The Sophomore Year
Chapter 9
The flight back was uneventful until Alfred became fixated on the idea of the mile high club.
"I wanna join!" Alfred insisted. Matthew rolled his eyes, though his smile was fond.
"Alfred, do shut up," Arthur replied.
"But Artie, I want this thing! It takes all the dead skin off your feet," Alfred said. Matthew glanced over from his book to see that his friend had one of the sky-high shopping magazines, though why Alfred thought it had anything to do with the "mile-high club" was incomprehensible.
Apparently, Arthur had become fluent in Alfred's randomness.
"Poppet, ordering from that magazine has nothing to do with being in the mile high club. That's a nickname for sexual acts in an airplane," Arthur informed. He was typing on a small laptop, no doubt doing school work. He looked very focused on his work, and was clearly using all his powers of concentration to tune Alfred out.
Alfred's blue eyes widened to the size of small dinner plates. His mouth formed a rather adorable 'O' shape. He sunk down behind the magazine, as if doing so would prevent other passengers in first class from hearing him.
"How do they...ya know? Those curtain barriers they have are practically see-through!" Alfred whispered (too loudly). Matthew's grin widened. Arthur was on his own for this one.
Unsurprisingly, the British royal had a small blush forming on his cheekbones. He was losing the battle of concentration.
"Don't be daft, Alfred. People go...you know...into the bathroom and then they—bollocks, what was I saying? Oh yes," Arthur muttered, before his fingers began flying over the keys on his laptop once again.
Alfred "subtly" scoped out the nearby bathroom, which is to say, he stared at it obviously and with a ridiculous expression of calculation and consideration.
"Heh heh...Artiiieeee..."
"Read your magazine, Alfred," Arthur responded automatically. Alfred pouted. He huffed. He fidgeted in his seat. He finally settled back into reading his shopping magazine.
"I need one of these. It can get juice from a banana! I've never had banana juice before. Oh! Lookee—it can juice and puree," Alfred commented.
"Matthew, I don't suppose you remember when they changed the name of Persia to Iran, do you?" Arthur asked, squinting his green eyes at his paper-in-progress. Before Matthew could reply that he had no idea, Alfred casually flipped a page in his magazine.
"1935. Hey look! An electronic coin sorter! Neat-o."
Both boys stopped what they were doing to stare at Alfred, disbelief written all over their faces. Finally noticing their stares, Alfred arched an eyebrow.
"Hey, what's the big deal? Alfred says something smart and it's a news alert? Geez, guys, I don't only watch Spongebob cartoons. I'll have you know I own the blu-ray box set of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire Greatest Episodes. I've got the game on my iphone and I totally always make it to at least 500,000. I'm, like, secretly a super-genus."
"Did you mean to say 'genius,' or were you trying to refer to yourself as a biology classification?" Matthew asked with an amused snicker. Arthur just shook his head and returned to his paper, neatly typing 1935 where the blinking cursor had been left waiting.
"Whatever, Matthew. You're just jealous of the coin-sorter I'm gonna buy with all that money I win in Who Wants to Be a Millionaire," Alfred replied, leaning over Arthur to stick his tongue out at Matthew. Arthur shoved him off, muttering under his breath about the Persian kings.
"I am, eh? Let's just hope the million dollar question isn't how to spell 'genius'."
"Goodness Matthew. Someone's getting rather cheeky," Arthur said with a small smirk of amusement. Matthew just shrugged his shoulders and childishly returned the rude expression to Alfred. It felt good to be silly with his best friend again. Alfred had to escalate it by jamming his nose up as if it were a pig snout and baring his fangs.
"Boys..." Arthur said warningly. Matthew, however, just pointed dramatically towards the aisle.
"An airplane ghost!"
"WHAT?" Alfred roared, instantly clutching onto Arthur with a death grip and accidentally tapping the escape key as he did so. Arthur fumbled for the "cancel" button but it was no good—in the clatter of his laptop slipping off his lap as Alfred tried to steal its spot, his paper was erased.
"ALFRED!" Arthur roared, startling all the first-class passengers. Matthew didn't even bother to look sheepish as he grinned out the window. Realizing he'd been fooled, Alfred shook his head in a threatening manner.
