"Hurry up, Al! We're hungry!" The sound of Feliks knocking on the dressing room door and calling through from the other side made the room's two occupants freeze in a sort of stunned horror. Slowly, Alfred's arms unwound from Arthur's waist, the Brit took his hands from ash blond hair, and they stepped away from each other.

"Just a minute, Fe," Alfred called back, hoping his voice didn't betray the fact that the fashion designer had just interrupted a rather fierce bout of kissing. They'd been at the set for nearly four hours now, and Alfred had changed into outfit after outfit, some more revealing than others, but that was normal. Feliks enjoyed dressing him a little too much for it to have been quick, and the photographer certainly hadn't minded whenever Al had to show some skin. Throughout the day, Arthur's comment about the man being interested in Alfred had become painfully obvious, to the point where it was borderline annoying. Alfred didn't think he'd ever been called "gorgeous" so often in such a short amount of time in his existence. If he never had to pose for that photographer again, he'd be perfectly fine with it.

So it had been a relief when he'd stepped off the set for the last time and Feliks had told him they were done. He'd almost been so distracted by the idea of putting his own clothes on again as to forget that Arthur was with him, though the green-eyed blond had been quick to recapture his attention. They'd ended up making out every time Al had to change, so their lips were starting to get tired, but that didn't stop them. As soon as they'd gotten into the dressing room, Arthur had started stripping him and kissing the skin he exposed along the way. It was probably one of the sexiest things Al had ever experienced, and he hadn't waited very long before grabbing Arthur and kissing him like his life depended on it. And seeing as they couldn't actually screw in this tiny makeshift dressing room—and the fact that he didn't want to risk pushing too fast and pissing Arthur off—kissing was the best they had. The amount of sexual frustration that had built up in there was just about enough to make the incubus go mad. And now Feliks had interrupted their longest kiss yet.

If he hadn't been so close to being mortified that they would be discovered, Alfred would have been annoyed as hell. As it was, he kept his gaze lowered and his mouth shut as he changed back into the clothes he'd picked out for himself that morning. Plain jeans and a t-shirt. Perfect. So comfortable. Of course, he would get to keep everything he'd modeled in today, even though he would probably never wear any of it again. Unless Arthur wanted him to. The Brit had definitely liked a few of his outfits more than the others, as had been evident in how quickly they'd hurried back to the dressing room between sets. So he might keep those for…special occasions.

"Are you done yet?" Feliks' tone was impatient from outside the dressing room, and Alfred and Arthur exchanged a glance before moving towards the door, both fully dressed once more.

Alfred pulled the door open and gave his boss an exasperated look, his other hand reaching back to hold onto Arthur's fingers. "Yes. Let's get out of here."

"Good!" Holding hands with Toris and smiling, Feliks led the way back through people and sets and costumes until the group somehow found their way outside into the fresh air. If London air could be called fresh, at least. But it was still cool and pleasant after the heat and stuffiness of the photoset. Having so many people crammed in there moving around so much had overpowered whatever air conditioning they were supposed to enjoy, and even though it was still raining a little, the four smiled as they emerged into a grey-skied late morning.

"Where should we go to eat?" Toris asked his skipping lover, smiling at the blond's antics.

"Don't care! Oh, there's some totally great restaurants by the river!" He spun, ponytail bouncing, and smiled at his three companions. "Or Arthur should pick! Since he, like, knows his way around way better than us!"

Three pairs of eyes looked at him and Arthur found himself suddenly wishing he was invisible. Oh, hell. Why did they all have to look at him so expectantly? He didn't go out very often—his knowledge of local restaurants wasn't nearly as thorough as Feliks seemed to think it was. This wasn't even his neighborhood. He knew next to nothing about the shops here.

"I, er, actually don't know," he admitted quietly, head lowering in something akin to shame. "I don't come to this part of the city very often."

