He couldn't do this. He just couldn't.
No, no, it's fine. I'm fine. I can do this.
Losing his nerve for about the fifteenth time, Arthur turned to go back into his apartment but forced himself to stop. This was no time to turn into a bleeding coward. A deep breath helped to soothe his nerves, then he turned and leaned against the railing of the stairs leading to his front door. He tried to keep a small, calm smile in place, but he was so self-conscious that it kept slipping into a worried frown or a smile that might come off as a little bit mad.
Relax, will you? It's not that big of a deal.
How was he supposed to relax, though? Alfred was coming to pick him up and they were going on a date. His mind was still reeling from it even though he'd been getting ready for the last two-and-a-half hours. By all rights, it shouldn't have taken him nearly as long as it did, but he'd purposefully drawn out his bath in the hopes that hot water would calm him down. It hadn't worked, so he'd resorted to lighting candles and having a cup of tea, so he'd spent a good twenty minutes doing that. Combined with the bath, he'd used up at least an hour-and-a-half before he even started to get dressed. And then, despite having picked out his clothes beforehand, he'd second-guessed himself and changed more times than he cared to count just to end up in the original outfit he'd chosen.
Now, dressed with his hair combed neatly and his blazer folded over his arm, he was standing on his front steps to wait for Alfred to arrive. He wasn't sure how the American intended to "pick him up," because he hadn't seemed to own a car when they'd met the night before, but if Alfred had a means of transportation, then Arthur wasn't going to argue. Personally, his only means of transportation was a bike that rarely made it outside.
Foot tapping nervously, he glanced at his watch and the nervous smile reappeared on his pale face—Alfred would be there any minute.
This is a terrible idea. He's going to think I'm boring just like everyone else. I should call him and tell him something came up.
Hesitantly, Arthur pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened a new message, but his fingers refused to type the words. He just couldn't bring himself to cancel, not when it was so close to five o'clock. It was too late to call Alfred and tell him not to come.
The phone was slowly put back into his pocket, then Arthur took another deep breath and shook himself a little. He was fine. He could do this.
Just then, a dull roar reached his ears and Arthur looked towards the corner, his interest caught. What on earth was that? His question was answered only a few seconds later when a large, dangerous-looking machine came around the corner and sped towards him down the street.
Bloody hell! That can't be Alfred!
To his horror, the bike slowed as it drew near, curving towards the curb, then came to a halt; the man astride it stopped the engine and straightened before removing his helmet. Sure enough, sitting astride that bike as if it was a throne and he was the king of the world, Alfred shook out his ash blond hair and grinned at Arthur.
"Hey." He paused, blue eyes examining the Brit. "You look great."
Arthur blushed lightly. "Thank you." It was all he could manage to say. He was too busy staring at the bike Alfred was straddling so comfortably. His limbs felt stiff and heavy and he didn't think he could have taken a step closer to the American if his life depended on it.
"You okay?" Alfred asked, frowning in concern. Hanging his helmet on one of the bike's handlebars, he used his foot to release a kick stand and got off the bike, letting it lean heavily on the stand as he came up the stairs to where Arthur was still frozen. "Arthur?"
Green eyes flickered towards him before going back to the bike. Even still and abandoned by its rider, the machine was menacing; he swallowed thickly.
"Are we…riding that?" he asked quietly, and Alfred nodded enthusiastically.
"Sure are!" His grin dazzled Arthur for a moment and he looked at the motorcycle with obvious pride. "Harley Davidson Sportster 1200, custom made for yours truly."
Yes, the bike was obviously custom made. There was something about it that, while Arthur was terrified of the thought of actually riding it, fit Alfred as if he was meant to drive that bike and nothing else. And the paint job was obviously just as American as Alfred himself. Red and white stripes, star-spangled blue and even the screeching head of a bald eagle decorated the bike.
"It's…lovely," he commented, forcing a small smile.
"Come on!" His excitement getting the better of him, Alfred took hold of the Brit's hand and pulled him down the last few steps until they were both standing on the curb; Arthur's face turned a deep red and he looked down at the black leather-clad hand wrapped firmly around his own.
He's holding my hand.
"Oh! Almost forgot!" With an embarrassed laugh, Alfred reached out and took the helmet off the handlebar and held it out to Arthur. "I only have one helmet," he said apologetically, and Arthur accepted the helmet with a nervous smile. With Alfred's help, he managed to put it on and settle it comfortably around his skull. Then Alfred, in a movement so easy that it was obvious he'd done it countless times, swung a leg over the bike and straightened it—the kickstand sprang back into place.
"Come on, Artie," he said, holding a hand out to the Brit.
