Re: Booze Speaking [1.2/A few]
anonymous
February 17 2010, 08:36:12 UTC
"I hope you're close, because they're shutting down shop as we speak."
"It's about ten minutes or so from me, nothing too far."
"Great, see you in ten minutes, then!" Matthew's voice, while still touched with liquor, sounded not nearly as harsh as it had in the beginning of their conversation.
"Oi, splash out on a taxi and send him here." Arthur was not charitable enough to actually fetch Alfred.
"... Can't hear you, reception is pretty poor in here." Matthew blurted in a single breath before the distinct silence of an empty phone line took the place of his voice.
Arthur unfolded his arms, sighing as placed the phone back in its cradle. He pulled on a fitted dark overcoat as he made for the door. Momentarily he paused in the act of toeing on his loafers, realising he had not the faintest idea of why Alfred needed to be babysat to begin with, or for how long.
He eventually shrugged himself back into motion, snatching the keys to his vehicle from a ceramic bowl that rested by the door. It wasn't as if he could call Matthew back and ask what the conditions were, he had already committed. Or at least, they were already expecting him. And Arthur was a man of his word, his own honor too dear to become besmirched by something as silly as refusing to make sure Alfred didn't unknowingly become a drug mule or international jewel thief for a for a few hours.
Arthur felt a pleased smile glance across his face as he opened the door, the cool rush of the night kissing his skin. He'd handle this.
-------
Ah, jeez. I'm really sorry, I had to rush through this beginning part because I had a feeling that if I didn't start once I read this prompt, I'd go to sleep and end up not writing in the morning.
I apologise for the shortness of this first part, and any lack of real depth. I really want to get to bed and needed to throw this out real quickly. I promise better updates and less typos in the future!
Booze Speaking [2/A few]
anonymous
February 20 2010, 05:37:26 UTC
Arthur sped anxiously around roads that dipped and curved without end. When he had told Matthew the pub was only ten minutes from his house, he may have been blurring the time a bit. The time it took to travel the distance was really closer to fifteen minutes. Maybe seventeen. Twenty at tops.
He floored the car through another yellow light, pressing his luck in a bid to arrive more quickly. His heart thudded in his chest, both out of excitement and fear. Alfred was going to stay with him. In the same home, without any government officials or paperwork to be read over, no extra ties or ends to sort out. A true-blue visit.
The two of them no longer seemed to have a relationship beyond cordial acquaintances. The longest amount of time being spent together would be hunched over rectangular desks in stuffy rooms, going through page after page of words that hardly meant anything to those that read them.
Meetings where they sat together became exercises in ignoring the other's existence as much as was possible, rather than finding solutions to world problems and safeguarding future generations. On rare occasions their hands might brush against each other as notes were passed to and fro, but both would recoil instantly with mumbled half-apologies and averted gazes.
The entire situation frustrated Arthur, and his emotions transferred into a lead weight upon his foot, speeding rather recklessly through empty streets peppered with glowing lights. If he was going to lug Alfred home, Arthur was going to talk straight to that boy. Give him a piece of his mind, and order, if he had to, Alfred to be more outgoing and friendly towards him. After all, Alfred never looked to have a problem chumming it up with the other nations.
Soft touches of raindrops began to lick against Arthur's windshield, he flicked the wipers on without a thought. He tensed as his mind rewound to the instant he was leaving his home. He'd gotten his coat, gotten his keys, locked the door and double checked─ but hadn't taken an umbrella with him. The last thing I want is that buffoon coming into my house smelling like a wet dog.
Arthur slowed as he began to make his way about the more complicated roads of the town. He wove through them on autopilot, his thoughts as dark as the sky, his hackles raised in unhappy anticipation. Maybe it wasn't too late to bow out of picking up Alfred. Lord only knows how many timeless pieces of art he could ruin in one night, how he could whirl through a house and create thousands of pounds worth of damage.
