[Fanfic] Can You Feel the Love Tonight (USUK, Summer Camp 2012)
TITLE: Can You Feel the Love Tonight
ARTIST/AUTHOR: bukku_oosa
GENRE: Romance, Drama, Humour
RATING: T
WARNINGS: Cheesiness AGAIN, musicians, stage drama, swearing, drinking, mentions of crime rings, McFassy pairings.
PAIRING/S: USUK, Alfred/Arthur(America/England); McFassy, Michael Fassbender/James McAvoy (Brandon Sullivan/Charles Xavier)
SUMMARY: Alfred is a waiter in a high-class restaurant with high hopes of making it big who’s in love with one of its regular musicians. Arthur is a musician playing in a high-class restaurant who’s in love with a clumsy waiter that had spilled expensive champagne on his only good suit. One night, circumstance brings them together. Crossover with the Club Holic series (that has only one fic in it until further notice read: after the summer camp.) FF.Net Link
The Club Holic was a fine little jewel located at the end of uptown New York, a top-class restaurant for the rich and famous, famed for its mysterious charm and charisma, much like its namesake. Named after the most infamous crime group in the Underworld (people liked speculating that its owner was either an avid fan of its leader Sullivan or if he was the man himself; unfortunately for the avid wealthy followers of the elusive Club, the truth was the former) it was one of the most sought-for restaurants in the socialite circles of New York and celebrities were known to frequent the 5-star restaurant.
Alfred Jones was part of it all, the mysterious charm that had skyrocketed the Club Holic to fame like its crime ring counterpart.
Well, at least he’d like to think that, standing awkwardly at the kitchen door to fetch yet another tray of champagne. He eyed it strangely as one of his co-workers handed it to him, flashing him an apologetic smile.
“You look pretty bothered,” Elizabeta said, also walking next to him with her own tray of champagne intended for the table next to the one Alfred was going to serve.
“It just that these people drink so much I’m really starting to wonder about their livers. Did you know that alcohol-”
“I really don’t want to know, sweetie,” Elizabeta cut him off, apologetic pout on her pretty face, “I’m pretty sure you’ve already told me about this.” She chuckled, and Alfred smiled softly.
“Sorry.” He mumbled, and she shook her head, chuckling fondly.
“I’d better go now.” She said to him, before walking away from him to serve the table her tray was intended for.
Alfred headed to a table with two men sitting at it so close together it looked rather intimate. He carefully kept his glance away from them, but he chanced a look at one of them to see a rather pretty-faced brunette with creamy white skin, plump red lips and strikingly blue eyes. Somehow, the customer must have noticed him, because a sly grin spread across his face and he pulled away from his date and leant close to Alfred, his blue eyes locking onto Alfred’s equally blue ones, filled with flirty mirth that had Alfred’s cheeks reddening up like a ripe tomato.
“See something you like?” he asked, his voice dripping viscous honey, and Alfred’s cheeks flared red.
“N-no, sir,” he stuttered, knocking over the elegant tissue holder with shaking hands, and he let out a squeak of alarm, quickly righting the holder. The brunette giggled, and his date glared at Alfred with blue-green-gray eyes that were colder than steel. Alfred swallowed. “S-s-sorry,” he apologised, “I-I’ll go grab the menu for you.” He said, before running away as fast as he could, but not without hearing the posh English accent of the brunette flitting over to his ears like a delicate little butterfly.
“He’s adorable,” he heard the man coo, “I wouldn’t mind having a piece of that.”
“Charles.” His date growled, and the brunette merely giggled.
“Oh, Brandon, do calm yourself down, dear.” He said, and at this, Alfred decided he should probably stop listening in and grab those damned menus already. Luckily for him, he found Ludwig standing by the rack where the menus were, giving him a concerned glance.
“H-hey,” Alfred stuttered, “Mind serving those two guys over there?” he gestured at the two men over his shoulder with his thumb. Ludwig looked over at the two men, and a knowing grin spread across his face.
“Don’t you know that one of them is a regular?” Ludwig asked, patting Alfred’s shoulder. “But then again, you were always pretty bad with faces.”
“… What?” Alfred blinked.
“I’ll handle it,” Ludwig chuckled, shaking his head, before pushing past Alfred to head into the kitchen.
“H-hey, they’re that way,” Alfred spoke up, but Ludwig shook his head.
“Oh, no,” he replied, “With Charles Xavier, there is never a need for the menu.” Alfred cocked his head. “Should he be asked what he wants, all he is going to say are two words, Alfred: ‘Surprise me.’”
