wang, simply, as if that were it. Then he whispered something into Ivan's ear and they both started laughing, a mixture between nervous laughter and happy giggling. What was with all the whispering in this limo?
"Oh, I see how it is," said Alfred, rolling his eyes and smirking. "Would you two like to share that with the rest of the class?"
"No, thank you. I'm good," said Ivan, and Wang nodded in agreement. "Me too, aru," he said.
"Fine, then. Everyone feels like being so secretive? Well, whatever!" He pulled Arthur close to him and put his lips up to his ear. Arthur felt a tingle go down his spine, and even though the only thing Alfred was whispering was the word 'whisper' repeatedly, he still had to admit that the feeling of Alfred's breath in his ear was not an unpleasant one.
"You're not fooling anyone, Alfred," said Salli in almost a monotone. Francis laughed at this.
"I like this girl, Arthur. Of course, I liked her when she dumped your ass oh-so long ago, but I feel I can say it now, yes?" Francis once again took pause to glance leeringly at Salli, who only looked away nervously and blushed. She pretended to act offended, but it was pretty clear that she liked the attention. 'Oh dear, another innocent girl falls to Francis's…well, he has no charms, but whatever his appeal his, Salli seems to have fallen for. And here I thought she was different. Oh well. I feel sorry for her,'
Alfred shrugged. "I don't care if anyone believes me or not, as long as I'm right," and he looked at Arthur. Arthur responded, like clockwork:
"Because it's not paranoia if they're really watching you,"
It was an inside joke that Arthur and Alfred shared, prompting everyone in the car besides Salli to roll their eyes. The whole thing had started when Arthur had been staying at Alfred's house. They had gotten into a fight over a project they were doing in literature class over Nineteen Eighty-Four. The assignment was to create a propaganda poster that The Party might have used based off of the themes from the novel, and Alfred's idea had been to have an eye in the center of the page with "PARANOIA:" written above it, and "We Love It More Than Oppression," written underneath. While Arthur thought the idea was certainly true, he pointed out that there was no way The Party would be so direct with propaganda posters. "If you lived in Airstrip One and you put this up," he had said, "you would get arrested!"
Alfred had responded by saying, "Maybe things like this would save Airstrip One! Anyone would believe a poster if they think it's from the freakin' government!" Arthur had rolled his eyes.
"You're wrong! No one would believe you! You would be seen as a thoughtcriminal!"
"I don't care if anyone believes me or not, as long as I'm right!" Alfred had replied. Then he had paused, and added, "And anyway, I was only saying that everyone in Airstrip One seems to be ruled by paranoia!"
Arthur had considered this. Then, he had responded bitterly, "It's not paranoia if they really are watching you, you know."
They had continued to argue for a little while, in the end deciding on a completely different idea for their poster. But the next day Alfred had mentioned something about a math test being that day, Arthur had said 'liar, you're just trying to psych me out,' and then Alfred had smirked and said, "I don't care if you believe me or not, as long as I'm right!" And they had both laughed, and that was how the somewhat random inside joke between them had been born.
"Oh, God, not this again," muttered Francis. Salli looked confused, and Francis added, "If you know what's good for you, you probably shouldn't ask. It has something to do with them having an argument while they were spending the night together and it spawned such good makeup sex that they made a joke out of it," and he smirked as he said it. Salli looked alarmed.
"Oh? You mean they are a couple?" She turned to Arthur. "I didn't know that. I mean, don't misunderstand, I knew you two liked each other, but I didn't know things had, ah, gone that far," and she smiled nervously.
"What? No! No, Salli, Alfred and I, we're just friends. No, we never slept together." 'Best not to mention that I would if I could,' he thought. He glared at Francis, who only shrugged.
"Whatever, it's only a matter of time."
Alfred laughed, and Arthur was sure he detected nervousness in his laughter, just as he had in Salli's smile. "Um, yeah, Salli, we're only best friends." Then he put his arm around Arthur and grinned exaggeratedly. "With benefits on the weekends," he added, winking at Arthur. He rolled his eyes. Lately, Alfred was fond of making jokes that implied he and Arthur were a couple. What made them hurt even more was that Alfred apparently found the idea of them being together to be so damn funny that he felt the need to make jokes about it. Thus, they were always pretty poorly received.
