Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
Thanks to anon's suggestions we are now enforcing a past-part fills post
Fresh past-part fills post HERE
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The next day, Alfred was feeling a little more optimistic.
He had to. Or he would despair and get depressed, and heroes didn't do depressed. Besides the fantasies and all, he had a very realistic and amazingly erotic dream about Arthur (that might have involved the fifty bucks, but the details were a little hazy). He needed to do something, fast, because they would have this meeting in the morning and then another in the afternoon and that was it, he wouldn't have another chance, ever, unless-
Well, unless he visited Arthur later, of course, but it would be nice to solve this now.
But when Arthur saw him, right at the entrance, he started to walk faster, and Alfred had to run to catch up with him:
“Arthur? Hey, Arthur!” he stopped, a little breathless, and said, “Hi. The voices in my head told me to come over and talk to you.”
Arthur shuddered. Impressed with the wit of this amazing line, probably. Alfred smiled. :
“So. I'm Mr. Right. Someone said you were looking for me.”
“No,” Arthur mumbled. “Actually, Kiku was. Something about video games.”
“Uh? No, I meant- erm. You should be happy. To see me, I mean.”
“Really. Why?”
God, Arthur was so complicated. And now he was frowning, and had stiffened a little, and Alfred gave up his winning smile in favor of a pout:
“What do you mean, why? Because you should! Because- uh, and why not anyway?”
“Because every time you come near you insult me. Anything else?”
“That's not true! You're the one always calling me an idiot!”
“Right,” Arthur said. “Right. I’m glad we have this settled. Care to get out of my way, Alfred? The meeting is about to start.”
“One more thing. I just shit into my pants. Can I get into yours?”
Arthur ran way.
Alfred frowned. This means he probably wouldn't appreciate the next one (“My love for you is like diarrhea, I just can't hold it in”), so he'd have to think this carefully.
“Alfred,” Francis said, making him jump three feet in the air. “If you're really going to do it this way, couldn't you at least find something a little more poetic?”
He seemed in some kind of pain. It was probably this virus that was catching everyone.
“Course not, that would be lame. And I'm not using anything. I don't know what you're talking about.”
But after the coffee break ('Hey I'm looking for treasure, can I look around your chest?') and another break due to something involving Romano and a big gun, ('Can I stir your drink?' and he was kinda relieve when Arthur said no, because there was no way he could say Mind if I use my dick? if he had said yes), Alfred was forced to admit there was some kind of flaw on his cunning plan.
Even the relatively obvious ones - explicit enough so any idiot would understand, but not enough to make Alfred too embarrassed to say it without stammering like an idiot, like “Want to come see my HARD DRIVE? I promise it isn't 3.5 inches and it ain't floppy.”, this one was awesome!, weren't working all that well. Or, like, at all.
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