He doesn't mean to, Arthur scolded himself. Or at least, Arthur didn't think Alfred meant to be a living bulldozer. A twinge of pity touched upon Arthur's heart. Alfred reminded him of a dog. A big, goofy dog that thought everyone and their Aunt Bernice loved it, but in truth they wanted nothing to do with the pup. It jumped up on people, knocking them down, always wiggled its way into their business, and had a penchant when it came to begging for food with its big, lovely blue eyes. Those mournful expressions that would plead with you, plucking at your heartstrings and wearing down your defenses until you finally gave in ─
A car horn blared from behind Arthur, snapping him out of his reverie. He shook his head and sped up a bit. Alfred was not a dog. He knew better, and he certainly didn't give mournful expressions that could wear Arthur down. Arthur knew Alfred too well to be taken in my trick as simple as doe eyes.
Having assured himself several times over that he could handle this, that he could handle Alfred, Arthur turned into the lane that led directly to The Rabbit's Foot. He cruised by hesitantly at first, his car paced on par with a common garden snail. He could make out a backlit figure against the lighted windows of the pub. Rather willowy and elegant.
Certainly not Alfred.
The figure ducked inside the building in the blink of an eye, appearing again just as quickly. It jogged towards Arthur's now idle car with the movements of one trained for many years in dance. Golden hair caught the light of the street lamp, shadows were cast upon well maintained features. A slight wisp of facial hair was made visible.
Booze Speaking [2.2/A few]
anonymous
February 20 2010, 05:52:34 UTC
Beardy! Arthur shouted inwardly, his foot pumping the pedal as Francis' fingers made a grab for the door handle. Francis yelped in surprise, momentarily staring on as Arthur halted a few feet ahead of him. Arthur watched Francis from his rear view window, glowering at the Frenchman.
He gave a wicked cackle as Francis composed himself, striding more slowly this time towards his door. Again Arthur pumped the pedal when Francis was within reach of the door's handle. Their song and dance continued to the end of the street, Arthur too wrapped up in watching Francis fail time and time again to recall his original reason for being in the area.
The laughter on his lips died in a feeble cry as Francis lunged at his car, key held in hand as if it were a foil. Whining screams of key against car body filled Arthur's ears. He swerved into an empty parking space, ripping his own keys from the ignition and burst forth from the car, wanting only to draw blood from the bastard who had sullied his vehicle.
Francis' laugh rang through the street as he fled, slinking through shadow and light with the grace and speed of a feline. Arthur tore after him, coat billowing in the wind of his pursuit. He barreled through the entrance of the pub before the rain had even the time to touch him, muscles tight with rage.
"Hello, love." A warm voice called out to him.
Arthur looked to the source, eyes brightening in momentarily recognition of the owner, a jovial woman with a rounded and motherly body. Her cheeks flushed from working the night through, a calloused hand running over her forehead, a rag in the other. The familiar barmaid.
"Hello, Margaret." Arthur responded, forcing the homicidal tides to ebb from his voice.
"Are you here for the boy?" She questioned, her elbow motioning to the corner of the room.
"Yes, yes that's exactly why I'm here." England smiled politely before making his way to the corner-most table.
France sat half perched upon the table, looking relaxed and at home with himself as he spoke hushed words that Arthur could not quite hear. Matthew was staring at the man as if he was a great philosopher, his eyes glassy but attentive as he hung on to every word Francis whispered to him. The young man's sneakers stubbed at the wooden planks of the floor with a nervous edge, his body clearly wanting to be at the airport already, despite him mind wishing to stay exactly where it was.
No Alfred.
Arthur nonchalantly bumped his hip against the table with enough force to unsettle Francis, smirking openly as the other made an assortment of odd noises in an attempt to keep himself from falling. "Where is he?"
Matthew's violet gaze shifted to Arthur, lips curving into an apologetic smile. "In the restroom, he'll be out soon enough."
"Good." Arthur elbowed Francis off the table again, "Stay off the table, frog."
Francis plastered a serene expression on his face, unwilling to give Arthur the satisfaction of riling him up. "What's that, Angleterre? You want me to key your car further, possibly write out a few words?"
"Be my guest, the new paint job is coming out of your pocket." Arthur paused. "Why were you even trying to get in my car, anyway? I'm not your chauffeur."
"I was trying," Francis huffed, "To tell you that it was going to be a few more minutes."
