Face lifted towards the sun, Arthur enjoyed the day's warm weather as he walked. Unlike yesterday,, today so far was sunny and warm, kept pleasant by a cool wind that promised there would be more rain later in the week. Arthur still didn't know what Alfred had planned for Saturday, but he hoped whatever weather blew in wouldn't disrupt the American's plans.

Well, if it did, then they could always stay in and watch another movie, maybe a really romantic one, and they could flirt the whole time. If Love Actually was enough to get them to oral sex then an actual romance was almost guaranteed to get them shagging. Maybe Arthur would put some of his latest purchases to use.

Ah, hell, the more he thought about it, the more he began to hope it would rain. It'd make Alfred sad, but Arthur was confident he'd be able to cheer him up. He could imagine it so easily—the phone call he'd receive on Saturday morning, Alfred's tone disappointed as he apologized for having to cancel their plans. Arthur pretending to be upset then inviting the American over for a movie and brunch, maybe drinks later if they felt like it. They could cook together, as long as Arthur's imagination didn't run away with him. Or it could snatch them both, and brunch could wait until after they'd finished desecrating his kitchen. Maybe they'd settle for toast and eggs and sit on the floor to eat, practically naked and cuddling for warmth.

Arthur would be more than happy to spend Saturday like that. Imagining it was so easy, but he tried to remind himself that he'd enjoy whatever Alfred had planned, too. How could he not? The American was perfect, and Saturday would be great either way. If he didn't get his kitchen sex on Saturday then he could always invite his bespectacled boyfriend over sometime next week. But what day would be best?

Musing, Arthur was on auto pilot as he reached the café and found his usual table. He was such a regular that he didn't even wonder if someone else might be sitting there—it was his table, and everyone knew it. So he settled in, knowing that his tea would be brought out to him in a minute so he could drink while he decided what to order. But as he picked up the menu and looked it over, the golden blond's thoughts were nowhere near his lunch. He was still too busy thinking about the American he was so infatuated with, who should be arriving in—green eyes found the face of his watch—less than a minute.

There was barely enough time for him to wonder if his boyfriend would be late before the familiar dull roar of a motorcycle invaded upon the calm chatter of the lunch-goers. Several heads turned, including Arthur's and within seconds, the star-spangled bike appeared, rolling slowly with Alfred astride it as if he'd been born to sit nowhere else than on that leather seat. The American's visor was up so he could easily see the names of the shops, blue eyes searching. Amused, Arthur waited to be seen, only waving when Alfred stopped, took his helmet off, and grinned.

Completely oblivious to the stares he and his bike were receiving, the bespectacled blond parked at the curb and swung his leg over and off. He left the bike leaning heavily on its kickstand and wound his way between tables, helmet under his arm, towards Arthur.

"Hey."

The golden blond stood and slipped his arms around the taller male's waist, kissing his cheek in greeting as Alfred returned the embrace. "Good afternoon." He drew back to find a wide grin on Alfred's face, and arched an eyebrow in amusement. "Yes?"

"Nothin'." Their slight difference in height meant the American barely had to do anything in order to press his lips to Arthur's in a proper greeting. "Mm..." the taller drew back and grinned again, "afternoon."

Arthur rolled his eyes as his hand found Alfred's. "Had to kiss me in public, didn't you."

They sat, facing each other, hands still connected on the tabletop and knees touching underneath.

"'Course. Now anyone who was thinking about hitting on you knows you're not available."

"That's rather territorial of you."

One of Alfred's eyebrows lifted as he smiled. "Isn't it my right to let everyone know that we're dating?"

Humming thoughtfully, Arthur stirred his tea then took a drink, green eyes watching the other blond over the rim of his cup. Alfred leaned his elbows on the table, grin bordering on a smirk firmly in place as he waited. The cup was lowered, a pale hand wrapped round it to absorb the warmth seeping through the china.

"I suppose it is."

There was no stopping Alfred's grin. "See? Besides, lots of people like territorial partners. Makes them feel wanted."

