The A-Z Club Chapter Six
Alfred blinked slowly, staring with his mouth slightly ajar.
"Excuse me?" He said, when he could finally talk again.
"Are. You. A. Virgin?" Arthur said, tapping his pen with every word.
"That doesn't have much to do with the Grapes of Wrath." Alfred said, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"Are we only allowed to talk about school?" Arthur said, doodling on the front cover of his notebook.
"No, I just think it's personal." Alfred said. He picked up his copy of the book and tried to read but he couldn't concentrate.
"You are, aren't you?" Arthur said, prodding Alfred with his pen.
"I know you're not." Alfred mumbled, looking down at the book.
"What?" Arthur said.
"I said I know you're not a virgin. Everyone knows." Alfred said. "I mean, a lot of people think it's an urban legend."
"Think what's an urban legend?" Arthur said, putting his pen down.
"The thing. Where you got caught having sex with that goth kid in the bathrooms." Alfred said. "And the teachers pretend it never happened."
"With Brian? I wasn't caught." Arthur says. "Because it didn't happen. We were just kissing."
"That's not what people say."
"You shouldn't listen to what people say about me. Half of it's lies and half of it's exaggerated by little juniors with no bloody lives of their own." Arthur said, he opened his backpack and starts putting his books away.
"Where are you going?" Alfred said.
"Out. I had plans." Arthur said.
"You've only been here half hour." Alfred said, getting to the door and standing in front of it before Arthur could get there. "We barely started."
"Yes, well, now we can finish." Arthur said.
"I am just a silly junior with no life?"
"No, Alfred, you're a sophomore. Duh." Arthur said.
"I'm trying to help you!"
"I know." Arthur said. "I wasn't talking about you."
"Who are you talking about?"
"It doesn't matter. Move, Jones." Arthur said.
"Where are you going?" Alfred said.
"Just to see a band play."
"Can I come?"
"You're underage."
"So are you."
"You act underage." Arthur said. Alfred cocked his head to the side. Arthur wanted to kiss him - and he nearly did. His lips were pouting, in a joking, begging kind of way. He didn't realise how sexy he looked - he was thought he was being cute.
"Okay. But you have to change your t-shirt." Arthur said, stepping back from the door and slumping against the wall. Alfred walked over to the closet.
"Want me to dress like you, Arthur? I don't think I have any torn Sex Pistols shirts."
Arthur rolled his eyes. Alfred took his shirt off and threw it to the floor. "I don't see what's wrong with Superman." He grumbled.
"Just wear something darker." Arthur said.
"Batman t-shirt?"
"No." Arthur said. He was trying not to stare at Alfred - but that wasn't the easiest thing in the world. He was standing with his hands on his hips and making a big deal out of choosing a t-shirt.
"Is this a dark enough shade for you?" Alfred said, holding a black t-shirt against his tan, toned body. Arthur nodded, biting his lip. If Jones wasn't so damn innocent, Arthur would be sure that he was doing this on purpose. And he had half a mind to pounce on Jones and take him there and then.
Arthur took his coat off and dug through his backpack.
"What are you doing?" Alfred said, wearing his t-shirt now.
"Will you turn around?"
"Uh...why?"
"I'm going to change my t-shirt." He said.
"You're a nudity prude? Of all people?" Alfred snorted, but turned around.
He did sneak a look. He couldn't help it. He peaked, but caught only a flash of white back before it was drowned in a baggy black tank top, with arm holes that hung down and showed off Arthur's ribs. Arthur quickly pulled a leather jacket on over and began to stuff is warmer coat in his backpack.
"Okay. You can turn around."
"How much do you carry in your backpack?"
Alfred said.
"A couple of days worth." Arthur said. "I don't spend many nights at home. Like you said, I'm obviously not a virgin."
Alfred looked him over. He hadn't thought it would offend him. Or that he would be a prude about being seen shirtless. But he hadn't thought Arthur would ask him for help with school or invite him along to watch a band, either.
"Stop staring at me, Jones." He said. "A picture would last much longer."
"That phrase is old and you said it wrong." Alfred said, avoiding making contact with black-lined green eyes.
"Well come on, if you're still coming."
"Totally still coming." Alfred said. He followed Arthur downstairs. Alfred wasn't expecting to run into his father, who was coming into the front door just as they were going to leave. His father wasn't supposed to finish work until half past seven, after Arthur left.
