Chapter one! Finally! Sorry for the long wait, peoples! We've seriously had a lot to do. It's insane. Well, here we are! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: We own nothing at all. Except for love. Lots of love. You want some? Here. *gives love*
Arthur slammed his now empty glass onto the wooden table in the bar, releasing a loud, ungentlemanly belch that would have made him cringe had he not been currently smashed. Well, he was still only on his second glass, but he was never able to handle alcohol well.
"Ve~," Feliciano asked, turning to the quiet, blond-haired, blue-eyed, bespectacled boy beside him. "Why do you - hic - look so much like Alfred?" Matthew, the one the drunk Italian was speaking to,winced, and Arthur tensed at the question.
It had been nine years since the day Alfred disappeared, and the police had given up after two. There were absolutely no clues or leads at all, so they just declared him a run-away and gave up.
Alfred's family, including Matthew, all concluded him dead, though they didn't rally want to believe it. But where else could he be?
But Arthur knew better. Okay, he honestly knew next to nothing, but he couldn't give up hope this his best friend was still alive. All he knew was that Alfred was taken by something non-human, and that within seconds, Opal had felt his presence vanish completely.
Mattie shifted in his seat awkwardly, looking away.
"Feliciano, don't ask about that," Ludwig scolded the Italian.
"Ve~, why - hic - not? They look so much alike. It's freaky!"
"Yeah," Gilbert agreed. The Albino released a belch greater than Arthur's, making near by drinkers turn to give dirty looks. "Why not, Bruder?"
"We're twins," Mattie sighed in his soft spoken voice. "Of course we look alike."
Arthur, unhappy with the tension in the air and the mentioning of his long lost best friend, took one last swig of his drink before dropping it down again on the table with a resounding noise that couldn't really be given an onomatopoeia. "I'd better get going," he sighed. "I'm going to be late to my club meeting."
"You've got another one?" Ludwig asked, receiving a nod from the Brit.
"Ve~, you're in a club, Arthur?"
"Yeah."
"What kind?"
Arthur gave a humorless smile, standing and shrugging on his coat. "A fucking cult." He waved to his friends and stumbled drunkenly out.
"Arthur's an occult member?" Matthew asked, only to be ignored, as usual.
Arthur made his way down the street, the alcohol slowly starting to wear off, when he bumped into someone. He stumbled back, quickly apologizing.
"Oh, my bad! You okay, man?" a familiar voice asked. A voice that Arthur was a bit to drunk to place.
"No, no, it's my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going," he slurred slightly, he mind unintentionally relishing in the sound of the slight Southern drawl of the stranger's voice.
"Well, people make mistakes sometimes." Arthur looked up at the man and found that even his face was strikingly familiar, but the darkness and alcohol made it impossible for him to remember who this was.
"Yes, and we must learn from them," he told him, holding his head to keep the area around him from spinning as his mind tried to work to figure out who this guy was.
"Yeah, I just hope that next time you're that desperate for a date, you'll just straight up ask me." THAT caught the Englishman's attention.
"P-pardon?" he asked, cocking his head to the side in confusion, an adorable look crossing his face he didn't even know he had. The other man noticed it, however, and his large grin broadened.
"Well, obviously you bumped into me so we would talk, so you could hit on my, get my number, and score a date. That's how everyone does it these days," the grinning man rationalized. Logic that clearly didn't please Arthur.
He huffed angrily, glaring up at the tall American. "If I really wanted a bloody date with the likes of you, I'd ask with much more fucking class." He moved around the man clumsily and attempted to walk away, but more stupid words spewing from the git's mouth stopped him.
"Damn, you're feisty. I like that. Okay, I'll go on a date with ya."
"Excuse me?" Arthur questioned, turning around to raise one large brow at the man.
"I'll go on a date with you. Do you have a cell phone?"
"I- Yes, of course bloody I do! I'm not some poor twat who can't afford so much as a damn cell phone!" Arthur replied against his better judgment. He glanced back in the direction he was attempting to walk, planning to run.
The stranger noticed, and smirked. "Can I see it?"
"What? Why?"
"To give you my number, silly."
"Why would I want your number, you ninny?" Arthur demanded.
"So I can contact you to plan our date, duh!" He ruffled Arthur's messy mop of hair, his grin grating on Arthur's nerves, at the same time exciting him. He flinched away from the touch, bright red.
"Hmph." He handed the American his phone and waited as he typed in the number.
"Here ya go," he said, handing the small electronic device back to him. "I'll text ya." And with a simple wave and wink, he walked off, leaving a very confused and drunk Arthur behind.
'What the hell?' he thought when his phone suddenly vibrated. He opened it to read a text that said 'I'll be looking forward to our date. -Alfred'.
'No,' Arthur thought. 'It's just a coincidence. I can't get my hopes up now. I'm drunk. This could just be a side effect of the alcohol, or something.'
He quickly sent a response.
'I never agreed to a date.'
Arthur slowly walked on.
'Please? You'll like it, I promise. And if you don't, then you don't have to go on another one with me again.' the next text said.
Arthur sighed, defeated. 'You better not make me regret this.'
After a minute or two of walking, his phone vibrated again, and he saw: 'Don't worry, you won't. I'm Alfred F. Jones, THE HERO! My dates are never regrettable. Trust me.'
Arthur stumbled and nearly fell, but managed to catch himself. 'Oh God,' he thought. 'It is him.'
'Do you even know my name?' Arthur texted back, hoping for a response that would say, yes, I remember you, Arthur. I'm back. Or something like that anyways.
'Sure,' Alfred's response read. Arthur's heart tensed. 'Your name is Arthur, right? That's what your phone told me, anyways.'
'S-so he doesn't remember? Just bloody brilliant,' Arthur thought glumly, stumbling towards his car. With a string of curses (most of them more British than American), Arthur reached his car, and climbed in. Then, he remembered he was drunk, therefore couldn't drive. "Well, looks like I'm walking."
Meanwhile, Alfred walked up to his apartment, a large grin on his face. 'Score,' he thought. 'I've got a date with an adorable Brit... Huh, I didn't know I was gay...'
Yes, well, this is a very rough-ish version, but oh well. I loved that last line. I hope you liked. I really wanted a lot more swearing and drunkenness on Arthur's part, but... Oh well, it's as good as it's gonna get. I took every opportunity I saw for him to be... Drunk... Well, whatever. REVIEWS ARE EPIC!