"Awww, well, that's all right. We'll figure it out, right, Al?" The designer was almost smirking as he looked at the tallest member of the group, and Alfred gave him a suspicious glare before smoothing out his expression.

"Yeah. We'll find somewhere nice to eat." Comfortingly, he slipped his arm around Arthur's shoulders and gently pulled the Brit close, rubbing his upper arm a little as he grinned down at him. The move earned a smile from Arthur after a couple of moments, and then the group continued towards the car in a decidedly light-hearted mood.

Feliks barely glanced at his mirrors once he was in the driver's seat and backing out of their parking space. "Tor, use your smart phone and find out where the nearest restaurants are." Immediately, the brunet did as he was asked, and a few seconds later was giving Feliks directions.

"So did you have fun? You're glad you came?" In the backseat with Arthur comfortably settled into his side, Alfred couldn't help but make sure his companion had actually enjoyed being on the set.

"I did. Watching you was great." Arthur smiled up at the taller blond, a little smug. "And seeing the photographer lose hope was even better."

With a laugh, Alfred squeezed the Brit's shoulders a little then ruffled his hair. "I told you I wasn't interested in him."

"I know. It was just nice to see you prove it."

"Mm. Tell you what." Sliding down on the seat so Arthur was lying on him more than leaning, Al brushed golden bangs back from green eyes then kissed the smaller male's temple. "Let me call you my boyfriend, and I'll prove it to you as many times as you want."

Immediately, Arthur felt his face grow warm. Boyfriend? He hadn't thought of that. This was their—would be their third date, and the first two had been perfect. Even though Arthur had more than likely made a complete arse of himself on the second one, Alfred had been perfect. Having the American as his official boyfriend, well, what else could he do after the way he'd been acting this morning? They might as well skip the boyfriend stage and move straight onto being lovers!

But he could never do that. It would be so improper, much too hasty. Boyfriends should come before lovers, just maybe not by very much.

"I think I'd like that," the Englishman replied slowly, looking up to meet Al's gaze and smiling crookedly.

"So would I." Alfred returned the smile before he kissed the other blond, just a soft brush of his lips against Arthur's, but it was nice and he enjoyed those few seconds of contact. When he pulled away, he found green eyes looking up at him and pale cheeks flushed a light pink, Arthur's hands folded over his stomach and fidgeting in a nervous sort of way. "What?" the American asked, running his hand through the other's hair, and Arthur shrugged.

"I haven't had a boyfriend in a long time," the shorter blond admitted quietly, "or a girlfriend. I haven't dated anyone in a while."

"I see." Still smiling, Alfred took one of Arthur's light-skinned hands into his own and began playing with his fingers idly. "Well, I can fix that, you know."

"I know."

Silence overtook the car as the two in the backseat just looked at each other, and Feliks glanced at them in the rearview mirror.

"We're, like, almost there," he informed his passengers, and Arthur reluctantly sat up.

Lying on Alfred was about as comfortable as anyone could be, and sitting upright seemed like so much work in comparison. But Alfred kept hold of his hand as the car slowed, turned a corner, and was parked by the blond in the driver's seat, so he supposed he could deal with it. Besides, they were about to get food, and all the effort he'd put into…helping Alfred change, had really worked up his appetite.

All moving at the same time, the four got out of the car and gently shut the doors so as not to slam them unnecessarily.

"This place has a four-star rating." Toris clicked a couple things on his phone before tucking the device away into a pocket and occupying his hand with Feliks' instead. Their fingers intertwined immediately and Feliks stood close to the brunet, smiling and happy as they walked. There was obviously a very strong bond between them, and Arthur wondered how long they'd been together. Probably quite a few years.

Would it ever be like that with Alfred?

He couldn't help but wonder about it as he walked beside the American, following the other two along the sidewalk to the restaurant's front doors. They were boyfriends now, after all. Holding hands would be basic—they were already doing that, anyway—and of course they'd kissed plenty of times, but the touching was still at a minimum and there was just something about the way Feliks and Toris moved that didn't seem quite normal. It was like they were drawn towards each other by gravity, like it would be impossible to separate them even though their hands only held onto each other loosely. There was just something there that Arthur couldn't quite put his finger on.

