Double Dose of Fluff
I already posted these on usxuk but I don't think I did it here.
Hey There Alfred: Alfred gets a message from England. The song: Hey There Delilah by Plain White Ts
Word Count: 1,042
Alfred Jones sighed as he slunk back into his apartment, tired and beat. His job sucked, school was killing him, and his lover was still on the other side of the ocean. In fact he hadn’t seen Arthur in…months. Skyping just wasn’t cutting it, not since Arthur’s schedule changed and he hadn’t been able to get on as much anymore; he missed his irate Englishman.
Sighing, Alfred shuffled through some of the mail on the table, mostly bills but as a nice surprise, also a letter from England. He and Arthur exchanged daily e-mails, but it was sort of sweet that the Brit decided to yell at him the old fashion way. Except inside the envelope wasn’t a letter, but a CD. Curious, Alfred dug out his computer and popped the disc in.
When it loaded, the American was met with the sounds of what he assumed to be Arthur playing his guitar. Alfred knew his lover could play guitar, not that he’d ever let him listen for some reason. This was confirmed when his Englishman came in with the vocals:
“Hey there Alfred
What's it like in New York City?
I'm a thousand miles away
But boy, tonight you look so pretty
Yes you do
Times Square can't shine as bright as you
I swear it's true,”
Alfred blinked and stared at his computer for a bit. Arthur was singing him a sappy love song. A sappy American love song. It was strange, and very un-Arthur like, leading Alfred to suspect Francis had a hand in it. And yeah, he owned a radio, so he’d heard the original song, but could Arthur really not find another word that rhymed with city?
“Hey there Alfred
Don't you worry about the distance
I'm right there if you get lonely
Give this song another listen
Close your eyes
Listen to my voice, it's my disguise
I'm by your side,”
He chuckled at the corniness of the whole thing, but ended up leaning closer to the computer anyway so he could hear Arthur’s voice better.
“Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
What you do to me,”
“He acts like he’s completely blameless,” Alfred muttered to no one, “Does he have any idea what he does to me?”
“Hey there Alfred
I know times are getting hard
But just believe me, boy
Someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar
We'll have it good
We'll have the life we knew we would
My word is good,”
Arthur’s words painted a picture in Alfred’s mind of a time in the future, maybe, when they can be together for more than a few weeks at a time, where Arthur could be a traveling musician and Alfred could join the circus…before he could ponder further, the next verse came on.
“Hey there Alfred
I've got so much left to say
If every simple song I wrote to you
Would take your breath away
I'd write it all
Even more in love with me you'd fall
We'd have it all,”
“You didn’t even write this one,” he muttered and looked away from the computer, not wanting it to see the blush slowly creeping on his face, still a little reluctant, even after all this time, to admit just how hard he’d already fallen. It was ridiculous to think he could be even more in love with Arthur than he already was.
“Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
A thousand miles seems pretty far
But they've got planes and trains and cars
I'd swim to you if I had no other way,”
Alfred had to chuckle at the thought of a sopping wet Arthur swimming across the Atlantic just to see him, gentleman persona completely abandoned in favor of his lovesickness. Unlikely, but still, it’s the thought that counts.
“Our friends would all make fun of us
And we'll just laugh along because we know
That none of them have felt this way,”
He thought of his friends, Kiku and his brother Matt, who in their subtle-yet-not-so-subtle way pushed him to take a chance on Arthur, and how, in a similar manner, they suggested giving up on him when he had to go back to England.
“Alfred I can promise you
That by the time we get through
The world will never ever be the same
And you're to blame,”
“Again placing all the blame on me,” Alfred told the computer, “You’re the one who came in and messed around with my life…” not that he was complaining. In fact he thanked whatever greater powers there may be for the day he met Arthur.
“Hey there Alfred
You be good and don't you miss me
Two more years and you'll be done with school
And I'll be making history like I do,”
“A bit late for that,” Alfred sighed. He already missed him to damn much, two year wait already seeming like forever.
