"It's all for you, for you my friend. And I will fight for you til the bitter end."
"Arthur!"
The world coalesced about him with the sharp snap of a bow's string. He tripped forward, foot catching on a very crowded sidewalk that hadn't been there but moments ago. It was sheer unexplainable luck that he didn't crash and burn flat on his face. Not that it could have damaged it much further.
At least, in his opinion.
"Arthur, dude, I said to wait for me! Where are those famous English manners you brag so much about?" He stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of that voice. It was following him everywhere for God's sake! Where was the respite for him, the time for his wits to gather about him in some semblance of his former sanity? Too much to ask for apparently. Within a breath, the warm presence that he had fair to memorized was right next to him.
An arm carelessly tossed about his shoulders.
What the hell had ever happened to logic? Arthur cringed a bit to himself, tucking the silver watch into his pants pocket. Didn't want to look at it just now. Didn't want to think about the places it had taken him. Because...Well...At least here, Alfred was happy. There was nobody waving a gun at him.
There was just the crashing tide of the ever-flowing city traffic.
A city he had only seen in photographs. He really didn't want to know how the hell he had ended up in New York. Instead, he tried to relax. Letting the tension in his muscles suffuse until they were nothing more than a fragment of a memory better left forgotten. He smiled up at the easy-going American, leaning into his warmth, mind slowly beginning to settle into slightly more normal functions. Like remembering just how nice that smile was, how bright those blue eyes were.
"Well, you know. I'm not fond of acting proper all the time." This earned a quick grin from Alfred, a light and heartening bout of laughter that seemed to make Arthur's troubles dissipate with the mere sound. Slide off with the millions of other disgusting things expelled into the city's air on a regular basis. Just another part of the collective smog.
"I'll give you that Arty. You're a pretty tough cookie." Arthur glowered for a moment at the sound of that nickname. Under...different circumstances whoever so called him that would be sternly reprimanded...In this case he decided to make an exception. It was hard not to after all, it was Alfred. And here he was. Alive. Smiling. Joking. Alive.
And he had every intention of keeping him that way.
"I suppose." He smiled in that charmingly awkward way that disarmed most men. And made others more aware of just how much insecurity lay behind those words. Or, at least, Alfred did. But he was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. To offer encouragement as was needed. Nothing too overt of course, just enough to reinforce a bit of positive energy.
Arthur was worth it after all. A man of extreme internal strength. He may not outwardly exude it, may seem like the average...slightly neurotic...British businessman, but he really was strong. Had some sort of odd agenda, and flighty behaviors, but Alfred was pretty sure that was just a minor quirk in the grand scheme of things.
He was, after all, the man that had called out to him in the midst of an extremely dark situation. One of the things he hadn't expected to see within his first year with the NYPD. Didn't change the fact that it had happened. And that he had killed a man. It had been a, (and no pun intended), hair trigger reaction.
To save somebody he didn't even know.
It didn't make him a hero. Not by any means. He had taken a life after all. That was blood that could never be washed from his hands. Then why in the world did he so strongly want to spend time with the man he had saved? This Arthur Kirkland fellow. With the dull gold hair and the sharp clover eyes. Who had seemed keen and clever even under the most extreme duress. With an unfamiliar weapon shaking in his grasp.
That was one image he just couldn't shake.
So, perhaps this was just some effort to compensate for the damage he had caused. If he'd been a better officer, well he and the others could have stormed in there before hand... Could have saved most of those people from such duress. That darker spectrum of reality that few were ever privy to.
In any case, they weren't there now. It was a sunny day, relatively warm, he had one hell of a handsome man on his arm, and he was just another part of his favorite city in the world. Sometimes it was nice to become a part of the mass, to slip into anonymity and live life however he saw fit.
Which would be in a slow and casual current for the moment.
"So, what do you wanna do this afternoon? We have the best city in the world at our fingertips Arty, I could show you all that we Americans have to offer." He winked playfully at the shorter man as he steered them through the crowded walkways. It would be a lie to say that he wasn't a bit surprised when he noticed Arthur's arm wrapping about his waist as they walked, not to mention the pleasant surprise of his low laughter.