"And so you keyed my car?"
"You're twisting the events."
Matthew stood, his hands rising and falling in waves of placating motions, "Now, now, let's all get along. Once I see that Alfred is safely off we can go straight to the airport, Francis."
The apprehension Arthur had been fending off began to crow loudly in his mind. "Safely off? You make it sound like I'm going to put Alfred in the boot."
"I wouldn't trust him, Mathieu, I bet─"
"There's Alfred now." Matthew cut in curtly, gesturing to an opening door.
Arthur turned to face the door, keeping his expression apathetic at best as he watched Alfred emerge. The blonde man tottered slightly on his feet as he shut to door behind him, letting out a low but distinctive 'Whoo!' his ability to close the door without falling a clear highlight of his evening.
Booze Speaking [2.4/A few]
anonymous
February 20 2010, 06:20:05 UTC
"Did Frogger put something in Alfred's drink?" Arthur asked in a hasty whisper.
"Non." Francis answered.
"Alfred may have had a bit too much to drink tonight." Matthew sighed.
Arthur made a noise to indicate he understood, but kept his eyes on Alfred. He watched as the American came towards the table, giving no indication that he had come to notice Arthur. It looked like the man was attempting to pull off a confident swagger as he approached, but managing only to perform a stooping and drunken lope.
"Hello." Arthur said as Alfred neared them.
Alfred turned surprised eyes on Arthur, a deer in the headlights. "You!"
"Er, yes. Me." Arthur took an involuntary step back, wary of Alfred's reaction.
Alfred looked around, as though expecting to see more new arrivals. "Are we having a world meeting at the bar?"
"Not quite, Alfred." Matthew stood to escort his brother the rest of the distance to the table. "Francis and I need to go, and Arthur graciously offered to escort you home, so you'll be leaving with him."
Graciously offered, my arse. Arthur thought.
"Does this mean you're leaving me?" Alfred questioned, his grip finding its way about Matthew's arm. "And since when do I need a babysitter?"
"Arthur isn't a babysitter, Alfred. He's your friend." Matthew's words carefully evaded the first question.
"Pfft. Try telling him that." Alfred leaned his weight against Matthew.
"I'm right here, idiot boy." Arthur snapped.
"See? Look at that." Alfred hissed, "Calling me words like 'idiot' and 'boy'."
Francis glanced at the clock hanging from the patterned wall. "Mathieu, if we wish to make our flight, we will have to leave as quickly as possible."
Matthew began to guide Alfred to the door, glancing over his shoulder at Arthur and Francis. "Come on then, let's get this show on the road."
Arthur followed silently behind the two young men, suppressing a wince as the stench of heavy liquor slapped him in the face. He watched through watering eyes as Alfred's form was half dragged by his brother, bobbing slightly back and forth, hiccuping over quiet words, almost pleas, to Matthew. Arthur's eyes ran along the seams of Alfred's faded and tattered jeans, fraying at the edges, though they snugly wrapped themselves around the flesh of his thighs as they moved upwards, until the hanging hem of his bomber jacket obscured any more of the man from view.
"Like what you see?" Francis murmured, a smile trailing on his words.
"What are you talking about?" Arthur barked back, an uncomfortable heat forming in his chest.
"Nothing, nothing at all." Francis gave a flippant wave and pocketed his hands, ducking out ahead of Arthur and into the blackness of the street.
Arthur crept out of the door last, looking over his shoulder and nodding good-naturedly at the barkeep before shutting the door behind him. His vision momentarily losing its focus in the change from well lit pub to the barely visible street. Immediately the soft kiss of a tempered drizzle brushed against his skin, a slick and shining black road beginning to form in front of him.
Arthur took a deep breath, shuddering at the iciness of the air as it entered his chest, pausing to appreciate the outward puffs of white mist as he exhaled. He curled his toes within his shoes, rocking slightly before setting out down the street to rejoin the others.
The two brothers were already in position beside Arthur's beat-up clunker as he drew closer. Alfred appeared to have grown bored in the short amount of time it had taken for Arthur to catch up, his arms now looped about his brother's shoulders, urging him to start up a waltz.