"Ohhh...I see how you're going to play this, Mattie-kins. You're a sneaky little syrup-sucking devil, aren't you? Well! Shows what you know! Airplane ghosts are not real. You just made that up!"
"I'm going to turn you into a ghost if I can't recover that history paper," Arthur growled, pushing the squirming, leech-like teen out of his lap and back into his own seat. Alfred, predictably, began to pout.
"He started it."
"And I'm finishing it. There are no airplane ghosts and there will be no more of your fidgeting and face-making. Matthew, don't distract him when he's occupying himself as he ought. Alfred, read your magazine."
"I don't want to read. It's hard," Alfred whined. Matthew snorted in amusement. Arthur shot him a warning look.
"I will leave you two here and go sit in coach if that's what it takes to get some bloody peace and quiet," Arthur threatened.
There was approximately forty seconds of silence.
"Maaatttiiieee...buy me this thing. You didn't get me a birthday present!" Alfred complained. As he did so, he shoved the magazine across Arthur's annoyed face in order to shove it into Matthew's. The Canadian scowled and pushed it away, curiously noting what Alfred was admiring.
"Al, why the heck would you need a water purifier?"
"In case Alex wants to take me to his homeland. Mexican water has worms in it," Alfred said with a superior air. Matthew scowled.
"For the last time—Alex is NOT from Mexico!" Matthew replied in genuine annoyance. Arthur took a deep, bracing breath.
"I'd swear, if I didn't know better, I would think you two were bickering brothers...bickering 6-year-old brothers. We're nowhere near landing, and I think the two of you are slowing time with your foolishness. Would you both please let me work on this paper?" Arthur chastised.
Both boys turned away in a huff...until five minutes later when Alfred stuck out his tongue at Matthew and started the cycle all over again.
USUKUSUK
Michelle was waiting outside of Alfred's room, which didn't surprise Arthur. Alfred's mother and his publicist had finally gotten in touch with him once he landed in America again to tell him about the commercial. Naturally, Alfred was ridiculously excited and overly-confident about it.
"I'm gonna sell so many—what am I selling again, Artie?" he asked. Arthur struggled with his carry on bag for a moment only to have Alfred scoop it off his shoulder as if it weighed nothing. Alfred was already carrying all their other bags.
"Teen deodorant," Arthur reminded. "I presume you'll be the one with a pit-odor problem, which isn't far from the truth, I might add," Arthur jibed. Alfred stuck out his tongue.
"You love the smell of my pits," Alfred replied.
"I most certainly do not. You smell terrible after practice," Arthur replied.
"That's the smell of success!"
"Then I'd hate to smell failure. Oh...guess word travels quickly," Arthur said quietly, when he realized who stood at the end of the hallway. Michelle noticed them and waved. She seemed polite enough the few times Arthur had encountered her—a little jaded about love, perhaps, but kind to Francis at the very least.
"Wow," Alfred said a little breathlessly. Arthur looked at him sharply and Alfred knew he was in trouble. "Arttttiiiee! I didn't mean it like that! I mean, look at her!" Alfred whispered (not so quietly). Arthur, cheeks pink with irritation, simply stomped ahead.
"Welcome back. How's Francis?" she asked immediately. Still annoyed that her beauty had struck Alfred speechless, Arthur moved past her rather curtly.
"As well as can be expected. I suppose you're waiting for Alfred. I apologize in advance for all the drooling," Arthur grumbled. Behind him, he heard Alfred's sigh.
What he didn't expect, however, was being quickly caught around his middle and swung around, as if he were one of the pieces of luggage.
"Put me down, you sod!" Arthur half-shouted. Alfred, however, wrapped one arm firmly around his middle and extended the other to Michelle.
"Hiya Michelle. I'm Alfred. This is Arthur. He's pretty much your opposite—short, pale, and most definitely a dude—but he's pretty much the most sexiest boyfriend ever. We may be working together now, but you'll just have to resist my charm, because I'm totally and completely in love with this guy. Got it?" Alfred asked cheerily. His hand was still extended warmly.
Giggling slightly at the mortified look on Arthur's face, Michelle extended her hand daintily. Alfred gave it a much too firm shake and released her, but he didn't let go of Arthur.
"Please don't go just yet, babe? Michelle probably knows more about the commercial than I do, and I want you to hear about it, too. If you don't think it sounds like a good thing for me, then I definitely won't do it," Alfred said firmly, his voice full of sincerity. Arthur felt his face heat up for an entirely different reason now.
