[APH] Falling in Love in New York City - (10 / ?)
Title: Falling in Love in New York City - 10 / ?
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.
“Okay, so. We’ve got… pajamas, whatever pants I’ll be able to find in your closet, whatever shirts I’ll find, preferably button downs and some sweater vests and anything particularly geeky looking; socks in all colors, brown shoes since you already have your black ones on… What else am I missing? Bow ties?”
Arthur groaned as he rummaged through the cabinets of Alfred’s kitchen, looking for anything that might be able to even resemble tea in the slightest degree. Anything to not drink that damn bitter as hell coffee that stood there ever so mockingly, just beckoning him to take a blasted drink. Trust an American to have nothing appealing to his tastes in their apartment, typical, but that didn’t stop Arthur from becoming annoyed. Somehow, he had expected for Alfred to have those sorts of things, being a barista and all. “Yes, yes, that’s about right. I still don’t see why you don’t deem me fit enough to go get those myself. It’s almost like you want to sneak into my apartment, you sneaky bastard.” He threw Alfred a knowing sidelong look, making the other gawk at him.
“You don’t exactly look like you’re in the mood to do much driving. I’m only doing you a favor, so don’t come treating me like a stalker.” Alfred’s grin was wide and beaming as he scribbled down on his notepad, checking off the items on the list. “Is there anything else you want?”
“Tea. I have an unopened box by my stove. And…” Arthur stopped for a moment, remembering something extremely important that he needed on his person. His cheeks colored at the thought of asking Alfred, someone who he had just met a matter of weeks ago, to bring those along.
“And what?” Jumping up on the counter, Alfred gave him a funny look. “What is it?” He swung his long legs from side to side; making sure he bumped Arthur’s hip as he did so. Touching. He wanted to touch him… and not only to just get his attention.
“Are you sure you aren’t some type of creepy stalker?” Arthur peaked from the corner of his eye, gauging Alfred’s reaction while looking rather suspicious. In truth, he was just trying to hide the embarrassing blush that had spread like wildfire.
Blue eyes stared steadily at the Brit who refused to look at him entirely, taking the moment to take in the sharp angles of his face from the side view. The soft curve of his cheek gave him the urge to lean in and kiss it; the same could be said for the feathery soft looking hair as well. “Let’s look at it this way. If I am a creepy stalker, I already have you in my apartment. What need would I have to creep on your place when I’ve got the real thing at arm’s length?”
He couldn’t deny it; Arthur’s heart fluttered in his chest, making his stomach churn in what seemed to be anticipation, as deeply disturbing as it all sounded. He had liked the answer for some reason, mostly because he caught the underlying meaning that the American wasn’t lying or joking about it. Wire framed glasses didn’t hide the seriousness of his words as those eyes stared openly at him, and he couldn’t resist staring back. But Arthur’s eyes trained themselves on the suddenly tight line that had become of Alfred’s lips. “Seems like a rather legitimate answer.”
Alfred’s lips parted slightly, his breath hitching at the look in Arthur’s eyes. He mentally begged for it to be what he thought it was; he wanted more than anything to embrace the fact that maybe, just maybe, Arthur wanted him just he much as he wanted the Englishman. It might have been wrong of him, but Alfred opted to act on impulse, reaching out for the flustered gentleman and pulling him closer. Much to his surprise, Arthur followed suit. “It does, doesn’t it?”
It had would have been cliché if Arthur thought he had no idea what he was doing, but as it turned out, he did. He knew perfectly well what he was doing and what shouldn’t be done but it wasn’t enough to stop him as he slid in between Alfred’s legs, hips pinned by the American’s knees. Hands were kept strictly on the countertop, itching to touch the well built body but he denied himself that pleasure for the time being. No words could describe just how much he wanted Jones at that moment; how much he wanted to touch and taste and undress. His breathing became heavy.
That didn’t mean that Alfred was on the same page as him. He on the other hand allowed his hands to roam, touching along Arthur’s back as he pulled him flush against his chest. It was intoxicating. The touch felt nothing like it did in his dreams and fantasies and he relished how that moment felt so real. Like it couldn’t escape him if he broke his concentration. Arthur was right there in his arms, leaning against his body, shaking softly. Pure and solid heat.
They stood there in the kitchen, idly pressed against each other as Alfred’s hands caressed and explored the smaller body with something akin to adoration and curiosity. Arthur simply stood there. He wanted to return the fleeting touches, but his conscience wouldn’t allow him. Hate Francis or not, it wasn’t right to be unfaithful. He knew the pain of it and that was something he never wished upon anybody, not even his most loathed enemy. But he couldn’t deny that he wanted the attention, that the soft touches were making him melt against the young American.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Alfred whispered the words just above the other’s ear, not a single hint of hesitation in them. Soft-spoken but firm, demanding an answer; Arthur had to shiver.
“I wouldn’t quite know.” It came out sounding more like a mindless mumble, too focused on his senses to really think about the question. That didn’t stop him from giving the automatic reply. “Do you?”
He felt the nod instead seeing it, his face too busy being buried in Alfred’s chest. “I’m starting to think I do, yeah.”
“Hm.” It took Arthur a moment for the thought to sink in, and once it did, he immediately pulled away at a near panic. “Alfred, I…”
“I know, Art. I don’t want you to think that that’s why I brought you here or anything, okay?” Leaning down, Alfred pressed kiss on to the other’s cheek, taking in the gorgeous red hue of them. He sounded unnaturally calm, almost subdued even and that somehow disturbed Arthur in more forms than one. Not that he was protesting. A quiet and lovingly sweet Alfred fawning and confessing his love to him was all he could ever ask for.
Gave him all the more reason to pull away.
“Have you had anything to drink this evening? Your tongue is awfully loose. And not in the same way as it usually is.” Arthur attempted to chuckle, battling the blush and urge to just take the young man on the spot. Come to think of it, he was taking it a lot better than he had expected it to. Thank goodness for being the mature adult he was. “Not that I’m not flattered at the attention… or surprised even. I’ll admit that the sexual tension is a lot harder to ignore than I thought.”
The exaggerated cheer that burst out of the American nearly knocked Arthur off his feet, making him stumble at least two steps back. If it hadn’t had been for the other’s quick reflexes and caught his arm, he was sure he would have fallen on his ass. Alfred jumped down from the counter, bringing Arthur into his arms for a tight and overly giddy hug, spinning them around like a kid who had just seen his favorite cousin for the first time in months. “This is so fucking awesome! I thought I was the only one who felt this way and shit!”
That last statement somewhat ruined the overwhelming experience for Arthur as he struggled to break free from the nearly twirling bear hug. His mind was spinning at a million miles per hour; he needed to get his bearings straight. So far, Alfred had more or less confessed to being in love. So much for being the straight one of the two. And secondly… he thought that the feeling was requited. That’s where Arthur had to pull the reigns to a screeching halt.
Surely, he liked Alfred. He enjoyed his company and the attention and the nearly constant longing look those blue eyes held. Of course he wanted to bang him like there was no tomorrow, but it was all just a severe case of sexual frustration. Good ol’ lust. Nothing a good all night fuck couldn’t cure. And yet there Alfred was, talking about feelings and love. Once upon a time he thought he knew the difference of the two, but in the end he figured it was all just one and the same. The love concept was just an excuse to settle down with one person to have sex with for the rest of their miserable lives. In Arthur’s twisted thoughts, it made Alfred’s enthusiasm seem hypocritical at best but he just dismissed it as him being naïve. He didn’t mean Arthur any harm; he just didn’t know what he was talking about, naturally.
“Easy there, cowboy. I didn’t say anything of the sort.”
“But you just-”
“We’ve known each other for a mere handful of weeks, Alfred. How could you possibly even think that you’re in love with me? Hell, if sitting in a coffee shop even qualifies as you getting to know me. Look at yourself in the mirror and then slowly take at look at me. There is no logic in that. Yes, a person can become physically attracted to someone else the moment they set eyes on them; it’s called lust. You are in lust with me and that is perfectly understandable but do not refer to that as love at first sight because it isn’t.” Arthur stopped himself before he could ramble on, cheeks puffed and vibrant red. Hands fisted at his sides, they began to tremble. He was being the rational one of the two, just exposing the faults and false hopes that might have come from it.
That didn’t stop the infernal twisting in his chest and stomach.
He stood firm and true to his beliefs, and no matter how large Alfred’s eyes got, he would stick to them. Even if they continued to water the way they currently were doing.
Fuck.
“Ah…” Alfred fidgeted on his spot, his eyes trained on the worked up Brit. Sure the outburst had kind of stung, and he was beginning to feel stupidly embarrassed at his own overly-enthusiastic words. The grin was still in place, not as vibrant but still present. It was Arthur who was standing there, and no matter what he said or did, he would always be worthy of his best smile. So he kept on smiling, all teeth, as his heart slowly began to break.