Matthew indulged Alfred momentarily, if only to get Arthur in his sight. He gave the older man a look that breathed exasperation, and Arthur gave a nod of acknowledgment in return. Arthur hurried his step, rounding the side of the car, hands aflutter as he fished his keys from his pocket.
Booze Speaking [2.6/A few]
anonymous
February 20 2010, 06:50:22 UTC
At first attempt, they glanced away from the lock. Arthur mumbled a curse under his breath, uncomfortably aware of how chilled the air felt against the warmth of his cheeks, the hotness of his ears. Stupid Francis, Arthur's key finally connected with the lock, Making something out of nothing. I was only thinking about how much stitching and ironing that boy's pants needed he assured himself, jerking on the handle of the passenger's side door before going back to the driver's side.
Arthur slid into his seat, closing the door before either of the young men could say anything to him. He kept his eyes straight ahead, wide and unblinking. What was he supposed to do with Alfred? Play board games until he sobered up, make sure he didn't go on a drunken archaeologist dig in the back garden? Arthur hadn't thought this far ahead.
Matthew slung Alfred into the passenger seat, earning a loud bark of laugh from the other. He pulled Alfred's seat belt and buckled it, checking to make sure it would hold up with a tug of his hand. Alfred made no attempt to help the other, content to laugh at the efforts of his brother.
"Now, Alfred." Matthew half knelt, his hands gently grabbing the cloth of Alfred's shirt, bringing the American's attention back into focus. "Promise me you'll keep your hands to yourself tonight." He gave the slightest of jerks on Alfred when the man looked away to consider the request. "Promise."
"Why are you making him promise?" Arthur asked, watching the two brothers from the hazed edge of his peripheral vision. "He better not be a violent drunk."
Matthew bit back his laughter before it left his mouth, but Arthur could hear it reverberating in his throat. "He's not a violent drunk. I don't think I'd be alive if he were."
"Are you sure?" Arthur was unconvinced.
"Look, pretend I never even said anything, okay?"
"Okay!" Alfred piped up.
"I didn't mean you." Matthew chided.
Alfred lay his hands over Matthew's, giving them a light and patronizing pat. "You run along with Francis now, me and Arthur are going to get along swimmingly." He slurred, smiling the content and relaxed smile that only the drunk can.
"Alright, but behave yourself." Matthew stood, his hands sliding from Alfred's grasp.
"Hey, don't leave me hanging, bro." He frowned.
"What?"
"You're going to leave me without so much as a hug?" Alfred whined, low and distressed.
"Oh, right." Matthew knelt again, holding his arms open for an embrace.
Alfred quickly latched his arms around his brother, make a throaty purr and his nuzzled into the fabric of the other's shirt. Arthur's jaw clenched in his effort not to turn his head and witness the act. Sickening shame sluiced over his chest, the feeling of being a voyeur combined with the stirrings of all around uneasiness.
It was fine if Alfred wanted to hug his brother, but Arthur would have preferred it if he had done so in private. Public acts of adoration always knocked his mind off kilter, distracted him from more important situations. Especially at the moment, as the highly affectionate squeals the boy was emitting were becoming downright worrisome.
"Okay, hug time is over." Matthew again pulled away, Alfred's arms slackening as he sat back in his seat. "I'll call you in the morning, go straight to bed when you get home."
"Okay, Mom." Alfred snorted as Matthew shut the door. He tapped on the glass a few times, a tuneless tattoo that could not reach Matthew's ears as he walked away from the car.
Arthur sat, his own fingers tempted to join in the sound. In Arthur's stead, the rain picked up to weld together with Alfred's tapping, minutes passing as the movements of Alfred's right hand grew bored with fatigue. His hand slumped to his side, head lazily turning to watch Arthur.
"Which bar we goin' to next, hot shot?" The odor of alcohol curled from Alfred's lips.
Arthur wrung the window's hand crank, cracking the window open to relieve the stifling stench. "Don't call me that, and we're heading home, not to another pub." He scratched at the warmth creeping up his neck.
"Home?" Alfred snirked, his body seeming to shift closer to Arthur's. "You can't drive across the pond, silly billy."
