It's only a date. It's only a date. It's only a date.
Arthur repeated his mantra in his head fifty times before it settled in that he and Alfred Jones, his swimming rival and sort of boyfriend (?), were actually going on a date. But that it was just a date. And yet it was only a date.
He huffed in frustration as his hair wouldn't stay down even with multiple attempts at gel. Like disturbed water, his hair was stayed unruly. Alfred never seemed to mind, but that could have been he was just being polite. This was a date, so he had to look his best. Oh, but this was just a date, so-
"Hey!" Alfred knocked on the doorframe of their shared room. He was wearing jeans and a casual T-shirt, but he still managed to look stunning in a way Arthur never thought he'd be able to achieve. "You ready?"
Arthur nodded slowly as he finished messing with his hair. It truly was a futile attempt, but at least his outfit of a long sleeved white shirt under a green sweater vest and grey slacks made him presentable, or so he told himself. Alfred gave him a once look over and smiled in approval. He held out his hand.
During the swim heats, Arthur and Alfred had been so careful about their tentative relationship. Arthur, a very secretive man by nature, resisted holding his hand, staring for too long, or even giving too high of compliments to the athlete when reporters asked how he felt about losing to the American once again. In truth, it wasn't always an act and Arthur genuinely did not want to give Alfred the benefit of the doubt that he was happy with him by holding his hand as they walked back to their room in the Olympic Village after a match, because he never was. This stemmed from the fact that Alfred had beaten Arthur in every competition they had been involved in where they faced one another. Arthur came away with five silvers and Alfred had gained six (one in a meet Arthur was not in).
And now, here they were, on their date and the races were over. Arthur could relax for the rest of his time here. As soon as the games were over Alfred would go home and he would stay here. And they would probably be done as a couple. He knew his heart was on its way to breaking the longer he kept up this charade, so why did he keep going? Because he knew his heart would break later on.
He took Alfred's hand.
They boarded the bus to take them from the Olympic Village to the Olympic Stadium presumably to watch the track and field finals taking place later that night. They sat at the back of the bus holding hands, but sitting far apart with their clasped hands on the seat between them. Arthur was too nervous to sit close, fearing it might give Alfred some thoughts that this would be a good date. It was possible to be a good date, but judging by the fact they were going to another Olympic race, the odds that a dinner and a nice walk in a park happening went out the window.
Arthur felt his hand given a quick squeeze. He looked down at his feet as heat made a pathway up his neck to the tip of his ears. He wasn't sure what to do; should he say something, should he squeeze back, maybe even give him a little smile? It was all too confusing. He didn't want to lead Alfred on to believe that he was enjoying himself already.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alfred watching him with a small smile. There was hesitation there. Was he nervous too? But he won all of the gold medals and shagged his rival nightly and was the golden boy of America. What was he nervous about? For a moment, Arthur thought that just maybe it was the date. Maybe it wasn't just a date to him.
He gave a small squeeze to Alfred's hand, and then squashed the butterflies in his stomach as he saw Alfred smile wider and look out the window, hiding his own blush.
The stadium roared in cheer as the United Kingdom track runner was announced. He waved to acknowledge the crowd. Then, the next runner was announced. He was American. Alfred screamed in joy, waving an American flag he bought from a kiosk outside. Arthur stood beside him and applauded politely. It probably all meant so little to him to be here at the stadium, but it meant a lot to Alfred to have him there beside him.
Arthur didn't know that Alfred once wanted to be a track star. He loved running almost as much as he loved swimming, but swimming just came to him so much easier. Over time, Alfred developed diabetes from all the sweets and fatty foods he consumed as a child, which prompted his parents to put him on a regiment to lose weight. Running was out of the question as he became too tired and nearly collapsed multiple times. Swimming it was.
He told Arthur this one night when they had sat before their computer, the screen lighting up the dark room as the credits to a movie rolled. They hadn't felt up to sleeping after knowing their races were done, and they hadn't made love either. Alfred just wanted to snuggle and open his heart more to Arthur. He wanted to tell him of his town in Iowa, of his mother's amazing cooking in the summer and only in the summer, and his dad's terrible attempts to fix everything in the house and how his cousin loved to rub it in his face that America lost to Canada in the Vancouver Olympics. He wanted Arthur to see him.
That night as they screamed and jumped up and down together to cheer on the racers, Alfred felt that Arthur was really there and not just there to be there. Not as just a person he kind of dated and occasionally had sex with to celebrate a win, but as someone that wanted to be there. That was a part of him. That could continue to stay in his life if Alfred fought for him.
He looked at Arthur and saw the man looking at him with bright green eyes. Over the roaring crowd, Arthur tried to say something to Alfred, but it was washed away with the cheers. All Alfred could do was watch his lips.
His heart thumped hard in his chest. He swallowed the fear that he had ruined this. That his chance to make this anything meaningful to Arthur and for something after this would be swept up in the current of the Olympic air all because he was too drunk on gold and had to have sex with Arthur multiple times before settling on just what Arthur was to him.
I love you too!
Arthur sat in a chair furthest from the aisle. He looked out the window at the setting sun coloring the sky with violets and pinks. Glancing at his watch he assumed Alfred's flight was late. He'd been a month late anyways. He had promised three months, but it was four. He missed the swim meet that everyone expected him to be at. He never said why.
This was all a mistake, Arthur thought. They kept in contact through a few Skype calls and text messages, but it had been so brief. It was no fault of their own, but the rush that came with the after Olympics. New training schedules, interviews, more interviews, a few swims here and there to stay loose, and then just one more interview. Now, however, it was time for a vacation. Arthur's coach felt it a good enough time, and apparently, so had Alfred's.
That didn't change the fact they hadn't been as close. After their first date they went on another, and another, and another- all to an Olympic match to cheer on their country and fellow athletes, but never on a real date. So of course Arthur would steal that gold medal. If he didn't get any further with Alfred, the least he wanted to do was get at least one true date out of him.
Suddenly, there was a call over the intercom, "Would a Mr. Arthur Kirkland please come to the Lost and Found Kiosk? Something that belongs to you has been returned here."
Arthur smiled to himself, chuckling as he stood. He walked down a long corridor, past the bustling businessmen and crying babies, and through a glass door to a small office with a long, marble counter. There, a lady stood and motioned to what was on the counter. His silver medal.
"You didn't have to call me here to return it," Arthur said, not knowing where Alfred was in the room.
Arms encircled him from behind, causing Arthur to gasp as he felt Alfred's firm chest press up against him. "And you didn't have to take my gold to ensure I'd come back."
"You… didn't come back last month…"
"Plans, baby. I'm sorry. I'm here now."
The lady behind the counter had been polite and given them a few moments alone. Arthur wanted to turn and kiss Alfred, maybe give him a good whap on the head, or just berate him with questions of why and what happened. As it was, however, he just stayed there in Alfred's arms and thought back to that night as they watched track and field events.
It was so loud and Alfred couldn't hear him, but he saw his lips. He knew. And in that moment, Arthur could finally put into words just exactly what he knew.
I love you.
Hoshiko2's cents: This was a hard one for me. The prompt was track, so I was fumbling about trying to wrangle up an idea. I'm glad this one came to me while watching baseball. Anyways, this is my entry for the semifinals. Sunday is the finals! I hope I can get it done, given how damn busy I'll be that day…