“I am not saying these things to spite you, Alfred.” His voice softened as he began to lose the battle with himself. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t bear the thought of the sadness in those eyes being caused by him. Alfred was too beautiful to be marred by his own ugliness. “I simply do not wish for you to get hurt. In truth I’m glad you somewhat told me so early on-”
“It doesn’t matter when. The feeling’s still there.” He interrupted earnestly, tilting his head with a small smile.
Arthur cleared his throat. “There are no feelings.”
“Say what you want, man. Not like I’m going to pay attention to you anyways. It’s not the same, if this were lust as you call it I wouldn’t have even bothered. I like chicks, okay? You know, tits and stuff. I’m perfectly aware that you aren’t one, and that’s why I know. The only explanation as to why I’d even bother to look at you the way I do is because I’m in…” He stilled to a halt, looking down at his feet for a brief moment before leaning back against the counter. “If it was sex, I could have picked any of the girls I study with. If it was just lust, I could have called fucking Gilbert and bought a few beers. But instead all I want to do is hang out with a stuffy old man who hates the world because he thinks the world hate him. Well it doesn’t. I don’t hate you and I most definitely don’t want to just have sex with you regardless of what you think or say.”
“You are impossible to deal with!”
“What are you so afraid of?”
Green eyes widened enough to make those large eyebrows disappear beneath the mop of unruly hair. Opening his mouth to retort, he found that he couldn’t. It had come out of nowhere, and he wasn't quite conscious of any fear he might have had, but the question seemed to have nudged his thoughts for a brief moment. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not this cynical, I know you’re not. I’ve seen who you are over the time we’ve known each other-”
“You don’t know me!” He could feel himself become more defensive by the second, raising his voice loud enough to be considered yelling.
“Damn straight I do! You can’t tell me this nasty person standing in front of me is the real one opposed to those shy smiles and awkward fidgeting you would do across the booth. I could hear how honest and… and simple you were. I could see the sadness. Now you’re just… being stupid and stubborn! Acting like some tough guy when you can’t even get your story straight.”
“Oh really? And how exactly do you know that?”
“Because you haven’t even mentioned your fucking boyfriend!”
Arthur froze in astonishment. Alfred was, blast him for ever admitting it, right. He hadn’t even remembered Francis throughout the whole discussion, or he had, but he simply didn’t deem him worthy enough to be mentioned. Gaping at the sudden loss of words, he simply brought himself to a full stop. The entire conversation was just too insane to begin with. A pair of strangers discussing feelings; one of them in a relationship with someone of the same sex and the other was as straight as an arrow.
It made no fucking sense in his head.
“Thank you for being kind enough to welcome me into your home, but I must be going.” Turning on his heels, Arthur went for his carryon bag, bent on getting out of the place before the insolent boy made him second guess himself and his already firmly set beliefs. “If ever you wish me to repay your kindness in any way, please, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”
He turned to see a stubbornly pouting American leaning heavily against the door, arms crossed before his chest. “I don’t want to be repaid for anything. I want you to stay safe. And I can’t do that unless you stay here where I can keep an eye on you.”
“Your stalker tendencies are showing.”
“Well I don’t care. Much rather have you thinking I’m a stalker than letting you go home and do something stupid.” Alfred turned his face away, turning up his nose in a way that could only be considered childish. “I’ll even take back everything I just said. It’s not like I expect you to return whatever this is, but if you want me to take it back then fine. I will.”
It was ridiculous. The entire thing was ridiculous. Arthur deflated after a few moments of intense silence, letting his bag drop onto the floor with a sigh. He turned towards the small living room, picking up the DVDs strew all over the couch and neatly setting them on the table before plopping down on it in defeat. Resting his head back, he peered up at Alfred who was now looming over him, a not so pleased look on his face. It was decided, Alfred indeed was a spoiled child living off daddy’s money, as he had thought all along. Whenever he didn’t get his way, he would automatically flip into a stubborn twat with a perpetual pout.
“Do what you wish then, I’m not stopping you. Want to snoop in my apartment? Go ahead. Want to tie me up while I’m asleep and screw me? Be my guest. I don’t give a fuck what you want to do to me, Alfred. My boyfriend wouldn’t give a fuck either, so nothing’s holding you back.” It somehow scared Alfred, just how dead serious Arthur sounded as he calmly laid it all out. Green eyes bore into his unwaveringly, so terribly resigned that it made his stomach twist unpleasantly. It almost felt like Arthur truly didn’t care what happened to him, no matter how horrible it was.
“I don’t get some people.” Alfred started, putting his hands on either side of Arthur’s head and leaning down to better look at him. “How can they see the unrealistic ugliness instead of the blatant goodwill? I haven’t even given you a reason to think that I’d do something so… so nasty. Instead I’ve been trying to be the hero, which I am, and help you in any way I can. I like you, Arthur. And it took me an all-nighter and a very long conversation with a friend of mine to notice that.”
“You’re confused, Alfred. You’re young. Your hormones are taking control of your body and you’re going to have to learn how to control them. Look at me; and I mean really look at me. Somewhere in my early thirties… and then look at you. Not even twenty one. I’m an old bitter man who has nothing to offer opposed to the bright future you’ll be able to make for yourself. There are so many pretty young girls you can date. Someday marry and be off- and for fucks sake I feel like I’m talking to my son!”
“You have a son?”
“No. I mean it in the sense that I shouldn’t be telling you these things. Discussing sexuality and dating and the proper age for-for whatever is just… It doesn’t all belong in the same conversation. Not from a stranger.” Arthur pressed the palm of his hand to his face with a huff of frustration. Slowly but surely a migraine had crept up and was now at full force, making the side of his head bang with every speeding thought. “I don’t even know why I’m bothering anyways.”
“Because you secretly love me.” Alfred grinned at the deadpan look on Arthur’s face the moment he lifted his hand; a look that slowly melted into a glare. “And you find me irresistible. So much, in fact, that you’re planning on ditching your boyfriend and coming away with me. Because you need a little bit more drama in your life before you get your happily ever after. Then we can move to Hawaii or something.” Balancing himself on the balls of his feet, he swayed from side to side, still grinning down at the flustered Englishman.
“You make it harder to take you seriously by the second.”
“Hey.” Pressing a kiss onto Arthur’s forehead, he pulled away with a dazzling smile. One that not even the stuffy old Brit could resist. “I am being honest. Yeah, you have a point at the whole age and not exactly knowing each other thing. But time is on our side, isn’t it? We could date, properly, and see where it goes from there. For all I know, if I’m a rapist as you say, then you’re probably a serial killer. Technically we’d be one and the same but you’re right, I’d much rather avoid unnecessary surprises.”
“You conveniently keep forgetting my boyfriend.”
“Like I said, you ditch him. Guy’s an asshole anyways.”
“You don’t even know him!” Arthur sounded strikingly, if a little too dramatically, offended, but the sudden laugh that accompanied his statement accented the already obvious sarcasm.
“Don’t have to. You’re always miserable as fuck, you spend almost every evening at the café, you’ve said so yourself that you absolutely despise him, and you also just said that he wouldn’t give the slightest fuck if anything were to happen to you. Plus! Judging by the way you’re dressed, I bet he didn’t even bother to pick you up at the airport.”
“Actually, he left without me.”
“I rest my case.”
“Still.” Arthur got to his feet, unable to remain still and walked around the modern looking couch to stand before his current nuisance. “That gives you no right to judge someone you don’t know.”
“Then why do you keep judging me?” If Alfred’s eyes were to get any larger, Arthur feared they would pop out of their sockets. The whole puppy eyed thing was just ridiculous, especially for someone Alfred’s age. He had a point though, a fact that irked him more than he thought it would.
“You baffle me.”
“In a good way or…”
“How can that be in any way positive?” Crossing his arms, Arthur looked off towards where his coat was hung, torn between being amused or severely irritated. “I’m still not sleeping with you.”
“Never said I wanted you to.” Walking back into the kitchen, Alfred hunted through his refrigerator for a can of soda. “Want one?” Arthur shook his head. Taking the coldest can, he popped it open before jumping up on the counter again, swinging his legs as his eyes bore at the Englishman. “I just want to get to know you better.”
“Why?” He was still unable to wrap his mind around the possible answer to that question. Alfred was not making any sense at all; at least not to him.
“And people call me the oblivious one. Do I have to spell it out for you? Here’s a hint, I’ve told you a million times since this conversation started.” Taking a swig from the can, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “I like you, Arthur. I’m telling you this now because… I don’t know when I’ll have the balls to say it again. You’re like… the last person I’d want to date, but I want to. I don’t get it either, and I know that you being the whole older and wiser of the two are in the same boat as me. It’s not like I’m going to force you or anything, but… you know.”
“No, I don’t know. I don’t get you in the slightest.”
“Maybe that means we’re doing it right?”
