[APH] Falling in Love in New York City - (9 / ?)
Title: Falling in Love in New York City - 9 / ?
Genre: Romance, drama, AU.
Pairings: USxUK, slight FrUK.
Rating: NC-17 / M
Warnings: Language, sexual content, adult themes such as infidelity, alcohol and some drug use.
Summary: Arthur Kirkland had only intended to dance away his stress and haunting past; never would he have thought in a million years, that on that night, on that particular nightclub, he would meet the one person who would change his life forever.
“Francis, where on Earth are you? Do you even have the slightest idea what time it is?” Arthur yelled into his phone, pacing around his apartment while making sure that all his necessities were packed. His irritation had peaked in the last couple of days, stress finally beginning to sink it at the approaching ‘business trip’ his boyfriend had so casually booked without his proper consent. Call him a fool, but in the end he had agreed to it. He wasn’t being a masochist about the whole ordeal; he simply needed to regain his footing after the past couple of weeks.
“Arthur, my love! How nice of you to call. Yes I am perfectly aware at what time it is and no, I will not miss the plane. Running rather late since the CEO requested an emergency meeting; apparently they didn’t get the memo and are now desperately searching for someone to stand in during my absence.” The sea of voices made it nearly impossible for Arthur to understand half of the words, but he nodded absently.
“I am not taking a cab to the airport!”
“Mon cher, you can take your own car. It’ll be more than safe in the building while we are gone; there is no need to worry. Or if it makes you feel better you could always ask Antonio to accompany you, that way he’d be able to drive it back, oui?”
The slender body dropped onto the neatly made bed, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He resisted the urge to reach for a cigarette. “Antonio’s at work. Had you told me before maybe then he’d been able to lend me his time.”
A short, calculating silence lingered over the line.
“Is something wrong, mon amour?”
“Why are you asking?”
“You seem distastefully subdued for someone who fought tooth and nail against this entire ordeal and you haven’t even done one quip at my endearments. Are you feeling ill?”
Arthur scoffed, loud and clear enough for Francis to hear over the phone. “Oh shut it. There’s no pleasing you is there? I’ll get to the bloody airport and if you haven’t arrived by then, I’ll board without you.” And without another word, he slammed the phone shut.
He really did not want to go to on said trip.
France was a stunningly beautiful country, sure, but having Francis in tow was something that killed the entire mood and experience. Thinking about what it meant, leaving to an exotic country with your unwanted boyfriend, made him sick to an entirely new level. Oh, what people would think. The level of self respect he’d be butchering; the amount he had already forfeited the moment he agreed to going on the blasted trip. In truth, Arthur was at a complete mental standstill. He spoke as if he had already decided on going when in truth he was still debating whether or not he should.
He felt lethargic as he made his way into the kitchen to make himself some tea, if only just to get his hands busy while he thought. Those past few weeks had been an unexpected turning point for him though he still wasn’t quite sure where he stood. Being driven by a schoolboy crush was hardly the responsible way to go by it, but it was something. A really big something that made him question his motives. Arthur no longer felt horribly alone, despite the lingering reminiscence of it. His desolation was something he hadn’t been able to deal with, hence why he had run into Francis’ arms out of sheer desperation. And even then, that shadow engulfed him whenever he shut his eyes. But now, things had changed.
Blue eyes haunted his dreams and Arthur was no one to deny that fact. He had become smitten with the lad, with that enticing smile and boyish charm. Noisy outbursts and excited chatter. Maybe he lacked that posh quality that Francis had, but damn, everything else made up for it. Alfred made him feel genuinely wanted, lusted after. And goodness it scared him.
Relationships were never his strongpoint. Not right then when his depression still raged at full force, when those ghosts of a lost love came to torment him or whenever Francis reminded him of how filthy he was. Alfred was probably still a flushing virgin; he didn’t deserve Arthur’s soiled hands running along that tanned skin, claiming such innocent wonders. In fact, he needn’t be thinking about such things regarding Alfred.
France had been an excuse, a hopeful excuse to get away from the constant temptation that was Alfred Jones. Arthur had hoped that being away from the ball of sunshine would set him at ease, would allow him to think clearly like the logical and responsible adult that he was. Acting like a creepy old pervert was taking a bit of a blow to his gentleman stature and he wasn’t about to just sit back and watch it all hit the fan because of some teenager. He tried to convince himself that it was nothing but lust and unresolved sexual tension; nothing he couldn’t handle after a few drinks and a willing Francis.
Arthur was at a crossroads.
Either he could get on that plane and just allow his life to continue in the unhealthy mess that it currently was… or he could… he could what? In all honesty he knew and understood that he had no options; at least, not plausible ones. He fancied the thought of just waltzing into the café and walking right up to the counter, taking Alfred by the waist and tipping him back for a fairytale kiss. The boy would have been thrilled he reckoned. But he was just that, a boy. A young boy… just like his wife had been a young girl. Driven by stupid dreams and aspirations that led them to their imminent demise. “Alfred isn’t like her….” It might have taken him years to notice that lurking cruelty behind her eyes, but with Alfred, just a matter of weeks told him of his intentions. Hormonal, yes, but crystal clear. “Bloody ol’ fool has me grinning like a wolf.”
Dipping the teabag into his mug of hot water, he hummed to himself. A small smile played out as he thought over the conversations that had taken place during those last couple of weeks. Arthur was suddenly stricken by the urge to hear Alfred’s voice again; to listen to that New York accent that made him squirm in his seat. In fact, he just wanted to talk to him. Alfred would always listen even if he was more of the talking type, and that made his stomach flutter warmly as it did at that very moment. Leaning against the counter, Arthur wrapped his free arm around himself as he took a sip from his mug.
Those weren’t feelings of love. It was just an innocent little crush. Just a crush.
His watch beeped once it struck four in the afternoon, alerting him to hurry up and just finish packing. Setting the mug down, he lingered for a while longer, truly torn between leaving with Francis and staying with Alfred. It came down to what was best for whom. What was best for Arthur against what was best for Alfred. No matter how selfish the Briton was, he couldn’t bring himself to just ruin a young man’s life. His life had been lived and it wouldn’t be fair to just spoil Alfred’s for his own sake.
“France it is then.” With a defeated sigh, Arthur set to finishing his luggage. He didn’t have much of a variety of clothing, but most of his sweater vests had been packed along with his dressing slacks and a handful of coats. Some personal utilities were thrown into his carryon, two packs of cigarettes included. When with Francis, he knew he was going to need them. A couple of boxes more were called for, in fact.
Kicking off his slippers, Arthur went about to change his clothes. He had groomed himself earlier that day, refreshing his haircut and shaving off what little stubble had grown overnight, making him look somewhat younger than usual. For being in his mid thirties, he kept his appearance rather uptight and clean. Wore he any other type of clothing, he’d be able to pass as in his late twenties at the very least. Served as a pretty neat confidence boost really, one that was always welcomed.
With a new pair of black trousers, a burgundy turtleneck and a beige pea coat, he had to admit that he looked rather dashing once he stood before the mirror. The coat framed his body nicely, reaching down to mid thigh; the large black buttons flowing with the design and his new shoes. Arthur ran his hands along some invisible wrinkles before reaching for his matching gloves. He looked too damn good for Francis, he thought with a slight frown, but he soon reminded himself not to dwell on it. No second guessing for that would only bring a rotten decision; one that couldn’t be afforded.