"Hi, Dad." Alfred said, noticing how Arthur shrunk back behind him slightly. His dad raised his eyebrows.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Out." Alfred said. "I was gonna text you."
"Where are you going out, Al?" His father sighed.
"With Arthur. To his house. We're study buddies." Alfred said, smiling.
"You're Arthur?" Alfred's father gestured towards Arthur.
"Yes, I'm Arthur." Arthur said, drawing himself straighter and stepping forwards.
"Arthur who?"
"Arthur Kirkland." Arthur said.
"I'm Joseph Jones." He held his hand out. "I am very surprised Alfred hasn't introduced us."
Arthur shook his hand.
"Can I go, Dad?" Alfred said.
"Where do you live?"
"Near the train station." Arthur said.
"Dad -"
"Is that a Who patch on your backpack?"
"Dad -" Alfred interrupted, "Please?"
"Yes. I love the Who." Arthur said, noticeably relaxing. Alfred wanted to leave desperately. He was sure his father was two questions away from embarrassing him completely.
"I remember, way back in the day, I could listen to them all day. What's your favourite album, Arthur?"
"Quadrophenia definitely." Arthur said.
"I have the record on vinyl, actually, still works perfectly."
"Dad, please." Alfred said. "Can I go with Arthur to his house. He's going to introduce me some of the dinosaur music,"
"Yes, Alfred, you can go. Make sure you're back by ten." Joseph Jones said. "And Arthur? Make sure you come again, I'll show you that record."
"I'll look forward to it." Arthur said. Alfred waited for his father to disappear into his study before he grabbed Arthur's arm and pulled him out of the house.
Arthur pushed him off, roughly.
"Don't touch me." He said, but then he started laughing.
"What?" Alfred said. He liked Arthur's laugh, even if it was strange and barking and didn't suit him much at all. "Stop laughing at me."
"Why are you so embarrassed?" Arthur said, only just comprehendible through his laughs.
"I'm not." Alfred said, still red and agitated. He really didn't like Arthur laughing at him. Or talking to his dad. Or his dad liking Arthur.
He wasn't embarrassed. He felt jealous. Which was ridiculous. Arthur stopped laughing and stared at him.
"Are you ashamed to be seen with me?" He said. His voice changed from playful to serious in two seconds flat. Alfred was surprised Arthur didn't have whiplash.
"No." Alfred said. "I just...I thought my dad wouldn't like you but he does."
"He doesn't. He likes the Who."
"No. He never talks to my friends like that. He just says hello and then goes to his study. My mom usually does the screening process." Alfred said. "Anyway. Where are we going?"
"The Hole." Arthur said.
"That's like...there's drugs there and cops every other night."
"There's also music." Arthur said. "I'll make sure you don't get corrupted. Unless you want to."
Alfred shrugged and lagged behind. He couldn't help but watch Arthur walk. Those jeans were really tight. He couldn't be blamed.
"Do ya really live near the train station?"
He was trying to make conversation, but it Arthur just shrugged and carried on ahead. Alfred decided to concentrate on Arthur's pink belt, which was an odd choice. Alfred thought Arthur hated color.
"So what kind of band is this? Is it the dinosaur stuff you and my dad bonded over?"
"No. It's more punk than that. They're kind of punk-jazz. The Hole used to be a jazz club, years and years ago."
"Really?" Alfred said. "I prefer country. Anyone who hates it hasn't listened to the real stuff. I like pop music, too. Everyone likes pop music. Apart from you and my dad."
"Do you ever stop talking, Alfred?"
"Nope. What time does this thing start?"
"Headliner usually starts at nine"
"Oh. We're early."
"I know the singer. I said I'd meet him before for something." Arthur said. He stopped suddenly outside a door that Alfred hadn't ever noticed and knocked three loud times. The door opened, and a burly man in a dark suit stood in their way.
"Who's this?"
"He's with me. Don't worry." Arthur said. The guy sighed, but he stepped aside.
"I'm Alfred F. Jones -"
"That's nice, move along kid."
The club was up a flight of stairs, and looked dingy and dark and dirty.
"Do you want a drink?" Arthur said.
"Like, alcohol?"
"Yes. Like alcohol." Arthur said. "'Cause this is the only time I'm ever gonna offer to get you anything."
"Ok. Sure. I'll have whatever you're having."