“How, exactly?”
“Some things can’t be explained, I guess.”
“You are absolutely insane, you sod.”
“I’m not the one agreeing to crash at a stranger’s place.”
Arthur turned to gawk at him, earning himself a good laugh from the kid on the counter. “You are impossible! You’re practically forcing me to stay here.”
“I’m not forcing you to do anything.” Even through the laughter, Arthur picked up the certain seriousness behind that statement. His words and actions went against his very personality in a way that left him speechless. Alfred was one huge jumble of contradictions that he still couldn’t find himself being able to handle. “The door’s right there, bro. You stay if you want.”
With a loud huff, Arthur walked up to him and gave his shoulder a good shove. “Go get my bloody things, will you?”
Just like that, the heavy atmosphere was lifted. Alfred beamed at him with dazzling force, jumping off and pulling Arthur into a tight hug. Without the slightest idea of what he was getting into, he felt awfully giddy. Elizaveta had been right. Perhaps it wasn’t a groundbreaking turn of events, but it was a positive one nonetheless. “Aye, aye, captain!”
“Oh shut it.”
Slipping on his sneakers, Alfred pranced around the apartment in search for his keys. Night had already fallen and it was too damn cold to go out on his bike, so he’d play it safe and take his car. Reaching for his toasty bomber jacket, he shrugged it on and zipped it all the way up, struggling with the zipper a bit along the way. Lastly, he pocketed the notepad.
“What was that last thing you needed, Art? You never told me.”
Snapping out of his reverie it took him a moment to analyze the question. “Oh.” He was thinking too far into the situation, scrutinizing every word and action Alfred had muttered and tried to make some sense out of it all. Any kind of motive that could be driving him, or even a mental illness of some sort. It was hard to just decide on a definitive answer. If only he could just peer into that odd mind of his then maybe he could grasp the gravity of it all. Sex, love, feelings, strangers, meant to be, horrible boyfriends and sexually confused teenagers… He was having a field day.
“Arthur? You with me, man?”
A tap on the shoulder startled him for the second time in less than ten seconds. Things were getting serious. “Sorry, come again?”
“Dude, what the hell’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing, it’s nothing. Just tired is all. Ah! Underwear. I need underwear. Honest to God, you giggle and I will hit you.”
Alfred immediately slapped his hand over his mouth the moment a giggle tried to slip out, but if the eye squinting was any indication, he was having a riot. Maturity still had some catching up to do. Straightening up, he made sure to take deep even breathes before deeming it safe to put his hand down. “Right! Underwear. Any kind in specific? Boxers, briefs… thongs?”
He earned that slap.
“Shut your trap and go get my fucking things before I go get them myself.”
“Alright, alright, jeez, I’m going.” Rubbing at his throbbing cheek with a pout, he made for the door. Arthur threw him his apartment’s keys on the way out. “I’ll be back in a jiff. Make yourself at home and if you need anything, just call me.”
“It can’t take you more than an hour; stop acting like you’re driving up to Queens. Be careful now.” Arthur stood by the door, holding it open as Alfred stepped out into the hall; he tried to keep his mind blank all the while. Instead, a much more horrible thought slipped in through the cracks. He could feel the déjà vu settle in; and judging by the look behind those glasses, the other did too.
Alfred’s permanent smile dimmed in magnitude, but not meaning. It took a sweeter hue as opposed to the mindless bright ray of sunshine that it usually was as he leaned against the doorframe, curling his suddenly gloved fingers underneath the chin and tilting Arthur’s head up to better look at him. “We’ve come a long way already in such little time, you know. Doesn’t seem like that long ago; the night when I stole that kiss.”
“The night when it all went downhill for me, you mean.”
“Oh?”
Shaking his head, Arthur pushed at Alfred’s chest, breaking free from the overly clichéd stance. “Never mind, just hurry back. I’m dying to get out of these blasted clothes.”
“I will, I will. But give us a kiss first.” He puckered up.
“In your dreams.”
“Please?” The big eyes were back. Arthur deadpanned. “Just a small peck?”
“Alfred we just talked about this. Fra-” The comeback was cut short when Alfred pressed their mouths together for a brief moment, lips moving hesitantly before pulling away a mere second later.
Blue eyes remained trained on those suddenly delicious looking lips. “You were saying?”
Without much thinking, Arthur lashed out and took a healthy handful of Alfred’s golden hair, pulling him down again for another, more forceful kiss. Strictly lips of course, but that didn’t stop him from brushing them repeatedly over Alfred’s own less seasoned ones, giving them a small nip. He pulled away with a muttered ‘fuck' suddenly remembering himself before he took it too far. “My apologies.”
Taking a moment to breathe, Alfred let out a breathy laugh he hadn’t known he was holding back, licking his lips while fighting the urge to downright make out with the Briton. “S’okay. That was fucking hot.” His goofy smile was heartwarming.
Clearing his throat, Arthur couldn’t help but smirk. He still had it, and he fought the urge to brag about it. “Go ahead, boy. If you behave, who knows? Might be more where that came from.”
“Tease.”
With a smirk, Arthur pulled the door shut, a blushing but smirking American on the other side. He sighed. The situation had just spiraled from bad to worse. Not only that, he was allowing himself to be pulled into the whole disastrous shebang. Alfred drove a harder bargain than he had expected him to, his charm and honest kindness was making him melt faster than butter by a stove. As stubborn as he was, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to fight him for that much longer. His disconcerting thoughts were just excuses conjured up in the form of a shield, for he wasn’t just about to stand aside and let a complete stranger come waltzing in just like that. He was skating on thin ice as it was, he didn’t need the extra weight.
Rolling up his sleeves, Arthur made for the kitchen again noting the utter disaster it all was. “Boy can’t even pick up after himself.” He reached for a rag and cranked up the faucet; might as well kill time while Alfred was gone. Cleaning wasn’t exactly at the top of his fun things to do list, but it was something to kill both time and his overly thinking mind. Besides, after being used to living on such neatly organized conditions, the place made him shiver out of sheer disgust. He mentally hoped for Alfred to have a vacuum, since he was quite sure the carpet wasn’t supposed to be that shade of off white.
All of that aside, after a good scrub down, Arthur briefly considered making some proper use to the kitchen. Judging by the brief glance in the refrigerator and cabinets he was quite sure Alfred had a thing or two worth making. Not that he’d cook a full blown meal, but perhaps a light snack that would do well on both their stomachs.
Sticking his hands in the suds, he began his cleaning escapades.
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On the other side of the door, it had taken Alfred half a moment to get his mind working again. His grin came back at full force as he punched the air, triumph stepping on the awkwardness of the past hour or so. Sweet progress. Before going off on his merry way though, he quickly pressed a kiss to his fingertips and, after making sure there was no one around to see him, pressed them to the door in a silent ‘be right back’.
Elizaveta had been right. He had fallen, and it had been harder than he had ever dared to admit. That wasn’t to say that he was too fond of the entire being in love with someone of the same sex thing but he was working on that. His friend had told him that it was nothing to be ashamed of, that love was love regardless of age and gender. All night long he had lain wide awake, staring at the ceiling and wrapped comfortably in his plush sheets, waging a war with himself. It had reached a point where he had even called his father for advice, but got no answer except for the voicemail.
Of course Arthur was stubborn. He had been hurt and trampled and emotionally abused; things weren’t about to get easier. It’s not that Alfred wanted to push things on him, such as breaking up with his no good boyfriend, but throughout his life, he had come to learn that maybe what you did need was a small push in the right direction. He was nervous and scared and terribly insecure, no use denying it; he was walking into unknown territory, but he wasn’t the type to just back down without trying a couple of times. Fuck, if he had to get past the whole being gay denial, then he’d make damn sure Arthur got over the denial of whatever it was he was denying.
The biting cold once he got outside made him curl into himself, nearly breaking into a jog as he made his way down the street to get to his car. He rarely used the thing, opting in moving around on his motorcycle due to the constant heavy traffic, but it still came in handy for long rides and particularly cold days. Plus, it saved him money on gas. Times were rough. The streets we busy as usually, and he airily waved at the guy standing over by the magazine stand with a smile before getting in his car. Not exactly the most inconspicuous thing in the neighborhood, but he dealt with it.
Arthur’s apartment was located somewhere in Chelsea, up 22nd Street to be a bit more exact. He had a bit of trouble remembering exactly which one it was, his sense of direction being a bit thrown off by the argument before he had left. Along with the fact that nearly all the places looked the same. After driving up and down the same street three times, Alfred gave Arthur a call and double parked in front of the desired building. The clock on his dashboard told him it was half past eleven so he’d have to speed up his search for his temporary roommate’s personal belongings.