"What makes you think I'm one of those people?"

In the blink of an eye, Alfred went from smug to sly, and Arthur knew he'd just dug himself a grave.

"I think you're a perfect example of that type of person, Artie," the American crooned, leaning forward, his voice rolling and tumbling across the small table so it could seep into him, warm and honeyed and dangerous. "I think you're proud of the fact that we're dating, and I think you're even more possessive than I am."

Oh, god, he couldn't be seduced in broad daylight like this! Who in heaven and earth had decided that the blond sitting across from him should be so irresistible without even trying? How was it possible for him to sit there looking like sex incarnate and speak as if his voice alone could bring a man to climax? It probably could, but now wasn't an appropriate time to find out, not in public, not with the sly, knowing way Alfred was looking at him.

He was going to embarrass himself if he didn't get a grip.

Straightening, the Brit squared his shoulders and took a long drink of his tea. "I don't know what you mean."

"You're a bad liar, Artie."

"I'm not lying, Alfred."

"Oh." His tone was lighter now, his expression innocent. "So you didn't mind the photographer being interested in me."

Shit.

Alfred played with the lid on the little jar of sugar set on the table, musing, twisting it this way and that as his blue eyes examined the way it sat perfectly in the space provided for it. "Could've sworn that bothered you. Or were you acting all jealous and possessive for a different reason? Was it because of the shorts? Did my outfits get you all riled up?" Those eyes flashed to Arthur's face, mischievous, accompanied by the hints of a grin lurking at the corners of Alfred's mouth.

The tension in Arthur's shoulders was obvious as he refused to meet the other man's gaze. It was entirely unfair of him to bring up the photoshoot. Of course Arthur had been jealous. Someone else had been about to try for his boyfriend. Was he not supposed to care? And as for the outfits—if those skintight bits of cloth could even be called outfits—well, he'd definitely appreciated them. The problem was that Alfred knew it.

Defeat. There was no denying it, no trying to talk his way out of it.

All at once, the golden blond's shoulders sagged and he let out a heavy breath, green eyes looking at Alfred through barely-there eyelashes. "Fine. I like that you're possessive. Happy?"

If ever there was a perfect example of the word "smug," it was Alfred as he lounged in his chair, one arm thrown over the back and his left ankle resting atop his right knee as he grinned. "More than."

Handsome bastard.

It really was unfair. How could he sit there like that as if the gods themselves had crafted him and sent him to earth for no other reason but to be like a god himself? He made Arthur feel so inadequate, and the only thing the Brit could do to hide it was roll his eyes and huff and look away, sip his tea while countless strangers wandered past on the nearby street.

"So," Alfred's voice drew Arthur's gaze back to him, "are we still going out on Saturday morning?"

"Yes, unless the weather turns sour."

"Mm, yeah, rain would sort of ruin it."

"Well," carefully, Arthur set down his cup and too-casually looked the American in the eyes, "you're welcome to come to my place on Saturday if your surprise is ruined by the weather."

There were so many possible ways to respond to that. Alfred could feel the ulterior motive behind that offer, could feel the attraction between himself and the other blond and the almost-arousal Arthur was currently experiencing. If he went to the Brit's apartment on Saturday morning instead of taking him on the secret date he had planned, he had a pretty good idea of how they'd spend the day, and he was also pretty sure he wouldn't mind at all. But the date he had planned was going to be a lot of fun, so he still didn't want the weather to go bad. If it did, they'd have to wait a full work week to be able to go, since it was a morning date and Arthur's shifts were during the day. He really wanted to go tomorrow, but if the weather made them wait, going to the Britain's wouldn't be a bad alternative. So he smiled and nodded.

"Sounds good."

Both smiling, they looked at each other, and Alfred laced his fingers through Arthur's.

"I do hope the weather stays nice. The date I have planned is pretty great."

"Are you going to tell me or is it still going to be a surprise?"

Alfred grinned and Arthur half expected him to wink. "Still a surprise."

