The American had chosen a fancier restaurant than Arthur was expecting, though he told himself not to be surprised and remained silent, still with his arm linked through the taller man's. A handsome young man standing at a small podium smiled at them as soon as they walked in the door. He had dark, neatly combed hair and a nice smile, was almost as tall as Alfred and not quite as broad in the shoulder.
"Hello, table for two?"
"We have a reservation, actually," Alfred replied, his own comfortable grin in place as he interacted with the greeter. "Six o'clock for Jones."
It only took the greeter a moment to locate Alfred's last name on the list and his smile grew slightly. "We have the perfect table for you, Mister Jones." Gesturing for them to follow, he picked up two menus and abandoned the podium.
He led them deeper into the restaurant, past the main seating area to a dimmer section that consisted of smaller tables and booths. There were bouquets and candles set out as the centerpieces and Arthur felt his face grow warm—it was a bit on the romantic side, as he'd suspected it might be. Just like in the tea shop, Alfred pulled his chair out for him before taking his own seat.
The greeter handed them each a menu. "Your waitress for this evening will be here shortly to take your drink orders. Have a lovely evening, gentlemen."
"Thank you," Arthur responded, speaking quietly with his eyes lowered. Still, he didn't miss how the young man flashed a smile at Alfred before walking away from their table. The greeter really was very good looking, definitely the type to work in an elegant restaurant like this one. It made Arthur feel a bit self-conscious and he discreetly made sure that his shirt was straight and tucked in, that his cuffs hadn't been twisted. Did he still look all right? Had the helmet messed up his hair? No, Alfred would have told him so he could fix it. He looked fine. He was okay.
"You're getting quiet again."
Arthur blushed lightly, embarrassed to have been caught examining himself. "Sorry."
"Is something wrong?" Alfred asked with genuine concern.
Glancing up, Arthur saw the blue-eyed man watching him with a small, worried frown; he forced a bright smile. "I'm fine." Despite his assurance and smile, Alfred didn't look like he believed the Brit, and Arthur quickly picked up his menu. "What are you ordering?"
Still frowning a little, Alfred picked up his own menu and scanned it. "I'm not sure—I've never been here before."
"Neither have I."
They were quiet as they tried to decide, though Arthur was only partially focused on his menu. His thoughts kept wandering back to the greeter. Had Alfred looked at him? Stupid question. Of course he'd looked. Why shouldn't he? He was fairly attractive, even handsome. There was no reason for Alfred not to look.
"Hello, gentlemen," a polite voice sounded from beside their table, and both men looked up to see a young woman standing there. She wore a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled back to her elbows and black dress pants with a classic black half-apron tied around her waist.
"Hi," Alfred greeted her with a movie star smile spreading across his face. The woman stared for a moment before offering her own shyer smile.
"Do you know what you would like to drink this evening, sir?"
The flirtatious tone she used made Arthur scowl and he found himself glad that she wasn't looking at him. All of her attention was focused on Alfred and she'd shifted her weight onto one leg so that her hip stuck out. And Alfred was smiling at her with those brilliant blue eyes and perfectly tousled hair—no wonder she'd so quickly decided to pay attention to the American and more or less ignore Arthur. It made him feel hot under the collar and he slouched down in his chair ever so slightly, directing his gaze to the tabletop.
"Actually," Alfred began, turning those damn eyes on Arthur, "you'll have to ask him."
Green eyes widened in surprise and Arthur stared at the taller blond, silently asking him just what the hell he thought he was doing. Unfortunately, the waitress was turning to face him so he quickly sat up in his chair and did his best to smile.
"What can I get for you?" Her tone was completely different as she stared at Arthur, her expression neutral. All the flirtiness she'd been displaying mere seconds ago was gone and she looked bored and a little bit grudging now that Alfred had forced her to pay attention to Arthur.
"Apple cider for me, please." Then he looked at Alfred and smiled. "Just water for him. He's driving us home." His attention went back to the waitress in time to see the look in her eyes at the word "home." She scrutinized him as if trying to figure out why on earth he was there with Alfred, what was so special about him that he'd managed to snare the American's interest. It gave him a vicious sense of pleasure to know that he was the one on a date with the American, rather than her.
"I'll have those right out for you." Her back was stiff as she turned and walked away, and Arthur couldn't help but smirk a little as he watched her vanish around a corner.
"She was something, huh," Alfred commented, and Arthur turned to find amused blue eyes trained on him.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied lightly, though he was still smiling a little.
Alfred grinned. "You handled that really well, Artie," the American's tone turned teasing, "even though you did get jealous when she flirted with me."
"I wasn't jealous," the Brit protested, his cheeks heating slightly.
"Yeah, you were." Alfred smirked and leaned partway across the table. "I know how we can fix that, though."
"And how exactly do you intend to 'fix' my jealousy? Which, by the way, is ridiculous because I wasn't jealous."
"Well," Alfred looked down at the table for a moment before looking up at Arthur through his bangs with a gentle smile. "We could always kiss in front of this waitress, too."