The street lamps flooded the near desolate streets, naught but a few cars parked along the clean sidewalks and neatly trimmed bushes. Not having Arthur around to absorb his attention, Alfred could cast a look around, taking in the surroundings for a brief moment. It seemed like a quiet, down to earth neighbor, something that struck him as very… Arthur-ish. He would venture so far as to call it cute. “Kind of boring, too.” Twisting his nose, he made his way up the walkway into the building. Then it all began to come back to him. The corner of his lips twisted up at the flood of memories that place held, a place he had only been to once, but it had been enough to change his life.
Up the stairs and two halls later, Alfred stood before Arthur’s door in a moment’s hesitation. He had no idea what he was about to find in there. What if he was indeed a serial killer? Like Jack the Ripper? Slipping in the keys, he gripped the doorknob tighter than was necessary. Jack the Ripper was from England too, wasn’t he? Shaking his head free of the thoughts, he pushed the door open to find… a perfectly clean and normal apartment.
“More boring. How can this guy live?” Shutting the door behind him, he set off to work without much dillydallying.
It wasn’t hard finding Arthur’s bedroom whose décor was surprisingly chic for the stuffy old jerk. The trendy Italian furniture and tasteful paintings on his wall, a desktop computer on the far end cluttered with papers and folders and the like. The bed was small though, too small for Alfred’s taste. Hell, he was sure his feet would hang off the edge of that thing.
Back to business.
Opening the only sliding doors in the bedroom, he found himself faced with Arthur’s wardrobe, his jaw nearly dropping in complete stupefaction. “Fucking hell!” Alfred found himself wondering if Arthur was in fact some sort of designer trying to hide behind the business façade. His wardrobe was just incredible. From suits in all colors to low-cut jeans, the Englishman had a little bit of everything. Alfred dove into the large space, eyes wide in astonishment as he went through the articles of clothing, trying hard not to imagine Arthur in any of it. So maybe they weren’t designer, but damn, he had a serious sense for fashion. So much in fact, that Alfred felt entirely smitten by that one red coat at the end of the rack.
“Why doesn’t he wear these? I mean sweater vests?” Pulling out a peculiar looking pair of pants, Alfred whistled, too impressed with what he was seeing. At that moment he was sure he’d gladly give up his left arm in order to see Arthur in those. “It even has chains!” He immediately matched it with a leather jacket and a stripped blue and white shirt. “Now this is hot.” Completely disregarding the items on the list, Alfred made sure to carefully pick out a whole new set of clothing. Nothing too over the top, but something that would wipe any random bystander off their feet.
Time ticked on as the American continued to dance about the room, picking up an exaggerated amount of clothing and placing them on the neatly made bed. He did obey the selection of shoes and socks Arthur had told him, since they matched with most of things he would take. Reaching out for his notepad, he checked out the articles already in hand. Next mission would be… underwear. “This is going to be interesting.”
Having been too flustered by the request, Arthur had failed to tell him exactly where he kept them. And so his search began. Alfred rummaged through the main armoire and found nothing but casual shorts and tank tops. Summer wear, apparently. Perhaps that’s why he kept them in drawers in the first place. When he did find it, he punched the air with a hissed ‘yes’ and set out to pulling the small articles. Alfred’s first thought was the fact that Arthur must have been much skinnier than he looked to be able to fit in those. He made absolutely sure to bring along those neatly folded Union Jack ones with a smirk, if only just for laughs.
Alfred stopped for a moment as he looked down at what seemed to be innocent looking black underwear, but a grin slowly crept up as he neatly folded them and placed it among the rest. He made sure to exit that area quickly, unwilling to fall into the creepy stalker category. He also ignored the small bottle of lubricant tucked all the way in the back.
In the end, it didn’t exactly take him as long as he had expected. Two trips to his car and a sandwich curtesy of Arthur’s refrigerator later, and he was neatly settled in his warm car, ready to set home and get some much deserved sleep. Until he remembered what had to be about the most important thing on that list.
Arthur’s tea.
With a groan, Alfred slugged out of the car and back into large place. Dragging his feet into the kitchen, he reached for the sealed box of tea and shoved it in his coat, not caring if the box ended up damaged throughout travesty. For a fleeting moment, blue eyes landed on a travel brochure and he gingerly picked it up, only to drop it almost instantly. “France. Who the hell would want to go to France?” He twisted his nose in slight disgust, irritation slipping in through the cracks as he was reminded of his not so loving father. “Asshole.” Dismissing the though altogether, Alfred quickly made his way back to his car and drove right for home, musing at what Arthur’s reaction might be.
Maybe he could get something to eat on the way there.
----------------------------------------------
“Artie, I’m ho-!” Alfred choked on the last word when something constricted his windpipe, making him turn back into the hallway to cough it off, desperately grasping at his chest. “What the fuck?” Pulling the front of his jacket over his nose while struggling with the stack of clothing and heat on his free arm, he tried again. This time, it was his eyes that widened in shocked disbelief.
He wondered in carefully, only to stop in his tracks when Arthur called from the other room. “Shoes off by the door, Alfred.” He did as he was told.
Blue eyes looked around curiously as he padded over to the living room, thankfully stretching out his toes as he did so, and placed all that he was holding on top of the freakishly clean couch. He knew he’d be able to bring it all in just one trip, but that was beside the point. His place was clean. Cleaner than it had ever been since he had first moved in. “You did this in just two hours?”
Walking into the same room that Alfred was in, sleeves rolled up, a pair of yellow gloves on and a Clorox pump in hand, Arthur shrugged. “An hour and a half actually. Took a slight break after scrubbing the sink, my chest felt like it was about to burst.” With a satisfied smile, he chanced a general look around the apartment. “You’re going to need a new vacuum soon, even if this one seems like it’s been barely used much. Twenty minutes a day, that’s all you need to at least pick up after yourself. Avoid this disaster you call home.”
“You didn’t have to do this you know.” Alfred said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head somewhat embarrassed. He was in a hurry and at work when he had gotten Arthur’s call; perfect excuse.
“If I’m to stay here I don’t intend on wallowing in such a disorganized atmosphere.” Setting the bottle of Clorox down and pulling off his gloves, Arthur discreetly sniffed the air, his stomach suddenly rumbling, reminding him of how hungry he was. It had been his intention to cook for the both of them that evening, but he had lost track of time entirely. Instead, he stated the obvious. “I smell pizza.”
Alfred perked up instantly. “Hell yeah! I got a pie on the way home, hope you don’t mind. Figured you’d probably be hungry.” Moving the mound of clothing to the side, he pulled out a white box with a thumbs up. “Aren’t I the greatest?” What wasn’t so great was the burn he now had on his forearm, something that had come from his attempt at balancing the hot box and stack of clothing in one arm in order to avoid taking two trips. It wasn’t because he was lazy; it was just too cold to go back outside.
With a scoff, Arthur took the box from his hands and placed it on the recently waxed counter. “Yes, yes of course. If anything gets dirty, you clean it.” Alfred gave him a halfhearted salute while reaching for a slice, his mouth watering as he bit into the greasy goodness. He picked up what sounded like a vague moan coming from Arthur, making him grin around his next bite. Nothing could ever beat New York pizza.
Eventually they migrated back into the living room, Arthur sitting neatly on the floor while Alfred laid spread out on the couch, eating pizza and enjoying old Star Trek reruns in comfortable silence. He had convinced Arthur into checking the clothing he had brought later, that he needed to just sit back, relax and enjoy his evening. And that he did.
After a long mentally challenging day, it felt good to just spend some time in good company, even if the clock struck two in the morning and Alfred would have to be up in less than five hours to take a Biology exam. He wouldn’t have changed that moment for anything, as he idly lowered his arm to absently toy with Arthur’s hair. A gesture the other didn’t bother to swat away be it because he was too engrossed in the current episode or, if the way he leaned into the touch was of any indication, enjoyed it.
“Thank you.” Arthur couldn’t help but let his mind wander, even if the current episode was rather amusing and had taken much of his attention. He had things to think about and decisions to make, and being the over-thinker that he was, he was quite sure his mind wouldn’t be at ease until then. Instead, he thanked the young man for his kindness and patience; two traits that were so hard to come by nowadays.
The nails that were softly scratching his scalp came to a stop, smoothening out to run through the loose locks instead. A warm gesture, nearly loving. Alfred smiled down at the man who was still too stubborn to look him in the eye and sighed softly, feeling happy with everything. Nothing mystical, no fireworks, no overwhelming feelings of heartfelt devotion. Alfred just felt happy.
“Anytime, Arthur.”
“You still need to clean the kitchen.”
With a snort, he made sure to shove the Englishman’s head playfully, giggling when the other turned to shoot him a deadly glare. A glare that melted away into a small insecure smile.
And all was good.
__________________________________________________________________________________
A/N: Here, have a little more angst? Ah. I've reason to believe that we've reached the halfway point of this story!
I'd like to say that everything will be smooth sailing from now on but.... it won't. The angst is only just beginning.