"Thought so."

Green eyes glanced over when the same waiter as usual—Collin—came to take Arthur's order, and the golden blond sat back in his chair as if he meant to pull away from Alfred. The American's grip tightened on his hand, however, stopping him, and Arthur tried to look annoyed but failed.

"Company today, Arthur?" the waiter asked, smiling politely, brown-eyed gaze falling on Alfred. He was tall and narrow, shoulders straight, nametag neatly pinned to a white button up shirt tucked into black pants behind a blue pocketed half apron. Good-looking, all-in-all, but a bit young—his limbs were still too long for his body, though the uniform helped hide that. Arthur had always thought he had a lot of potential, and was rather proud of the fact that he was no longer the lonely patron Collin must have imagined he was.

"Yes, this is Alfred Jones."

"Hi." That grin appeared and Arthur was surprised when the waiter didn't even seem to notice . "Nice to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine, Sir. Do you know what you'll be ordering today?" Eyes shifting from one blond to the other and back, his pen was at the ready, little pad of paper in hand.

After taking a drink of his tea to give Alfred time to order if he was ready, Arthur set the cup down with a soft clink and smiled. "I'll have the fish and chips, Collin, as usual."

The teen scribbled it down then turned his attention to Alfred. "And for you, Sir?"

"I'll have whatever special you're offering today."

"Very," Collin drew the word out as he wrote, "good. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Just a glass of water."

Smiling, the waiter tucked his notepad and pen into one of his apron pockets. "I'll be right back with that for you."

"Thank you."

Then he turned and was gone, winding his way through the tables back inside the café to fetch Alfred's water and turn their orders into the chef.

"He was nice," Alfred commented off-handedly, offering a slight smile to Arthur.

"He usually is."

Silence fell over their small table, not uncomfortable, and stayed there until Collin returned with a glass of water then vanished inside again.

"So," his empty tea cup was pushed aside and Arthur rested his elbows on the table top, chin propped in the palm of his hand, "can I guess what we'll we doing on Saturday?"

Mirroring him, Alfred grinned. "Go ahead."

Arthur narrowed his eyes in thought, fingers idly rubbing the back of Alfred's hand. "The theme park."

"Nope."

"Dinner and a movie."

"Nope."

"Another picnic."

"Closer."

Closer. "Is a picnic involved or is the date similar to a picnic?"

"Involved."

"Hm." Arthur drummed his fingers thoughtfully against the back of Alfred's hand, eyes rolling upwards. A date that involved a picnic. "Are we going to the park?"

"Nope." The ash blond was grinning widely now, clearly pleased with himself for whatever he had planned that Arthur hadn't managed to guess yet.

Mostly unnoticed, Collin appeared to refill Arthur's tea and disappeared without comment.

Arthur sighed eventually then gave Alfred a rueful smile. "Fine. You win."

The grin appeared without surprise or hesitation—Alfred hadn't even been worried his plans would be ruined.

"It's gonna be great, Artie. Trust me."

"I feel like that's something people say right before everything goes wrong."

"Naw," Alfred waved his hand as if to shoo that idea away, "it's not dangerous or anything like that."

His skepticism was obvious as Arthur drank his cooling tea, but he didn't say anything else. There wouldn't be any point—Alfred would counter any arguments Arthur could make. So he drank his tea and looked out at the street to watch the people passing by. It wouldn't be much longer before Collin came back with their meal, and then they'd be too busy eating to do much talking. Besides, it was a beautiful day and there was nothing wrong with a quiet lunch. He had Alfred's hand in his, and that was enough for him.

X

Bellies still full, Alfred and Arthur walked hand-in-hand towards the bank. Arthur's lunch break was almost over, which meant he had to get back to work. Alfred, however, had opted to walk the golden blond back so they could spend a little more time together. It was a scenario that Arthur found overly cute and that Alfred was genuinely proud of. They weren't talking, were just enjoying each other's company as they walked, hand-in-hand. Occasionally, one would glace over to find the other was already watching him, then they would both smile, a little embarrassed, squeeze their hands, and continue down the sidewalk until it happened again. By the time they arrived at the bank, it'd happened at least a dozen times.