Nervous, Arthur put on his blazer so as not to lose it then placed his hand into Alfred's and carefully climbed onto the bike, taking his place behind the American as the leather seat creaked under their combined weight. It was strange but not uncomfortable, and he found that he didn't mind being so close to Alfred. The American smelled like leather and some sort of spicy cologne.
"Wrap your arms around me," Alfred commanded gently, patting his side to show where, then he pointed to a spot behind Arthur's leg, "and prop your feet up on those little braces."
Arthur obediently did as he was told, holding onto the bike and Alfred as tightly as he could without hurting the man sitting in front of him.
The American looked over his shoulder, grinning when he met Arthur's nervous gaze; the green of his eyes was visible even through the tinted visor. "Ready?"
"I-I guess," the Briton forced out, and Alfred's grinned widened.
"Hold on tight!" Then he brought the motorcycle to life, rumbling like a beast as it vibrated beneath them. The sensation sent tingles up Arthur's spine and he bit his lip to stifle a quiet moan that probably wouldn't have been audible over the bike's engine, anyway. But he still didn't want to give off any signs that the bike was actually turning him on a little. It was just a bike, after all. He didn't have a chance to think of anything else before Alfred revved the engine and set off down the street.
I'm going to die oh my god!
Why didn't this thing have a seatbelt?! It was dangerous and bloody stupid to put this big of a machine on the road without seatbelts! The wind pulled at his clothes as if trying to strip him naked and he could feel himself starting to slide backwards; his arms tightened around Alfred as he pulled himself back into the proper position.
"You okay?" The wind nearly stole Alfred's words away before Arthur could hear them.
"F-fine!" he shouted back, face tucked into the American's shoulder to keep from being buffeted by the wind.
"Lean with me!"
It took him a moment to understand what that meant, but when Alfred turned the bike around a corner, Arthur felt himself being pulled to the outside and clung to the larger male even tighter, following his movements so he wouldn't cause them to crash. And, as terrified as he was of the bike, it only took him a few moments of having his eyes shut tight with his helmeted head buried in Alfred's back for him to start to calm down. The torso his arms were around was sturdy, Alfred rode the bike with confidence and ease, and the machine between his legs ran like it was brand new.
Okay…maybe it's not so bad, he told himself, opening one eye enough to watch buildings pass by on their left. They weren't going that fast, only twenty-five miles or so, and he felt safe enough after realizing that to sit up a little straighter and actually look around. Already, they were several blocks from his apartment, heading towards a small business district where they could stop for tea and grab dinner on the same street. He knew the area fairly well—it was a good place to go on a first date.
At least he knows what he's doing.
Several minutes later, Alfred turned the motorcycle onto the street and came to a stop after rolling into an empty parking space. Most of the street was full of pedestrians, and all the shops were close enough to walk to within a few minutes, so there was little sense in trying to take the bike all the way to the shop he wanted to visit.
"You can let go now," he said, grinning over his shoulder again. Not that he minded that Arthur hadn't released his hold on the American's waist, but he did need the Brit to let go if they were going to get up.
Slowly, Arthur took his hands from where he'd locked them together around Alfred's middle and shakily got up, his knees just a little wobbly. He took a few stumbling steps away from the motorcycle as he struggled to remove the helmet; hands covered his own and he froze.
"Let me." With a gentle tug, Alfred easily removed the helmet and tucked it under his arm. "How was the ride?"
Free of the helmet, the smaller blond patted at his hair self-consciously, hoping it wasn't mussed from wearing the helmet. Only once he was satisfied that it was still presentable did he look up and meet Alfred's gaze.
"It was interesting, to say the least."
"You didn't seem like you'd ever been on a bike before," the American commented as the two began making their way down the street.
"I hadn't."
Of course not. "Well, maybe that won't be the only thing I get to introduce you to," he responded in a slightly flirtatious tone, resisting the urge to wink and slip his arm around the Brit's waist to pull him close. Those tactics, the ones he relied on for food, had already failed him once and he wasn't about to be rejected again in front of all these people. That, and he didn't want to simply seduce Arthur. Just looking at those green eyes, so much brighter during the day than they'd been in the bar last night, made him want to win the Brit over in every way he could manage.
Arthur blushed at the implication in Alfred's tone, gaze downturned in a shy manner that Alfred found to be adorable. "Maybe."
Who is this guy?
All it took was that shy response and he wanted to pull the smaller man into a hug, lift him off his feet and spin him around in a circle, then set him down again and kiss him while he was still breathless. In his head, it was a great idea and Alfred found himself grinning just imagining it.