He was still trying to figure it out when they walked into the restaurant, but he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind for later as the group approached the front counter where a greeter stood smiling. It wasn't a place he'd been to before, but it looked clean and there were a decent number of people there already. The smells of various foods drifted around, mingling with the chatter and sounds of silverware clinking against dishes. A typical restaurant atmosphere, and they'd made it before the lunchtime rush.

"Table for four!" Feliks was smiling at the greeter, a gawky, scrawny, bespectacled teenager with freckles dusted over his cheeks and dark, curly hair. Buck teeth protruded just slightly over his lower lip. He smiled, revealing braces, and selected four menus from his stand.

"Right thith way, pleathe." His teeth affected his speech, giving him a very slight lisp. They followed his bony frame through the restaurant to a booth near the windows where they could look out and see the world moving outside. He was polite as he handed out the menus, then took a small notepad from the pocket of his apron. "Can I get you anything to drink, thirth?"

"I'll have a strawberry margarita." Feliks hadn't even bothered to look at his menu before he said it, then he looked at Toris. "Is that all right?"

The brunet smiled and nodded. "I'll drive us back." He was rewarded with a kiss to his cheek from the blond beside him, which then turned into Feliks snuggling into Toris' side and hugging him around his middle. With his arm around his cuddly companion's shoulders, the other male looked up at the teenager. "Just a water for me, please."

"Same." Alfred looked at Arthur to find the Brit looking over the drink section of the menu.

"I'll have a cup of Earl Grey, thank you."

The teen nodded and quickly wrote down the four drinks on his notepad before flashing a crooked smile. "I'll have thothe right out for you." He left to give them time to look over the menus and decide what they wanted to order for their meals, but instead of picking up his menu, Feliks watched the boy walk away.

"He's kinda cute. Like, in a dorky way," the designer commented off-handedly.

Toris nodded in agreement, glancing after the teen before consulting his menu, and Alfred didn't say anything—he didn't have much of an opinion on their waiter, other than that he was friendly. But Arthur was looking at Feliks as if he wasn't quite sure he'd heard that right.

"I'm sorry. What?" he asked, brow furrowed and one thick eyebrow held just slightly higher than the other.

Unruffled, Feliks sat up straighter in his spot and opened his menu, looking over the top of it to see the confused way Arthur was looking at him. "What? He is."

"He's cute?"

"Yeah. You don't think so? I think he'll be totally hot once he grows up a little. But he's a cute dork for now." Seeming not to notice the growing concern with which Arthur was staring, Feliks tucked a loose bit of hair behind his ear and scanned the menu he was holding. "Ooh, they have a section of really spicy foods."

Arthur opened his mouth to say something else but Alfred took his hand under the table before he could get the words out, drawing the Brit's attention.

"Don't worry about it," the blue-eyed blond murmured, thumb stroking the back of Arthur's hand. "He looks at everyone like he's calculating if they'd make a good model or not. That's all he meant."

"Oh." Right. Feliks was a fashion designer. Of course he'd notice the way other people looked and dressed and moved. Of course. But that meant he'd probably made some judgment about Arthur and realizing that made the Englishman suddenly nervous. What if he hadn't been lucky enough to receive a positive opinion from the somewhat flamboyant man sitting across from him? What if they dropped him off at his apartment and Feliks started commenting about his lack of style or his untamed eyebrows or some other thing as soon as he was out of earshot? What if—

"Hey."

Once again, Alfred's voice drew Arthur out of his thoughts, and he met the other male's gaze with obvious worry. Alfred smiled and squeezed his hand gently.

"He thinks you're adorable."

"What? How do you know?" Really? Feliks actually thought he was adorable? That was even better than being a cute dork, like their waiter apparently was.