“You'll know it's all because of you
We can do whatever we want to
Hey there Alfred here's to you
This one's for you,”
It better be for him. If it turned out Arthur met some other Alfred in England and accidentally sent this to him instead, not even an ocean would be able to stop the American’s wrath. Although just the thought of him and Arthur being able to do whatever they wanted quelled any unnecessary thoughts of rage right there.
“Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
What you do to me.”
The song ended with Arthur testing his vocal range a bit and hitting some pretty high notes as well as some lower ones, which made Alfred think he was just showing off. Immediately after it finished, he clicked the play button to listen to the song again, and again, and again.
Alfred was sure he could find a sappy British love song and a guitar on the internet somewhere…
All Arthur Needs is Love: Arthur receives a message from America. The Song: All You Need is Love by The Beatles.
Word Count: 1,584
Arthur Kirkland slammed the door to his apartment shut and shook the raindrops off of his umbrella, leaned it against the door, slipped off his shoes, grabbed the mail on the nearby table, wandered to the couch, and collapsed on it to pilfer through his mail. Mostly bills, which were saved, junk mail, and letter from Francis that he immediately tossed aside, but there was also a letter from America that, upon opening, was actually not a letter, but a CD.
It had been months since he reluctantly followed Francis’s suggestion and sent that song to Alfred, but the lad had never mentioned it in any of their phone calls or e-mails, so he had just assumed that it had (thankfully) been lost in the mail. It seemed that was not the case, however, and that Arthur had just received a response.
Curiously he popped the disk into the laptop on his kitchen table and was shocked to discover that there were three songs on it instead of just the one. Arthur knew Alfred wasn’t that musically inclined, but was willing to put up with one song, because he, you know…cared about him, but if he had to listen to him ruin three perfectly good songs…
He sighed and hit play anyway.
“No seriously, I can do this,” he recognized Alfred say to someone.
“Since when have you been able to play the guitar?” Matthew, his twin brother, responded.
“Gilbert’s been teaching me so I can do this for Arthur. Well, he at least taught me what to do at the end. Want me to show you?”
“Wait! Al! Put the guitar down! That’s expensive!” there was some static, then the next song on the CD started. Arthur made a mental note to tell Alfred to buy his brother a new guitar next time they talked. Sometimes the boy could be utterly ridiculous in the name of love, or actually, he could just be plain utterly ridiculous.
“I don’t see why I can’t be George,” he could hear Alfred pouting even on the CD.
“You almost broke the guitar,” scratch that last mental note then, “I’m not letting you near it again.”
“If you’re not letting me near the guitar can I be Ringo? Gilbert’s been teaching me drums too.”
“Gilbert can’t play drums.”
“Okay I made that up, but how hard can it be? I mean, you’re just hitting stuff, and I can do that! Here watch.”
“Al, give me the drumsticks…”
“No it’s cool, I got this…”
“Al!” more static, and Arthur was left to wonder just what that boy was up to, before the next song started.
“Hey Arthur!” and he could hear the sunshine, warmth, and love radiating off of him, “So, for some reason Matt won’t let me near any of the instruments, so we got Roderich and his musician friends to do that. I’m the one singing though, and it’s still my idea!”
“I thought you said he did it first?” a voice that Arthur recognized as their friend Roderich asked.
“Yeah, but it was my idea to do a response. And shut up. Anyway, I hope you like it Arthur, I think you know this song…” he heard the microphone be adjusted before the band started playing, and Arthur did indeed know the song, even before the backup came in with their “Love, love, love.”
He…he didn’t actually…
“Love, love, love.”
Yes, it would appear he did…
“Love, love, love.”
Out of all the songs the boy could have chosen, he picked the one about that emotion that Arthur still had trouble admitting he might possible have. Typical Alfred.
“There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done,” Alfred sang, and Arthur had to give him points for not even trying for the British accent. It was also much better than his Lady Gaga in the shower, to Arthur’s delight.
“Nothing you can sing that can’t be sung,
Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game.
It’s easy.”
He always did manage to make everything seem so easy, Alfred that is. Taking their relationship up a step? No problem. Falling in love? Piece of cake. With an ocean separating them? No worries Artie, we’ve got this.
“Nothing you can make that can’t be made,
No one you can save that can’t be saved.
Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time.