Three hours before departure, he decided to load what little luggage he carried into his car. It took him three good trips, but it all thankfully fit snugly in the trunk. With one final cup of tea, he set about to unplugging all electrical appliances and storing all important documents that he wasn’t to bring along in his personal safe.
Pocketing his phone and wallet, Arthur stood at his door, looking over the neatly organized apartment from that very spot with a blank expression. His mind was a melting pot of negative vibes and suppressed emotions, but he denied himself the privilege of thought. He wouldn’t think about it anymore. Not until he was finally in the air, on the way to the country of love. Only then he’d allow himself to regret his decision; he might also attempt to jump off said plane even if he had to take all the passengers with him.
Arthur shook his head, stepping out of the daze as he walked out into the hallway and locked the door behind him. Green eyes looked around fleetingly, a distant memory setting in before he shook it off as well.
He remembered that one night when Alfred ‘saved’ him from the thug in Central Park. The warm companionship he had offered on their way back… and that deliciously warm kiss just as he was about to say goodnight. So hesitant and sweet… Arthur stopped the train of thought when his eyes stung, moister beginning to form in their corners. He wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t.
Storming down the hallway, he skipped the stairs and walked down a near half a block to get to his car. No more thinking if he wasn’t able to keep his feelings and emotions in check.
The drive to the JFK International Airport was about a half hour long, so he’d be able take it slow even with the heavy traffic. And that he did. He blasted rock music as he drove, hooked up his wireless headset and spoke to Antonio for half the drive and even smoked a fag, which tasted utterly amazing after so long.
In the end, after check in and all was done, he had arrived at the gate with a good hour to spare. He thought they’d already be boarding since it had taken him quite a while to get his car checked into the parking lot, but all was as good as it got.
Arthur casually dropped down onto the cushioned leather seat, pulling out a paperback from his bag to entertain himself in the meantime. As he absently flipped through the pages looking for the one he had marked, he spared a brief look around the terminal and took in just how empty it actually was for an early evening flight. He also noticed the plane and thought it rather odd, but he didn’t make much of it.
Twenty minutes later, he had read the same paragraph three times and each time his mind comprehended nothing. His mind was elsewhere, begging and tugging to draw its attention towards a more pressing matter than Mr. Darcy. Arthur continued to fight it even when he slammed the battered book shut and shoved it right back into the bag, reaching then for his phone instead. For a brief moment he considered calling Francis and asking if he was still at the meeting, but he didn’t want to give the French bastard that kind of satisfaction. The thought that he might actually take that as ‘concern’ repulsed Arthur.
So instead, he ran through his contacts and stopped at the very first name listed there.
Alfred.
“Fuck.” He muttered the curse to himself and pondered for a moment. That might just be the last time he’d be able to speak to Alfred in only God knows how long. Francis would be a constant presence along the trip, and hell, he wasn’t even sure if his phone handled long distance. Slender fingertips drummed against the armrest as he stared on at the screen, his heart quickening when he finally tapped the contact, the screen flashing green as an image of a ringing phone blinked. Arthur waited. No answer came. He took it as a sign, but the moment the small contraption was slid into his pocket it began to vibrate. Expecting to see Francis’ name on the caller ID, green eyes widened when he saw Alfred’s instead. Taking a deep breath, he hesitated, and then tapped the screen. “Arthur Kirkland.”
“Yo, Arthur! Man I was surprised when I saw a call from you! Had I know, I would have kept the damn thing close. I’m at work so, we’re gonna have to make this short. N-Not that I wanna be rude and stuff, ya’ know. What’s up?”
Arthur’s breath hitched in his throat as the exuberant voice rambled briefly in his ear, making him smile softly to himself as he leaned back into his seat. “Um… Hello, Alfred. I simply called to see how you were doing today.”
Even with the short silence, Arthur could clearly see the huge grin. It made his fingers tingle. “I’m great, man.” The voice sounded lower, much to his surprise, but the Briton loved just how intimate it sounded. Just for his ears… just for him. “Kind of tired and stuff, but I’m cool. You sound kind of out of it yourself. You at work?”
“Oh, no. I actually have a few weeks off, thankfully enough-”
“We should hang out!” Alfred interrupted before the other could finish his sentence. Normally the lack of manners would have annoyed the Briton, but at that moment he couldn’t stop thinking about how endearing it was. “You know, we can go bowling. Or we can hit the movies. Just as friends, obviously! I-If your boyfriend doesn’t mind, haha. Wouldn’t want to piss him off now. Do you wanna drop by the café now? It’d be… it’d be kind of nice to see you and stuff…”
Arthur felt his heart twist painfully in his chest. Alfred sounded rather put off whenever he mentioned his boyfriend, reminding the Englishman that the American indeed wanted more than just their casual acquaintanceship. Arthur was still debating if the other was fully aware of that fact. Taking a quivering breath, he replied. “I would love to, but- wait, hold on. Alfred I’ll have to call you back; I’ve got an incoming call.”
“Alright, baby. I’ll be waiting!”
He heard the line go dead and it might have taken him a moment, but soon enough red burst across his cheeks as he fumbled to take the incoming call. Baby; he had called him baby. ‘Francis never calls me that…’ This time, much to his dismay, it was Francis’ name flashing on the screen. He half considered hanging up on him but something nudged him to pick it up. Almost immediately, he regretted the decision.
A string of heated French assaulted his ear quite loudly. Arthur picked up bits and pieces of the sea of curses and swears that was so unnatural for the usually suave Frenchman. Stunned, he was at a loss of words and therefore unable to tell him to calm his bleeding pants down. Instead he opted to just sit there and listen until his boss decided to speak normally.
“Où vous êtes?! Vous êtes en retard!” Arthur was sure he’d be able to understand more than half the things if he listened carefully, but those two key phrases gave him just the heads-up he needed. However it only served to fuel his confusion.
“Fran-Francis! Francis! Would you please be quiet and- Francis, you bloody fuck!” The Englishman immediately dropped his tone when several people cast him an annoyed glance. As if they’d never sworn before. “I can’t understand half the things you’re yelling about.” Arthur straightened up in his chair, looking around as he pressed the phone closer to his ear.
“You said you’d be here early! You have no excuse, Kirkland! I practically ran out of that office to get here just in the nick of time and you just take your precious little time! What is the damn meaning of this… this…?” The man broke off into French again, leaving Arthur stunned in his seat.
“I’m at the gate.” He quickly jumped to his feet and whipped around to look at the small crowd spread out across the large waiting area. No visible sign of Francis. With a huff, he scratched at his chin, letting the hand fall to rest at his hip. Maybe it was a trick? For all he knew the French swine was probably hiding behind a pillar having a good laugh at his expense. “Just calm down and tell me where you are. Who’s sitting next to you? Are you near a window or?”
The man over the line took a loud inhale, and if Arthur didn’t know better, he was probably tugging at his beard in frustration. Despite the headache, the Briton felt somewhat satisfied. “I am sitting in the first row beside the window. The one where the plane is parked. I am near the ticket desk.” Terse words sounded foreign in Francis’ accent.
Green eyes scanned the area, thick eyebrows knitting when he came across the mentioned row. It was empty; and he was now convinced that the asshole was pulling a trick on him. “Would you please stop it? I’m not in the mood for-” Arthur’s voice faded as he heard something else in the background, his blood freezing almost instantly. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” And that phrase, he had learnt from Alfred.
The stewardess spoke over the loudspeakers, informing that coach was beginning to board. Which meant that First Class was already on the plane; which also meant that… that what? “Arthur. Which gate did you say you were at?”
In a heartbeat, Arthur looked at the number over the desk. His palms felt sweaty. “Gate 103.”