"Would you get off already? I'm not...I'm not going anywhere!" Arthur replied fussily.
"Awesome," Alfred replied happily, finally releasing Arthur.
"Uh," Michelle said a little hesitantly. So far, they'd been talking about her, but it didn't feel like they were talking to her. In fact, she seemed to be witnessing some weird, unspoken conversation between them that consisted mostly of mild glares, apologetic pouting, and innocent little touches.
A shaky smile from Arthur; a relieved grin in answer from Alfred. She realized they must have been very close for a long time to be able to communicate in such a way.
"You two really are as lovey-dovey as the magazines say. You make a cute couple," Michelle commented absently. Arthur looked scandalized. Alfred just beamed.
"We are most certainly not—"
"Thanks!" Alfred replied, overpowering Arthur's protest at the phrase "lovey-dovey."
"So...did you want to head inside and talk about the magazine a bit or are you guys tired from traveling? I can come back later," Michelle offered.
Arthur was surprised when Alfred left him to answer her.
"It's up to you, hun. Feel up to it or do you want to crash?" Alfred asked, directing his question at Arthur.
"Well, honestly, I'm quite worn out," Arthur said, blushing slightly. Alfred collected the bags again from the hallway floor.
"You heard him. We're gonna hit the sack a little early since we have class tomorrow. We definitely need to talk more, though. Catch ya later?" Alfred asked Michelle breezily. She smiled at his perfect, charming smile. Arthur was lucky.
"Sure. See you two later," she replied with a small wave. She was nearly out of the hallway when she heard Alfred resume speaking to Arthur.
"Do you want me to crash in my room or can I come stay with you?" Alfred asked. Arthur's voice was much softer, but she still clearly heard his reply.
"Oh come on then...but if I catch your eyes wandering again I'll pluck them out. Then I'd dump you."
"I love you too, Artie."
"Shut up," Arthur replied.
Smiling, Alfred followed after Arthur towards the room that was now solely his until Francis returned.
The entered and unloaded their bags, falling onto the bed in a lazy sprawl.
"So...think Francis is going to be okay?" Alfred asked. Arthur, who was using Alfred's chest as a pillow, merely shrugged.
"I guess. He seemed sad when we left, but resolved to stick by his mum and help her out. Maybe he just needs to focus on someone other than himself for awhile," Arthur mused. After a moment of comfortable silence he added, "I was surprised Matthew came with you."
"I think he was surprised, too. He seemed really interested in which flight I was taking, which seemed kinda weird at the time. I didn't know he was coming along till I was practically on my way to the airport," Alfred said. Then, with great reluctance he said, "I guess he really does love Francis, huh?"
"I'm a terrible judge of those sorts of things. Whether they date or don't date is of no concern to me—I only want them to both be happy," Arthur said. Alfred sighed, his blue eyes tracing tiny cracks in the ceiling.
"Saving people from their problems seemed so much easier last year. I've been trying all this time to think of how to fix it for Mattie, but I got nothing," Alfred huffed. Arthur smiled fondly but Alfred couldn't see the other boy's expression.
"We're not kids anymore, Alfred. It's not black and white. Maybe it never was," Arthur said. Alfred gently carded his fingers through Arthur's shaggy blond hair in a distracted sort of way, as if petting the other boy helped him to think.
"I think people still need heroes...Mattie and Francis included. I haven't figured it out yet, but you'll see—I'll find a way to help."
Arthur rolled up and turned, so that he was gazing down on the boy he loved so very much. The familiar light of determination burned in Alfred's blue eyes, and unsurprisingly, he had a stubborn set to his jaw. Arthur kissed him softly, chastely.
"If anyone can, it'd be you, love."
Alfred smiled widely and then darted his head forward, catching Arthur in another kiss. Alfred's hands tangled up in Arthur's button-up and he pulled the British royal down, to lay against his chest so that their hearts beat out to one another, echoing each other.
"I'm sorry I checked out Michelle," Alfred said, when their sweet kiss had ended. Arthur flushed red.