"Don't touch me," Arthur said, lifting Alfred's arm off of him. He would have loved to leave it there, but since it was there to remind him of how Alfred would really feel about being "friends with benefits," he didn't want to be touched at all. For a split second, he thought he saw a look of hurt flash across Alfred's face, but if it was there, it was instantly replaced with a typical Alfred smile.
"Hey, look, we're at the dance!" he exclaimed. So they were.
They all went to wait in line so they could show the chaperone their tickets. They got in line behind Feliciano and Ludwig. 'Why is it that I always run into them?' he thought to himself. Alfred looked at Feliciano and Ludwig, too, and smiled.
"Hey! Feli! Excited for prom?" It was a foolish question to ask, even for Alfred. Feliciano was excited about everything, it seemed, and it was a huge contributor to why Arthur rarely talked to him. Every word that came out of his mouth seemed to be cheery and optimistic, which grated on Arthur's nerves. "Yay! We almost beat Carrie Christine High School!" "Yay! Burnt pizza for lunch!" "Yay! Everyone thinks I'm giving my BFF hand jobs in the school bathroom! It's written all over the stalls, and I've never denied it! But I'm so dim, I probably don't even know what that means! Yay!"
Okay, so he was being a little mean. 'My despise of happy people is probably something I should work on,' he thought. 'And maybe I should be less judgmental of someone who appears to be in love with his best friend,' but that thought made his cheeks feel hot and he tried not to dwell on it.
As predicted, Feliciano turned around, a smile on his face. "Yes! Oh my gosh, it's going to be totally awesome! I've been waiting so long," he said, his voice fluctuating in pitch from high to squealing. He clutched Ludwig's arm. "Neither of us got dates, so we're going," he explained. In a way, Arthur had to give him props. He had pointed out that they were going together without elaborating on whether or not they were going together. Still, it was fairly clear which of the two it was, and anyway, he probably hadn't even meant to do it. Feliciano didn't seem to be the type to be evasive about anything; the boy apparently kept no secrets.
"Hey, man, that's killer! I don't have a date, but Arthur here does." Feliciano's eyes widened in shock.
"Really? Oh, wow! I didn't know you were seeing someone bes-" He cut himself short, and looked at his shoes. What? What had he been about to say. "Anyway," he trilled, "that's really great, Arthur."
Arthur cleared his throat. "Um, actually, I was really just giving Salli a ride, so to speak. She wasn't my date, and we aren't dating," he finished. Why was this conversation making him feel incredibly awkward?
"Oh! Okay! So that means you and Alfred-" and once again Feliciano was silenced. This time he noticed that Ludwig (who was incredibly quiet and rarely talked to anyone, from what he could tell) had been whispering something in Feliciano's ear. His eyes grew as wide as saucers, and he nodded his head. Feliciano's whispers were easier to hear—it was almost like a stage whisper. Arthur didn't know what Ludwig had said to prompt, "Oh my gosh? Really? But I thought they were. Oh. Well, they shouldn't be so misleading!" as a response. He wasn't sure he wanted to.
"I'm sorry, guys! I'm so confused today," he said, and he did look apologetic.
"It's alright, Feli, an honest mistake really. I myself just think of them as an established couple, it's easier for me that way." Ugh. 'Shut the fuck up, Francis.'
Alfred grinned. Again, it seemed nervous, but Arthur assumed this was himself projecting. "Well, Artie and I are very close," and he pressed himself up against Arthur's shoulder. It was almost a hug, almost not, and it made Arthur feel very awkward. Even so, he hugged him back. What else could he do? Just because he was a pervert who actually wanted Alfred's body pressed against him didn't mean that was how everyone else saw it. Well, except for the head cheerleader and the quarterback, who apparently saw beyond what was on the surface. Damn. Luckily, the only other person who entertained the notion was Francis, who saw sexual tension where there was none, and no one listened to him. It also seemed like Ludwig wanted Feliciano to keep quiet about whatever it is he did know, so that was good.