“Mon cher.” He could hear the sarcasm dripping from Francis’ voice along with a million and one gallons of poison. “Our flight departs from gate 301.”
Suddenly, the lack of people made sense. The British Airways airplane sitting out in the tarmac also clicked into place. Of course that wasn’t his place to be. Of course that wasn’t his plane. And of course, he was on the opposite side of one of America’s largest and busiest airports. “You’ve already boarded.”
“I’m standing at the gate, waiting for the rest of the passengers to board so that I can go along with you. That is, if you so decide to get here before the plane leaves, bien sûr.”
With a loud curse Arthur slammed his phone shut, jammed it in his pocket and gathered his belongings in record speed before dashing off in the same direction he had come from. Of course, it was a fool’s errand to even think he would have been able to reach the gate before the plane departed. That didn’t stop the near suffocating rage that seared through him once he arrived at the desolate area.
Customs had been quite a hassle since it required for him to go through the checkpoint once again. No matter how much he had argued, it was either subject to it again or get removed from the airport. Eventually he quieted down and did as he was told. A few halls later, he found that the specific area was under maintenance and he was once again forced to wait as heavy machinery was dragged across. Once Arthur reached the final corridor that led directly to his appointed gate, the heel to his shoe broke off. It took all his might not to yell and get arrested in the empty gate, but that didn’t stop him from kicking a bin rather forcefully.
In the end, anger and frustration melted into ire when he looked at his phone. No missed calls, just one measly text message. Francis simply said that he’d arrange a ticket for the next flight to France, but nothing more. Not the slightest nudge of effort to contact him properly.
He hadn’t waited.
Bonnefoy had simply gotten on the plane and left, instead of taking the logical course of action and waiting for Arthur to arrive; even if it meant them taking the next plane out of the country. But no. He had just gotten into his comfortable little First Class seat and took off. Heavens knew what he was already doing by then; probably hitting on the stewardess and cupping a feel whenever they walked by. Sipping on martinis and laughing in that rich voice of his is if it hadn’t been his boyfriend the one that was left standing like an idiot at the gate. And the saddest bit of it all was the fact that Francis Bonnefoy was perfectly capable of doing such debaucheries in his absence.
It was always the same in the end, the Englishman thought as he stared at the locked door a few feet away. Always left behind because no one would wait for him whenever he made a mistake. A stupid, insignificant mistake. All the same… They were all the same. Each and every one.
With a broken shoe and misty eyes, Arthur simply stood there. Even when the janitors had come in to clean the area sparing him uninterested glances, he stared on at the gray door.
The next flight… There was no next flight because Arthur downright refused to go to him. He would no longer waste his time on Francis, no matter who said or did what. If it costs him his job, he quite frankly did not care. For whatever was left might as well bring on the rest. That was the kind of thing he didn’t need in life. That was how it usually all started. He refused to go down with the same ship twice. Arthur was done running. He was done being the desperate coward seeking for poisoned affection…
In his pocket, his phone began to vibrate. Without bothering to look at who it was, he simply opened it, tapped the screen and pressed it to his ear. He didn’t greet whoever was on the line, simply waited for them to speak. It took them a while to break the silence, but when they did it was enough to snap Arthur out of his numb haze.
“Are you okay, Art?” Arthur’s hands began to tremble. “If you want to talk you know I’m your guy. I’m probably not a sage or whatever… but I can listen and stuff.” The voice was surprisingly gentle. No matter how hard the Briton tried to fight it, a soft almost inaudible sob slipped out.
“No.” He heard Alfred speaking to someone in the background and then noise faded; the chatter from the café silencing on the other end. “No, I’m not…” He wasn’t sure if he was saying it because he thought Alfred had missed it, or because he was finally admitting it to himself. That after so many years, after so many lies and covers, he wasn’t okay.
“Just stay where you are, I’ll come for you. Are you at your place?” Arthur could hear the stress in Alfred’s voice, but he couldn’t bring himself feel anything for it.
“At the airport.”
“Okay, you stay right there and don’t move. I’ll be there as soon as I can, Arthur. Can you wait for me at the main entrance? Even if I just… told you not to move…heh.” The sound of rustling clothes told Arthur that he was probably removing his apron as they spoke. He nodded even though Alfred couldn’t see him; he made no effort in getting the point across. Alfred sensed it anyways. “Good then. I’ll be there in a few.” The line went silent, and even after it did, the phone stayed pressed against Arthur ear.
It took Alfred a good hour to reach the airport in a cab and thankfully it didn’t take him that long to find Arthur. He was sitting on a bench just outside the main entrance, and he found himself slowing his step for a brief moment. Maybe it wasn’t the correct time to just stand aside and admire just how good Arthur looked dressed that way… but God he looked fucking gorgeous. Relief coursed through him when he saw him unharmed, but a knot tightened in his stomach with ever step he took. Puffy cheeks and red eyes told him that something had gone down and Alfred found himself between feeling sad and angry at the whole unknown ordeal.
Green eyes looked up at him as he stood before the bench, that frown deeper than he had ever seen before and it almost made him feel sick to his stomach. Alfred fought against the knot in his throat, searching for his voice amidst the near choking sadness he felt bubbling too close to the surface. “Sorry I took so long.” His was barely above a whisper, but still there as he smiled wistfully at the blonde man.
Alfred nearly lost his footing when the solid weight of Arthur’s body slammed into his, slender arms coming up to tightly wrap themselves around the American’s midriff. Not missing a beat, he returned the gesture, holding the cold man to him in a desperate attempt to console him and keep him warm. Soft sobs echoed against his neck and he could do nothing but rock to and fro, a large hand soothingly running along the smaller back.
Right then, Alfred had no time to blush for whatever the reason. He didn’t care what people thought of the scene playing out right before their wandering eyes. Arthur was the sole point of his attention at that very moment and if he had to stand there and hold him in his arms, then damn it all he’d do it with no regrets. An odd kind of warmth settled in him, understanding dawning in him that he wasn’t only just an acquaintance anymore. He was Arthur’s confident, and he had never felt prouder.
Pressing a kiss atop of the tussled blonde hair, Alfred let out a soft chuckle meant as an endearing gesture. Arthur straightened a bit in his grasp, clearing his throat but refusing to pull away from the worn leather jacket just yet. He was letting Alfred know that he had his attention even while he was acting like a spoiled child craving for affection. The American found it rather cute.
“Let’s get you out of the cold, okay? I have a taxi waiting for us just off the curb.” He tried to coax Arthur into reacting a bit more, but the Briton only shook his head.
“My car is in the lot.”
Straining to hear the gruff mumble, Alfred nodded. “Come on then, I’ll drive you home.” But Arthur refused to budge still. “Arti?”
“… I don’t want to go home.” Alfred was taken aback at the words.
Fixing his crooked glasses, he stared down at the flustered man who was now staring at the star on his jacket in turn. Overall Arthur looked like he had just gone through a very long day and he wasn’t about to argue. Instead, he opted for softly running his fingers through the short locks of hair, making the Brit blush a few shades darker but he didn’t pull away.
“You can crash at my place if you want. We can get some Chinese on the way and you can take my bed if you decide to stay over. I’ll take the couch.” The bright chime in Alfred’s voice was back in an attempt to brighten up the green eyed beauty, patting him on the shoulder as he pulled him towards the parking lot. “It’ll be fun! Kind of like a sleepover. We can make popcorn and eat ice cream and just crash while watching a movie! I hope you aren’t the kind of guy that parks and then forgets where you left your car. Because that would really suck, y’know?”