But he tucked his hands safely into his pockets as he walked beside the shorter blond with a lazy grin fixed in place. He wanted to put his arm around the Brit's shoulder or hold his hand—he'd given in for a moment by pulling the older man down the steps of his apartment—but he knew he shouldn't do either of those, not on the first date. Besides, he'd already gotten Arthur onto a motorcycle. It was probably best not to push it, at least for today.
Quiet, Alfred led the way to small tea shop that was tucked between two larger buildings. A bell jingled above the door as they entered, and Alfred looked around curiously, still smiling.
"Nice place."
Arthur nodded in agreement. It was a cozy little shop, with small tables where two or three or even just one person could sit and enjoy their tea or whatnot, read a book or watch the people walk by outside. There was a small sign that read, "Please Seat Yourselves" just inside the door, so Alfred chose a table near the front windows where they'd be able to look outside if they wanted to. Smiling, he pulled a chair out for Arthur and pushed it in for him as the Brit sat.
"Thank you," Arthur said, looking a little surprised at the American's manners.
Alfred grinned as he settled into the other chair across the table from the golden blond. "Come on, you didn't think I was gonna be bad at this whole date thing, did you? Cut me some slack."
The Brit blushed lightly and looked down at the white tablecloth. "No, I didn't think that." He didn't voice the fact that he was positive Alfred was going to be nothing short of a god during this date and that he, Arthur, would in fact be the one to mess things up.
"So, what would you like to talk about?" Alfred asked, resting his forearms on the table as he smiled at the shorter blond.
"Oh, um," green eyes darted around the café as Arthur searched desperately for something to talk about, something other than his boring job or boring hobbies, "well, why don't you tell me about your experiences here in London so far?"
Well, I had sex with a complete stranger last night and I met you and that's about it. She was drunk and probably doesn't even remember my name but I'm used to that. Food is food, you know? And I mean, she instigated it so I'm not gonna feel bad about a one-night stand.
Yeah, that was exactly what he wanted to say to Arthur. Perfect. He'd end up with a fork in his forehead and an angry Brit storming out of the shop, slamming the door on his way. No way in hell was he saying any of that.
"Eh, you know. Met a cute guy, scored his number, goin' on a date. Pretty excited about it."
Arthur's face was practically flaming. Cute? Excited? "O-oh? How d'you think it's going?"
The American grinned, looking down at the tabletop so that he could peer at Arthur over his glasses and through his bangs. "Pretty well, actually. I think he likes me."
That made Arthur's blush darken even more and he looked away from those amazing eyes, fiddling with how his silverware were arranged on his napkin. Was he really that transparent that Alfred could already tell how very attracted he was to the tourist? He was usually so cold and detached from his feelings that being flirted with to blatantly was a little unnerving. Yet Alfred was flawless in his flirtation.
"Do you, now?" he asked, trying to play a bit coy because he really had too much pride to give in so easily, especially to someone he'd just met.
"Yeah, I mean, he agreed to go out with me, so that's gotta mean somethin'," Alfred pointed out, "and I think he trusts me already."
Now Arthur placed his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together, letting his chin rest on them. He couldn't help but smirk just slightly at the game they'd started to play. "Why do you think that?"
"I got 'im on my bike."
"And you think that means he likes you."
"Yep. Gettin' a guy on your bike is a pretty big deal." With a self-congratulatory grin, Alfred leaned back in his chair with his hands locked behind his head. "I got a feelin' this guy's gonna be different from the rest, and I think I like that."
The word made Arthur's heart skip a beat—he was different? "How so?"
How to put this in a way that wouldn't be offensive to the polite Briton sitting across the table. Blue eyes examined Arthur's face, noting how one eyebrow was lifted just slightly to compliment his smirk, how his expression was calm and relaxed despite the faint blush that still lingered around the pale man's neck.
"Well, for starters, he's the first guy to ever lecture me about being cocky."
Arthur groaned internally, remembering once again how completely unlike himself he'd been in the pub last night. It was completely unlike him to accuse anyone, much less a stranger, of being "cocky," especially over something so small and harmless as flirting. "Is that all?"
"He's also the best-looking man I've ever met, and he seems pretty smart, and accents are sexy so that's always a plus," Alfred listed off the traits as if he'd actually taken the time to think about why he liked Arthur. He pretended not to notice the way the smaller man blushed, choosing instead to smile widely because it really was adorable to see the smaller man all flustered
Kiss him, his brain urged, but he ignored that because he wasn't hungry and he wasn't going to make a total ass of himself when he was just finally starting to really make a good impression on Arthur.
"Good luck with him, then. I'm sure he won't be able to resist you."
The compliment made Alfred grin. "That's what I'm hoping."
This whole "date" business was already going just as well has he' dared to hope.