Author's Notes
anonymous
February 20 2010, 06:51:55 UTC
I promise for a whole lot more drunkenly affectionate Alfred in the chapters to come. Hopefully this isn't boring everyone to tears so far. I'll have the updates in a handful of days, as well.
Not boring at all! Your writing style is actually quite refreshing - the prose and the pacing and the quirky little details like Francis keying Arthur's car makes reading this quite enjoyable! And I'm really loving each character's voice in this - especially Arthur's! He's just the right amount of grump, nonchalance, snark, with a little sprinkling of secret interest that's covered up with denial. Aah, but your characterizations all around are just love~
Haha, I'm really looking forward to see where this is heading (and I'm quite curious to see if you'll take up the OP's bonus as there's much potential for angst in it and I'm a sucker for such things), so here's hoping you update soon!
Thank you very much for your kind and encouraging words!
I am most assuredly going to be incorporating the bonus into the end of the fic, so I'm sure there will be a good amount of angst and other such fun things to write.
"It's about ten minutes or so from me, nothing too far."
"Great, see you in ten minutes, then!" Matthew's voice, while still touched with liquor, sounded not nearly as harsh as it had in the beginning of their conversation.
"Oi, splash out on a taxi and send him here." Arthur was not charitable enough to actually fetch Alfred.
"... Can't hear you, reception is pretty poor in here." Matthew blurted in a single breath before the distinct silence of an empty phone line took the place of his voice.
Arthur unfolded his arms, sighing as placed the phone back in its cradle. He pulled on a fitted dark overcoat as he made for the door. Momentarily he paused in the act of toeing on his loafers, realising he had not the faintest idea of why Alfred needed to be babysat to begin with, or for how long.
He eventually shrugged himself back into motion, snatching the keys to his vehicle from a ceramic bowl that rested by the door. It wasn't as if he could call Matthew back and ask what the conditions were, he had already committed. Or at least, they were already expecting him. And Arthur was a man of his word, his own honor too dear to become besmirched by something as silly as refusing to make sure Alfred didn't unknowingly become a drug mule or international jewel thief for a for a few hours.
Arthur felt a pleased smile glance across his face as he opened the door, the cool rush of the night kissing his skin. He'd handle this.
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Ah, jeez. I'm really sorry, I had to rush through this beginning part because I had a feeling that if I didn't start once I read this prompt, I'd go to sleep and end up not writing in the morning.
I apologise for the shortness of this first part, and any lack of real depth. I really want to get to bed and needed to throw this out real quickly. I promise better updates and less typos in the future!
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Good start, anon.
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Writer!Anon~ Don't stop. This Anon is loving how this is going.
Thank you for filling this<33
[showers you with cookies
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He floored the car through another yellow light, pressing his luck in a bid to arrive more quickly. His heart thudded in his chest, both out of excitement and fear. Alfred was going to stay with him. In the same home, without any government officials or paperwork to be read over, no extra ties or ends to sort out. A true-blue visit.
The two of them no longer seemed to have a relationship beyond cordial acquaintances. The longest amount of time being spent together would be hunched over rectangular desks in stuffy rooms, going through page after page of words that hardly meant anything to those that read them.
Meetings where they sat together became exercises in ignoring the other's existence as much as was possible, rather than finding solutions to world problems and safeguarding future generations. On rare occasions their hands might brush against each other as notes were passed to and fro, but both would recoil instantly with mumbled half-apologies and averted gazes.
The entire situation frustrated Arthur, and his emotions transferred into a lead weight upon his foot, speeding rather recklessly through empty streets peppered with glowing lights. If he was going to lug Alfred home, Arthur was going to talk straight to that boy. Give him a piece of his mind, and order, if he had to, Alfred to be more outgoing and friendly towards him. After all, Alfred never looked to have a problem chumming it up with the other nations.
Soft touches of raindrops began to lick against Arthur's windshield, he flicked the wipers on without a thought. He tensed as his mind rewound to the instant he was leaving his home. He'd gotten his coat, gotten his keys, locked the door and double checked─ but hadn't taken an umbrella with him. The last thing I want is that buffoon coming into my house smelling like a wet dog.