But in the meantime, enjoy the equal amount of fluff. ~
And the sex.
Which is just around the corner.
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.
“Okay, so. We’ve got… pajamas, whatever pants I’ll be able to find in your closet, whatever shirts I’ll find, preferably button downs and some sweater vests and anything particularly geeky looking; socks in all colors, brown shoes since you already have your black ones on… What else am I missing? Bow ties?”
Arthur groaned as he rummaged through the cabinets of Alfred’s kitchen, looking for anything that might be able to even resemble tea in the slightest degree. Anything to not drink that damn bitter as hell coffee that stood there ever so mockingly, just beckoning him to take a blasted drink. Trust an American to have nothing appealing to his tastes in their apartment, typical, but that didn’t stop Arthur from becoming annoyed. Somehow, he had expected for Alfred to have those sorts of things, being a barista and all. “Yes, yes, that’s about right. I still don’t see why you don’t deem me fit enough to go get those myself. It’s almost like you want to sneak into my apartment, you sneaky bastard.” He threw Alfred a knowing sidelong look, making the other gawk at him.
“You don’t exactly look like you’re in the mood to do much driving. I’m only doing you a favor, so don’t come treating me like a stalker.” Alfred’s grin was wide and beaming as he scribbled down on his notepad, checking off the items on the list. “Is there anything else you want?”
“Tea. I have an unopened box by my stove. And…” Arthur stopped for a moment, remembering something extremely important that he needed on his person. His cheeks colored at the thought of asking Alfred, someone who he had just met a matter of weeks ago, to bring those along.
“And what?” Jumping up on the counter, Alfred gave him a funny look. “What is it?” He swung his long legs from side to side; making sure he bumped Arthur’s hip as he did so. Touching. He wanted to touch him… and not only to just get his attention.
“Are you sure you aren’t some type of creepy stalker?” Arthur peaked from the corner of his eye, gauging Alfred’s reaction while looking rather suspicious. In truth, he was just trying to hide the embarrassing blush that had spread like wildfire.
Blue eyes stared steadily at the Brit who refused to look at him entirely, taking the moment to take in the sharp angles of his face from the side view. The soft curve of his cheek gave him the urge to lean in and kiss it; the same could be said for the feathery soft looking hair as well. “Let’s look at it this way. If I am a creepy stalker, I already have you in my apartment. What need would I have to creep on your place when I’ve got the real thing at arm’s length?”
He couldn’t deny it; Arthur’s heart fluttered in his chest, making his stomach churn in what seemed to be anticipation, as deeply disturbing as it all sounded. He had liked the answer for some reason, mostly because he caught the underlying meaning that the American wasn’t lying or joking about it. Wire framed glasses didn’t hide the seriousness of his words as those eyes stared openly at him, and he couldn’t resist staring back. But Arthur’s eyes trained themselves on the suddenly tight line that had become of Alfred’s lips. “Seems like a rather legitimate answer.”
Alfred’s lips parted slightly, his breath hitching at the look in Arthur’s eyes. He mentally begged for it to be what he thought it was; he wanted more than anything to embrace the fact that maybe, just maybe, Arthur wanted him just he much as he wanted the Englishman. It might have been wrong of him, but Alfred opted to act on impulse, reaching out for the flustered gentleman and pulling him closer. Much to his surprise, Arthur followed suit. “It does, doesn’t it?”
It had would have been cliché if Arthur thought he had no idea what he was doing, but as it turned out, he did. He knew perfectly well what he was doing and what shouldn’t be done but it wasn’t enough to stop him as he slid in between Alfred’s legs, hips pinned by the American’s knees. Hands were kept strictly on the countertop, itching to touch the well built body but he denied himself that pleasure for the time being. No words could describe just how much he wanted Jones at that moment; how much he wanted to touch and taste and undress. His breathing became heavy.
That didn’t mean that Alfred was on the same page as him. He on the other hand allowed his hands to roam, touching along Arthur’s back as he pulled him flush against his chest. It was intoxicating. The touch felt nothing like it did in his dreams and fantasies and he relished how that moment felt so real. Like it couldn’t escape him if he broke his concentration. Arthur was right there in his arms, leaning against his body, shaking softly. Pure and solid heat.
They stood there in the kitchen, idly pressed against each other as Alfred’s hands caressed and explored the smaller body with something akin to adoration and curiosity. Arthur simply stood there. He wanted to return the fleeting touches, but his conscience wouldn’t allow him. Hate Francis or not, it wasn’t right to be unfaithful. He knew the pain of it and that was something he never wished upon anybody, not even his most loathed enemy. But he couldn’t deny that he wanted the attention, that the soft touches were making him melt against the young American.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Alfred whispered the words just above the other’s ear, not a single hint of hesitation in them. Soft-spoken but firm, demanding an answer; Arthur had to shiver.
“I wouldn’t quite know.” It came out sounding more like a mindless mumble, too focused on his senses to really think about the question. That didn’t stop him from giving the automatic reply. “Do you?”
He felt the nod instead seeing it, his face too busy being buried in Alfred’s chest. “I’m starting to think I do, yeah.”
“Hm.” It took Arthur a moment for the thought to sink in, and once it did, he immediately pulled away at a near panic. “Alfred, I…”
“I know, Art. I don’t want you to think that that’s why I brought you here or anything, okay?” Leaning down, Alfred pressed kiss on to the other’s cheek, taking in the gorgeous red hue of them. He sounded unnaturally calm, almost subdued even and that somehow disturbed Arthur in more forms than one. Not that he was protesting. A quiet and lovingly sweet Alfred fawning and confessing his love to him was all he could ever ask for.
Gave him all the more reason to pull away.
“Have you had anything to drink this evening? Your tongue is awfully loose. And not in the same way as it usually is.” Arthur attempted to chuckle, battling the blush and urge to just take the young man on the spot. Come to think of it, he was taking it a lot better than he had expected it to. Thank goodness for being the mature adult he was. “Not that I’m not flattered at the attention… or surprised even. I’ll admit that the sexual tension is a lot harder to ignore than I thought.”
The exaggerated cheer that burst out of the American nearly knocked Arthur off his feet, making him stumble at least two steps back. If it hadn’t had been for the other’s quick reflexes and caught his arm, he was sure he would have fallen on his ass. Alfred jumped down from the counter, bringing Arthur into his arms for a tight and overly giddy hug, spinning them around like a kid who had just seen his favorite cousin for the first time in months. “This is so fucking awesome! I thought I was the only one who felt this way and shit!”
That last statement somewhat ruined the overwhelming experience for Arthur as he struggled to break free from the nearly twirling bear hug. His mind was spinning at a million miles per hour; he needed to get his bearings straight. So far, Alfred had more or less confessed to being in love. So much for being the straight one of the two. And secondly… he thought that the feeling was requited. That’s where Arthur had to pull the reigns to a screeching halt.
Surely, he liked Alfred. He enjoyed his company and the attention and the nearly constant longing look those blue eyes held. Of course he wanted to bang him like there was no tomorrow, but it was all just a severe case of sexual frustration. Good ol’ lust. Nothing a good all night fuck couldn’t cure. And yet there Alfred was, talking about feelings and love. Once upon a time he thought he knew the difference of the two, but in the end he figured it was all just one and the same. The love concept was just an excuse to settle down with one person to have sex with for the rest of their miserable lives. In Arthur’s twisted thoughts, it made Alfred’s enthusiasm seem hypocritical at best but he just dismissed it as him being naïve. He didn’t mean Arthur any harm; he just didn’t know what he was talking about, naturally.
“Easy there, cowboy. I didn’t say anything of the sort.”
“But you just-”
“We’ve known each other for a mere handful of weeks, Alfred. How could you possibly even think that you’re in love with me? Hell, if sitting in a coffee shop even qualifies as you getting to know me. Look at yourself in the mirror and then slowly take at look at me. There is no logic in that. Yes, a person can become physically attracted to someone else the moment they set eyes on them; it’s called lust. You are in lust with me and that is perfectly understandable but do not refer to that as love at first sight because it isn’t.” Arthur stopped himself before he could ramble on, cheeks puffed and vibrant red. Hands fisted at his sides, they began to tremble. He was being the rational one of the two, just exposing the faults and false hopes that might have come from it.
That didn’t stop the infernal twisting in his chest and stomach.
He stood firm and true to his beliefs, and no matter how large Alfred’s eyes got, he would stick to them. Even if they continued to water the way they currently were doing.
Fuck.
“Ah…” Alfred fidgeted on his spot, his eyes trained on the worked up Brit. Sure the outburst had kind of stung, and he was beginning to feel stupidly embarrassed at his own overly-enthusiastic words. The grin was still in place, not as vibrant but still present. It was Arthur who was standing there, and no matter what he said or did, he would always be worthy of his best smile. So he kept on smiling, all teeth, as his heart slowly began to break.