It’s easy.”
“Easy for you maybe,” Arthur grumbled as he left his seat and wandered to the stove to make some tea, “You with all your sunshine and happiness and hope. Some of us live in the real world.” That is, until someone full of sunshine, happiness, and hope manage to save them from the real world and teach them how to be themselves. Maybe it was that easy.
“All you need is love,
All you need is love,
All you need is love, love,
Love is all you need.”
As much as he hated to doubt the Gospel of Beatles, it took a bit more than love to get by.
“Love, love, love,”
And the song should stop trying to convince him otherwise.
“Love, love, love,”
No matter how good that guitarist (he assumed Roderich, for although the man loathed to step outside of classical, Arthur knew he could rock an electric guitar if he wanted to) is.
“Love, love, love…”
Bollocks. Stupid hope, why is it so contagious, even when its source is an ocean away?
“All you need is love,” Alfred started singing again, and Arthur found himself paying closer attention as he waited for the water to boil.
“All you need is love,
All you need is love, love,
Love is all you need.”
It better be, because in long distance relationships that spanned two different continents, that was all there was.
“There’s nothing you can know that isn’t known,
Nothing you can see that isn’t shown,
There’s nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be.
It’s easy.”
“Git,” Arthur muttered affectionately as his tea kettle whistled, causing him to turn around and poor it into his cup along with the bag. He needed to be in London, Alfred needed to be in New York, but Alfred always insisted that they were meant to be together no matter what, and eventually their location would reflect that. The only difference is he now had a song to back it up.
“All you need is love,
All you need is love,
All you need is love, love,
Love is all you need.”
“Love is all you need,” he found himself softly singing along with the last line, actually believing it for the first time since the first time he heard the song. Idiotic boyfriends will do that to a guy.
“All you need is love,” Alfred sang as Roderich took it upon himself to shout the “All together now,” which earned a chuckle from Arthur. He’d have to send him a thank you of some kind for all the help he was giving for Alfred’s spontaneous production.
“All you need is love, (Everybody)
All you need is love, love
Love is all you need…”
Alfred kept repeating that last line, as if to drive into Arthur’s head that yes, love was all they needed. His backup echoed it to prove his point, and someone (again, probably Roderich, as his expertise went far beyond strings) played out on the trumpet solo, adding his own certain flair to the improv portion.
As the music died down, Arthur heard Alfred’s distinct chuckle break through the noise.
“Hahaha! See, I told you we could do it in one take! Matt, you got that right?”
“Yes Alfred, I got it.”
“Good, now that that’s settled, can you please, clear out of my studio?!”
“Right Roddy, hey thanks to you and your friends for helping me out here. Thanks you guys!”
There were several shouts of “You’re welcome,” “No problem,” and “Anything for you lover boy” before Roderich snapped and kicked Alfred and Matt out of his studio once and for all.
“So, you’ll do the editing and make sure none of that other stuff is sent to Arthur, right?”
“Don’t worry; he’ll only hear what he needs too…”
The CD ended after that.
Arthur couldn’t help but smile to himself as he sipped his tea. Alfred was one of a kind that was certain. When he wasn’t being a complete idiot, Arthur liked to think he was lucky he somehow managed to catch the boy’s eye, and even luckier he managed to keep him this long. Not exactly thinking clearly, he pulled out his phone and dialed the first number on speed dial.
“Dude it’s like 2AM!” an irritated Alfred shouted on the other end.
Oh yes, there’s a time difference. It must have slipped his mind. “Sorry about that love. I’ll call later.”
“Arthur? Wait no, s’cool. ‘M awake. What’s up?”
“Nothing worth losing sleep over. Get some rest.”
“N-no,” he heard Alfred yawn, “’M not tired at all.”
“I-I just called to say,” stupid git, making him blush from his idiocy from an ocean away, “Thanks.”
“No problem babe. I do it all for you,” he sleepily muttered into the phone.
“You haven’t the faintest idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
“Not a clue,” another yawn, “Love you.”
“I Love you too. Now go back to sleep. I’ll call you at a more reasonable hour.”
“’K. Miss you.”
“I…miss you too.”
