"And don't you dare say we can just be friends. I'm not some boy that you can sway."

As might have been expected, Arthur Kirkland woke up at the crack of dawn with a heinous hangover.

When he tried to move a hand to brush his tangled hair away from his face he found that it was being inhibited by the weight of a man who in turn had an arm thrown casually around his waist. Gingerly he maneuvered to free himself from that sleeping grasp, careful more because of the throbbing in his head than waking the unconscious fellow who seemed quite impervious to any movements at all.

He sat on the edge of the bed, abandoning the tangled sheets as he rested his head in his hands. There was a steady beat of doldrums in his skull echoing with crushing loudness with every beat of his heart. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd hoped that he'd been dreaming. Unfortunately for him, reality could not be escaped.

For the first time in his twenty-two years he, Arthur Kirkland, had slept with a complete and total stranger.

Sure he could blame the amount of liquor he had consumed, and he could blame it on some premature midlife crisis, but it didn't change the reality of what he had done. His clover eyes flickered over the sleeping bloke he'd run off with. That strange, loud, captivating American.

Alfred.

He hadn't managed to catch a last name with that, but maybe it was better this way. Less to get attached to. Less to worry over when at last it came to Sunday and he was forced to acknowledge the sins of the week. Which appeared to be far more numerous than they ever were.

That gold hair held a rosy tint in the light of the rising sun spilling through the window, there was a tan on that skin that he hadn't noticed in the evening light, there was the curves of the muscles he had memorized before falling into slumber. Every single cell seemed to burn with his memory. Far stronger than one would expect after the amount of drink he had consumed. This was an extraordinarily strange situation.

Should he stay? Should he leave before the man woke?

What exactly was the etiquette for such situations? Arthur's lithe fingers wound through his messy hair as he considered all of his options. As he wondered what a true gentleman would do, even if his behaviour last night had been anything but refined. Heaving a heavy sigh he figured that the very least he could do would be to take a shower to clear the pounding fog his mind was currently encased in. If the man... If Alfred hadn't woke by then, well he'd just leave.

Maybe leave him a note or something. Or maybe not. He had hoped for something with no strings attached, hadn't he?

His balance was shaky at best as he got up off the bed, as he stumbled in the direction that the bathroom that he'd hardly noticed last night. There seemed to be a shock-wave resounding thump with each step forward he took, and for a moment he thought that he would really lose his guts. Sure he'd managed to go the entirety of last night without getting sick, it didn't mean that the after-effects would be quite so easy.

Perhaps it was that he had recently developed a better tolerance for liquor, or perhaps it was pure English stamina, either way, he managed to keep his insides intact the entire way to the restroom where within he immediately slumped against the wall. A quick glance in the mirror told him that he looked a complete and utter mess. The shower idea had been quite ingenious.

Though the moment that he turned the water on, well, he very highly regretted it. It was such a thundering sound, made him nearly fall forward with his head in his hands like a petulant child. He grumbled some sort of swear as he adjusted the water to the proper temperature and pulled the nob thing that turned the shower head on. The force of the spray was quite...intense, so much so that it brought the needs of his bladder to quick attention.

Making it so that it was a moment longer before he stepped under the violent spray.

He gritted his teeth as the water rushed over him, the temperature may have been quite perfect but the sound and the piercing pressure of the cascading water did nothing to help his pounding skull. With perhaps too much vigor on his part he grabbed at one of those tiny ass bottles of shampoo that the staff were always to kind to provide and dumped a vast majority on his now sopping wet hair.

The shock of the cold soap made him say things that a gentleman should never utter. He silently prayed that the ...eloquation...did not wake the sleeping Alfred. For once it appeared as if he was having a stroke of luck so that he managed to finish his shower in peace. There was a single towel on the rack that he grabbed with a furtive quickness, drying with a speedy efficiency seen on the rarest days.

After managing to pull most of the moisture out of his hair with the now slightly abused towel he wrapped it around his waist and went to gather the pieces of his scattered clothes. Thankfully the trail was easy enough to figure out after a few moments of studying. Shirt and tie were rather close to the door, the shoes had been kicked off next followed soon after by his grey slacks and his socks. There always a method to such things.

Even if it was drastically different from what he had come to expect.

A quick glance over to the bed told him that Alfred was still out like a light. Strangely enough he found a small smile settling in the corner of his mouth as he looked at the man. There again was the admiration for that carefree spirit. He didn't have work today... He could while away the lazy Saturday alongside this man, could show him the sites he'd been so curious over. But then again...

That would be forming an attachment, wouldn't it?

He picked up his boxers last, still smiling ever so faintly. And then in the same methodical way that he did everything, he began to get dressed. He settled the towel across his shoulders as he shimmied into his pants and then jammed his arms through his shirt sleeves. Just like always. The same procedures even under the strangest of circumstances. All the while though, he studied that sleeping man.

Ironic that he should go with this one. Of all the strangers in the entirety of London, it just had to be someone that it would never possible work with in real life. Not only because he was surely only here for a short time, but because he was everything that he could never be.