"Yay! It's our turn!" If Feliciano and Ludwig were about to go in, that meant soon he would have to go in as well. If he was to be perfectly honest, the blacklights and punch bowls and formal clothing were intimidating. Despite this, he was shocked to find that he had a little bit of hope, a small suspicion that maybe something good would happen tonight. He walked inside after handing in his ticket, and waited for everyone else.
Francis was the first one to run over to the punch bowl, looking all too happy that no one was guarding it. 'Note to self, stay the hell away from the punch.' Come to think of it, whose idea was it to have a giant, unguarded bowl full of an unidentifiable liquid that anyone could just walk up to? Arthur had suspected for quite a while that the school board was tragically incompetent, and this only served to validate this in his mind.
Matthew and Katyusha walked afterwards (it would be the first and only time Arthur would notice either of them for the rest of the night) followed by Salli, who gave Arthur a small wave. "Best of luck," she said, and Arthur was only left to wonder, with what? Ivan and Wang walked in afterwards, holding hands, and finally it was him and Alfred.
"Thanks for waiting, puddin'!" he said, grinning. Pet names were also common now that Alfred's favorite joke was "what if we were dating, omigod what a laugh riot!" and Arthur cringed. In general, he hated pet names to begin with, but if they weren't being used to mock him, he probably would have tolerated them for Alfred. However, since they were only being used to reinforce the fact that Alfred now thought the idea of them having any romance was fucking hilarious, he despised them more than he ever thought he could.
"Don't mention it," he muttered, and Alfred looked concerned.
"What's wrong? You seem pissy," he said, frowning. "Maybe what you need is some of that no-doubt spiked as fuck punch!" Before Arthur could object, Alfred ran off to get some. Arthur decided to stand there by the wall and wait for him.
While he was waiting, Liz walked up to him. Arthur had to admit she looked nice; her hair was in an updo, and she was wearing a green cocktail dress. "Hello, Arthur!" Her voice was friendly, but not overly cheerful. "Nice tux," she said, pinching a bit of the elbow's fabric in her fingers. "Where's Alfred?"
"Why do you assume I know where he is? Maybe I don't, Liz. Of course, as his "best friend" I happen to know he's off getting me some of that tainted punch. But what makes you think I would know?" He hadn't meant to sound so pissed off, but in a way, he was pissed off, and he had accidentally revealed it in his tone.
"Um, Arthur, are you mad at me because I thought you might know where Alfred went? Because you did know where he went. You just told me." Arthur sighed.
"I apologize, Liz," he said, resigned. At the very least, he had to be polite. Arthur prided himself on having excellent manners, though he certainly didn't feel like his etiquette had been very good as of late.
"I don't want an apology, I want an explanation," said Liz, frowning slightly. "What's going on? I say the name 'Alfred' and suddenly you're all hostile." At that moment, Alfred walked up, holding two tiny cups of pinkish-purple liquid. "Okay, you may have won this time," she said, clearly knowing that there was no way Arthur was going to talk about Alfred with him right there. "But mark my words, Arthur Kirkland, I will find the source of your angst," and with that she walked away.
"Angst? Arthur, is there something you aren't telling me?" Arthur shook his head numbly. "Okay, but just know that you can tell me anything," he said, putting a hand on Arthur's shoulder. 'That's the funniest bloody thing I've heard all night. You really don't get it, do you?'
"Right. Of course." Alfred handed him a cup of God-knows what, and Arthur took a small sip. It was alright, he supposed. Someone had spiked it with rum, and he was fairly certain he detected vodka, so he knew that the stuff was probably going to knock him off his ass, but he was fine with that. He could also taste about a pinch of some kind of fruit. "It's not horrible," he admitted.
"Are you joking? I thought that was the nastiest stuff in the world! Of course, I still drank it, because I want to get as drunk as hell tonight, but I didn't like it." He smiled at Arthur. "I still think that when they handed out taste buds, you got a defected set." Perhaps it was true. One of the things Arthur found frustrating was that he would cook something and find it delicious, and everyone else would tell him it was horrible. His apparent 'lack of taste' was something he had grown used to, but once in a while he would be reminded of it and feel that pang of frustration again.