“G’night Artie.”
“Good night Alfred.”
Hey There Alfred: Alfred gets a message from England. The song: Hey There Delilah by Plain White Ts
Word Count: 1,042
Alfred Jones sighed as he slunk back into his apartment, tired and beat. His job sucked, school was killing him, and his lover was still on the other side of the ocean. In fact he hadn’t seen Arthur in…months. Skyping just wasn’t cutting it, not since Arthur’s schedule changed and he hadn’t been able to get on as much anymore; he missed his irate Englishman.
Sighing, Alfred shuffled through some of the mail on the table, mostly bills but as a nice surprise, also a letter from England. He and Arthur exchanged daily e-mails, but it was sort of sweet that the Brit decided to yell at him the old fashion way. Except inside the envelope wasn’t a letter, but a CD. Curious, Alfred dug out his computer and popped the disc in.
When it loaded, the American was met with the sounds of what he assumed to be Arthur playing his guitar. Alfred knew his lover could play guitar, not that he’d ever let him listen for some reason. This was confirmed when his Englishman came in with the vocals:
“Hey there Alfred
What's it like in New York City?
I'm a thousand miles away
But boy, tonight you look so pretty
Yes you do
Times Square can't shine as bright as you
I swear it's true,”
Alfred blinked and stared at his computer for a bit. Arthur was singing him a sappy love song. A sappy American love song. It was strange, and very un-Arthur like, leading Alfred to suspect Francis had a hand in it. And yeah, he owned a radio, so he’d heard the original song, but could Arthur really not find another word that rhymed with city?
“Hey there Alfred
Don't you worry about the distance
I'm right there if you get lonely
Give this song another listen
Close your eyes
Listen to my voice, it's my disguise
I'm by your side,”
He chuckled at the corniness of the whole thing, but ended up leaning closer to the computer anyway so he could hear Arthur’s voice better.
“Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
What you do to me,”
“He acts like he’s completely blameless,” Alfred muttered to no one, “Does he have any idea what he does to me?”
“Hey there Alfred
I know times are getting hard
But just believe me, boy
Someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar
We'll have it good
We'll have the life we knew we would
My word is good,”
Arthur’s words painted a picture in Alfred’s mind of a time in the future, maybe, when they can be together for more than a few weeks at a time, where Arthur could be a traveling musician and Alfred could join the circus…before he could ponder further, the next verse came on.
“Hey there Alfred
I've got so much left to say
If every simple song I wrote to you
Would take your breath away
I'd write it all
Even more in love with me you'd fall
We'd have it all,”
“You didn’t even write this one,” he muttered and looked away from the computer, not wanting it to see the blush slowly creeping on his face, still a little reluctant, even after all this time, to admit just how hard he’d already fallen. It was ridiculous to think he could be even more in love with Arthur than he already was.
“Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
A thousand miles seems pretty far
But they've got planes and trains and cars
I'd swim to you if I had no other way,”
Alfred had to chuckle at the thought of a sopping wet Arthur swimming across the Atlantic just to see him, gentleman persona completely abandoned in favor of his lovesickness. Unlikely, but still, it’s the thought that counts.
“Our friends would all make fun of us
And we'll just laugh along because we know
That none of them have felt this way,”
He thought of his friends, Kiku and his brother Matt, who in their subtle-yet-not-so-subtle way pushed him to take a chance on Arthur, and how, in a similar manner, they suggested giving up on him when he had to go back to England.
“Alfred I can promise you
That by the time we get through
The world will never ever be the same
And you're to blame,”
“Again placing all the blame on me,” Alfred told the computer, “You’re the one who came in and messed around with my life…” not that he was complaining. In fact he thanked whatever greater powers there may be for the day he met Arthur.
“Hey there Alfred
You be good and don't you miss me
Two more years and you'll be done with school
And I'll be making history like I do,”
“A bit late for that,” Alfred sighed. He already missed him to damn much, two year wait already seeming like forever.
“You'll know it's all because of you
We can do whatever we want to
Hey there Alfred here's to you
This one's for you,”
It better be for him. If it turned out Arthur met some other Alfred in England and accidentally sent this to him instead, not even an ocean would be able to stop the American’s wrath. Although just the thought of him and Arthur being able to do whatever they wanted quelled any unnecessary thoughts of rage right there.
“Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
What you do to me.”
The song ended with Arthur testing his vocal range a bit and hitting some pretty high notes as well as some lower ones, which made Alfred think he was just showing off. Immediately after it finished, he clicked the play button to listen to the song again, and again, and again.
Alfred was sure he could find a sappy British love song and a guitar on the internet somewhere…
All Arthur Needs is Love: Arthur receives a message from America. The Song: All You Need is Love by The Beatles.
Word Count: 1,584
Arthur Kirkland slammed the door to his apartment shut and shook the raindrops off of his umbrella, leaned it against the door, slipped off his shoes, grabbed the mail on the nearby table, wandered to the couch, and collapsed on it to pilfer through his mail. Mostly bills, which were saved, junk mail, and letter from Francis that he immediately tossed aside, but there was also a letter from America that, upon opening, was actually not a letter, but a CD.
It had been months since he reluctantly followed Francis’s suggestion and sent that song to Alfred, but the lad had never mentioned it in any of their phone calls or e-mails, so he had just assumed that it had (thankfully) been lost in the mail. It seemed that was not the case, however, and that Arthur had just received a response.
Curiously he popped the disk into the laptop on his kitchen table and was shocked to discover that there were three songs on it instead of just the one. Arthur knew Alfred wasn’t that musically inclined, but was willing to put up with one song, because he, you know…cared about him, but if he had to listen to him ruin three perfectly good songs…
He sighed and hit play anyway.
“No seriously, I can do this,” he recognized Alfred say to someone.
“Since when have you been able to play the guitar?” Matthew, his twin brother, responded.
“Gilbert’s been teaching me so I can do this for Arthur. Well, he at least taught me what to do at the end. Want me to show you?”
“Wait! Al! Put the guitar down! That’s expensive!” there was some static, then the next song on the CD started. Arthur made a mental note to tell Alfred to buy his brother a new guitar next time they talked. Sometimes the boy could be utterly ridiculous in the name of love, or actually, he could just be plain utterly ridiculous.
“I don’t see why I can’t be George,” he could hear Alfred pouting even on the CD.
“You almost broke the guitar,” scratch that last mental note then, “I’m not letting you near it again.”
“If you’re not letting me near the guitar can I be Ringo? Gilbert’s been teaching me drums too.”
“Gilbert can’t play drums.”
“Okay I made that up, but how hard can it be? I mean, you’re just hitting stuff, and I can do that! Here watch.”
“Al, give me the drumsticks…”
“No it’s cool, I got this…”
“Al!” more static, and Arthur was left to wonder just what that boy was up to, before the next song started.
“Hey Arthur!” and he could hear the sunshine, warmth, and love radiating off of him, “So, for some reason Matt won’t let me near any of the instruments, so we got Roderich and his musician friends to do that. I’m the one singing though, and it’s still my idea!”
“I thought you said he did it first?” a voice that Arthur recognized as their friend Roderich asked.
“Yeah, but it was my idea to do a response. And shut up. Anyway, I hope you like it Arthur, I think you know this song…” he heard the microphone be adjusted before the band started playing, and Arthur did indeed know the song, even before the backup came in with their “Love, love, love.”
He…he didn’t actually…
“Love, love, love.”
Yes, it would appear he did…
“Love, love, love.”
Out of all the songs the boy could have chosen, he picked the one about that emotion that Arthur still had trouble admitting he might possible have. Typical Alfred.
“There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done,” Alfred sang, and Arthur had to give him points for not even trying for the British accent. It was also much better than his Lady Gaga in the shower, to Arthur’s delight.
“Nothing you can sing that can’t be sung,
Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game.
It’s easy.”
He always did manage to make everything seem so easy, Alfred that is. Taking their relationship up a step? No problem. Falling in love? Piece of cake. With an ocean separating them? No worries Artie, we’ve got this.
“Nothing you can make that can’t be made,
No one you can save that can’t be saved.
Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time.
It’s easy.”