"Because he told me. And he's right—you're pretty damn adorable." Leaning closer, Al put his mouth by the Brit's ear and whispered, "But you're handsome, too, and you were fuckin' sexy earlier." As he drew away, he watched the red that was coming into Arthur's cheeks, ears, and neck. Green eyes lowered in embarrassment and teeth dug into a lower lip—yeah, Arthur was damn adorable. And he was Alfred's boyfriend. Hell yeah.

"So, Arthur," both blonds were quick to draw away from each other and face the two sitting across the booth; Feliks and Toris were both smiling knowingly, "now that we finally get to meet you," the designer flashed his model a pointed look that was only about half joking, "tell us about yourself."

"Oh, er, like what?" Still flustered about what Alfred had whispered, Arthur shifted in place and folded his hands in his lap. He really hoped it wasn't obvious what sort of affect the bespectacled blond had just had on him. Snogging in the dressing room had left him antsy and the way Alfred had spoken just now only made it worse. If he didn't get a glass of water or something soon, he was going to have a problem, especially considering Alfred was still holding onto his hand under the table and it felt like the American's palm and fingertips were growing warmer with every passing second. The warmth seeped into Arthur and travelled up his arm—he had the irrational thought that it was going to go straight to his stomach and then down to where he definitely didn't want it to be. It made him nervous but he couldn't bring himself to pull away from the model's touch.

"Where do you work? What are your hobbies? Al's told us, like, a ton about you, but we want to hear it from you, too." The way Feliks was smiling at him didn't make Arthur feel any better. He was definitely being obvious about his situation. Brilliant.

"I work at a bank on Canary Wharf, approving loans and advising some of the branch managers on deals and whatnot. It's all rather boring." Yes, yes, talking about work would calm him down. Work was plain and easy and boring and bloody hell his entire arm was as warm as Alfred's hand and it was starting to creep through his shoulder into his chest.

Leaning forward, Feliks laid his arms on the table and put his weight on his elbows, head tilting slightly. "Canary Wharf's near your apartment, right?"

"Yes, I usually walk to work when the weather permits." Okay, he had to let go of Alfred's hand. He had to. This was ridiculous. The man wasn't even doing anything to him and he was losing control of himself. He was obviously incapable of so much as touching the other blond without his body betraying him. Letting go was the only option, only his arm wasn't obeying him.

Let go. Just let go. You git just let go of his hand!

The most he managed to do was twitch his fingers ever so slightly. Alfred probably hadn't even felt it, and Arthur was starting to panic a little. The warmth was down into his stomach and spreading rapidly. He couldn't move his arm but it didn't feel like anything was stopping him, just like his body didn't want to distance itself from the source of that nice warm feeling. And it was nice, just not now, not in public not around Alfred's boss!

"Ooh, that's nice. Your neighborhood is super cute. We passed a park, didn't we, Tor?" The blond fashion designer turned his head far enough to look at Toris, who nodded.

"We did. It looked like a nice place to go for a walk."

"Yeah! Do you go for walks there, Arthur?"

Oh god oh god oh god oh god. It was in his hips. He was going to squirm or make a sound or some other embarrassing thing and then they would all think there was something wrong with him! Desperate to stay calm and not betray what was happening to him, Arthur nodded tersely and forced a small smile. "It's lovely." His voice sounded strained but the blond and brunet across the booth didn't react to it. Alfred, on the other hand, was looking at him with more than a little concern.

"Arthur, are you all right?" he asked, turning and lifting his free hand to cup the Englishman's cheek and look into his eyes. Immediately, warmth poured into Arthur's cheek and he couldn't help it anymore. He was so hot just sitting there and Alfred was touching him and hellfire he was going to lose his mind! The quietest little mewl escaped him as he looked back at the blue-eyed model, slipping down just slightly on the cushioned bench because he couldn't bring himself to stay sitting upright. "Arthur?" Alfred was outright frowning now and put both hands on the Brit's shoulders to help him sit up again. As soon as the skin-to-skin contact was gone, it felt like a cold wind hit him and every muscle in Arthur's body went taut.