Ludwig smiled at Alfred and walked into the kitchen, muttering something along the lines of, “Francis is going to love this,” as he was grinning in a most unnerving way.
Shaking his head, concluding to himself that he’ll never, ever understand how the socialite circles in New York work, Alfred busied himself with walking around the restaurant in case someone needed attention. Seeing none, he made his way over to his usual spot-the pillar not too far from the stage where the live band was playing.
A smile crossed his face, then, his nerves calming down immensely when he looked at the middle of it all-a beautiful black grand piano sat in centre stage, right behind where the singer was supposed to be (oh, he mustn’t have arrived yet, Alfred thought to himself,), giving him full view of the sandy blonde-haired man sitting at the piano, long elegant fingers dancing over the keys as he led the band in the music they were playing-some shady, classy jazz that set the mood well along with the dim lights and dark burgundy and mauve curtains, walls and upholstery that matched ebony furniture and crystal glassware.
Alfred sighed, leaning against the pillar, staring at the man on the piano, a dreamy smile crossing his face as he watched the man play elegantly, back perfectly straight and swaying gently to the ebb and flow of the song.
His name was Arthur Kirkland. He was the Club’s pianist in the live band. Alfred spilled champagne on him a few weeks ago, and since then, Alfred knew he was in love.
The problem was, that was most likely not reciprocated, since he perfectly knew that getting suits dry-cleaned was no cheap business; not to mention they were complete strangers, Arthur was always up there on the stage, and Alfred was always down below him, running around and serving people champagne and tiny servings of food that probably cost more than the uniform he was wearing.
They would never, ever talk, would never get to know each other, despite the fact Alfred knew that it only took a fraction of a second to fall in love. Hard.
Despite it all, Alfred could never get over Arthur, all his attempts on convincing himself that his love would never be returned failing. He was content to watch Arthur from afar, the man never knowing exactly how he truly feels, and that was alright, he guessed, rather than having the man know and confirming what he had been fearing to be true.
Be content with what you have, after all. Alfred was raised to be as such. He himself had been dreaming of making it big as a singer, but right now, this was only as far as he could go.
Make do with what you have, and you’ll get what you want in the end, his mother always told him.
---
The live band called a break, and Arthur packed up his music sheets, tucking them into the compartment under the seat of the piano, before returning the velvet to where it belonged. Closing the lid, he sighed, before turning his hands, working out the knots that had built up there while he was playing. Stretching slightly he stood up, nodding at the other musicians, before walking to the backstage, where he met up with the second shift pianist, nodding at him, handing him a bottle of water.
“Thanks,” Arthur nodded, downing half of the bottle, before wiping his mouth. “Your turn, Roderich,” he gestured behind him, and the man stepped past him.
“The singer’s arrived,” Roderich said, “He says he’ll be singing on your shift.”
Arthur groaned. “Can’t you handle him tonight?”
Roderich gestured out at the main stage. “I’m on.” He said, “It’s your turn tonight.”
Arthur sighed, nodding in defeat, before the pianist walked out onstage, leaving him behind. Dejectedly, Arthur made his way to the dressing room shared by the other musicians on his shift, plopping down at his seat heavily.
He looked at himself in the mirror, and a tired, baggy-eyed man looked back at him. His body was slumped-the epitome of tiredness, save for his eyes. His eyes were burning green with glee, glimmering with a strange sort of pride in stark contrast to everything else on his body.
He held his cheeks, which had begun to colour, a goofy smile crossing his face.
Alfred had been watching him play tonight again. He was sure of it-the absence of the singer had confirmed it, Alfred wasn’t staring at the singer, he was staring at him, him, scrawny flimsy, prissy bad-tempered Arthur Kirkland, not the airheaded Prima Donna of their small stage in the Club Holic resto.
He giggled, squirming around in his seat, and when he realised what he was doing, he stopped himself, stifling his sounds of glee by biting down hard on his lower lip.
He was… pleased Alfred was looking at him. Pleased at the gain of a new admirer, that was all.
Arthur glared at himself in the mirror, scowling.
Oh, who was he kidding? He was giddy, bloody thrilled Alfred actually had eyes for him, actually paid attention to his music, actually giving Arthur hope for a chance to ask him out on a date.
Arthur could see it now-him and Alfred, holding hands under the table in the Club, drinking champagne together-
Champagne.
Arthur slapped himself on the forehead.