"These are like shots," said Arthur, noting that the 'serving size' style of the cups made it particularly easy to down like a shot glass.
"I know," said Alfred, grinning. "It's like they don't even care!"
"So, what's your reason for wanting to get completely bent?" asked Arthur. Alfred tilted his head.
"I'm sorry, I don't speak British," and he laughed. "I still can't believe that you don't sound American by now. You've been here for four years and you still sound as British as the day I met you."
Arthur knew he had a point. For whatever reason, he had the uncanny ability to retain his accent. He was sure that after a year he would sound as American as the next guy, but he still used British slang and still spoke with the same accent he had for his whole life. "It means drunk," he explained. "I was wondering why you wanted to drink so much,"
Alfred nodded. "Ah. That. Well, the thing about that is, I don't really know. It's not like I'm trying to talk a girl into sleeping with me, so I don't have to worry about that like our poor man, Francis." He gestured towards Francis, who was trying to convince Salli to have a drink of the punch. "I only got a hotel room to say that I did. Clearly, I'm here talking to you, rather than stalking some chick."
"If I didn't know any better, I would think it was me you were trying to seduce," said Arthur dryly. He didn't mean it, of course, but he said it anyway. If Alfred could joke like that, so could he, even if his was of a slightly more jaded variety.
Alfred laughed. "Haha, I guess it seems like that, now that I think about it. I'm not, though," he said, and Arthur couldn't help but feel disappointed. He had known this wasn't true, but he wanted it to be so badly that it was nearly blinding him. He sighed. Now he felt like the one who needed a drink.
"Could you do me a favor and get me another one of those…things, I don't really know?" asked Arthur.
"Sure thing, princess. One shot of something awful, coming right up," and he left to get some. Alfred sat down against the wall. When Alfred came back, he had a tray that held about ten sloshy, near-full cups of punch.
"How the hell did you get that?" asked Arthur, appalled.
"I told them I had friends to give drinks to, and they gave me this."
"And they believed you? You are such an atrocious liar," said Arthur. How had that happened? And who was going to drink all of those drinks? They were effectively shots, and Arthur already felt a little woozy.
Alfred smirked, like he had wanted him to say that. "I don't care if anyone believes me, as long as I'm right." Oh. Arthur had walked into that one. Still, he couldn't help but smile, too.
"Because it's not paranoia if they're really watching you," he responded. He picked up a glass of the punch. "Are you seriously going to drink ten of these? You'll die," he muttered.
"Of course not, Arthur. What do you think I am, an idiot?"
"You don't want me to answer that."
"Anyway, I got them because you and I are going to play a game. It's called "I Never" and it's awesome." Arthur groaned. He knew how to play the game Alfred spoke of (one person would name an activity, and if they had done the activity, they would drink), but he also knew it wouldn't be very fun, namely because Alfred was experienced and Arthur was, well…not.
Alfred picked up a glass. "I'll start," he said, and paused to think. "I never failed all four core subjects at once," he said, and took a shot. Arthur knew that story, and it wasn't a particularly pleasant one. Arthur picked up a glass, trying desperately to think of something he could use.
"I've never stolen money," he said, and took a shot. It was the closest to 'badass' he could come up with, and if prompted for the real story he probably wouldn't give it. He had stolen birthday money from his little brother, and then he had given it back, so in the end it didn't matter. Hopefully, Alfred didn't know that story.
"Yeah right! What, you mean that time you stole $20 from Peter? That so doesn't count," he said, and laughed. So he did know. Damn. "Let's see," said Alfred, picking up another glass. "I've never been skinny dipping," he said, and took a drink. Another thing Arthur had no interest in doing and probably never would. He was vaguely curious as to when Alfred had gone swimming naked, but decided it was best if he didn't think about it. At least you couldn't see blushing in a blacklight.
"I've never played "I Never"," said Arthur, taking a drink. The drink went down easier now. Arthur wasn't sure if he was really drunk or if it was just a placebo effect, but he did know that he felt warm all over and that the game suddenly seemed more fun than it had before.
"Come on! Really?" asked Alfred, who thought this was cheating. "So we're doing obvious things now? Fine, I see how it is," said Alfred, taking a drink. He looked Arthur right in the eyes. "I've never kissed a guy before," he said, and took another drink.