“I am not saying these things to spite you, Alfred.” His voice softened as he began to lose the battle with himself. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t bear the thought of the sadness in those eyes being caused by him. Alfred was too beautiful to be marred by his own ugliness. “I simply do not wish for you to get hurt. In truth I’m glad you somewhat told me so early on-”
“It doesn’t matter when. The feeling’s still there.” He interrupted earnestly, tilting his head with a small smile.
Arthur cleared his throat. “There are no feelings.”
“Say what you want, man. Not like I’m going to pay attention to you anyways. It’s not the same, if this were lust as you call it I wouldn’t have even bothered. I like chicks, okay? You know, tits and stuff. I’m perfectly aware that you aren’t one, and that’s why I know. The only explanation as to why I’d even bother to look at you the way I do is because I’m in…” He stilled to a halt, looking down at his feet for a brief moment before leaning back against the counter. “If it was sex, I could have picked any of the girls I study with. If it was just lust, I could have called fucking Gilbert and bought a few beers. But instead all I want to do is hang out with a stuffy old man who hates the world because he thinks the world hate him. Well it doesn’t. I don’t hate you and I most definitely don’t want to just have sex with you regardless of what you think or say.”
“You are impossible to deal with!”
“What are you so afraid of?”
Green eyes widened enough to make those large eyebrows disappear beneath the mop of unruly hair. Opening his mouth to retort, he found that he couldn’t. It had come out of nowhere, and he wasn't quite conscious of any fear he might have had, but the question seemed to have nudged his thoughts for a brief moment. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not this cynical, I know you’re not. I’ve seen who you are over the time we’ve known each other-”
“You don’t know me!” He could feel himself become more defensive by the second, raising his voice loud enough to be considered yelling.
“Damn straight I do! You can’t tell me this nasty person standing in front of me is the real one opposed to those shy smiles and awkward fidgeting you would do across the booth. I could hear how honest and… and simple you were. I could see the sadness. Now you’re just… being stupid and stubborn! Acting like some tough guy when you can’t even get your story straight.”
“Oh really? And how exactly do you know that?”
“Because you haven’t even mentioned your fucking boyfriend!”
Arthur froze in astonishment. Alfred was, blast him for ever admitting it, right. He hadn’t even remembered Francis throughout the whole discussion, or he had, but he simply didn’t deem him worthy enough to be mentioned. Gaping at the sudden loss of words, he simply brought himself to a full stop. The entire conversation was just too insane to begin with. A pair of strangers discussing feelings; one of them in a relationship with someone of the same sex and the other was as straight as an arrow.
It made no fucking sense in his head.
“Thank you for being kind enough to welcome me into your home, but I must be going.” Turning on his heels, Arthur went for his carryon bag, bent on getting out of the place before the insolent boy made him second guess himself and his already firmly set beliefs. “If ever you wish me to repay your kindness in any way, please, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”
He turned to see a stubbornly pouting American leaning heavily against the door, arms crossed before his chest. “I don’t want to be repaid for anything. I want you to stay safe. And I can’t do that unless you stay here where I can keep an eye on you.”
“Your stalker tendencies are showing.”
“Well I don’t care. Much rather have you thinking I’m a stalker than letting you go home and do something stupid.” Alfred turned his face away, turning up his nose in a way that could only be considered childish. “I’ll even take back everything I just said. It’s not like I expect you to return whatever this is, but if you want me to take it back then fine. I will.”
It was ridiculous. The entire thing was ridiculous. Arthur deflated after a few moments of intense silence, letting his bag drop onto the floor with a sigh. He turned towards the small living room, picking up the DVDs strew all over the couch and neatly setting them on the table before plopping down on it in defeat. Resting his head back, he peered up at Alfred who was now looming over him, a not so pleased look on his face. It was decided, Alfred indeed was a spoiled child living off daddy’s money, as he had thought all along. Whenever he didn’t get his way, he would automatically flip into a stubborn twat with a perpetual pout.
“Do what you wish then, I’m not stopping you. Want to snoop in my apartment? Go ahead. Want to tie me up while I’m asleep and screw me? Be my guest. I don’t give a fuck what you want to do to me, Alfred. My boyfriend wouldn’t give a fuck either, so nothing’s holding you back.” It somehow scared Alfred, just how dead serious Arthur sounded as he calmly laid it all out. Green eyes bore into his unwaveringly, so terribly resigned that it made his stomach twist unpleasantly. It almost felt like Arthur truly didn’t care what happened to him, no matter how horrible it was.
“I don’t get some people.” Alfred started, putting his hands on either side of Arthur’s head and leaning down to better look at him. “How can they see the unrealistic ugliness instead of the blatant goodwill? I haven’t even given you a reason to think that I’d do something so… so nasty. Instead I’ve been trying to be the hero, which I am, and help you in any way I can. I like you, Arthur. And it took me an all-nighter and a very long conversation with a friend of mine to notice that.”
“You’re confused, Alfred. You’re young. Your hormones are taking control of your body and you’re going to have to learn how to control them. Look at me; and I mean really look at me. Somewhere in my early thirties… and then look at you. Not even twenty one. I’m an old bitter man who has nothing to offer opposed to the bright future you’ll be able to make for yourself. There are so many pretty young girls you can date. Someday marry and be off- and for fucks sake I feel like I’m talking to my son!”
“You have a son?”
“No. I mean it in the sense that I shouldn’t be telling you these things. Discussing sexuality and dating and the proper age for-for whatever is just… It doesn’t all belong in the same conversation. Not from a stranger.” Arthur pressed the palm of his hand to his face with a huff of frustration. Slowly but surely a migraine had crept up and was now at full force, making the side of his head bang with every speeding thought. “I don’t even know why I’m bothering anyways.”
“Because you secretly love me.” Alfred grinned at the deadpan look on Arthur’s face the moment he lifted his hand; a look that slowly melted into a glare. “And you find me irresistible. So much, in fact, that you’re planning on ditching your boyfriend and coming away with me. Because you need a little bit more drama in your life before you get your happily ever after. Then we can move to Hawaii or something.” Balancing himself on the balls of his feet, he swayed from side to side, still grinning down at the flustered Englishman.
“You make it harder to take you seriously by the second.”
“Hey.” Pressing a kiss onto Arthur’s forehead, he pulled away with a dazzling smile. One that not even the stuffy old Brit could resist. “I am being honest. Yeah, you have a point at the whole age and not exactly knowing each other thing. But time is on our side, isn’t it? We could date, properly, and see where it goes from there. For all I know, if I’m a rapist as you say, then you’re probably a serial killer. Technically we’d be one and the same but you’re right, I’d much rather avoid unnecessary surprises.”
“You conveniently keep forgetting my boyfriend.”
“Like I said, you ditch him. Guy’s an asshole anyways.”
“You don’t even know him!” Arthur sounded strikingly, if a little too dramatically, offended, but the sudden laugh that accompanied his statement accented the already obvious sarcasm.
“Don’t have to. You’re always miserable as fuck, you spend almost every evening at the café, you’ve said so yourself that you absolutely despise him, and you also just said that he wouldn’t give the slightest fuck if anything were to happen to you. Plus! Judging by the way you’re dressed, I bet he didn’t even bother to pick you up at the airport.”
“Actually, he left without me.”
“I rest my case.”
“Still.” Arthur got to his feet, unable to remain still and walked around the modern looking couch to stand before his current nuisance. “That gives you no right to judge someone you don’t know.”
“Then why do you keep judging me?” If Alfred’s eyes were to get any larger, Arthur feared they would pop out of their sockets. The whole puppy eyed thing was just ridiculous, especially for someone Alfred’s age. He had a point though, a fact that irked him more than he thought it would.
“You baffle me.”
“In a good way or…”
“How can that be in any way positive?” Crossing his arms, Arthur looked off towards where his coat was hung, torn between being amused or severely irritated. “I’m still not sleeping with you.”
“Never said I wanted you to.” Walking back into the kitchen, Alfred hunted through his refrigerator for a can of soda. “Want one?” Arthur shook his head. Taking the coldest can, he popped it open before jumping up on the counter again, swinging his legs as his eyes bore at the Englishman. “I just want to get to know you better.”
“Why?” He was still unable to wrap his mind around the possible answer to that question. Alfred was not making any sense at all; at least not to him.
“And people call me the oblivious one. Do I have to spell it out for you? Here’s a hint, I’ve told you a million times since this conversation started.” Taking a swig from the can, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “I like you, Arthur. I’m telling you this now because… I don’t know when I’ll have the balls to say it again. You’re like… the last person I’d want to date, but I want to. I don’t get it either, and I know that you being the whole older and wiser of the two are in the same boat as me. It’s not like I’m going to force you or anything, but… you know.”
“No, I don’t know. I don’t get you in the slightest.”
“Maybe that means we’re doing it right?”
“How, exactly?”