Arthur slowed as he began to make his way about the more complicated roads of the town. He wove through them on autopilot, his thoughts as dark as the sky, his hackles raised in unhappy anticipation. Maybe it wasn't too late to bow out of picking up Alfred. Lord only knows how many timeless pieces of art he could ruin in one night, how he could whirl through a house and create thousands of pounds worth of damage.
He doesn't mean to, Arthur scolded himself. Or at least, Arthur didn't think Alfred meant to be a living bulldozer. A twinge of pity touched upon Arthur's heart. Alfred reminded him of a dog. A big, goofy dog that thought everyone and their Aunt Bernice loved it, but in truth they wanted nothing to do with the pup. It jumped up on people, knocking them down, always wiggled its way into their business, and had a penchant when it came to begging for food with its big, lovely blue eyes. Those mournful expressions that would plead with you, plucking at your heartstrings and wearing down your defenses until you finally gave in ─
A car horn blared from behind Arthur, snapping him out of his reverie. He shook his head and sped up a bit. Alfred was not a dog. He knew better, and he certainly didn't give mournful expressions that could wear Arthur down. Arthur knew Alfred too well to be taken in my trick as simple as doe eyes.
Having assured himself several times over that he could handle this, that he could handle Alfred, Arthur turned into the lane that led directly to The Rabbit's Foot. He cruised by hesitantly at first, his car paced on par with a common garden snail. He could make out a backlit figure against the lighted windows of the pub. Rather willowy and elegant.
Certainly not Alfred.
The figure ducked inside the building in the blink of an eye, appearing again just as quickly. It jogged towards Arthur's now idle car with the movements of one trained for many years in dance. Golden hair caught the light of the street lamp, shadows were cast upon well maintained features. A slight wisp of facial hair was made visible.
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He gave a wicked cackle as Francis composed himself, striding more slowly this time towards his door. Again Arthur pumped the pedal when Francis was within reach of the door's handle. Their song and dance continued to the end of the street, Arthur too wrapped up in watching Francis fail time and time again to recall his original reason for being in the area.
The laughter on his lips died in a feeble cry as Francis lunged at his car, key held in hand as if it were a foil. Whining screams of key against car body filled Arthur's ears. He swerved into an empty parking space, ripping his own keys from the ignition and burst forth from the car, wanting only to draw blood from the bastard who had sullied his vehicle.
Francis' laugh rang through the street as he fled, slinking through shadow and light with the grace and speed of a feline. Arthur tore after him, coat billowing in the wind of his pursuit. He barreled through the entrance of the pub before the rain had even the time to touch him, muscles tight with rage.
"Hello, love." A warm voice called out to him.
Arthur looked to the source, eyes brightening in momentarily recognition of the owner, a jovial woman with a rounded and motherly body. Her cheeks flushed from working the night through, a calloused hand running over her forehead, a rag in the other. The familiar barmaid.
"Hello, Margaret." Arthur responded, forcing the homicidal tides to ebb from his voice.
"Are you here for the boy?" She questioned, her elbow motioning to the corner of the room.
"Yes, yes that's exactly why I'm here." England smiled politely before making his way to the corner-most table.
France sat half perched upon the table, looking relaxed and at home with himself as he spoke hushed words that Arthur could not quite hear. Matthew was staring at the man as if he was a great philosopher, his eyes glassy but attentive as he hung on to every word Francis whispered to him. The young man's sneakers stubbed at the wooden planks of the floor with a nervous edge, his body clearly wanting to be at the airport already, despite him mind wishing to stay exactly where it was.
No Alfred.
Arthur nonchalantly bumped his hip against the table with enough force to unsettle Francis, smirking openly as the other made an assortment of odd noises in an attempt to keep himself from falling. "Where is he?"
Matthew's violet gaze shifted to Arthur, lips curving into an apologetic smile. "In the restroom, he'll be out soon enough."
"Good." Arthur elbowed Francis off the table again, "Stay off the table, frog."
Francis plastered a serene expression on his face, unwilling to give Arthur the satisfaction of riling him up. "What's that, Angleterre? You want me to key your car further, possibly write out a few words?"