Arthur felt his cheeks grow even hotter. He wondered how red his face was, and he picked up a drink. Now there were only two left. Had they actually gone through seven shots of this questionable liquid? Francis had been near it! There could be anything in there! Still, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get worked up about it. He was too happy. Feeling a bit of courage, Arthur spoke slowly, tripping over his words a bit. "I've never wanted to do it again," he said, downing his drink. To his shock, he saw Alfred take one of the glasses, too. Now there was only one drink left. Huh. How had that happened?
"Hang on, I want to do this one," said Alfred. "I want to think of a good one," he said, studying the glass as if it held all of the answers. Finally, he looked up, once again holding eye contact with Arthur, who looked away. "I don't know, actually. I can't think of anything. Everything I've come up with is bad," he admitted.
"Oh, that's alright," said Arthur, waving his hand. "To be perfectly honest, I'm still surprised that you just drank. Much too surprised to care if your next "I Never" is bad or not." He smiled dumbly at Alfred. He wasn't sure why he felt so willing to give away personal information, but he was, and he didn't even mind. It was funny how that worked.
"Maybe we should stop playing, since there's only one drink. Want to share it?" asked Alfred. Arthur nodded. He held the cup to his lips, delicately, and drank about half of it, which was somewhat challenging since there was only a little liquid there to begin with. He set it down, and Alfred downed the rest.
"So, what now?" asked Arthur.
"Hmm…how about a best friends with benefits hug?" he asked, smiling broadly.
"I don't know what that is," said Arthur, confused. Was that something they had done before? If it was, he couldn't remember. It sounded promising though, so he stood up.
Alfred got up off of the floor and almost immediately wrapped his arms around Arthur, holding him tightly. Arthur hugged him back, aware that his hands were around his neck, which probably looked odd. In all honesty, he didn't care. His mind was a mixture of half-thoughts, and they all seemed to blend together at once; an odd combination of what the punch tasted like, what Alfred's shampoo smelled like, and a hazy observation of someone's hand grabbing his ass. Oh, it was probably Alfred, he realized. He smiled, giggling slightly. 'See, if I were sober, I would probably be flustered,' he thought to himself. The alcohol, whatever it had been, had caused him to forget to be embarrassed.
"Wow, you must be wasted! If you weren't, you probably would have slapped me!" Alfred exclaimed after the hug had ended. He was right, of course.
"I probably would have," said Arthur. This time he was laughing. "But what can I say? I'm in a good mood tonight."
"That's because you're drunk," said Alfred. "But that's okay, because I am too." Then he turned his head slightly. "OH MY GOD ARTHUR IT'S OUR SONG!" he screamed, grabbing Arthur's shoulders and jumping up and down. Arthur listened to what was playing. It was a Lady GaGa song, but he couldn't tell which one. Still, he was fairly compliant as Alfred took his hand and dragged him closer to the speakers.
In all honesty, even if he was sober Arthur didn't think he would have been able to understand the lyrics. He heard something about a pop show, and then something about tasting like glitter, or at least that's what it sounded like. On a normal day, Arthur wouldn't have even tried to dance, but he was plastered and he danced like an idiot. He noticed Alfred laughing as he danced, and singing some of the words.
"I like you a lot lot ,think you're really hot hot," he sang, throwing his arms in the air. "Fuck! I love this song!" said Alfred, closing his eyes and smiling broadly. Arthur smiled too, and pretended he was singing to him.
Arthur had to admit, the song was catchy. He watched in admiration as Alfred danced perfectly to the beat. "Let's go see The Killers and make out in the bleachers," he sang, and Arthur was reminded of the time Alfred had gotten him a CD of The Killers for his 15th birthday. Good times.
When the song ended, Arthur followed Arthur back to the wall where they had been before. "I didn't know you liked Lady GaGa," said Arthur, if only because he felt like he should say something.
Alfred nodded vehemently. "Hells yes!" he exclaimed. "And that one is particularly boss," he said. "How much time is left?" Arthur checked his watch. He suddenly hated that his watch had roman numerals instead of numbers. They all seemed to blur together, but eventually he got the time right.