“Easy for you maybe,” Arthur grumbled as he left his seat and wandered to the stove to make some tea, “You with all your sunshine and happiness and hope. Some of us live in the real world.” That is, until someone full of sunshine, happiness, and hope manage to save them from the real world and teach them how to be themselves. Maybe it was that easy.
“All you need is love,
All you need is love,
All you need is love, love,
Love is all you need.”
As much as he hated to doubt the Gospel of Beatles, it took a bit more than love to get by.
“Love, love, love,”
And the song should stop trying to convince him otherwise.
“Love, love, love,”
No matter how good that guitarist (he assumed Roderich, for although the man loathed to step outside of classical, Arthur knew he could rock an electric guitar if he wanted to) is.
“Love, love, love…”
Bollocks. Stupid hope, why is it so contagious, even when its source is an ocean away?
“All you need is love,” Alfred started singing again, and Arthur found himself paying closer attention as he waited for the water to boil.
“All you need is love,
All you need is love, love,
Love is all you need.”
It better be, because in long distance relationships that spanned two different continents, that was all there was.
“There’s nothing you can know that isn’t known,
Nothing you can see that isn’t shown,
There’s nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be.
It’s easy.”
“Git,” Arthur muttered affectionately as his tea kettle whistled, causing him to turn around and poor it into his cup along with the bag. He needed to be in London, Alfred needed to be in New York, but Alfred always insisted that they were meant to be together no matter what, and eventually their location would reflect that. The only difference is he now had a song to back it up.
“All you need is love,
All you need is love,
All you need is love, love,
Love is all you need.”
“Love is all you need,” he found himself softly singing along with the last line, actually believing it for the first time since the first time he heard the song. Idiotic boyfriends will do that to a guy.
“All you need is love,” Alfred sang as Roderich took it upon himself to shout the “All together now,” which earned a chuckle from Arthur. He’d have to send him a thank you of some kind for all the help he was giving for Alfred’s spontaneous production.
“All you need is love, (Everybody)
All you need is love, love
Love is all you need…”
Alfred kept repeating that last line, as if to drive into Arthur’s head that yes, love was all they needed. His backup echoed it to prove his point, and someone (again, probably Roderich, as his expertise went far beyond strings) played out on the trumpet solo, adding his own certain flair to the improv portion.
As the music died down, Arthur heard Alfred’s distinct chuckle break through the noise.
“Hahaha! See, I told you we could do it in one take! Matt, you got that right?”
“Yes Alfred, I got it.”
“Good, now that that’s settled, can you please, clear out of my studio?!”
“Right Roddy, hey thanks to you and your friends for helping me out here. Thanks you guys!”
There were several shouts of “You’re welcome,” “No problem,” and “Anything for you lover boy” before Roderich snapped and kicked Alfred and Matt out of his studio once and for all.
“So, you’ll do the editing and make sure none of that other stuff is sent to Arthur, right?”
“Don’t worry; he’ll only hear what he needs too…”
The CD ended after that.
Arthur couldn’t help but smile to himself as he sipped his tea. Alfred was one of a kind that was certain. When he wasn’t being a complete idiot, Arthur liked to think he was lucky he somehow managed to catch the boy’s eye, and even luckier he managed to keep him this long. Not exactly thinking clearly, he pulled out his phone and dialed the first number on speed dial.
“Dude it’s like 2AM!” an irritated Alfred shouted on the other end.
Oh yes, there’s a time difference. It must have slipped his mind. “Sorry about that love. I’ll call later.”
“Arthur? Wait no, s’cool. ‘M awake. What’s up?”
“Nothing worth losing sleep over. Get some rest.”
“N-no,” he heard Alfred yawn, “’M not tired at all.”
“I-I just called to say,” stupid git, making him blush from his idiocy from an ocean away, “Thanks.”
“No problem babe. I do it all for you,” he sleepily muttered into the phone.
“You haven’t the faintest idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
“Not a clue,” another yawn, “Love you.”
“I Love you too. Now go back to sleep. I’ll call you at a more reasonable hour.”
“’K. Miss you.”
“I…miss you too.”
“G’night Artie.”
“Good night Alfred.”