"I'd prefer you not ogle models, but I suppose you made it clear enough how you'd feel about the matter if she were to hit on you," Arthur said. Alfred rolled his hips slightly, so that Arthur felt his growing excitement. Just being near Arthur, feeling his skin, hearing his accent, smelling his shampoo—all of it was enough to make Alfred's body tense with need and want.
"She can't make me feel like this," Alfred promised, begging Arthur for another kiss. The other teen obliged, and opened his mouth so that their tongues met and caressed. The sounds of their mouths connecting, a quiet, wet sound, made Arthur's toes curl. The room was chilly, and both boys had goosebumps all over their skin.
Arthur moved the kiss from Alfred's mouth to the other boy's strong jaw, kissing hotly. Alfred moaned deeply and tossed his head back, giving Arthur better access to his vulnerable throat. Arthur took the bait and nipped and licked his way towards Alfred's Adam's apple. He sucked vigorously once there for a long while, until Alfred's pulse throbbed in the shorter teen's mouth.
"Suck me off, Arthur," Alfred begged. The vibrations from his throat hummed against Arthur's tongue. The British boy grinned and pulled back.
"And just what exactly have you done lately to deserve such a treat, hmm?" Arthur asked tauntingly. Alfred's pleasure-sated blue eyes widened in surprise.
"Wha?" he asked inarticulately. Arthur was rarely playful in bed, though it was a side of him that was beginning to come out more and more often. Arthur was highly curious to see how Alfred would respond. Usually, they were both so horny around one another that they had no time for games. It was all about reaching the final goal.
On this particular afternoon, however, Arthur felt his own need could wait awhile. He wanted to make Alfred squirm.
"I asked you..." Arthur kissed Alfred's chin with a smile, "What you've done..." Arthur kissed Alfred's nose next, "To earn a blow job?" Arthur playfully pecked Alfred's moistened lips.
"Uhh...I love you?" Alfred offered hopefully. Arthur could feel the other boy's hardness straining against his jeans. Clearly, his boyfriend had minimal brain power for creativity when all his blood was rushing to his cock.
Straddling the taller teen, Arthur sat back a bit and began to slowly undo the buttons on his shirt. He revealed his hairless chest slowly to Alfred's greedy gaze.
"I'll do whatever you want, babe," Alfred said distractedly, his blue orbs glued to the button of Arthur's khakis.
"Anything?" Arthur asked, with a devious smirk. Alfred licked his lips, desperate for Arthur to free the button from the hole.
"Yeah," the other boy agreed innocently. Arthur's smirk widened.
"Would you fuck somewhere against the rules?" Arthur asked. Alfred's eyes widened and he looked up from the mesmerizing button.
"Huh?" he said. Arthur unbuttoned his pants, but did not move the zipper. Instead, he teasingly palmed himself and gently stroked the bulge in his pants.
"Because I happen to know that Professor Allowick has his conference period right now, and he always goes to grade papers in the teacher's room. He also leaves his classroom unlocked."
"Artie, what are you—" But before Alfred could finish voicing his confusion, Arthur had stood up and shrugged his button-up back on. He only did up four of the buttons and licked his lips.
"I'm going to the empty classroom. You can join me if you'd like...if you're not too scared, that is," Arthur suggested mildly. He left casually, as if he was in no big hurry. Stunned, Alfred's mind raced for all of three seconds before he was off the bed bolting after his boyfriend.
'I can't believe he wants to—in Mr. Allowick's classroom! What if we get caught? Oh god, I'll never be able to think about biology the same way again!' Alfred's mind raced in a jumbled mash-up of shock.
The hallway was blessedly empty (most of the students were either still in class or outside studying) and Arthur slowed down a bit, letting Alfred catch up and push him against the lockers.
"We can't really do this!" Alfred protested. Arthur tugged Alfred's head against his own in a harsh, needy lip-lock.
"We can't...or we shouldn't?" Arthur replied when they parted, panting for air.
"Both!" Alfred replied. Arthur, however, just chuckled rebelliously and slipped out of Alfred's grasp, as difficult to grasp firmly as an eel.
"Come on...it's just down this hallway. Nobody will catch us," Arthur whispered teasingly. Then, he disappeared inside the classroom, leaving Alfred with a stiffy in the hallway—nervously eying the empty hall and the long stretches of shiny, new lockers.