"An hour and forty-five minutes," he said. "You must really hate dances," he said. Alfred never seemed to stay at one.
"Why? Because I always ditch out? That's because there's always something more fun to be doing," he said. Arthur thought back to the first dance they had both been to, which had been the Winter Formal their freshman year. (Arthur hadn't moved to America until November, so he had missed the first Halloween dance.) At that dance, Alfred had called his mom to pick him up, and to Arthur's shock he had asked Arthur along, too. They had ended up playing video games until one in the morning. Now that he thought about it, every dance had ended with them both leaving to do something else.
"Really?" he asked. Of course it was true for him, but Alfred was his only friend. Alfred had several girls who liked him and lots of friends. Why did he always choose to spend his time with him?
Alfred nodded. "Without question! I mean, think about this year," he said, smiling. "Well, last time wasn't so great since I was all bent out of shape about Jamie," he said, thoughtfully. "You know, I really can't remember why I was so pissed off at her. She wasn't so bad. Just another confused fish," he said. "I mean, I was a total dumbass in 9th grade, myself." Arthur didn't say anything.
"I always have more fun when I'm with you," said Arthur. He wondered why that had been so hard to say. Duh! If only everything could be this easy all the time! He felt like he could tell Alfred anything.
"Well, yeah, me too. Obviously. You're my best friend forever," said Alfred, but his voice was softer than usual. He looked at Arthur for a long time. "Want to follow tradition?"
"Already?" What Arthur was actually thinking was 'Where would we go?' He felt his heart speed up when he remembered what Alfred had bought 'just to say he had'. Not that anything would happen, but at the very least he would be going into a hotel room with Alfred. Just to say he had.
Alfred nodded. "We can say goodbye to our hombres, if you want, but I think we've gotten enough mileage out of this dance." Arthur giggled a little. Why was Alfred speaking Spanish? So random.
"I don't think we should. Say goodbye, I mean. Because, do you know where anyone is?" The group of people dancing looked intimidating and started to seem like a mob to Arthur. He didn't want to go into it. "Besides, we don't care about Francis, and Wang and Ivan probably aren't dancing so who knows where they are. Who does that leave?" Arthur wasn't sure why he wanted to leave, but he had the sudden urge to get out of there.
"Well, I was only asking because 33 is at the punch table right now, and they're kind of cool, right?" Oh. That was true. 33 was kind of cool. He followed Alfred to the punch bowl, where he heard Rod and Gil fighting.
"Gilbert, you are being incredibly immature. You made a huge mistake toying with me, I can assure you of that."
"Oh, please! What are you going to do, hit me with your piano? I think you're just upset because of the idea that maybe, just maybe, the girl you can't get over has decided to move on!"
"Liz doesn't love you! She just doesn't know what's good for her!"
"And that's you? Mr. Possessive? Listen to yourself! You sound so full of yourself! Liz can make her own decisions, and she has, and that's clearly why you have such a stick up your ass!"
"Hurensohn!"
"Oh, so now we're swearing in German now? Really, Roddy? Is that so you won't offend Lizzy's delicate sensibilities? Well, guess what, Roderich? She's a big girl. I think she can handle it."
Meanwhile, Liz looked completely mortified. She held her head in her hands, muttering what were probably curse words in Hungarian. Alfred glanced at Arthur.
"Um, hello everyone!" Rod and Gilbert turned to look at them.
"Oh. Hey, guys." Gil glared at Rod, and then turned to face them. "Enjoying prom?"
"Yeah, it's been cool," said Alfred, looking at his shoes. "I'm a little drunk, though," he said.
"We can tell," said Rod. "You're slurring your words, and both of you are leaning all over each other."
Why did every word out of Rod's mouth have to sound so mean? Arthur wasn't really hurt, though. They were both slurring their words, and he did notice that he was sort of having a hard time standing up straight. "We're leaving and wanted to say bye," said Arthur.
Gil nodded. "Have fun, you two. Use protection." Then he turned to Liz. "Do you want to leave, too?"