Pulling out his wallet, Arthur fished for a yellow ticket and his key. He was beginning to get used to Alfred’s verbal whiplash and inconstant thoughts. That didn’t make it any less annoying at times. “Valet.”
“You’re a smart guy after all.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I thought you were all looks and no brain!”
Arthur stopped walking and opted to stare at the insufferable American. He was torn between taking that as an insult or a compliment. He played it safe. “Have you even been paying attention these last few weeks? All we’ve talked about? You still take me as some ignorant buffoon?”
The smile was nearly blinding as Alfred looked back at him, blue eyes running along the shorter and a lot more slender silhouette. It didn’t feel like he was being undressed by those eyes, unlike that constant aura that bastard emanated; instead it felt like Alfred was admiring what he had on. “I was just complimenting you, jerk.”
“W-Well…”
“You look really nice dressed that way. Just saying. Gives you that whole European look.” The American shrugged as he crossed the road headed to the parking lot, Arthur close on his heels. He felt awfully bubbly inside, more than usual, knowing that his crush was there by his side. Fuming sure, and a bit depressed, but still there. Alfred had come to his rescue and he had never felt prouder of himself. “Bet you’ve knocked a few people off their feet, eh, you stud?”
“Belt it.” Arthur finally caught up with him, nearly pressing onto his side as they walked towards the valet. He was aware that he was acting overly needy and vulnerable, but he allowed himself the small slip. Company was something he craved for at the moment and who better than Alfred to fulfill the sudden need. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it, babe.”
It took then a near forty minutes to get Arthur’s car delivered to them, the service being rather backed up with the stream of people coming in and out. Alfred wondered exactly why he was at the airport, looking so nice and trimmed. Maybe he was seeing someone off? It was unlikely he would park in the lot if it meant dropping someone off, so that option was checked off. Did he miss a plane? He took note of the small luggage perched at Arthur’s side, so that seemed like the likeliest occurrence. Or maybe he was waiting for someone to arrive. That could explain the stormy look in his eyes.
In the end Alfred opted out on asking. He would wait until Arthur had calmed down to then question what was wrong. In the meantime, he’d stick to him and see that he had everything he needed to be comfortable. Fleeting glances were exchanged as they waited, but the time was spent in silence. Arthur now took to himself and his distance, but that didn’t stop the longing looks he gave Alfred. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to run into those arms but he had to maintain himself upright. Had to compose and remember himself and the fact that he and Francis were still a couple. Arthur was a great many negative things, but unfaithful wasn’t one of them. No matter how much his partner deserved it. No matter how much he wanted to do so.
The drive back to Alfred’s place was spent in light chatter, both of them arguing over which opponent was better between space cowboys and pirates. They both brought up various books and movies, some comics and one video game Alfred claimed to have played on the internet. Even if in the end neither won the argument, since a certain someone had to throw ninjas into the mix, it had served to lighten Arthur’s mood by a little, getting him to laugh at how ridiculous Alfred was being. It had calmed their frizzled nerves.
Relief shadowed everything else when Arthur walked through the threshold into Alfred’s apartment, even if he twisted his nose at how disorganized it all was. There were condiments scattered across the countertops, a few dirty mugs and plates in the sink and a fork on top of a math book. The floor was rather tidy though, but he still watched his step as he went further in.
“Make yourself at home!”
For being the apartment of a student who worked a part-time in a coffee shop, the place was pretty damn impressive. “Daddy paying for your place?” He knew it was a rather rude thing to say, but judging by how he was feeling, he could be so much more rude if he so pleased.
“Yup. He wants me to focus on my studies and he doesn’t exactly like to keep me around so he got me my own place. Cool, huh?” Alfred made his way to his bedroom, gesturing for Arthur to follow. “I’d say it isn’t much, but… it kind of is. I don’t even ask how much he pays for it; it’d probably send me in a major guilt trip.”
“You can’t buy love. Money doesn’t express affection.”
“Dad’s like that. We don’t really talk a lot because of it… He keeps saying I’m too naïve for the world. Last guys finish last and all that shit.”
Arthur stared at the young man who at that moment seemed even younger. His brilliant smile seemed sad as he pushed the door open and allowed him to enter. “They do, most of the times.”
“I don’t believe that. Call me what you want, and even if it’s true, I’ll go down with my ship.” Alfred turned his smile to Arthur with nothing but honesty in his big eyes and shrugged a little. “I’d like to believe that good things come to those who do good in the long run. No matter how long it takes. Even if they have to do little evil to achieve a greater good.”
Stunned green eyes stared at the young man leaning against the doorframe. Arthur understood that Alfred meant every word that he had just said, and that he also understood the gravity of it all. Whatever lurked behind those glasses might have been honest and innocent, but there was a scar that ran deeper than anything he could fathom. Alfred had experienced firsthand the coldness of the world although it had not been as severe as Arthur’s ride… but the lack of a parent’s love was something he didn’t wish upon his worst of enemies.
That aside, he was surprised that Alfred could express himself so eloquently. “Here I thought you were all looks and no brain.”
The burst of laughter made Arthur ease into a small smile as he watched Alfred wave it off. “Naw, that’s just me being a sourpuss. Anyways! This is my room. Nice and big. Closet is over here and if you slide this here…” He nudged a barely visible notch on the wall right across his bed, and a rather large compartment exposed itself. “You get the flat screen T.V. HD, baby. Impressive, isn’t it?”
“That is ridiculously marvelous.” Arthur said with a laugh as he marveled at the cunning idea. Nice and safe. He turned towards the bed then, crossing his arms before his chest. “Do you usually sleep on a bare bed?”
“Uh, no, heh.” Rushing out of the room, Alfred made quick of getting a handful of fresh sheets from the laundry pile. “I was in the process of washing them this morning before my boss called me in for work. So I kind of left before I could get it dressed.” He yelled from the other room, making sure to throw whatever other dishes were dirty into the sink in the meantime. Never in his life had Alfred wished he had cleaned up as much as he did right then.
Arthur walked along the room, taking in the beige carpeted floors as it cushioned his steps. He was no one to deny the dirty little thoughts that fleetingly crossed his mind. ‘This would make it rather easier on the knees…’ Unlike the rest of the apartment, the room was surprisingly clean for the exception of a pair of jeans strewn over desk. The right wall was nothing but a solid piece of glass and a sliding door that led onto a private patio. In the heart of New York City… that place indeed must have cost a fortune. High ceiling, white walls and white furniture and silver-colored details, the room looked like something out of a magazine.
“Here we go. Nice and clean.” Alfred barged back into his room, dumping the neatly folded sheets on the queen-sized bed. “What is it?”
“I half expected those to be Indian satin.” The Briton joked as he dropped onto the bed, making himself comfortable without Alfred signaling him to. Alfred seemed pleased by that, though.
“No way, man. Those tend to stick, so they aren’t as comfortable as you think they are. These are Egyptian cotton.”
“You have got to be joking.”
“That’s what the label says. I just bought them at Wal-Mart.”
“Alfred F. Jones… you are something else entirely.” With that, Arthur allowed himself to drop his head onto the pillows, looking up at a pair of mesmerizing blue puddles deep enough to drown him. “Thank you.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________
A/N: Speedy update was speedy. :p
I've been wanting to write this chapter forever now, since this is where it all begins to change. For better or worse... we'll just have to wait and see.