No, no, no. Alfred didn’t like him, he was just probably watching because he had nothing to do, or maybe he was looking at the saxophone player past him, because there was no way in hell Alfred liked him-he had tossed a glass of champagne on his only good suit, for the love of God.
Obviously not a sign saying, ‘hey babe, I just met you, and this is crazy, but here’s some champagne, let’s go fuck, maybe?’
Honestly, his thoughts need to get a grip. Arthur shook his head. He must have been drunk already, and he hasn’t gotten a drop of alcohol in him yet.
“Bloody hell,” Arthur swore, before getting up to go talk to the singer about their performance tonight.
---
“So, do you think they’re fucking yet?” Gilbert asked his brother, elbowing him slightly as they walked out of the kitchen, holding a tray each of steaming crab that made Gilbert’s mouth water when he had a whiff of its delicious scent.
“Brother,” Ludwig hissed at him as they approached the table, “Your order, sir.” He smiled down at the brunette smiling up at him (with those prying eyes, it was odd and he could never ever get used to getting looked at like that). He set down the plates in front of the two men, and pulled himself and his brother away from the table. “Now, you,” he glared at Gilbert, “You can’t just talk about Alfred and Arthur like that.”
“Oh, come on, Lud,” Gilbert snickered, “Everyone in the restaurant knows they want to get it on already.”
Ludwig shot a glance at his brother, but softened when he saw Gilbert grinning at him.
“Well, yeah, that’s true.” He nodded, and Gilbert cackled loudly, smacking his little brother on the back.
“That’s the way!” Gilbert cackled, “You see, we got a plan, and we’re going to need a little help if we’re going to get it done.”
“… Oh?” Ludwig’s eyebrow arched, and Gilbert snickered.
“Yep, and if we can pull it off, we’ll be killing two birds with one stone!” Gilbert winked, pointing at the singer that was now coming up onto the stage, the first shift musicians coming back on stage.
Ludwig stared at his brother incredulously, and Gilbert only grinned at him, nodding. “Well?” he asked, and a smile eventually crossed Ludwig’s face.
“For once, brother, I actually like what you’re thinking.”
“Gee, thanks.” Gilbert pouted, but there was no bite to his words. “Give this to pretty boy and his date when dessert rolls around.” He handed Ludwig a piece of paper. Ludwig took it, eyebrow arched, but nodded anyway, tucking it into the front pocket of his suit jacket.
Grinning, Gilbert pulled his brother into the kitchens. “It’s show time.”
---
Alfred had stopped walking around aimlessly when he saw the first shift musicians get into positions, the regular singer for tonight taking his place in front Arthur. A pout made its way to Alfred’s lips, and he turned to see that one of the customers had raised his hand to call his attention. He walked over to them (they weren’t sitting that far from the stage, in fact, they were sitting right in front of where the singer was) and his eyes widened to see it was socialite Charles Xaiver waving him over. He gulped, and straightened out his uniform, before presenting himself to the man.
“Yes, sir?” he asked.
Charles smiled at him. “Please go be a dear and get us some champagne.” He said, leaning forward close to Alfred.
“R-right away, sir,” Alfred nodded, eyeing Arthur from the corner of his eye, who was setting up his music sheets. Frowning slightly he noted Arthur wasn’t looking very well, he moved away to fetch what he was asked for, completely missing the smirk Charles had shared with his date.
---
Arthur glared at the singer standing in front of him, muttering darkly.
“Bloody bastard thinks he can walk all over us just because he’s the bloody singer standing in the bloody front, the sod probably thinks he’s got the hardest job, what the bleeding fuck,” he growled, pushing up the lid of the piano with more force than necessary. Quietly he whispered his sorry to it, before pulling away the velvet, running his fingers over the keys, sighing.
“Don’t you sigh there, little toad,” the singer hissed back at him over his shoulder. “You’ll do as I say, you understand?”
Arthur rolled his eyes and didn’t reply, not desiring to give the man the pleasure of hearing his reply.
He looked down at the crowd to see Alfred emerging from the kitchen, carrying with him a tray with two glasses of champagne on them. A small smile crossed his face when he was reminded of the time he first ever noticed the younger man.
He had sworn so loudly he almost got fired that day, but meeting Alfred made it all worthwhile.
Even if it had basically confirmed that Alfred most likely hated his guts.
His eyes suddenly met Alfred’s and a blush spread across his face, before he tore his gaze away from Alfred, staring pointedly at the piano. The singer standing in front of him gave him a judging glance, before nudging him not-at-all-gently. Arthur glared at him and began playing, the band following suit as the singer got ready to do his job.