"Yes, but I'd rather go alone. You're both being insufferable!" she said. Liz turned to Alfred and Arthur. "Bye, guys. Have a nice night." Then she stormed off. Arthur and Alfred decided at that point to leave, listening to Rod and Gil accuse each other of driving Liz away.
"It's too bad you didn't bring your camero," said Arthur, stumbling slightly as he walked.
"Don't hurt yourself, babe," said Alfred, grabbing Arthur's shoulder to keep him from falling. The pet name thing seemed less annoying now, so he allowed himself to smile dimly at being called 'babe'. "And yes, I should have, but didn't. So, um, what are we going to do?" Arthur racked his brain for options. He was about to completely give up (critical thinking wasn't his strong point at this exact moment) when he noticed a limo still in the parking lot. They walked over to it.
"Um, hello?" asked Alfred, tapping on the glass. To Arthur's shock, it was their limousine driver. He appeared to have fallen asleep, but he woke up.
"Oh! Is prom over already?" he asked, looking slightly alarmed.
"Nah, we just need a ride. Is that cool? You can probably be back before prom actually ends. It's like, ten minutes away from here. It's the Comfort Inn," said Alfred. The driver raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, but said nothing.
"Okay, I can do that," he said.
Arthur and Alfred went into the back seat. "So," said Arthur, "we're going to that hotel room you got?" Alfred nodded.
"Yeah, I already wasted the money, you know? Don't worry, I won't jump your bones or anything," he said, but the way he said it almost seemed flirtatious. Arthur laughed. (He was laughing a lot tonight, it seemed.)
"Oh, I don't care if you do," he said, lying down on the seat. "At least my headache would go away," he said. Alfred looked at him. From Arthur's angle, he looked upside-down.
"What? Already? But you just got drunk, you shouldn't be hung over yet!" Then he paused. "Then again, you still act drunk. Sober Arthur would never be so 'whatever' about what I just said."
Arthur shook his head. "I had a headache before I drank that…stuff, that was in those glasses. What was that, anyway? It can't have been anything good," he observed. Actually, he felt pretty good, headache notwithstanding. "You know, you look funny upside down," he said, squinting.
"Funny? Is that a good adjective, or should I be offended?"
"No, it's definitely a good thing," said Arthur, after a bit of thought. "I'm just too shy to say handsome or beautiful or hot, or any of the other things going through my mind right now. So, I said funny. Damn. I'm bloody awful at this," he said, his words running together as he muttered what was probably the most honest thing he had said to Alfred in a while.
"Really? You think I'm handsome, beautiful, and hot?" Oh, no, had he freaked Alfred out. Well. That would be awful. It would be reason enough to never drink again, but then Alfred did a fist pump.
"Yes! Man, you just made my day! Sit upright so I can hug you," he said, pulling Arthur up from the reclined position he was in.
When Alfred sat up straight, Arthur hugged him, but this one wasn't like a best friends hug or a best friends with benefits hug, because it was more like a tackle. "Now, why did you have me get up?" murmured Arthur, smiling up at Alfred. Meanwhile, he was thinking. 'Alfred is on top of me. I don't know what I did, but I must have done a good job. Go me!' "I'm lying down again," he said.
"That's true," said Alfred. "I don't know. I'm drunk, okay, don't expect me to think too critically." They both laughed, somewhat nervously.
"I don't think your face has ever been this close to mine," said Arthur. He could feel his breath on his face. Normally, he would have pushed Alfred off of him long ago, but what could he say? He was fine where he was, really.
"Well, that's not true," said Alfred. "At Halloween-" and suddenly he was interrupted by the honking of a horn. Oh. Arthur supposed that was their cue to get out. Alfred reached over Arthur to open the door, holding it open. "Go ahead," he said.
"Um, I can't," said Arthur.
"Oh, right," he said, and he got off of him. He still kept the door held open.
"Such a gentleman," said Arthur as he got out of the car, followed by Alfred. They headed towards the hotel.