“Some things can’t be explained, I guess.”
“You are absolutely insane, you sod.”
“I’m not the one agreeing to crash at a stranger’s place.”
Arthur turned to gawk at him, earning himself a good laugh from the kid on the counter. “You are impossible! You’re practically forcing me to stay here.”
“I’m not forcing you to do anything.” Even through the laughter, Arthur picked up the certain seriousness behind that statement. His words and actions went against his very personality in a way that left him speechless. Alfred was one huge jumble of contradictions that he still couldn’t find himself being able to handle. “The door’s right there, bro. You stay if you want.”
With a loud huff, Arthur walked up to him and gave his shoulder a good shove. “Go get my bloody things, will you?”
Just like that, the heavy atmosphere was lifted. Alfred beamed at him with dazzling force, jumping off and pulling Arthur into a tight hug. Without the slightest idea of what he was getting into, he felt awfully giddy. Elizaveta had been right. Perhaps it wasn’t a groundbreaking turn of events, but it was a positive one nonetheless. “Aye, aye, captain!”
“Oh shut it.”
Slipping on his sneakers, Alfred pranced around the apartment in search for his keys. Night had already fallen and it was too damn cold to go out on his bike, so he’d play it safe and take his car. Reaching for his toasty bomber jacket, he shrugged it on and zipped it all the way up, struggling with the zipper a bit along the way. Lastly, he pocketed the notepad.
“What was that last thing you needed, Art? You never told me.”
Snapping out of his reverie it took him a moment to analyze the question. “Oh.” He was thinking too far into the situation, scrutinizing every word and action Alfred had muttered and tried to make some sense out of it all. Any kind of motive that could be driving him, or even a mental illness of some sort. It was hard to just decide on a definitive answer. If only he could just peer into that odd mind of his then maybe he could grasp the gravity of it all. Sex, love, feelings, strangers, meant to be, horrible boyfriends and sexually confused teenagers… He was having a field day.
“Arthur? You with me, man?”
A tap on the shoulder startled him for the second time in less than ten seconds. Things were getting serious. “Sorry, come again?”
“Dude, what the hell’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing, it’s nothing. Just tired is all. Ah! Underwear. I need underwear. Honest to God, you giggle and I will hit you.”
Alfred immediately slapped his hand over his mouth the moment a giggle tried to slip out, but if the eye squinting was any indication, he was having a riot. Maturity still had some catching up to do. Straightening up, he made sure to take deep even breathes before deeming it safe to put his hand down. “Right! Underwear. Any kind in specific? Boxers, briefs… thongs?”
He earned that slap.
“Shut your trap and go get my fucking things before I go get them myself.”
“Alright, alright, jeez, I’m going.” Rubbing at his throbbing cheek with a pout, he made for the door. Arthur threw him his apartment’s keys on the way out. “I’ll be back in a jiff. Make yourself at home and if you need anything, just call me.”
“It can’t take you more than an hour; stop acting like you’re driving up to Queens. Be careful now.” Arthur stood by the door, holding it open as Alfred stepped out into the hall; he tried to keep his mind blank all the while. Instead, a much more horrible thought slipped in through the cracks. He could feel the déjà vu settle in; and judging by the look behind those glasses, the other did too.
Alfred’s permanent smile dimmed in magnitude, but not meaning. It took a sweeter hue as opposed to the mindless bright ray of sunshine that it usually was as he leaned against the doorframe, curling his suddenly gloved fingers underneath the chin and tilting Arthur’s head up to better look at him. “We’ve come a long way already in such little time, you know. Doesn’t seem like that long ago; the night when I stole that kiss.”
“The night when it all went downhill for me, you mean.”
“Oh?”
Shaking his head, Arthur pushed at Alfred’s chest, breaking free from the overly clichéd stance. “Never mind, just hurry back. I’m dying to get out of these blasted clothes.”
“I will, I will. But give us a kiss first.” He puckered up.
“In your dreams.”
“Please?” The big eyes were back. Arthur deadpanned. “Just a small peck?”
“Alfred we just talked about this. Fra-” The comeback was cut short when Alfred pressed their mouths together for a brief moment, lips moving hesitantly before pulling away a mere second later.
Blue eyes remained trained on those suddenly delicious looking lips. “You were saying?”
Without much thinking, Arthur lashed out and took a healthy handful of Alfred’s golden hair, pulling him down again for another, more forceful kiss. Strictly lips of course, but that didn’t stop him from brushing them repeatedly over Alfred’s own less seasoned ones, giving them a small nip. He pulled away with a muttered ‘fuck' suddenly remembering himself before he took it too far. “My apologies.”
Taking a moment to breathe, Alfred let out a breathy laugh he hadn’t known he was holding back, licking his lips while fighting the urge to downright make out with the Briton. “S’okay. That was fucking hot.” His goofy smile was heartwarming.
Clearing his throat, Arthur couldn’t help but smirk. He still had it, and he fought the urge to brag about it. “Go ahead, boy. If you behave, who knows? Might be more where that came from.”
“Tease.”
With a smirk, Arthur pulled the door shut, a blushing but smirking American on the other side. He sighed. The situation had just spiraled from bad to worse. Not only that, he was allowing himself to be pulled into the whole disastrous shebang. Alfred drove a harder bargain than he had expected him to, his charm and honest kindness was making him melt faster than butter by a stove. As stubborn as he was, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to fight him for that much longer. His disconcerting thoughts were just excuses conjured up in the form of a shield, for he wasn’t just about to stand aside and let a complete stranger come waltzing in just like that. He was skating on thin ice as it was, he didn’t need the extra weight.
Rolling up his sleeves, Arthur made for the kitchen again noting the utter disaster it all was. “Boy can’t even pick up after himself.” He reached for a rag and cranked up the faucet; might as well kill time while Alfred was gone. Cleaning wasn’t exactly at the top of his fun things to do list, but it was something to kill both time and his overly thinking mind. Besides, after being used to living on such neatly organized conditions, the place made him shiver out of sheer disgust. He mentally hoped for Alfred to have a vacuum, since he was quite sure the carpet wasn’t supposed to be that shade of off white.
All of that aside, after a good scrub down, Arthur briefly considered making some proper use to the kitchen. Judging by the brief glance in the refrigerator and cabinets he was quite sure Alfred had a thing or two worth making. Not that he’d cook a full blown meal, but perhaps a light snack that would do well on both their stomachs.
Sticking his hands in the suds, he began his cleaning escapades.
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On the other side of the door, it had taken Alfred half a moment to get his mind working again. His grin came back at full force as he punched the air, triumph stepping on the awkwardness of the past hour or so. Sweet progress. Before going off on his merry way though, he quickly pressed a kiss to his fingertips and, after making sure there was no one around to see him, pressed them to the door in a silent ‘be right back’.
Elizaveta had been right. He had fallen, and it had been harder than he had ever dared to admit. That wasn’t to say that he was too fond of the entire being in love with someone of the same sex thing but he was working on that. His friend had told him that it was nothing to be ashamed of, that love was love regardless of age and gender. All night long he had lain wide awake, staring at the ceiling and wrapped comfortably in his plush sheets, waging a war with himself. It had reached a point where he had even called his father for advice, but got no answer except for the voicemail.
Of course Arthur was stubborn. He had been hurt and trampled and emotionally abused; things weren’t about to get easier. It’s not that Alfred wanted to push things on him, such as breaking up with his no good boyfriend, but throughout his life, he had come to learn that maybe what you did need was a small push in the right direction. He was nervous and scared and terribly insecure, no use denying it; he was walking into unknown territory, but he wasn’t the type to just back down without trying a couple of times. Fuck, if he had to get past the whole being gay denial, then he’d make damn sure Arthur got over the denial of whatever it was he was denying.
The biting cold once he got outside made him curl into himself, nearly breaking into a jog as he made his way down the street to get to his car. He rarely used the thing, opting in moving around on his motorcycle due to the constant heavy traffic, but it still came in handy for long rides and particularly cold days. Plus, it saved him money on gas. Times were rough. The streets we busy as usually, and he airily waved at the guy standing over by the magazine stand with a smile before getting in his car. Not exactly the most inconspicuous thing in the neighborhood, but he dealt with it.
Arthur’s apartment was located somewhere in Chelsea, up 22nd Street to be a bit more exact. He had a bit of trouble remembering exactly which one it was, his sense of direction being a bit thrown off by the argument before he had left. Along with the fact that nearly all the places looked the same. After driving up and down the same street three times, Alfred gave Arthur a call and double parked in front of the desired building. The clock on his dashboard told him it was half past eleven so he’d have to speed up his search for his temporary roommate’s personal belongings.