And that’s when it all happened in such a blur, Arthur thought he was dreaming.
---
“Ah, Alfred, dear, thank you,” Charles smiled as Alfred approached, but the man was looking elsewhere-mainly, at Arthur, still shell-shocked at the fact that his and Arthur’s eyes met, and the blonde pianist even fucking blushed and looked away. He was feeling too giddy to even register the foot that was so blatantly out there to get him, and of course-
He tripped over Charles’ date’s foot, sending him crashing forward towards the stage.
Time seemed to slow down as he watched with despair the two glasses of champagne flew into the air. Arthur’s hands slammed down onto the piano’s keys, jarring the music to a complete stop, and the singer turned to yell at him, when he noticed the glasses of champagne headed for him. His eyes widened-
Splash. Two glasses full of expensive Salon 1995 champagne suddenly decorated the man’s no doubt expensive coat.
Alfred let out a whimper. “… Whoops.”
The singer went absolutely livid, turning to scream at Arthur.
“You! You made your little boyfriend do this!” he accused, pointing at Arthur, who gaped at him, surprised. “You little bitch!”
“Hey!” Alfred cried out, getting up quickly, grabbing the man by his collar. “Don’t you even fucking dare!”
“Let go of me, you little shit!” the singer yelled at him, and that’s when Alfred’s vision blurred out. He came to again when he heard Arthur screaming his name. When his eyes focused again, they widened to see that he had punched the singer.
“Oh, shit, man, I’m so sorry-” he began, but the singer shrugged him off.
“Sorry?” he snarled, “Well, you can be sorry about this! I quit!”
He pushed Alfred off roughly and stormed out of the restaurant, leaving behind the entire place in absolute silence.
“… We have no act,” Roderich spoke up, emerging from backstage. “We have no act!”
“Yes, we do.” Gilbert spoke up, grinning at Alfred, who gaped at him. “You’ve wanted to make it big, right? Now’s probably the time to do it.”
Alfred looked around, and his eyes met Arthur’s. The blonde pianist blushed and gestured at the mike stand. “… Please.” He said shyly, looking away from him.
Alfred felt himself blushing as well, before tentatively standing at where the singer had used to be. Around him he heard the customers talking to each other in hush whispers, and he felt nervousness take him over.
“… Don’t worry,” Arthur’s voice floated over to him reassuringly, “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” Alfred turned his head to look at Arthur, who offered him a small smile. “Break a leg.”
Alfred glanced at the title of the piece Arthur was going to play, Can You Feel the Love Tonight. His blush returned with a vengeance, and he tore his eyes away from Arthur to look at the audience.
“Uh, hi.” He said intelligently, and he mentally kicked himself. “I’ll be the understudy tonight, I guess.” He looked back at Arthur, who smiled at him a little wider, before he started playing the introduction. The band followed suit, albeit a little unsure, and Alfred took a deep breath.
“There's a calm surrender to the rush of day, when the heat of the rolling world can be turned away,” he sang, his voice a little shaky as he gripped the microphone stand, his knuckles turning white as he held it. “An enchanted moment, and it sees me through, it's enough for this restless warrior just to be with you.” He spared a glance at Arthur, who was smiling as he played, looking at Alfred with a soft expression that gave him the courage to amp up the power of his voice.
“And can you feel the love tonight?” Alfred began to smile, confidence growing as he spotted the kitchen staff standing outside the kitchen doors, smiling up at him. “It is where we are,” he turned slightly to see Charles leaning against his date, who was slightly smiling as well, his arm around Charles’ shoulders.
“It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer, that we got this far,” his voice grew in power, and he found himself grinning as he saw all the patrons of the restaurant looking up at him, enthralled with his voice. “And can you feel the love tonight, how it's laid to rest?”
Behind him, he didn’t realise Roderich was sitting onto the seat of the piano, taking over for Arthur, smiling softly at the man, who stared at him incredulously. He merely gestured for him to join Alfred as he pushed Arthur gently towards the man on stage.
“It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best.” Alfred sang, and his eyes widened when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Arthur standing next to him, a blush on his face, trying in vain to look anywhere but at Alfred.
“There's a time for everyone if they only learn,” Arthur sang shyly into the microphone, sidling against Alfred, pressing close to him. “That the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn.”
Alfred smiled down at Arthur, who turned his head away, blush intensifying.
“There's a rhyme and reason to the wild outdoors,” Alfred turned Arthur’s head gently to face him by taking the man’s chin in his hand. “When the heart of this star-crossed voyager beats in time with yours.”