"Well, I guss I'd better go."

"Yeah."

They looked at each other, still holding hands, both entirely unwilling to part ways.

"I'll pick you up at ten."

"All right."

Neither blond moved for a few seconds, then Alfred sighed and shook his head.

"This is impossible."

"What is?"

"You are." The American gestured at Arthur with his free hand, earning a confused stare. "How am I supposed to leave when I don't even want to let go of your hand?"

Slowly, a blush crept into Arthur cheeks, and he looked away shyly. "Sweet-talker."

Alfred chuckled and ran his thumb over Arthur's finger. "I mean it."

Green eyes lifted to peer at him through golden bangs, then Arthur smiled and stepped closer. "Then I guess you'll just have to control yourself until morning."

"I guess." He was so distracted that Alfred almost didn't' remember to respond. Arthur was close enough to kiss. Not kissing him right now was torture.

"So," god damn it he was coming even closer, "you'll just have to be satisfied with this for now."

Before Alfred even had the chance to wonder what he was supposed to be satisfied with, Arthur pressed against him, leaned up the short distance, and kissed him. Immediately, his arm came up to wrap around the Brit's middle and hold him there. Alfred's held tilted to make it easier to kiss back; he wasn't about to pull away.

But, unfortunately, Arthur did. The golden blond stepped back, easily breaking free of the loose hold Alfred's arm had on him, and started backing towards the bank's steps. "See you in the morning."

It was in those few seconds that Alfred had an idea. It was an impulsive and potentially clumsy idea that might end with a bruise or bloody nose but if it worked it would be the best way to say goodbye to the British banker he liked so much. The risk of a bruise or bloodied nose really wasn't enough to discourage him.

So, while Arthur's pale fingers were still in his grasp, Alfred tightened his hold on the shorter blond and gently pulled him back, swinging him around until they were chest-to-chest. His other hand buried itself in the Briton's hair and he caught the flash of surprised green eyes before he tilted his head and leaned down to capture Arthur's lips in another kiss. Hungrily, he caught Arthur's lip in his teeth before invading the smaller male's mouth. A startled gasp followed by a small, breathy moan gave him utter control as he pulled Arthur into the curve of his own body and kissed him until the green-eyed male was struggling for breath.

"A-Alfred…" Arthur was panting when he finally managed to pull away, cheeks flushed pink and lower lip shining where a bit of saliva had stuck.

A little breathless himself but not nearly as much as Arthur was, Alfred grinned and pressed his forehead to the other male's. "I wanted to say goodbye properly."

"You git. Now I really don't want you to leave."

Eyebrows lifting playfully, the taller blond placed his hands on the dip of Arthur's back and pulled him close again. "Office sex?"

Arthur's cheeks flushed darker and he pushed at Alfred's chest until a safe few inches separated them. "Not on your life."

"Awww, you're no fun, Artie."

"If we didn't have sex in your dressing room, then we're not having sex in my office."

"Oh, so we should've worked in a quickie between outfits?"

"No."

"Buzz-kill."

Stubbornly, Arthur extricated himself from Alfred and began walking up the steps to the bank. "I'll see you in the morning, Alfred."

Grin in place, the American watched his embarrassed—and slightly aroused—boyfriend walk away and disappear into the bank. He could still taste the Brit on his tongue and hoped it would last for most of the rest of the day. His next opportunity to taste him was nearly twelve hours away, after all, and that seemed far too long to be fair. But he'd gotten a satisfactory kiss out of him, and he was just going to have to be satisfied, as Arthur had said.

It was nearly another minute before Alfred moved, turning and walking back the way they'd come to get his motorcycle and head back to the hotel. His date with Arthur may not be until morning, but he wasn't going to waste any time in getting ready. He wanted it to be perfect.