"You know," said Alfred in the lobby, "I'm glad that we got here early. Lots of horny couples will probably head straight here after the prom." He walked up to the counter. "Um, hi, I'm Alfred F. Jones," he said, pulling his driver's license from the inside of his tuxedo. The man at the counter looked jaded. Arthur felt sorry for him. 'I used to be like him, but now I'm happy,' he thought, and he smiled. The man scowled, typed into the computer, and gave him a room key. Arthur wondered if he was going to say anything else. He didn't, so they left.
"What's your room number?" asked Arthur.
"One twenty-two," he said, and scratched his head. "Wow, is that seriously on this floor? So we don't have to us the elevator at all? Killer!" He grabbed Arthur's hand. "Come on," he said, running. "Let's go!"
They ran through the hallways, probably annoying lots of people in the process, until they found their room. Alfred jabbed his card into the slot, and pushed the door open when it lit green. Arthur thought the room looked beautiful. In fact, it seemed to shine. Why couldn't his house look like this? Everything glowed. "Isn't it lovely?" he asked.
Alfred shrugged. "It's a hotel room, I really don't care one way or the other." He took his jacket off, kicked off his shoes and socks, and untucked his shirt in the first thirty seconds of walking in. Arthur decided to follow suit, hanging his jacket on a nearby coat hanger, setting his shoes neatly by the door with his socks laying across them, and untucking his shirt lastly. "Dude," said Alfred, "Why are you so neat about everything?" Arthur cocked his head.
"I don't know what you mean," he said, and Alfred gestured towards his shoes.
"Those are too neat!" He almost sounded accusatory.
"Oh, I'm sorry that I didn't throw everything around like a loon the way you did," he said, scoffing. He couldn't help it, though; soon he was cracking up. After he stopped, he walked over to the couch and sat down, noting that it was surprisingly comfortable considering Alfred had probably gotten a pretty cheap room. Alfred sat down next to him, too.
There were a few minutes of silence. Arthur found it awkward, and it felt much longer than it actually was. "So," he said, tapping his bare feet against the carpet.
"So," said Alfred, now looking at him.
"Um," said Arthur, "not to be rude, but what now?"
That was how they had ended up kissing.
Well, actually, Arthur wasn't sure how it happened, only that one moment the tension between them had seemed worse than ever and that the next moment it all melted away. They had started out upright, but that hadn't lasted long and soon Alfred was on top of him, just as he had been in the limo.
It wasn't like Arthur had never thought about this (he had), but he was genuinely surprised at how good it felt. It was much better to actually experience something than to just think about it, he had decided. He wrapped his arms around Alfred, feeling the inexplicable need to run his fingers through his hair. For some reason, kissing him seemed even better than when he had done it at the Halloween dance. Maybe it was because he could admit to liking it, even in his own head.
They had been kissing for a while, occasionally stopping to breathe but only doing so briefly, when Alfred broke the kiss. 'No,' thought Arthur, but he didn't say anything. At first Arthur wondered why Alfred had stopped, until he noticed him trying vainly to unbutton his shirt. "Oh," said Arthur softly. "I can do it,"
"No," he said, "I'm doing it. It's more romantic if I do it for you," he said. Alfred cared about being romantic? Huh. Who knew?
"No, really, it's fine, " said Arthur. "I used to have to wear suits all the time, I can undo a shirt in ten seconds flat," he said.
"Well, maybe it's better if it takes longer," he said. Maybe he was right. Still, Arthur found it to utterly confusing, at best; how having Alfred completely fail at undoing a button, again and again, seemed to be both torture and ecstasy. Somehow, though, he had managed to do it, and soon the shirt was on the floor. Just like magic.
"Are we really doing this?" asked Arthur. Immediately, Alfred looked concerned.
"Do you not want to? Oh, God, I'm really sorry, I just thought you-"
"I do, I do, I just can't believe it. I feel like I won the lottery," mumbled Arthur, feeling a smile on his face. It was a bit like going to the dentist and being under the 'laughing gas', he thought, except everything was sharper instead of fuzzier. He felt Alfred pull him into another kiss. 'I've beaten the odds,' he thought to himself. 'I can't believe this is happening. God, I'm lucky,' and he thought about all of the possibilities for 'prom night', feeling tingly as he did so.
Yes, everyone knows about prom night. Arthur had never suspected that he would be one of the people celebrating it.