“And can you feel the love tonight,” they sang together, “It is where we are.”
“It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer,” Arthur continued, “That we got this far.”
“And can you feel the love tonight,” Alfred sang, his voice rising to a crescendo as his voice power swelled, reverberating throughout the restaurant. “How it's laid to rest.”
“It's enough to make kings and vagabonds,” Arthur sang, smiling softly in awe of Alfred’s voice.
“Believe the very best.” They sang together, harmonising as the song died down.
There was silence at first, but Charles was the first one to clap, a small smile on his face as everyone else soon followed. The restaurant thundered with applause and whistles, and Alfred bowed, smiling shyly as he humbly accepted the approval of his audience. Arthur was also clapping, gently smiling at Alfred, and suddenly Roderich got up from the piano seat and walked up to the microphone.
“Alfred Jones, ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, “Our new regular singer.”
“O-oh my God,” Alfred breathed, and Roderich smiled at him.
“And all this time, we’ve been enduring that asshole when we could have had you,” Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re amazing, Alfred.”
“Aw, shucks, I-” Alfred smiled bashfully, scratching the back of his head. “That’s not really, uh…” he blushed, and Arthur chuckled, before pulling him backstage, past winding corridors until they came to the furthest dressing room, the dressing room of the regular singer. Arthur let himself and Alfred in, and when they were both inside, he closed the door behind them.
“This is yours now,” he smiled, sitting down next to Alfred on the couch inside the room. “Congratulations.”
“Aw, not really, I mean, it was just an accident, the spilling the champagne thing,” Alfred gestured uselessly with his hands, getting even more flustered as the love of his life pressed up against him on the couch. “Uh, Arthur?”
“Well, accident or no, I’m glad it happened,” Arthur mumbled softly, leaning closer to Alfred. The younger man drew closer as well until their foreheads were touching, their breaths ghosting over each other’s.
“Exactly which accident are we talking about here anyway?” Alfred asked, but he already knew what Arthur was talking about.
“Think about it, git.” Arthur chuckled breathlessly, before leaning in to kiss Alfred.
Arthur’s lips were warm on his, and it sent Alfred soaring. Smiling into the kiss, he wrapped his arms around Arthur and pulled him closer, pressing their bodies flush against each other as they kissed tenderly, pouring out their built-up emotions from before.
They parted, panting slightly.
“Well,” Alfred laughed, breathless and happy, “I don’t suppose you have anything up tomorrow, do you?”
“Alfred, are you asking me out on a date?”
“Maybe.” Alfred chuckled, cuddling closer, pressing their foreheads together.
“Well, then. Maybe you can squeeze me into your schedule, Mr. Regular Singer.” Arthur chuckled, and Alfred laughed, loud and hearty.
“Sure thing, babe. Anything for you.” He smiled, kissing Arthur gently again.
“I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I love you,” Arthur whispered, and Alfred smiled.
“Me too.”
---
Gilbert, grinning, elbowed Ludwig.
“What’d I tell you?” he winked at his younger brother. The blonde man sighed and shook his head fondly, a smile crossing his face.
“You were right all along, brother.” He said, before turning to address the two patrons sitting at the table they were standing next to. “Mr. Xavier, Mr. Sullivan, thank you for your cooperation.” He bowed, and the two men chuckled.
“The Club Holic will be expecting your payment tomorrow evening. Mr. Lafeyson and Mr. Xavier will be here to pick it up.” Sullivan said, and Gilbert nodded.
“Duly noted,” he nodded, “It’s a pleasure working with you.”
“It was a pleasure doing this for you,” Charles smiled charmingly, “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”
“We try our best.” Ludwig grinned, and the two men stood up. “Oh, should I escort you two outside?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Sullivan shook his head, “Go congratulate your friend over there. We’ll be fine on our own.” The two said their goodbyes and walked out of the restaurant, Sullivan’s hand rested on Charles’ hip.
“Alright then.” Gilbert grinned. “Come on, Lud! Let’s go claim our reward!”
“Reward?” Ludwig echoed.
“Yeah, Al owes us a big fat favour now, and I’m expecting drinks!”
Laughing brightly, he and his brother made their way into the kitchens, where the staff was buzzing with excitement.
Aah, shameless plugging of my fic series over at AO3. XD It's an RPF fic, so if you're interested, it's a McFassy fic although the Hiddlesworth that may or may not be included will probably end up as UST or something hahaa /shot so, drop by AO3 and check it out!
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