"In that case, show me everything Al. I want to see it all." Alfred couldn't quite help the rippling laughter that escaped his throat at that statement. And as an appropriate show of his joy he leaned forward at an odd angle to plant a kiss right on Arthur's cheek. Naturally, this earned two reactions. The first was a strangely bright blush from Arthur, and the other was a few chortling whistles by observant bystanders.
"Never thought ya would ask." One thing was for certain, Alfred was pretty sure that he hadn't had this much fun in a long time.
"Oh?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, a strangely mischievous smirk set in place at the right corner of his mouth. "Then I bet you also would never think I would do this." And before Alfred could so much as giggle out a "What?", Arthur had pulled him to a stand-still on the sidewalk and kissed him right on the mouth.
Strike that thought, he was pretty sure this was even better. He couldn't help the grin on his face when Arthur pulled away with a rueful smirk. A little spark of strangely active butterflies his stomach at the site of that smile for some reason. It was so familiar, and yet he knew he hadn't met Arthur before the bank robbery. In any case, he wasn't about to complain.
"You were right Arty, I definitely wasn't expecting that."
*****xxxx*****
Somewhere in the course of traipsing about New York City with perhaps its greatest advocate, Arthur Kirkland began to have fun. He didn't care for the funny looks others gave them as Alfred dragged him around with their hands tightly clasped together like two overly-giddy youngsters, and he certainly didn't care he looked like an awestruck tourist over the simplest of things.
For the first time in his life, Arthur found that he didn't care about anything other than the moment surrounding him.
Trading innocent life facts with Alfred while simultaneously watching him devour a hotdog whole; learning that he had only just turned twenty and been drafted into the force so young on account of having an apparently famous grandfather, not to mention that he also had a weakness for accents. (Point one for Arthur.) It was just so...Simple.
Easy as breathing really.
He ignored the doubting voice in the back of his mind that kept haphazardly asking just when he would be dragged away from this peaceful place. Instead he held tightly to Alfred's hand as they made their way through Central Park since there was apparently a shortcut to Alfred's apartment through it. Not that he would have known either way on account of the fact that he had always had a terrible sense of direction.
"So, I'm pretty sure that I've spilled just about every secret I've ever had, but you have yet to tell me too much about yourself Arty. So how 'bout it? What's a handsome British man like yourself doing wandering about New York with a man like me on a weekday?"
Obviously, Arthur didn't have much of an answer for that, so he did his very best to make one up. He offered a sly smirk to the taller man, not so subtly appreciating him with his clever clover eyes.
"Oh the usual thing us handsome British men do I suppose, charming the locals and causing a general public disturbance."
"Well, that is a crime you know. I could have you arrested Mister Kirkland." Arthur noted how Alfred didn't bother to disguise the playful tone in his laughter. It was really quite amazing how well they got along.
"It's quite fine, I'm on the run from the law anyways." He tried to mimic that dashing wink that Alfred did so well, though he was pretty sure he just looked like a dork. The funny part was the little blush that tried to cross the taller man's dashing face.
"Can't have a criminal like you on my streets, Arthur."
"Then by all means Mr. Jones, arrest me."
Arthur very well couldn't believe his own behavior. It was so...forward! And here he had always thought of himself as a calm, reserved gentleman. Sure liquor loosened his tongue...amongst other effects of course, but that used to be an extreme circumstance. This was just a casual conversation that he had made to drip innuendo!
It was quite exhilarating in its' own way.
"I think I'll have to take you up on that." Alfred's laughter filled the not so crowded walkway with warmth, the sun was just beginning to set and it was adding these soft peachy tones to his hair. It made Arthur want to run his hands through it, if he remembered correctly, (and he was fairly sure that he did), that hair was wonderfully soft.
And he had inadvertently ended up pulling it a few times...But that was beside the point, not to mention, a thought that made him want to blush from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair.
As might have been expected, he did end up blushing. And it did not go unnoticed by his "tormentor". In fact, Alfred decided to antagonize him a little further by leaning down and whispering low in his ear.
"I think you really want to be at my mercy, eh Arty?" For one, that statement totally tickled poor Arthur's earlobe, and for two...Well, he couldn't quite think up another complaint. Or really, well it wasn't a complaint at all. It had just tickled after all. And caused him to remember the not so subtle seductive arts that the American possessed.