"Be my guest, the new paint job is coming out of your pocket." Arthur paused. "Why were you even trying to get in my car, anyway? I'm not your chauffeur."
"I was trying," Francis huffed, "To tell you that it was going to be a few more minutes."
"And so you keyed my car?"
"You're twisting the events."
Matthew stood, his hands rising and falling in waves of placating motions, "Now, now, let's all get along. Once I see that Alfred is safely off we can go straight to the airport, Francis."
The apprehension Arthur had been fending off began to crow loudly in his mind. "Safely off? You make it sound like I'm going to put Alfred in the boot."
"I wouldn't trust him, Mathieu, I bet─"
"There's Alfred now." Matthew cut in curtly, gesturing to an opening door.
Arthur turned to face the door, keeping his expression apathetic at best as he watched Alfred emerge. The blonde man tottered slightly on his feet as he shut to door behind him, letting out a low but distinctive 'Whoo!' his ability to close the door without falling a clear highlight of his evening.
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"Non." Francis answered.
"Alfred may have had a bit too much to drink tonight." Matthew sighed.
Arthur made a noise to indicate he understood, but kept his eyes on Alfred. He watched as the American came towards the table, giving no indication that he had come to notice Arthur. It looked like the man was attempting to pull off a confident swagger as he approached, but managing only to perform a stooping and drunken lope.
"Hello." Arthur said as Alfred neared them.
Alfred turned surprised eyes on Arthur, a deer in the headlights. "You!"
"Er, yes. Me." Arthur took an involuntary step back, wary of Alfred's reaction.
Alfred looked around, as though expecting to see more new arrivals. "Are we having a world meeting at the bar?"
"Not quite, Alfred." Matthew stood to escort his brother the rest of the distance to the table. "Francis and I need to go, and Arthur graciously offered to escort you home, so you'll be leaving with him."
Graciously offered, my arse. Arthur thought.
"Does this mean you're leaving me?" Alfred questioned, his grip finding its way about Matthew's arm. "And since when do I need a babysitter?"
"Arthur isn't a babysitter, Alfred. He's your friend." Matthew's words carefully evaded the first question.
"Pfft. Try telling him that." Alfred leaned his weight against Matthew.
"I'm right here, idiot boy." Arthur snapped.
"See? Look at that." Alfred hissed, "Calling me words like 'idiot' and 'boy'."
Francis glanced at the clock hanging from the patterned wall. "Mathieu, if we wish to make our flight, we will have to leave as quickly as possible."
Matthew began to guide Alfred to the door, glancing over his shoulder at Arthur and Francis. "Come on then, let's get this show on the road."
Arthur followed silently behind the two young men, suppressing a wince as the stench of heavy liquor slapped him in the face. He watched through watering eyes as Alfred's form was half dragged by his brother, bobbing slightly back and forth, hiccuping over quiet words, almost pleas, to Matthew. Arthur's eyes ran along the seams of Alfred's faded and tattered jeans, fraying at the edges, though they snugly wrapped themselves around the flesh of his thighs as they moved upwards, until the hanging hem of his bomber jacket obscured any more of the man from view.
"Like what you see?" Francis murmured, a smile trailing on his words.
"What are you talking about?" Arthur barked back, an uncomfortable heat forming in his chest.
"Nothing, nothing at all." Francis gave a flippant wave and pocketed his hands, ducking out ahead of Arthur and into the blackness of the street.
Arthur crept out of the door last, looking over his shoulder and nodding good-naturedly at the barkeep before shutting the door behind him. His vision momentarily losing its focus in the change from well lit pub to the barely visible street. Immediately the soft kiss of a tempered drizzle brushed against his skin, a slick and shining black road beginning to form in front of him.
Arthur took a deep breath, shuddering at the iciness of the air as it entered his chest, pausing to appreciate the outward puffs of white mist as he exhaled. He curled his toes within his shoes, rocking slightly before setting out down the street to rejoin the others.
The two brothers were already in position beside Arthur's beat-up clunker as he drew closer. Alfred appeared to have grown bored in the short amount of time it had taken for Arthur to catch up, his arms now looped about his brother's shoulders, urging him to start up a waltz.