"Excuse me," he mumbled, getting up as quickly as he could and hurrying towards the lavatory. The door opened easily and he was relieved to find that it was a single-stall setup, so he locked the door before leaning back against it and letting out slow breath. That had been bloody close. Any longer and he was sure he'd have started writhing in his seat. Just thinking about it was shameful. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

His quiet words didn't echo back to him but he didn't need to hear them again to know that something was going on around here. That had never happened to him before, not with Alfred or anyone else. What sort of heat spread through a man's body like that? Made him lose control of his limbs and left him helpless as his body turned traitor? It should have been impossible, yet there he was, standing in the men's lavatory with his entire body tingling with the heat that had survived that weird coldness once Alfred stopped touching his skin.

Yes, Arthur, brilliant. Snog him in his dressing room to the point you might as well be lovers, then agree to be his boyfriend, now get bloody hard for no good reason! He whispered to you, and not in a way that would do anything more than make a man blush. You blushed and that should have been enough!

Frustration made the Brit rub his face and grip his hair. He couldn't go back out there like this, not with such a noticeable bulge in his trousers, especially since there was no bloody reason for him to be aroused.

Arthur sighed heavily and shrugged away from the door. There was no help for it. Calming down would take too long. He was just going to have relieve himself, but he hated the thought of jerking off in a public rest room, let alone one in a restaurant, and with three people wondering why he'd run off so suddenly! If they suspected…! He wouldn't be able to stand the embarrassment. It was just going to have to be a quick thing so he could get back as soon as possible, apologize for his abrupt departure, and hope to high heaven that it didn't happen again.

"Can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered as he pushed away from the door and headed for the toilet, unzipping his trousers while he walked. Thankfully, the lavatory was clean and didn't smell like anything foul—the staff here must do a fantastic job of maintaining a customer-friendly atmosphere. Still, he was hesitant to take a long piece of the toilet paper and bunch it up in his hand. This was ridiculous. He hadn't done anything nearly this lewd in years.

That American is having much too large of an impact on my life.

No more stalling. Alfred and Feliks and Toris were waiting and they hadn't ordered their food yet so he needed to get back before that freckled teen came around to see what they wanted to eat.

All right, Arthur. You can do this. Just close your eyes and do it.

It was embarrassingly easy to picture something to help him get through this. Not that he really needed to think of anything. His body was eager enough that even the first touch of his tissue-covered hand made him bite his lip. No sounds. He was in a restaurant's lavatory. No one outside could hear this. But even so, he let his imagination take over. If he was going to do this, he was going to enjoy it, if just for a few minutes. So he thought of Alfred.

Maddening, ruddy git Alfred. Thought of his smile, the way his eyes shone behind his glasses and how he pushed his hair back out of his eyes for the photoshoot that morning. He thought of all those outfits, especially the sexier ones, and the way Alfred had held onto him every time they were alone together.

The model's hands were all over him, running through his hair, cupping his face, stroking his back and holding his hips. They were everywhere but where Arthur really wanted them to be, and his frustration made him bite Alfred's lip in the middle of their kissing.

Alfred chuckled, his hands resting on Arthur's waist, fingertips rubbing teasingly. "Something the matter?"

"You're bloody impossible."

His response made a smirk spread over the model's features, making his handsome face just that much sexier. "Yeah, that's why you're whining and pouting at me, which is too cute to make me stop."

Arthur huffed and rolled his eyes. "And if I stop kissing you? What then?"

"I don't think you could stop. You like it too much."

"Cocky git." Arthur was breathless, his eyes screwed shut tight and mouth open just slightly. Since the Alfred in his head had yet to do anything, he wasn't doing anything more than very gentle strokes. Just enough to keep him on that edge of letting go of his self-restraint, and to heighten his frustration with the imaginary Alfred.