"Fuck it!" Alfred hissed. He slipped into the classroom after Arthur. As soon as he did, Arthur pushed him against the wall (they knocked over the trashcan) and wrapped a leg around Alfred's hips. If Alfred had thought his hard-on was intense before, now it was ridiculous. His skin felt electric, and his ears had never strained so hard for the sound of oncoming footsteps.
"Arthur!" Alfred gasped, when the shorter boy boldly grabbed Alfred's cock and gave it a little squeeze.
"Come on—up on the desk," Arthur instructed, backing away once more with a come-and-get-me grin. Alfred shook his head in disbelief, but followed after him, until they stood inches apart from each other in front of the big, relatively empty desk, sizing each other up.
"I'm going to suck you off, and then I'm going to fuck you on this desk," Arthur said huskily. Alfred sucked in air greedily, still winded from the effort of sneaking into the classroom.
"What if he comes back?" Alfred asked, but it was too late. Arthur turned him suddenly, and roughly pushed him backwards. The piece of furniture shifted under Alfred's weight, and made a horribly loud noise as it slid across the floor. They both froze, not even daring to breathe.
"Somebody heard that for sure!" Alfred whispered harshly, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights.
"We better do this fast then. Lie back!" Arthur hissed back, not willing to give an inch. Alfred marveled at how crazy this was before he gave a little hop onto the desk, decided to just fuck it, and laid back with parted legs. Arthur made quick work of his pants and then his cock was exposed to the cool air of the classroom. Alfred could just barely see some motivational posters out of the corner of his eye, as well as the grinning skeleton model pushed up in the corner, haunting the space as usual, grinning at them like mad with a knowing, perverted glint in its eye sockets.
Arthur was about to suck him off in the biology classroom. It was after that realization that Alfred's brain simply short-circuited. Arthur's mouth closed around his cock and with just a few powerful sucks, he was coming so hard that it was almost painful. Just as quickly as Alfred had come, Arthur spat into his hand, slicked his arousal, and shoved Alfred's legs apart wider. Boneless from his orgasm, Alfred could only grunt weakly as Arthur slid deep inside him with no preparation. It burned, but in a deliciously good way. Alfred weakly wrapped his ankles around Arthur's bony hips and clenched feebly at the edge of the desk. It made another god-awful, ear-splitting screeching noise as the desk shifted again over the tile floor.
"Fuck!" Alfred hissed. Arthur jabbed Alfred's prostate with ruthless accuracy and Alfred began to moan. He'd never been so grateful for a closed door in all his life. As terribly good as it felt to have Arthur so deep inside him, sliding in and out roughly with wild abandon, Alfred's eyes stayed glued to the door—waiting—
Arthur grunted, forcefully expelled all the air in his lungs, came hard inside Alfred, and then pulled out. He staggered backwards, zipping himself up awkwardly and quickly.
"Hurry!" Arthur hissed. Not needing to be told twice, Alfred half stumbled off the desk, feeling Arthur's seed dribbling out of his abused little hole, his cock already twitching again and leaking pre-cum. It was a desperate grab for his pants, and he fell into them rather than putting them on. He buttoned his pants but didn't zip them, took a few limping steps toward the door and then found his stride. Alfred's blue eyes flew to the hallway clock outside the door—the bell for dismissal would ring in less than 30 seconds. Arthur was already half-way down the hall, sprinting back towards the dormitory. Alfred tore after him, wincing with each step, his heavy footsteps thundering in the empty hall. The only sound was their labored breathing.
At the corner, Arthur stopped and turned back, his hand outstretched. Alfred reached as hard as he could and their fingers connected, intertwined, and then Arthur was literally pulling him off his feet. They slid around the corner, holding hands tightly, and darted into their still open dorm room. Arthur slammed the door, locked it, and was on Alfred in a second as the dismissal bell chimed muted in the distance. They kissed passionately, ripping off clothing, laughing like crazy idiots.
"I can't believe—" Arthur laughed.
"Where the hell did that come from?" Alfred blurted. All the same, Alfred felt elated. He felt invincible. He lifted Arthur into his arms and twirled him, kissing the other boy hard.
"I love you," Alfred said breathlessly. Arthur was still laughing, almost hysterically. Half-naked, kissing Alfred wherever skin was revealed, pressed firmly in the circle of the other boy's arms, Arthur finally began to calm down.
