A/N: Day five's prompt was music of my heart. Sorry I keep forgetting to update this!

Disclaimer: I do not own the lyrics to the song. All rights go to the respected owners.

Title: If You Believed In Me

Warnings: None

Summary: Arthur acquaints himself with the young entertainer at a local bar.

Arthur deserved a drink. He'd spent the whole day walking, strolling along the French Quarter in search of work. He'd been in New Orleans only two weeks, but with luck he'd been able to find work today. It seemed things were looking up, and he thought that called for a drink; one beverage wouldn't hurt anybody.

Music wafted down every alley of the quarter. At random, the Brit took a turn and entered the first bar he came upon. The atmosphere was nice and relaxed, a few people were chatting, and others were smoking or playing cards. As he ordered his drink, Arthur took notice of the entertainer up on stage. There was a young guy, couldn't be more than twenty, with golden blonde hair, and specs, singing his heart out as his fingers swept over the piano keys.

Say, it's only a paper moon
Hanging over a cardboard sea,
But it wouldn't be make believe
If you believed in me.

Arthur smiled, the tune was familiar to him from before the war. It was a nice song to dance to with the ladies at the local pub. He shook it off and turned back to the bartender.

"A J.D and Coke, please," he asked, only to jet a perplexed look.

"A what?"

Oh that was right, it wasn't called that in the States was it?

"Ehm. Jack Daniels and Coca-Cola," Arthur offered, and the bartender laughed in understanding.

"Oh! A Jack and Coke! Why didn't you just say so, stranger?"

Arthur smiled, and nodded, as he waited for his drink. In the meantime he turned back to the lad onstage.

Yes, it's only a canvas sky
Sailing over a muslin tree,
But it wouldn't be make believe
If you believed in me.

The man caught sight of Arthur. He smiled at him as he sang the next verse.

Without your love,
It's a honky-tonk parade.
Without your love,
It's a melody played in a penny arcade.

"Alfred's pretty talented, huh?" the bartender spoke, sliding Arthur's drink across the counter. The Brit turned to regard him.

"He is," Arthur agreed. "Young though."

"You're pretty young yourself!" the bartender answered with a smile. "But yeah, Alfred's had talent since he was a boy. He's always wanted to be an entertainer, but when he got back from service he thought that dream was ruined."

Arthur turned back to look at the man on stage. He furrowed his brows quizzically.

"Why's that?" he inquired, glancing back at the man behind the counter. He frowned gently before motioning towards Alfred.

"I'll let him tell ya about it."

Arthur nodded, as he took his drink and made his way to the front of the bar. He found a seat right before the stage, and situated himself, listening as the man continued to tap away at the keys.

It's a Barnum and Bailey world,
Just as phony as it can be,
But it wouldn't be make believe
If you believed in me.

His voice was light and airy, but he sang with a bright exuberance and passion in the words. He'd clearly practiced time and time again; it was evident with how nicely his voice flowed with the music. Arthur, in fact, was so entranced with the man and his voice, he barely noticed as he sang the last verse.

But it wouldn't be make believe
If you believed in me.

The man played the last few notes and then took his hands off the keyboard, resting them in his lap. A few people clapped, Arthur included, and the young man smiled at him from above.

"Thanks everyone! I'm gonna take a short break, but then I'll be back to finish up the night."

Arthur watched as the man got up, slowly, leaning on the piano for support. It wasn't until Alfred reached to the right of the piano though, that Arthur caught sight of the crutch. The young performer lodged it under his arm, and carefully stared limping across the stage. He made his way down the stairs, slowly, and waddled over to Arthur's table. The Brit stared at him a bit wide eyed, finally comprehending.

"Hey there, stranger! Mind if I take a seat?"

"Oh, please do," Arthur assured, and moved to pull out a seat for Alfred. The younger man stopped him though, holding out a hand and laughing.

"No worries, I got it."

He pulled out a chair, and sat down slowly, stretching his injured leg and resting his crutch against the small wooden table. He stared at Arthur a moment, taking him in with his eyes, before he continued the conversation.

"Watcha drinking?" Alfred started with a smile, that Arthur returned.

"Ah, I believe it's called a Jack and Coke in this country," the Brit answered, with another small smile.

"Aye, you're a Brit! Haven't met one of you in what, three years? Not since the war ended. Watcha doin' here?" Alfred asked with genuine interest. Arthur was happy to answer the boy.

"I... wanted to try something new. I lost basically everything in the war, family included, and I needed to start anew. America seemed like a good place for that."

Alfred smiled at him gently, the dim lighting accentuating his childish features.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said softly. "War's not fun for anybody. It's a shame we have to go through it."

There was an awkward silence in which no words were passed.

"Did you... fight?" Alfred asked quietly.

Arthur looked up at him with glum eyes.

"Yes. Just infantry though, nothing glorified like the fighter pilots or paratroopers."

Alfred let out a laugh before he answered the man.

"Hey, I was infantry too! A bit unfair since we bear the brunt of the work, and don't get the ladies."

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at that, as he smiled at Alfred.

"True," the Brit agreed, still grinning at his newfound mate. "The bartender told me your name was Alfred. It's nice to meet you."

The young lad smiled in return as he stuck out his hand and shook Arthur's.

"Well that'd be correct, Alfred F. Jones, ordinary infantry soldier," he said with a grin. "I haven't gotten your name though."

"Arthur Kirkland," the older man answered him. "Also, commonplace infantry man."

"Swell," Alfred replied with a small chuckle. "Well it's great to meet you, Arthur. Let me buy us a round to celebrate our new, ordinary friendship."

Alfred yelled an order at the bar tender, and soon enough he came around with two pints.

"Ta," Arthur said, and Alfred winked. He held up his glass.

"To us," the American toasted. "Two of the most run of the mill people in the world," he paused and turned to Arthur. "And to a new friendship."

"I'll drink to that."

They smiled at each other, then gulped down two more pints each before Alfred returned to the stage. Arthur watched him for another hour, and at the end of the night, assured him he'd be back to visit tomorrow. Over the next three years, drinking buddies would become best friends, and later even more.

Arthur had earned himself a drink that night, but he ended up with much, much more.