I'll say no more because... well... spoilers.Thank you to all you fabulous who've dropped by reviews! ;o;
Those are always so very welcome and motivating! ~
Genre: Romance, drama, AU.
Pairings: USxUK, slight FrUK.
Rating: NC-17 / M
Warnings: Language, sexual content, adult themes such as infidelity, alcohol and some drug use.
Summary: Arthur Kirkland had only intended to dance away his stress and haunting past; never would he have thought in a million years, that on that night, on that particular nightclub, he would meet the one person who would change his life forever.
“Francis, where on Earth are you? Do you even have the slightest idea what time it is?” Arthur yelled into his phone, pacing around his apartment while making sure that all his necessities were packed. His irritation had peaked in the last couple of days, stress finally beginning to sink it at the approaching ‘business trip’ his boyfriend had so casually booked without his proper consent. Call him a fool, but in the end he had agreed to it. He wasn’t being a masochist about the whole ordeal; he simply needed to regain his footing after the past couple of weeks.
“Arthur, my love! How nice of you to call. Yes I am perfectly aware at what time it is and no, I will not miss the plane. Running rather late since the CEO requested an emergency meeting; apparently they didn’t get the memo and are now desperately searching for someone to stand in during my absence.” The sea of voices made it nearly impossible for Arthur to understand half of the words, but he nodded absently.
“I am not taking a cab to the airport!”
“Mon cher, you can take your own car. It’ll be more than safe in the building while we are gone; there is no need to worry. Or if it makes you feel better you could always ask Antonio to accompany you, that way he’d be able to drive it back, oui?”
The slender body dropped onto the neatly made bed, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He resisted the urge to reach for a cigarette. “Antonio’s at work. Had you told me before maybe then he’d been able to lend me his time.”
A short, calculating silence lingered over the line.
“Is something wrong, mon amour?”
“Why are you asking?”
“You seem distastefully subdued for someone who fought tooth and nail against this entire ordeal and you haven’t even done one quip at my endearments. Are you feeling ill?”
Arthur scoffed, loud and clear enough for Francis to hear over the phone. “Oh shut it. There’s no pleasing you is there? I’ll get to the bloody airport and if you haven’t arrived by then, I’ll board without you.” And without another word, he slammed the phone shut.
He really did not want to go to on said trip.
France was a stunningly beautiful country, sure, but having Francis in tow was something that killed the entire mood and experience. Thinking about what it meant, leaving to an exotic country with your unwanted boyfriend, made him sick to an entirely new level. Oh, what people would think. The level of self respect he’d be butchering; the amount he had already forfeited the moment he agreed to going on the blasted trip. In truth, Arthur was at a complete mental standstill. He spoke as if he had already decided on going when in truth he was still debating whether or not he should.
He felt lethargic as he made his way into the kitchen to make himself some tea, if only just to get his hands busy while he thought. Those past few weeks had been an unexpected turning point for him though he still wasn’t quite sure where he stood. Being driven by a schoolboy crush was hardly the responsible way to go by it, but it was something. A really big something that made him question his motives. Arthur no longer felt horribly alone, despite the lingering reminiscence of it. His desolation was something he hadn’t been able to deal with, hence why he had run into Francis’ arms out of sheer desperation. And even then, that shadow engulfed him whenever he shut his eyes. But now, things had changed.
Blue eyes haunted his dreams and Arthur was no one to deny that fact. He had become smitten with the lad, with that enticing smile and boyish charm. Noisy outbursts and excited chatter. Maybe he lacked that posh quality that Francis had, but damn, everything else made up for it. Alfred made him feel genuinely wanted, lusted after. And goodness it scared him.
Relationships were never his strongpoint. Not right then when his depression still raged at full force, when those ghosts of a lost love came to torment him or whenever Francis reminded him of how filthy he was. Alfred was probably still a flushing virgin; he didn’t deserve Arthur’s soiled hands running along that tanned skin, claiming such innocent wonders. In fact, he needn’t be thinking about such things regarding Alfred.
France had been an excuse, a hopeful excuse to get away from the constant temptation that was Alfred Jones. Arthur had hoped that being away from the ball of sunshine would set him at ease, would allow him to think clearly like the logical and responsible adult that he was. Acting like a creepy old pervert was taking a bit of a blow to his gentleman stature and he wasn’t about to just sit back and watch it all hit the fan because of some teenager. He tried to convince himself that it was nothing but lust and unresolved sexual tension; nothing he couldn’t handle after a few drinks and a willing Francis.
Arthur was at a crossroads.
Either he could get on that plane and just allow his life to continue in the unhealthy mess that it currently was… or he could… he could what? In all honesty he knew and understood that he had no options; at least, not plausible ones. He fancied the thought of just waltzing into the café and walking right up to the counter, taking Alfred by the waist and tipping him back for a fairytale kiss. The boy would have been thrilled he reckoned. But he was just that, a boy. A young boy… just like his wife had been a young girl. Driven by stupid dreams and aspirations that led them to their imminent demise. “Alfred isn’t like her….” It might have taken him years to notice that lurking cruelty behind her eyes, but with Alfred, just a matter of weeks told him of his intentions. Hormonal, yes, but crystal clear. “Bloody ol’ fool has me grinning like a wolf.”
Dipping the teabag into his mug of hot water, he hummed to himself. A small smile played out as he thought over the conversations that had taken place during those last couple of weeks. Arthur was suddenly stricken by the urge to hear Alfred’s voice again; to listen to that New York accent that made him squirm in his seat. In fact, he just wanted to talk to him. Alfred would always listen even if he was more of the talking type, and that made his stomach flutter warmly as it did at that very moment. Leaning against the counter, Arthur wrapped his free arm around himself as he took a sip from his mug.
Those weren’t feelings of love. It was just an innocent little crush. Just a crush.
His watch beeped once it struck four in the afternoon, alerting him to hurry up and just finish packing. Setting the mug down, he lingered for a while longer, truly torn between leaving with Francis and staying with Alfred. It came down to what was best for whom. What was best for Arthur against what was best for Alfred. No matter how selfish the Briton was, he couldn’t bring himself to just ruin a young man’s life. His life had been lived and it wouldn’t be fair to just spoil Alfred’s for his own sake.
“France it is then.” With a defeated sigh, Arthur set to finishing his luggage. He didn’t have much of a variety of clothing, but most of his sweater vests had been packed along with his dressing slacks and a handful of coats. Some personal utilities were thrown into his carryon, two packs of cigarettes included. When with Francis, he knew he was going to need them. A couple of boxes more were called for, in fact.
Kicking off his slippers, Arthur went about to change his clothes. He had groomed himself earlier that day, refreshing his haircut and shaving off what little stubble had grown overnight, making him look somewhat younger than usual. For being in his mid thirties, he kept his appearance rather uptight and clean. Wore he any other type of clothing, he’d be able to pass as in his late twenties at the very least. Served as a pretty neat confidence boost really, one that was always welcomed.
With a new pair of black trousers, a burgundy turtleneck and a beige pea coat, he had to admit that he looked rather dashing once he stood before the mirror. The coat framed his body nicely, reaching down to mid thigh; the large black buttons flowing with the design and his new shoes. Arthur ran his hands along some invisible wrinkles before reaching for his matching gloves. He looked too damn good for Francis, he thought with a slight frown, but he soon reminded himself not to dwell on it. No second guessing for that would only bring a rotten decision; one that couldn’t be afforded.
Three hours before departure, he decided to load what little luggage he carried into his car. It took him three good trips, but it all thankfully fit snugly in the trunk. With one final cup of tea, he set about to unplugging all electrical appliances and storing all important documents that he wasn’t to bring along in his personal safe.