"You wouldn't like me if I didn't tease you a little." Slowly, one of the model's hands slid down to cup Arthur's rear, drawing his hips forward to press against Alfred's. "And I know you like me a lot."

"Obviously." He was too distracted by the hard lump he could feel behind Alfred's jeans to say anything more, especially considering he had one to match.

Alfred didn't reply to that, merely tilted his head and started leaving kisses on the Englishman's neck. That, combined with the hand rubbing his arse, had Arthur wrapping his arms around the taller male's neck and grinding against him shamelessly.

"Stop teasing me…"

"But you like it."

"We don't have time!"

The hand squeezed and Arthur whined softly. "I'm not in a hurry."

"Alfred, please."

"Only cause you asked so nicely." In the next moment, Alfred had both hands firmly planted on the smaller blond's backside and was biting down on Arthur's neck. His grip tightened, fingers kneading, and he made Arthur move his hips forward and up in a grinding motion that dragged a moan from the Briton.

"Al…"

"Louder."

"N-no…can't…someone'll hear…"

"I don't care. I want to hear you."

Arthur shook his head in denial of the imaginary model's command. No way was he going to listen to that and be found doing something this embarrassing. It wasn't easy, though. The things the American in his head was doing to him—the hickey being left on his neck, the hands on his arse and the hips grinding against his own—made him want to pant and moan and whine until he finally got the relief he now desperately needed. And the way he was touching himself matched what was in his thoughts, his hand now pumping firm and steady, the pace quickening because he needed to get his release as soon as possible.

"Come on, Artie. Just one little scream. Just say my name. Call for me. It'd be so sexy."

"Alfred…nng…" Biting his lip was the only thing that kept him saying it loudly enough for it to echo. Fuck, he was getting close. Even though he was fully clothed in his imagination, and Alfred was only shirtless, it was enough to make him widen his stance and hold onto the railing in the wall for support as he tried to breathe through the pleasure coursing in his veins. That heat was back full force even without Alfred really there touching him. He wouldn't have been able to see even if he could have opened his eyes.

"You make such a cute face when you're about to cum," Alfred whispered huskily into his ear, his breath caressing Arthur's skin better than any touch could. Thinking the American would say that to him, in that voice, made a shudder run down the Brit's spine and he bucked one last time as the world disappeared.

"Al…!"

Fuck.

Breathe.

Leaning forward, Arthur let his hand hang at his side as his weight rested against the wall. First things first, he needed to catch his breath. Then he would worry about making sure his face wasn't too red, and he'd clean himself up. When he left that bathroom, he meant to be completely calm and composed.

It was several moments before the Brit managed to straighten and open his eyes. Okay, he hadn't made a mess. The tissues had done their job, and it was a simple matter of a few quick wipes before he threw the toilet paper into the bowl and flushed away the evidence of what he'd just done. His pants were fixed and trousers zipped and buttoned, clothes straightened as they should be. He was still focusing on getting his breathing back to normal as he washed his hands, and had almost gotten it when he finished that task and checked his reflection. His cheeks were slightly flushed but it wasn't too noticeable, and a quick finger-comb fixed his hair. Clothes looked good. He was ready.

Okay. Act like nothing happened. You're fine. Go have lunch.

Another few steadying breaths as he unlocked the door, and then Arthur was back out in the restaurant. It was more crowded that it had been when he went in there, and he wondered just how much time had passed, but he fixed a smile in place as he slid back into the booth.

"You okay?" Alfred was still concerned, peering over the tops of his glasses at Arthur in an endearing way.

"Never better."

Even though the blue-eyed blond didn't look convinced, he nodded and turned to face forward again, his hands safely folded on top of the table.

"We told the waiter to come back to take our orders since you were gone," Toris informed him, and Arthur nodded.

"Thank you." If he could keep it together for the rest of lunch, he would be fine. He was fine. He could do this.

Hopefully.