Matthew indulged Alfred momentarily, if only to get Arthur in his sight. He gave the older man a look that breathed exasperation, and Arthur gave a nod of acknowledgment in return. Arthur hurried his step, rounding the side of the car, hands aflutter as he fished his keys from his pocket.
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Arthur slid into his seat, closing the door before either of the young men could say anything to him. He kept his eyes straight ahead, wide and unblinking. What was he supposed to do with Alfred? Play board games until he sobered up, make sure he didn't go on a drunken archaeologist dig in the back garden? Arthur hadn't thought this far ahead.
Matthew slung Alfred into the passenger seat, earning a loud bark of laugh from the other. He pulled Alfred's seat belt and buckled it, checking to make sure it would hold up with a tug of his hand. Alfred made no attempt to help the other, content to laugh at the efforts of his brother.
"Now, Alfred." Matthew half knelt, his hands gently grabbing the cloth of Alfred's shirt, bringing the American's attention back into focus. "Promise me you'll keep your hands to yourself tonight." He gave the slightest of jerks on Alfred when the man looked away to consider the request. "Promise."
"Why are you making him promise?" Arthur asked, watching the two brothers from the hazed edge of his peripheral vision. "He better not be a violent drunk."
Matthew bit back his laughter before it left his mouth, but Arthur could hear it reverberating in his throat. "He's not a violent drunk. I don't think I'd be alive if he were."
"Are you sure?" Arthur was unconvinced.
"Look, pretend I never even said anything, okay?"
"Okay!" Alfred piped up.
"I didn't mean you." Matthew chided.
Alfred lay his hands over Matthew's, giving them a light and patronizing pat. "You run along with Francis now, me and Arthur are going to get along swimmingly." He slurred, smiling the content and relaxed smile that only the drunk can.
"Alright, but behave yourself." Matthew stood, his hands sliding from Alfred's grasp.
"Hey, don't leave me hanging, bro." He frowned.
"What?"
"You're going to leave me without so much as a hug?" Alfred whined, low and distressed.
"Oh, right." Matthew knelt again, holding his arms open for an embrace.
Alfred quickly latched his arms around his brother, make a throaty purr and his nuzzled into the fabric of the other's shirt. Arthur's jaw clenched in his effort not to turn his head and witness the act. Sickening shame sluiced over his chest, the feeling of being a voyeur combined with the stirrings of all around uneasiness.
It was fine if Alfred wanted to hug his brother, but Arthur would have preferred it if he had done so in private. Public acts of adoration always knocked his mind off kilter, distracted him from more important situations. Especially at the moment, as the highly affectionate squeals the boy was emitting were becoming downright worrisome.
"Okay, hug time is over." Matthew again pulled away, Alfred's arms slackening as he sat back in his seat. "I'll call you in the morning, go straight to bed when you get home."
"Okay, Mom." Alfred snorted as Matthew shut the door. He tapped on the glass a few times, a tuneless tattoo that could not reach Matthew's ears as he walked away from the car.
Arthur sat, his own fingers tempted to join in the sound. In Arthur's stead, the rain picked up to weld together with Alfred's tapping, minutes passing as the movements of Alfred's right hand grew bored with fatigue. His hand slumped to his side, head lazily turning to watch Arthur.
"Which bar we goin' to next, hot shot?" The odor of alcohol curled from Alfred's lips.
Arthur wrung the window's hand crank, cracking the window open to relieve the stifling stench. "Don't call me that, and we're heading home, not to another pub." He scratched at the warmth creeping up his neck.
"Home?" Alfred snirked, his body seeming to shift closer to Arthur's. "You can't drive across the pond, silly billy."
"My home."
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Haha, I'm really looking forward to see where this is heading (and I'm quite curious to see if you'll take up the OP's bonus as there's much potential for angst in it and I'm a sucker for such things), so here's hoping you update soon!
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I am most assuredly going to be incorporating the bonus into the end of the fic, so I'm sure there will be a good amount of angst and other such fun things to write.
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( Ugh, and that Mat/Al hug was the damn cutest thing ever, I nearly melted, and woke people up by going "Aw!" )
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