Pocketing his phone and wallet, Arthur stood at his door, looking over the neatly organized apartment from that very spot with a blank expression. His mind was a melting pot of negative vibes and suppressed emotions, but he denied himself the privilege of thought. He wouldn’t think about it anymore. Not until he was finally in the air, on the way to the country of love. Only then he’d allow himself to regret his decision; he might also attempt to jump off said plane even if he had to take all the passengers with him.
Arthur shook his head, stepping out of the daze as he walked out into the hallway and locked the door behind him. Green eyes looked around fleetingly, a distant memory setting in before he shook it off as well.
He remembered that one night when Alfred ‘saved’ him from the thug in Central Park. The warm companionship he had offered on their way back… and that deliciously warm kiss just as he was about to say goodnight. So hesitant and sweet… Arthur stopped the train of thought when his eyes stung, moister beginning to form in their corners. He wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t.
Storming down the hallway, he skipped the stairs and walked down a near half a block to get to his car. No more thinking if he wasn’t able to keep his feelings and emotions in check.
The drive to the JFK International Airport was about a half hour long, so he’d be able take it slow even with the heavy traffic. And that he did. He blasted rock music as he drove, hooked up his wireless headset and spoke to Antonio for half the drive and even smoked a fag, which tasted utterly amazing after so long.
In the end, after check in and all was done, he had arrived at the gate with a good hour to spare. He thought they’d already be boarding since it had taken him quite a while to get his car checked into the parking lot, but all was as good as it got.
Arthur casually dropped down onto the cushioned leather seat, pulling out a paperback from his bag to entertain himself in the meantime. As he absently flipped through the pages looking for the one he had marked, he spared a brief look around the terminal and took in just how empty it actually was for an early evening flight. He also noticed the plane and thought it rather odd, but he didn’t make much of it.
Twenty minutes later, he had read the same paragraph three times and each time his mind comprehended nothing. His mind was elsewhere, begging and tugging to draw its attention towards a more pressing matter than Mr. Darcy. Arthur continued to fight it even when he slammed the battered book shut and shoved it right back into the bag, reaching then for his phone instead. For a brief moment he considered calling Francis and asking if he was still at the meeting, but he didn’t want to give the French bastard that kind of satisfaction. The thought that he might actually take that as ‘concern’ repulsed Arthur.
So instead, he ran through his contacts and stopped at the very first name listed there.
Alfred.
“Fuck.” He muttered the curse to himself and pondered for a moment. That might just be the last time he’d be able to speak to Alfred in only God knows how long. Francis would be a constant presence along the trip, and hell, he wasn’t even sure if his phone handled long distance. Slender fingertips drummed against the armrest as he stared on at the screen, his heart quickening when he finally tapped the contact, the screen flashing green as an image of a ringing phone blinked. Arthur waited. No answer came. He took it as a sign, but the moment the small contraption was slid into his pocket it began to vibrate. Expecting to see Francis’ name on the caller ID, green eyes widened when he saw Alfred’s instead. Taking a deep breath, he hesitated, and then tapped the screen. “Arthur Kirkland.”
“Yo, Arthur! Man I was surprised when I saw a call from you! Had I know, I would have kept the damn thing close. I’m at work so, we’re gonna have to make this short. N-Not that I wanna be rude and stuff, ya’ know. What’s up?”
Arthur’s breath hitched in his throat as the exuberant voice rambled briefly in his ear, making him smile softly to himself as he leaned back into his seat. “Um… Hello, Alfred. I simply called to see how you were doing today.”
Even with the short silence, Arthur could clearly see the huge grin. It made his fingers tingle. “I’m great, man.” The voice sounded lower, much to his surprise, but the Briton loved just how intimate it sounded. Just for his ears… just for him. “Kind of tired and stuff, but I’m cool. You sound kind of out of it yourself. You at work?”
“Oh, no. I actually have a few weeks off, thankfully enough-”
“We should hang out!” Alfred interrupted before the other could finish his sentence. Normally the lack of manners would have annoyed the Briton, but at that moment he couldn’t stop thinking about how endearing it was. “You know, we can go bowling. Or we can hit the movies. Just as friends, obviously! I-If your boyfriend doesn’t mind, haha. Wouldn’t want to piss him off now. Do you wanna drop by the café now? It’d be… it’d be kind of nice to see you and stuff…”
Arthur felt his heart twist painfully in his chest. Alfred sounded rather put off whenever he mentioned his boyfriend, reminding the Englishman that the American indeed wanted more than just their casual acquaintanceship. Arthur was still debating if the other was fully aware of that fact. Taking a quivering breath, he replied. “I would love to, but- wait, hold on. Alfred I’ll have to call you back; I’ve got an incoming call.”
“Alright, baby. I’ll be waiting!”
He heard the line go dead and it might have taken him a moment, but soon enough red burst across his cheeks as he fumbled to take the incoming call. Baby; he had called him baby. ‘Francis never calls me that…’ This time, much to his dismay, it was Francis’ name flashing on the screen. He half considered hanging up on him but something nudged him to pick it up. Almost immediately, he regretted the decision.
A string of heated French assaulted his ear quite loudly. Arthur picked up bits and pieces of the sea of curses and swears that was so unnatural for the usually suave Frenchman. Stunned, he was at a loss of words and therefore unable to tell him to calm his bleeding pants down. Instead he opted to just sit there and listen until his boss decided to speak normally.
“Où vous êtes?! Vous êtes en retard!” Arthur was sure he’d be able to understand more than half the things if he listened carefully, but those two key phrases gave him just the heads-up he needed. However it only served to fuel his confusion.
“Fran-Francis! Francis! Would you please be quiet and- Francis, you bloody fuck!” The Englishman immediately dropped his tone when several people cast him an annoyed glance. As if they’d never sworn before. “I can’t understand half the things you’re yelling about.” Arthur straightened up in his chair, looking around as he pressed the phone closer to his ear.
“You said you’d be here early! You have no excuse, Kirkland! I practically ran out of that office to get here just in the nick of time and you just take your precious little time! What is the damn meaning of this… this…?” The man broke off into French again, leaving Arthur stunned in his seat.
“I’m at the gate.” He quickly jumped to his feet and whipped around to look at the small crowd spread out across the large waiting area. No visible sign of Francis. With a huff, he scratched at his chin, letting the hand fall to rest at his hip. Maybe it was a trick? For all he knew the French swine was probably hiding behind a pillar having a good laugh at his expense. “Just calm down and tell me where you are. Who’s sitting next to you? Are you near a window or?”
The man over the line took a loud inhale, and if Arthur didn’t know better, he was probably tugging at his beard in frustration. Despite the headache, the Briton felt somewhat satisfied. “I am sitting in the first row beside the window. The one where the plane is parked. I am near the ticket desk.” Terse words sounded foreign in Francis’ accent.
Green eyes scanned the area, thick eyebrows knitting when he came across the mentioned row. It was empty; and he was now convinced that the asshole was pulling a trick on him. “Would you please stop it? I’m not in the mood for-” Arthur’s voice faded as he heard something else in the background, his blood freezing almost instantly. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” And that phrase, he had learnt from Alfred.
The stewardess spoke over the loudspeakers, informing that coach was beginning to board. Which meant that First Class was already on the plane; which also meant that… that what? “Arthur. Which gate did you say you were at?”
In a heartbeat, Arthur looked at the number over the desk. His palms felt sweaty. “Gate 103.”