He bit his lower lip and remained silent as they strolled off of their lonely walkway and onto one of the slightly more crowded sidewalks that lead out of the park and towards a set of very large buildings.
"My lips are sealed." Was the only response he could muster.
"We'll see how long that lasts." Alfred's laugh came again, causing a new little knot of anxiety to alight itself in the pit of Arthur's stomach. He hadn't really spent a lot of time with Alfred under...sober circumstances. So, the way in which things were moving...Well, his tell-tale anxiety had no choice but to kick in just a tad as they crossed the street.
It was instinct really.
"You know, you had better make me some dinner when we get upstairs." It was a pathetic attempt to slightly deter the mood that he had gone and created. And he was naturally rewarded with a playful chuckle as they made their way up the solid front steps of the shiny, nearly metallic building that apparently housed Alfred's apartment.
"I guess I don't have much of a choice in this?"
"Unless you want me to cook."
"You cook?"
"You really don't want me to. I once made a bloke swear that he would never have fish and chips again thanks to me." It was an embarrassing tidbit of his past that he really hadn't meant to share, but it was funny in a weird sort of way. At least, he could chuckle to himself about it nowadays. When it had actually happened he'd been half tempted to lock himself in his kitchen with a pile of Rachel Ray cookbooks. (Some apparently famous cook in America.)
As it was, he settled for never cooking again. Okay...Well, he cooked for himself still, but he could stomach it. Most of the time.
"So, stairs or elevator?" Apparently Alfred didn't want to take a dig at his terrible cooking skills. It was a surprising respite.
"How far up?"
"Seventh floor."
"Stairs." He couldn't bare the thought of the elevator for a reason only obvious to himself. It wasn't the fear. No, that he could handle. But there was something about taking it now, with Alfred, that just felt strange. Like he was purposely trying to re-enact that one night.
The only night.
"I'll race you."
"You're on."
It was no big surprise that Arthur was very nearly out of breath by the third flight of stairs. He was huffing by the fourth, wheezing by the fifth, and walked up the sixth. Alfred remained at least five steps ahead of him every time. He supposed there really was no outrunning a police officer anyway.
Though, he was pleasantly surprised when Alfred offered his hand on the last step, a winningly bright smile set on his bright face. He really had no choice but to take that hand, a look of absolute exhaustion written upon his own features.
"Don't worry, I'm only a little way down the hallway."
"You know, I'm not that out of shape." Arthur huffed out indignantly as he began to trail after the briskly walking American.
"Keep telling yourself that Arty." Alfred's grin showed anything but a sense of seriousness as he began fiddling with a small set of keys at a door that read seven-twenty-three.
He didn't really want to bother with a response, excited to see the place where Alfred lived. Before it had been a relatively sparse hotel room, and even then, he hadn't taken the time to take in many of the details. But this was different. You could tell a lot about a man by the way they kept their home.
Needless to say, he wasn't all that surprised to find a place that was a contradiction between hurriedly tidy and haphazardly cluttered. He had to bite his lip to hold back a small chuckle as he noticed a pile of freshly folded laundry on the kitchen table that included a pair of boxers with the Superman symbol on them.
Now, that was not so much of a surprise.
"Nice place you have here." He chortled as Alfred tossed his keys upon the counter, nearly letting them skid into the sink as he came up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist in a surprisingly casual gesture.
"Stop trying to flatter me." He nipped playfully at Arthur's ear before nuzzling up against his neck. Arthur could only remember far too well the way this man's breath felt upon his skin, couldn't help the sudden rush of desire that punched through his veins.
"Hmm, wouldn't dream of it Al." He leaned into the taller man's embrace, the logical side of his brain already starting to fog over.
"Oh?" Another low chuckle, and hands deftly sliding up under the soft blue cotton shirt he didn't ever remember owning.
"Aren't you supposed to be making me dinner?" This was a just an afterthought of course, his...erm, hormones already had a much different idea.
"I will." Those warm hands skimmed lightly upon his skin and Arthur's clover eyes fluttered for a brief moment. "After."