He still couldn't believe how he'd handled Francis. That he'd said... And that he'd gone along with. Yeah, those blurry minutes would probably come back to haunt him in time. Mostly since there really was no chance of recovering things now.

All of these thoughts with a now slightly less distracting hangover as he buttoned his shirt, even before he had a traditional cup of tea to wake himself up. It was pretty impressive actually. Though now...He was dressed. Awake and ready for the day. And Alfred was still fast asleep. He really had no reason to stay... And he had told himself as much. But still, it felt somewhat wrong. To leave without a word. To leave and never look back.

Even if it was exactly what he had wanted in the first place.

He really was a damn fool. Sighing he went and folded the towel up and left it by the sink, and then he wandered back into the main part of the room. He spotted a note pad of sorts over by the telly, might as well leave some sort of note. No harm in that after all. Thankfully enough there was also a ballpoint pen next to the paper. The room was basically telling him to mind his manners. Seriously, it wasn't like he had a choice.

Not really. Not ever. This was just his nature. So it was perhaps with just a hint of chagrin that he penned a quick note.

Alfred,

I'm not quite gifted with words, so I would like to thank you for a great night. It was wonderful to meet you. Hope you have a wonderful time here in London.

If you want anyone to show you around give me a ring and I'll do my best to get back to you. xxx-xxxx

Best Regards, Arthur Kirkland

For a moment he couldn't believe that he was actually giving the bloke his number, but then again, the chances of him actually calling were slim to none. It was just proper manner to handle things this way. He placed the note on the bedside stand next to where Alfred was still happily sleeping. He grinned down a bit on the content man, resisted the urge to give him a kiss farewell settling instead for ruffling that golden hair.

And then he turned and left the room before the man could possibly wake up. There was a strange lump in his throat as he did so. He really had to stop getting so attached. It was all just random possibilities. It was chance. Nothing more. Sure it had been wonderful and spontaneous and completely unlike him, but it didn't mean it could become a regular part of his life.

That would ruin the charm of it.

As he strode down the hallway he straightened his tie for good measure. It was a reassuring habit. Made him feel slightly more confident. Or at the very least, confident enough to take the elevator to the ground floor. He just might have earned a new fondness for them.

There was a sharp ding as the doors opened, muffled music filtered through the old speakers as he stepped inside, with a grin set quite contentedly upon his mouth he pressed the button for the proper floor. He could almost swear that he heard that loud laugh at his ear as he closed his eyes. Without truly realizing it, he fell into the memory where that laughter had been followed by a kiss.

He nearly jumped straight into the ear when he reached his destination. That ding summoned him from his reverie; his blonde brows drew together in just the slightest hint of agitation. Damn that ding.

****xxxx****

It was nearly noon by the time that Alfred Jones finally let his blue eyes drift open. He yawned, stretching his sleep coiled muscles and immediately felt a thousand times better. And then those eyes seemed to narrow, squinting as if he was having trouble getting the room to come into focus. He turned over onto his side and looked at the other side of the bed.

It was empty.

He should have guessed. The sheets were still crumpled in the shape of the man that had lay there though they were no longer warm. It was with a sigh that he pushed himself up into a sitting position and considered the night before. There had been something about that man. He had looked so lost. There was no way that he was just going to let him wander alone on a cold night like that.

And he had been so handsome. So captivating even in that slightly inebriated state he had been in.

Then something caught his eye. A scrap of paper with the hotel's insignia at the top and words scrawled in a hardly legible hand, the words morphing together to form a spidery black few lines. He grumbled to himself as he wandered over to his bag and fished out a pair of silver framed glasses and perched them upon his face. He absolutely hated wearing these glasses.

Heroes didn't wear glasses except when they were undercover, but at least they had cool ones. These just made him feel like an old man.

He trudged back over to the note and scanned over it. Almost immediately he had a very bright grin on his rather animated face. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle with inner joy. The man, that Arthur, he'd left his number. At the very least that was something. Sure he wrote like most of the Brits talked, but hey he could deal with that.

Mainly cause that meant he had his number. He could see him again.

Without really realizing it, he let out a rather loud whoop of triumph. There had been something different about that guy, he'd known it! It wasn't like he went around sleeping with random guys of the street on a regular basis. Only this once. There was just something...captivating in those super green eyes. Sure it seemed like the guy had some problems, but who didn't?

There had been that French guy too... His ex-boyfriend or something. Everyone came with their damage, and he was a hero wasn't he? Could salvage this man? That amusing and off-kilter man who kissed so well. Who said his name in a breathless whisper. Who was unlike anyone else he'd ever met. Well, there was only one thing left for him to do now. He would give Arthur a call. He'd get to know him, get to see him, get to be with him.

Well...As soon as he cleaned up and put on some clean clothes. He wouldn't go after a man like that looking like a desperate slob. Strange considering he didn't normally think about what anyone else thought about him. Well maybe that was cause he hadn't met the right person yet? Or at least he hadn't thought so...It was all slightly different now. So it was that he came to a somewhat frightening conclusion.

Was it perhaps because he'd fallen in love?