“Mon cher.” He could hear the sarcasm dripping from Francis’ voice along with a million and one gallons of poison. “Our flight departs from gate 301.”
Suddenly, the lack of people made sense. The British Airways airplane sitting out in the tarmac also clicked into place. Of course that wasn’t his place to be. Of course that wasn’t his plane. And of course, he was on the opposite side of one of America’s largest and busiest airports. “You’ve already boarded.”
“I’m standing at the gate, waiting for the rest of the passengers to board so that I can go along with you. That is, if you so decide to get here before the plane leaves, bien sûr.”
With a loud curse Arthur slammed his phone shut, jammed it in his pocket and gathered his belongings in record speed before dashing off in the same direction he had come from. Of course, it was a fool’s errand to even think he would have been able to reach the gate before the plane departed. That didn’t stop the near suffocating rage that seared through him once he arrived at the desolate area.
Customs had been quite a hassle since it required for him to go through the checkpoint once again. No matter how much he had argued, it was either subject to it again or get removed from the airport. Eventually he quieted down and did as he was told. A few halls later, he found that the specific area was under maintenance and he was once again forced to wait as heavy machinery was dragged across. Once Arthur reached the final corridor that led directly to his appointed gate, the heel to his shoe broke off. It took all his might not to yell and get arrested in the empty gate, but that didn’t stop him from kicking a bin rather forcefully.
In the end, anger and frustration melted into ire when he looked at his phone. No missed calls, just one measly text message. Francis simply said that he’d arrange a ticket for the next flight to France, but nothing more. Not the slightest nudge of effort to contact him properly.
He hadn’t waited.
Bonnefoy had simply gotten on the plane and left, instead of taking the logical course of action and waiting for Arthur to arrive; even if it meant them taking the next plane out of the country. But no. He had just gotten into his comfortable little First Class seat and took off. Heavens knew what he was already doing by then; probably hitting on the stewardess and cupping a feel whenever they walked by. Sipping on martinis and laughing in that rich voice of his is if it hadn’t been his boyfriend the one that was left standing like an idiot at the gate. And the saddest bit of it all was the fact that Francis Bonnefoy was perfectly capable of doing such debaucheries in his absence.
It was always the same in the end, the Englishman thought as he stared at the locked door a few feet away. Always left behind because no one would wait for him whenever he made a mistake. A stupid, insignificant mistake. All the same… They were all the same. Each and every one.
With a broken shoe and misty eyes, Arthur simply stood there. Even when the janitors had come in to clean the area sparing him uninterested glances, he stared on at the gray door.
The next flight… There was no next flight because Arthur downright refused to go to him. He would no longer waste his time on Francis, no matter who said or did what. If it costs him his job, he quite frankly did not care. For whatever was left might as well bring on the rest. That was the kind of thing he didn’t need in life. That was how it usually all started. He refused to go down with the same ship twice. Arthur was done running. He was done being the desperate coward seeking for poisoned affection…
In his pocket, his phone began to vibrate. Without bothering to look at who it was, he simply opened it, tapped the screen and pressed it to his ear. He didn’t greet whoever was on the line, simply waited for them to speak. It took them a while to break the silence, but when they did it was enough to snap Arthur out of his numb haze.
“Are you okay, Art?” Arthur’s hands began to tremble. “If you want to talk you know I’m your guy. I’m probably not a sage or whatever… but I can listen and stuff.” The voice was surprisingly gentle. No matter how hard the Briton tried to fight it, a soft almost inaudible sob slipped out.
“No.” He heard Alfred speaking to someone in the background and then noise faded; the chatter from the café silencing on the other end. “No, I’m not…” He wasn’t sure if he was saying it because he thought Alfred had missed it, or because he was finally admitting it to himself. That after so many years, after so many lies and covers, he wasn’t okay.
“Just stay where you are, I’ll come for you. Are you at your place?” Arthur could hear the stress in Alfred’s voice, but he couldn’t bring himself feel anything for it.
“At the airport.”
“Okay, you stay right there and don’t move. I’ll be there as soon as I can, Arthur. Can you wait for me at the main entrance? Even if I just… told you not to move…heh.” The sound of rustling clothes told Arthur that he was probably removing his apron as they spoke. He nodded even though Alfred couldn’t see him; he made no effort in getting the point across. Alfred sensed it anyways. “Good then. I’ll be there in a few.” The line went silent, and even after it did, the phone stayed pressed against Arthur ear.
It took Alfred a good hour to reach the airport in a cab and thankfully it didn’t take him that long to find Arthur. He was sitting on a bench just outside the main entrance, and he found himself slowing his step for a brief moment. Maybe it wasn’t the correct time to just stand aside and admire just how good Arthur looked dressed that way… but God he looked fucking gorgeous. Relief coursed through him when he saw him unharmed, but a knot tightened in his stomach with ever step he took. Puffy cheeks and red eyes told him that something had gone down and Alfred found himself between feeling sad and angry at the whole unknown ordeal.
Green eyes looked up at him as he stood before the bench, that frown deeper than he had ever seen before and it almost made him feel sick to his stomach. Alfred fought against the knot in his throat, searching for his voice amidst the near choking sadness he felt bubbling too close to the surface. “Sorry I took so long.” His was barely above a whisper, but still there as he smiled wistfully at the blonde man.
Alfred nearly lost his footing when the solid weight of Arthur’s body slammed into his, slender arms coming up to tightly wrap themselves around the American’s midriff. Not missing a beat, he returned the gesture, holding the cold man to him in a desperate attempt to console him and keep him warm. Soft sobs echoed against his neck and he could do nothing but rock to and fro, a large hand soothingly running along the smaller back.
Right then, Alfred had no time to blush for whatever the reason. He didn’t care what people thought of the scene playing out right before their wandering eyes. Arthur was the sole point of his attention at that very moment and if he had to stand there and hold him in his arms, then damn it all he’d do it with no regrets. An odd kind of warmth settled in him, understanding dawning in him that he wasn’t only just an acquaintance anymore. He was Arthur’s confident, and he had never felt prouder.
Pressing a kiss atop of the tussled blonde hair, Alfred let out a soft chuckle meant as an endearing gesture. Arthur straightened a bit in his grasp, clearing his throat but refusing to pull away from the worn leather jacket just yet. He was letting Alfred know that he had his attention even while he was acting like a spoiled child craving for affection. The American found it rather cute.
“Let’s get you out of the cold, okay? I have a taxi waiting for us just off the curb.” He tried to coax Arthur into reacting a bit more, but the Briton only shook his head.
“My car is in the lot.”
Straining to hear the gruff mumble, Alfred nodded. “Come on then, I’ll drive you home.” But Arthur refused to budge still. “Arti?”
“… I don’t want to go home.” Alfred was taken aback at the words.
Fixing his crooked glasses, he stared down at the flustered man who was now staring at the star on his jacket in turn. Overall Arthur looked like he had just gone through a very long day and he wasn’t about to argue. Instead, he opted for softly running his fingers through the short locks of hair, making the Brit blush a few shades darker but he didn’t pull away.
“You can crash at my place if you want. We can get some Chinese on the way and you can take my bed if you decide to stay over. I’ll take the couch.” The bright chime in Alfred’s voice was back in an attempt to brighten up the green eyed beauty, patting him on the shoulder as he pulled him towards the parking lot. “It’ll be fun! Kind of like a sleepover. We can make popcorn and eat ice cream and just crash while watching a movie! I hope you aren’t the kind of guy that parks and then forgets where you left your car. Because that would really suck, y’know?”