Instantly, Arthur flushed a dark red and looked down at his hands in his lap. "Why on earth would we do that?" he asked quietly, embarrassed to have been reminded of his lapse of self control while they'd been in the tea shop.
"So she'd know I'm only interested in you."
I'm only interested in you.
The words echoed in his head and Arthur felt dizzy for a moment. Alfred was interested in him, after the handsome greeter flashing him that smile, and the waitress flirting with him so openly, somehow, Arthur had managed to keep the American all to himself.
"You git," he muttered, though he was smiling and wouldn't have been able to stop even if he'd wanted to, "you'll get us kicked out before we even get our food, saying things like that."
"So you don't want to kiss me?"
"I didn't say that." He refused to look at him, refused to see that smile and meet those blue eyes, see the want in them because he knew it would be there, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to resist. Just like in the tea shop, he wouldn't even have the chance to think about what he was doing. It would just happen, and Arthur wasn't sure if that was a good thing. Yes, Alfred was handsome, gorgeous—he'd even be willing to use the term "inhuman beauty"—but that was no reason to kiss the man in a tea shop and then a restaurant the day after meeting the American.
To his surprise, Alfred chose not to comment on that and Arthur took the opportunity to look at his menu again in order to decide what to order.
"I think I'll have the dumplings," he said after a moment, finally daring to look up at the American.
Alfred found the meal on his own menu. "Are you choosing that cause it's good or cause it's one of the cheapest things on the menu?"
The green-eyed man almost scoffed because nothing on this menu was cheap, though he resisted. "I'm not going to pick the most expensive option."
"Why not?"
The question took him off-guard and Arthur stared at the American sitting across from him. "Because I'm sure you'll insist on paying for me again and I'm not going to be a git and run up the bill."
"Arthur." A serious yet somehow amused expression appeared on Alfred's face. "Order whatever you want. Don't even look at the prices."
Reluctant, the smaller male examined his counterpart. "Are you sure?"
"Yep."
Wow. This was a situation that Arthur had never been in before. Order whatever he wanted without even bothering to look at what things cost? Alfred was either extremely generous or extremely wealthy.
Idiot. He's a male model vacationing in London for the summer. Of course he has enough money to get a reservation at a nice restaurant and buy whatever meal he wants.
So it really didn't matter if he picked the most expensive item on the menu, but Arthur didn't think he could bring himself to do that even if he had a hundred percent guarantee that it would be the best meal he'd ever have in his entire life. It just wasn't in his character to make a decision without considering all the aspects, and in this case, that meant the cost. But he didn't want to annoy Alfred by seeming stingy, so he forced his green eyes to ignore the small printed numbers as he perused the menu for a second time.
There were a few dozen options to choose from, though most weren't suitable for dinner on a Saturday. It took him several moments to decide what to order since Alfred had vetoed his original choice.
"Roast pork with apple sauce," he announced, though he was careful not to raise his voice since this dim area made him feel as though he would be scolded if he made too much noise.
His own menu open in his hands, Alfred stared back at the Briton, his face blank.
"What?" Arthur asked, feeling self-conscious again.
"You eat apple sauce with roast pork?" the American asked in disbelief.
"Yes, of course."
Alfred blinked, starting to look mildly disgusted. "Dude, that's…weird."
Indignant, Arthur sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "No, it's not."
"Yeah, it is."
"How do you eat your applesauce, then?" the Brit demanded, and Alfred shrugged.
"Usually out of a little plastic cup as a snack or something during the summer, but not with roast pork."
Right. American and British cuisine aren't the same thing.
Doing his best to drop the slight irritation he was beginning to feel, Arthur took a deep breath. "It's a little bit different than the apple sauce you have in America, Alfred. Here, it's very common to eat apple sauce with roasted pork."
"Really?"
Arthur nodded and a thoughtful look replaced Alfred's confused one. "Hm."
It actually gave him a small sense of pride to know that he was more knowledgeable than Alfred about something, even though it was only about the food he'd grown up with. Of course the American didn't know that apple sauce was a common condiment for roast pork. "Have you decided on what you want?"
A grin spread over the American's face and he set down his menu. "Nope."
One of Arthur's eyebrows lifted. "Aren't you going to look?"
"Nope."
"Why not?"
"Cause I'm not ordering."
Arthur set down his menu, tilting his head as he looked at the tall blond sitting across from him. "You're not going to eat? But we're out for dinner."
"Oh, I'll eat. I'm just not ordering."
It was quiet as they stared at each other, then Arthur's face went blank and he sat back in his chair.
"You're going to make me order for you, aren't you."
"Yep."
"Why?" he demanded, and Alfred chuckled. Before the bespectacled tourist could answer, however, their waitress returned with a tray holding two glasses of water.
"Here we are!" she said brightly, setting one glass in front of Alfred with a smile then placing the other on Arthur's side of the table. Once again, she chose to focus on Alfred, and Arthur took the opportunity to scrutinize his companion's expression. Alfred was smiling, everything about his posture and expression the height of manners as he thanked the waitress for their drinks. But Arthur recognized something in the man's eyes, something about the way his smile held just the hint of a smirk, that made him think the American was planning something.