The street lamps flooded the near desolate streets, naught but a few cars parked along the clean sidewalks and neatly trimmed bushes. Not having Arthur around to absorb his attention, Alfred could cast a look around, taking in the surroundings for a brief moment. It seemed like a quiet, down to earth neighbor, something that struck him as very… Arthur-ish. He would venture so far as to call it cute. “Kind of boring, too.” Twisting his nose, he made his way up the walkway into the building. Then it all began to come back to him. The corner of his lips twisted up at the flood of memories that place held, a place he had only been to once, but it had been enough to change his life.
Up the stairs and two halls later, Alfred stood before Arthur’s door in a moment’s hesitation. He had no idea what he was about to find in there. What if he was indeed a serial killer? Like Jack the Ripper? Slipping in the keys, he gripped the doorknob tighter than was necessary. Jack the Ripper was from England too, wasn’t he? Shaking his head free of the thoughts, he pushed the door open to find… a perfectly clean and normal apartment.
“More boring. How can this guy live?” Shutting the door behind him, he set off to work without much dillydallying.
It wasn’t hard finding Arthur’s bedroom whose décor was surprisingly chic for the stuffy old jerk. The trendy Italian furniture and tasteful paintings on his wall, a desktop computer on the far end cluttered with papers and folders and the like. The bed was small though, too small for Alfred’s taste. Hell, he was sure his feet would hang off the edge of that thing.
Back to business.
Opening the only sliding doors in the bedroom, he found himself faced with Arthur’s wardrobe, his jaw nearly dropping in complete stupefaction. “Fucking hell!” Alfred found himself wondering if Arthur was in fact some sort of designer trying to hide behind the business façade. His wardrobe was just incredible. From suits in all colors to low-cut jeans, the Englishman had a little bit of everything. Alfred dove into the large space, eyes wide in astonishment as he went through the articles of clothing, trying hard not to imagine Arthur in any of it. So maybe they weren’t designer, but damn, he had a serious sense for fashion. So much in fact, that Alfred felt entirely smitten by that one red coat at the end of the rack.
“Why doesn’t he wear these? I mean sweater vests?” Pulling out a peculiar looking pair of pants, Alfred whistled, too impressed with what he was seeing. At that moment he was sure he’d gladly give up his left arm in order to see Arthur in those. “It even has chains!” He immediately matched it with a leather jacket and a stripped blue and white shirt. “Now this is hot.” Completely disregarding the items on the list, Alfred made sure to carefully pick out a whole new set of clothing. Nothing too over the top, but something that would wipe any random bystander off their feet.
Time ticked on as the American continued to dance about the room, picking up an exaggerated amount of clothing and placing them on the neatly made bed. He did obey the selection of shoes and socks Arthur had told him, since they matched with most of things he would take. Reaching out for his notepad, he checked out the articles already in hand. Next mission would be… underwear. “This is going to be interesting.”
Having been too flustered by the request, Arthur had failed to tell him exactly where he kept them. And so his search began. Alfred rummaged through the main armoire and found nothing but casual shorts and tank tops. Summer wear, apparently. Perhaps that’s why he kept them in drawers in the first place. When he did find it, he punched the air with a hissed ‘yes’ and set out to pulling the small articles. Alfred’s first thought was the fact that Arthur must have been much skinnier than he looked to be able to fit in those. He made absolutely sure to bring along those neatly folded Union Jack ones with a smirk, if only just for laughs.
Alfred stopped for a moment as he looked down at what seemed to be innocent looking black underwear, but a grin slowly crept up as he neatly folded them and placed it among the rest. He made sure to exit that area quickly, unwilling to fall into the creepy stalker category. He also ignored the small bottle of lubricant tucked all the way in the back.
In the end, it didn’t exactly take him as long as he had expected. Two trips to his car and a sandwich curtesy of Arthur’s refrigerator later, and he was neatly settled in his warm car, ready to set home and get some much deserved sleep. Until he remembered what had to be about the most important thing on that list.
Arthur’s tea.
With a groan, Alfred slugged out of the car and back into large place. Dragging his feet into the kitchen, he reached for the sealed box of tea and shoved it in his coat, not caring if the box ended up damaged throughout travesty. For a fleeting moment, blue eyes landed on a travel brochure and he gingerly picked it up, only to drop it almost instantly. “France. Who the hell would want to go to France?” He twisted his nose in slight disgust, irritation slipping in through the cracks as he was reminded of his not so loving father. “Asshole.” Dismissing the though altogether, Alfred quickly made his way back to his car and drove right for home, musing at what Arthur’s reaction might be.
Maybe he could get something to eat on the way there.
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“Artie, I’m ho-!” Alfred choked on the last word when something constricted his windpipe, making him turn back into the hallway to cough it off, desperately grasping at his chest. “What the fuck?” Pulling the front of his jacket over his nose while struggling with the stack of clothing and heat on his free arm, he tried again. This time, it was his eyes that widened in shocked disbelief.
He wondered in carefully, only to stop in his tracks when Arthur called from the other room. “Shoes off by the door, Alfred.” He did as he was told.
Blue eyes looked around curiously as he padded over to the living room, thankfully stretching out his toes as he did so, and placed all that he was holding on top of the freakishly clean couch. He knew he’d be able to bring it all in just one trip, but that was beside the point. His place was clean. Cleaner than it had ever been since he had first moved in. “You did this in just two hours?”
Walking into the same room that Alfred was in, sleeves rolled up, a pair of yellow gloves on and a Clorox pump in hand, Arthur shrugged. “An hour and a half actually. Took a slight break after scrubbing the sink, my chest felt like it was about to burst.” With a satisfied smile, he chanced a general look around the apartment. “You’re going to need a new vacuum soon, even if this one seems like it’s been barely used much. Twenty minutes a day, that’s all you need to at least pick up after yourself. Avoid this disaster you call home.”
“You didn’t have to do this you know.” Alfred said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head somewhat embarrassed. He was in a hurry and at work when he had gotten Arthur’s call; perfect excuse.
“If I’m to stay here I don’t intend on wallowing in such a disorganized atmosphere.” Setting the bottle of Clorox down and pulling off his gloves, Arthur discreetly sniffed the air, his stomach suddenly rumbling, reminding him of how hungry he was. It had been his intention to cook for the both of them that evening, but he had lost track of time entirely. Instead, he stated the obvious. “I smell pizza.”
Alfred perked up instantly. “Hell yeah! I got a pie on the way home, hope you don’t mind. Figured you’d probably be hungry.” Moving the mound of clothing to the side, he pulled out a white box with a thumbs up. “Aren’t I the greatest?” What wasn’t so great was the burn he now had on his forearm, something that had come from his attempt at balancing the hot box and stack of clothing in one arm in order to avoid taking two trips. It wasn’t because he was lazy; it was just too cold to go back outside.
With a scoff, Arthur took the box from his hands and placed it on the recently waxed counter. “Yes, yes of course. If anything gets dirty, you clean it.” Alfred gave him a halfhearted salute while reaching for a slice, his mouth watering as he bit into the greasy goodness. He picked up what sounded like a vague moan coming from Arthur, making him grin around his next bite. Nothing could ever beat New York pizza.
Eventually they migrated back into the living room, Arthur sitting neatly on the floor while Alfred laid spread out on the couch, eating pizza and enjoying old Star Trek reruns in comfortable silence. He had convinced Arthur into checking the clothing he had brought later, that he needed to just sit back, relax and enjoy his evening. And that he did.
After a long mentally challenging day, it felt good to just spend some time in good company, even if the clock struck two in the morning and Alfred would have to be up in less than five hours to take a Biology exam. He wouldn’t have changed that moment for anything, as he idly lowered his arm to absently toy with Arthur’s hair. A gesture the other didn’t bother to swat away be it because he was too engrossed in the current episode or, if the way he leaned into the touch was of any indication, enjoyed it.
“Thank you.” Arthur couldn’t help but let his mind wander, even if the current episode was rather amusing and had taken much of his attention. He had things to think about and decisions to make, and being the over-thinker that he was, he was quite sure his mind wouldn’t be at ease until then. Instead, he thanked the young man for his kindness and patience; two traits that were so hard to come by nowadays.
The nails that were softly scratching his scalp came to a stop, smoothening out to run through the loose locks instead. A warm gesture, nearly loving. Alfred smiled down at the man who was still too stubborn to look him in the eye and sighed softly, feeling happy with everything. Nothing mystical, no fireworks, no overwhelming feelings of heartfelt devotion. Alfred just felt happy.
“Anytime, Arthur.”
“You still need to clean the kitchen.”
With a snort, he made sure to shove the Englishman’s head playfully, giggling when the other turned to shoot him a deadly glare. A glare that melted away into a small insecure smile.
And all was good.
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A/N: Here, have a little more angst? Ah. I've reason to believe that we've reached the halfway point of this story!
I'd like to say that everything will be smooth sailing from now on but.... it won't. The angst is only just beginning.
But in the meantime, enjoy the equal amount of fluff. ~
And the sex.
Which is just around the corner.