Pulling out his wallet, Arthur fished for a yellow ticket and his key. He was beginning to get used to Alfred’s verbal whiplash and inconstant thoughts. That didn’t make it any less annoying at times. “Valet.”
“You’re a smart guy after all.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I thought you were all looks and no brain!”
Arthur stopped walking and opted to stare at the insufferable American. He was torn between taking that as an insult or a compliment. He played it safe. “Have you even been paying attention these last few weeks? All we’ve talked about? You still take me as some ignorant buffoon?”
The smile was nearly blinding as Alfred looked back at him, blue eyes running along the shorter and a lot more slender silhouette. It didn’t feel like he was being undressed by those eyes, unlike that constant aura that bastard emanated; instead it felt like Alfred was admiring what he had on. “I was just complimenting you, jerk.”
“W-Well…”
“You look really nice dressed that way. Just saying. Gives you that whole European look.” The American shrugged as he crossed the road headed to the parking lot, Arthur close on his heels. He felt awfully bubbly inside, more than usual, knowing that his crush was there by his side. Fuming sure, and a bit depressed, but still there. Alfred had come to his rescue and he had never felt prouder of himself. “Bet you’ve knocked a few people off their feet, eh, you stud?”
“Belt it.” Arthur finally caught up with him, nearly pressing onto his side as they walked towards the valet. He was aware that he was acting overly needy and vulnerable, but he allowed himself the small slip. Company was something he craved for at the moment and who better than Alfred to fulfill the sudden need. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it, babe.”
It took then a near forty minutes to get Arthur’s car delivered to them, the service being rather backed up with the stream of people coming in and out. Alfred wondered exactly why he was at the airport, looking so nice and trimmed. Maybe he was seeing someone off? It was unlikely he would park in the lot if it meant dropping someone off, so that option was checked off. Did he miss a plane? He took note of the small luggage perched at Arthur’s side, so that seemed like the likeliest occurrence. Or maybe he was waiting for someone to arrive. That could explain the stormy look in his eyes.
In the end Alfred opted out on asking. He would wait until Arthur had calmed down to then question what was wrong. In the meantime, he’d stick to him and see that he had everything he needed to be comfortable. Fleeting glances were exchanged as they waited, but the time was spent in silence. Arthur now took to himself and his distance, but that didn’t stop the longing looks he gave Alfred. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to run into those arms but he had to maintain himself upright. Had to compose and remember himself and the fact that he and Francis were still a couple. Arthur was a great many negative things, but unfaithful wasn’t one of them. No matter how much his partner deserved it. No matter how much he wanted to do so.
The drive back to Alfred’s place was spent in light chatter, both of them arguing over which opponent was better between space cowboys and pirates. They both brought up various books and movies, some comics and one video game Alfred claimed to have played on the internet. Even if in the end neither won the argument, since a certain someone had to throw ninjas into the mix, it had served to lighten Arthur’s mood by a little, getting him to laugh at how ridiculous Alfred was being. It had calmed their frizzled nerves.
Relief shadowed everything else when Arthur walked through the threshold into Alfred’s apartment, even if he twisted his nose at how disorganized it all was. There were condiments scattered across the countertops, a few dirty mugs and plates in the sink and a fork on top of a math book. The floor was rather tidy though, but he still watched his step as he went further in.
“Make yourself at home!”
For being the apartment of a student who worked a part-time in a coffee shop, the place was pretty damn impressive. “Daddy paying for your place?” He knew it was a rather rude thing to say, but judging by how he was feeling, he could be so much more rude if he so pleased.
“Yup. He wants me to focus on my studies and he doesn’t exactly like to keep me around so he got me my own place. Cool, huh?” Alfred made his way to his bedroom, gesturing for Arthur to follow. “I’d say it isn’t much, but… it kind of is. I don’t even ask how much he pays for it; it’d probably send me in a major guilt trip.”
“You can’t buy love. Money doesn’t express affection.”
“Dad’s like that. We don’t really talk a lot because of it… He keeps saying I’m too naïve for the world. Last guys finish last and all that shit.”
Arthur stared at the young man who at that moment seemed even younger. His brilliant smile seemed sad as he pushed the door open and allowed him to enter. “They do, most of the times.”
“I don’t believe that. Call me what you want, and even if it’s true, I’ll go down with my ship.” Alfred turned his smile to Arthur with nothing but honesty in his big eyes and shrugged a little. “I’d like to believe that good things come to those who do good in the long run. No matter how long it takes. Even if they have to do little evil to achieve a greater good.”
Stunned green eyes stared at the young man leaning against the doorframe. Arthur understood that Alfred meant every word that he had just said, and that he also understood the gravity of it all. Whatever lurked behind those glasses might have been honest and innocent, but there was a scar that ran deeper than anything he could fathom. Alfred had experienced firsthand the coldness of the world although it had not been as severe as Arthur’s ride… but the lack of a parent’s love was something he didn’t wish upon his worst of enemies.
That aside, he was surprised that Alfred could express himself so eloquently. “Here I thought you were all looks and no brain.”
The burst of laughter made Arthur ease into a small smile as he watched Alfred wave it off. “Naw, that’s just me being a sourpuss. Anyways! This is my room. Nice and big. Closet is over here and if you slide this here…” He nudged a barely visible notch on the wall right across his bed, and a rather large compartment exposed itself. “You get the flat screen T.V. HD, baby. Impressive, isn’t it?”
“That is ridiculously marvelous.” Arthur said with a laugh as he marveled at the cunning idea. Nice and safe. He turned towards the bed then, crossing his arms before his chest. “Do you usually sleep on a bare bed?”
“Uh, no, heh.” Rushing out of the room, Alfred made quick of getting a handful of fresh sheets from the laundry pile. “I was in the process of washing them this morning before my boss called me in for work. So I kind of left before I could get it dressed.” He yelled from the other room, making sure to throw whatever other dishes were dirty into the sink in the meantime. Never in his life had Alfred wished he had cleaned up as much as he did right then.
Arthur walked along the room, taking in the beige carpeted floors as it cushioned his steps. He was no one to deny the dirty little thoughts that fleetingly crossed his mind. ‘This would make it rather easier on the knees…’ Unlike the rest of the apartment, the room was surprisingly clean for the exception of a pair of jeans strewn over desk. The right wall was nothing but a solid piece of glass and a sliding door that led onto a private patio. In the heart of New York City… that place indeed must have cost a fortune. High ceiling, white walls and white furniture and silver-colored details, the room looked like something out of a magazine.
“Here we go. Nice and clean.” Alfred barged back into his room, dumping the neatly folded sheets on the queen-sized bed. “What is it?”
“I half expected those to be Indian satin.” The Briton joked as he dropped onto the bed, making himself comfortable without Alfred signaling him to. Alfred seemed pleased by that, though.
“No way, man. Those tend to stick, so they aren’t as comfortable as you think they are. These are Egyptian cotton.”
“You have got to be joking.”
“That’s what the label says. I just bought them at Wal-Mart.”
“Alfred F. Jones… you are something else entirely.” With that, Arthur allowed himself to drop his head onto the pillows, looking up at a pair of mesmerizing blue puddles deep enough to drown him. “Thank you.”
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A/N: Speedy update was speedy. :p
I've been wanting to write this chapter forever now, since this is where it all begins to change. For better or worse... we'll just have to wait and see.
I'll say no more because... well... spoilers.Thank you to all you fabulous who've dropped by reviews! ;o;
Those are always so very welcome and motivating! ~