What is he thinking?
"Do you know what you would like to order this evening?" she asked the blue-eyed tourist, and Alfred pointed at Arthur, smile still in place.
"He's the boss, he gets to decide."
The boss? Arthur's face heated and he glared at Alfred for a moment before smiling at the waitress, though he didn't manage to hide his embarrassment. Her expression was irritated now, not simply put out that Alfred wasn't returning any of her invitations for him to flirt with her.
"What would you like?" she asked tonelessly, and Arthur's smile became forced as he tried not to let his own annoyance show.
"The roast pork with apple sauce, please," he responded, pausing as she wrote it down, "and bangers and mash."
A strained smile appeared on the waitresses face. "Great." She turned to Alfred, this time not bothering to widen her smile or cock her hip. "I'll have those out as soon as they're ready." Then she was gone, and Alfred had the biggest grin that Arthur had ever seen.
"You're a wanker," was all Arthur said, and the American burst out laughing.
"You should have seen your face!" he gasped out between laughs, tears forming under his eyes. "And she was so mad that I wouldn't flirt with her!"
Arthur almost couldn't believe how happy this whole situation was making the other man, but he couldn't be annoyed by it. To be honest, he thought it was funny, too, that the waitress had so obviously been attracted to Alfred only for the American to completely ignore it. Eventually, Alfred's laughing became contagious and he let out a few chuckles.
"All right, all right. It was funny," he admitted, and Alfred took several deep breaths to calm himself.
"I'm glad you went along with it, Artie," the American finally managed to say once he'd calmed himself, smiling across the table at the Brit. His blue eyes were even brighter than before and Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat.
"Alfred."
"Yeah?"
Slowly, hesitatingly, Arthur leaned forward across the table and smiled shyly. "You still want that kiss?"
The American's eyes widened in surprise and he nodded mutely before leaning across the table as well. He paused for a moment, staring into Arthur's green eyes, then smiled and closed the gap between them.
As soon as he felt warm lips against his own, Arthur let his eyes fall shut and returned the kiss. It only lasted for a few moments, and he could tell that Alfred was being careful not to get carried away like they had in the tea shop, but it was a nice enough kiss. When the taller man pulled away again, he looked down at the table to hide his blush.
"What's the matter?" Alfred asked quietly, and Arthur shook his head.
"Nothing."
Two kisses in one day. Our first date, and we've kissed twice. What is happening to me? I wanted to do this and have a whirlwind romance adventure and Alfred is definitely capable of sweeping me off my feet. Normally, I'd feel rushed and smothered if someone kissed me twice during the first date, but with Alfred…I don't. He isn't rushing me. He's just…kissable.
"Arthur?"
He looked up at the American and smiled a little. "Yes?"
"Is it all right that I kissed you again?" He looked genuinely worried that he'd done something wrong, and Arthur wanted to hug him.
"Of course it is." He smiled and took a drink of his cider then winked in what he hoped was a playful manner. "It was my idea, after all. You did say that I'm the boss."
A grin spread over Alfred's face. "I did. So, does the boss have any other orders for me?"
Arthur hummed thoughtfully and took another drink. "Not at the moment. But I'll try to come up with something fun for you to do, shall I?"
He could see it in Alfred's face, in the smirk that escaped the American's control and the way he shifted forward in his chair. The American wanted to say something sexual about Arthur's last comment, wanted to up the level of their flirtations. But he was holding back because of how upset Arthur had gotten in the pub, and the Brit knew it. Part of him wanted to give the blue-eyed man permission to say it. He wanted to hear Alfred flirt with him and he wanted to flirt back because the American was kissable and so easy to flirt with that Arthur knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself when those opportunities presented themselves. Not that he wanted to.
"Are you all right, Alfred? You look like there's something you want to say," he pointed out, and an almost pained look came into the American's eyes.
"Nope. I'm good."
The Brit pulled the most innocent expression he could, leaning his elbows on the table. "Are you sure? You can tell me if something's wrong, you know. Boss is always here to listen."
Alfred's face was quickly turning red and Arthur internally gloated over how much he was getting to this man who seemed so unflappable most of the time. This entire situation had completely flipped around and suddenly he was the one flustering Alfred instead of the other way around.
He shouldn't have made me the boss.
To be fair, Alfred didn't know him well enough to realize that Arthur wasn't one to take advantage of being given power, even if it was only the small amount he could get from being "the boss." Besides, there were so many possibilities to consider when it came to Alfred calling him "boss" that Arthur wanted to smirk. If they'd been in an actual relationship, had known each other for some number of months and been dating long enough that Arthur was willing to play games, this would be one of his favorites.
Unfortunately, this was only the first date. Yet they'd somehow stumbled upon the sort of situation that made Alfred squirm in his chair as Arthur casually sipped on his apple cider. This whirlwind romance adventure of his was going to be even more fun than he'd initially realized.