Arthur nodded and left Alfred stood in the middle of an empty club. The only part that wasn't empty was the bar, which was staffed by a lone bearded man who was chatting to Arthur. Alfred didn't like feeling out of his element. He was really good at parties. But ones at people's houses, where he was already popular. Arthur bought over a beer and pressed into Alfred's hands. He was drinking what looked like whisky.
"I thought I said what you're having."
"I think it's early for you to be drinking whisky, Alfred."
Three men came onto stage, carrying instruments and cases.
Arthur put his drink on the table.
"You can come help."
Alfred followed him, but he was ingnored. Not by the newcomers. Five of the six where civil, at least. The only person Alfred wanted to talk to was stood in the corner with a tall, dark guy who hadn't even looked at Alfred. Alfred watched them disappear into a different room.
"You come with Arthur?" Miles, who was the bassist for the band asked. He had green hair and more piercings than Alfred knew you could get on your face without becoming a human magnet. On a regular day, Alfred knew he'd avoid this guy like the plague.
"Yeah." Alfred said. "We're friends."
One of the other guys, who'd introduced himself as Blue (probably on count of his blue hair and eyes, but Alfred couldn't be sure) snorted.
"Arthur doesn't have friends. He has fucks. And that French guy." Blue said.
"Yeah well, he has me now. Besides, he has lots of friends." Alfred said.
"Where are they now?" Miles said. "He comes here alone, and either leaves with Cain or the French one shows up and drags him home. Sometimes he's with an albino. That's it."
"They're his friends." Alfred said, quietly. He's seen Arthur with lots of people at school. He couldn't be having sex with all of them. That was ridiculous. Arthur came back looking more alert and happier.
"Can I talk to you, Arthur?"
"You can." He said, walking past Alfred and towards his drink.
"Do you have friends?"
Arthur laughed. "Do you?"
He drained the whisky in one sip and sat down.
"Yeah, I do." Alfred said.
"Then so do I."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You started it, Alfred. Relax." Arthur said. "I have friends. You have friends."
Alfred couldn't relax. When people started to file into the club he didn't relax because they weren't his people. Some of them knew Arthur and would speak to him, and then they'd disappear for two minutes and come back and go their separate ways.
And then the band started - Alfred didn't like them, much. Cain couldn't sing all that well and whatever talent the guitarists and saxist had were wasted. Alfred didn't want to have another beer, because he wasn't sure he liked the taste, but Arthur gave him another one and said something, but it was too noisy and Alfred couldn't hear. And then they were separated by a crowd of leather-clad sweaty people, so Alfred swam his way to the bar, clutching the beer like it was a life raft.
He stood relatively comfortably until a strange man, who was probably ten years older than him, planted himself firmly behind Alfred. Too close. Alfred stepped forward.
Arthur had lost Alfred. His head was feeling dizzy and Cain's voice was giving him a headache. He looked around the the cramped and crowed club, eventually seeing Alfred hanging out at the bar and talking to trouble.
"Shit." He wasn't sure if he said it out loud or not.
He pushed his way through the crowd.
"Oh hey, we were just talking about you." Alfred said, brightly.
"I knew I'd find you here." The man smiled.
Arthur gritted his teeth.
"Alfred has to go home." Arthur said, gripping his arm. "Come on."
"Hurry back." The man said.
"Arthur - "
"What?"
Alfred was relieved when they got outside, and the band faded to a faint thumping.
"Who was that?"
Arthur didn't answer. He threw a glance behind him and then he pulled Alfred closer, and he kissed him. Alfred kissed back, his limp hands rested kind-of awkwardly on Arthur's hips, and Arthur ran his through Alfred's soft hair. He tasted like beer, Chapstick, and the kind of toothpaste with a cartoon character on it, usually reserved for children.
"Arthur, I -"
"Sh. It's quarter to ten. You have to get home."
"I'm gay."
"You still have a curfew." Arthur said. "We can talk at school."
"Ok." Alfred said.
"And try not breathe near your parents."
"What? Oh." Alfred said. "Beer. Haha. I have gum."
He was switching from foot to foot. Arthur kissed him on the cheek one last time.
"Bye." He said.
"Wait, who was that man?"
"Don't worry. Go home."
"Bye, Arthur!" Alfred said, before running off down the street. Arthur turned back and walked into the club to face his stepfather.
A/N: Thanks to those who favourited/followed/read/and reviewed and saved an alien from the wild last chapter. It makes me and the aliens happy and fuzzy.