"I love you more," Arthur replied sincerely. For a moment, they stopped kissing and touching and talking. They simply held gazes and panted in unison, hugging tightly, feeling wild and young and absolutely crazy for each other.
USUKUSUK
"How'd it go?" Alex asked, helping Matthew with his bags. The quieter boy sighed forlornly and dropped onto his bed. It was rather neatly made, while Alex's half of the room was a little sloppy. Still, it was a comfortable living arrangement, and Matthew enjoyed having Alex as a roommate.
"It was stressful. I'm jetlagged, and I tried to figure out what I want to do about Francis the entire way back and I still can't think of anything. I'm trying so hard but I just can't put my thoughts into words," Matthew said, pouring out all his frustration.
"It sounds rough. How did Arthur and Alfred do at the funeral?" Alex asked. Matthew gave a delicate shrug.
"It was stressful on everyone, and sad, too. I'm sure they'll help each other cope, though."
"And I'll help you," Alex said with an easy grin. "Do we need hockey, Canadian ice cream, or both?"
Matthew gave Alex a hesitant smile, grateful for the other boy's kind, friendly presence after the emotional roller coaster of the past four days.
"Definitely both. Nothing burns off stress like ice cream," Matthew said with a smile.
"Oh! I got something to show you," Alex said. "But before I do...I want you to promise that you'll at least go check it out with me. Do you promise?" Alex asked. Curious, Matthew gave a nervous shrug.
"O-okay. What is it?" he asked. Beaming, Alex unfolded a battered looking piece of paper and held it up for Matthew's inspection.
"Hockey try-outs!" Alex said.
Matthew laughed. "You're joking, right? I mean...I couldn't play hockey."
Alex frowned, and plopped down on Matthew's bed beside him. He was perfectly serious, and not at all joking.
"Why not?" he asked. "You like it. We've watched so many old hockey games this summer that even I'm starting to learn all the Canadian teams."
"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean..." Matthew protested weakly.
"You promised you'd at least go and see what it's like," Alex reminded sternly. Matthew reluctantly took the paper. It was for a local youth league, unaffiliated with the school. They were having try-outs at the beginning of September, training for a month, and then their season started with a game on October first.
"There's no way I'm in good enough shape," Matthew said. Alex grinned.
"Then we can train together. I'm getting way too fat, and you wanna be more manly, right?"
"W-well yeah, but..."
"No buts. We can do this! You'll kick butt at these try-outs and then we'll get in shape together!" Alex encouraged.
Matthew's lavender eyes read over every word of the advertisement, committing it to memory.
"It would probably make my dad really proud...if I got on the team. He's a huge hockey fan," Matthew said hesitantly. Alex's smile widened. "My dad and I don't really have much to talk about, but since we've been watching the games, we had a phone conversation the other day that nearly lasted ten whole minutes. It was...really nice, you know, for him to actually hear me," Matthew confessed softly.
Alex knew. He'd found the team after overhearing said conversation, and realizing that his friend needed something to make him feel proud of himself. Even if he didn't make the team, Matthew needed the experience. He needed the challenge.
"So we can go?" Alex asked. Biting his lip nervously, Matthew hesitated but eventually nodded his head once, slowly.
"Okay," he nodded again, more determinedly this time, "Y-yeah, we'll definitely go," Matthew said.
"Chido!" Alex said happily, holding his hand up for an enthusiastic high-five. With a shy little smile, Matthew slapped hands with his roommate.
"Thanks for finding it for me, Alex," Matthew said. It was obvious Matthew was thanking Alex for more than just the information about the hockey team. He was thanking him for having just what Matthew needed to get his mind off of his trip to France and what had happened with his ex-boyfriend.
A/N: I'm not dead! I've just been incredibly busy. Oh, and yesterday my truck was stolen. Can you believe that? You know the WORST part? I'd just gotten back from RealmsCon, so all the stuff I'd bought (art posters, souvenirs, YAOI) all inside. Gone. Like 150 bucks worth of merchandise and art. Plus, I had the CUTEST AlfredXArthur fanart that I might never be able to find again because of some stupid ghetto car thief. Keep the truck—I don't even care, dude. Bring back my yaoi!
By they way, I hope you liked the chapter. I know it's not epic or anything, but it was hard getting back into the swing of it after taking such a long break!