I Like Because I Like [3d/?]
anonymous
June 25 2010, 05:14:08 UTC
Jones blinked, obviously confused. “Of course I meant football, Matty. What else would I be talking about?”
Matthew couldn’t hide his grin. If there was anything Arthur hated about Americans, it was their sports and their total disrespect for football, or in this country, soccer.
Arthur’s nose wrinkled in distaste; it was his brand new fondness of Jones that kept him from saying anything unsavory. “Oh. That’s, um, also nice,” he said with great effort, deflating like an air balloon. Clearing his throat, he added, “Go on, Alfred. You were saying?”
Jones had been staring at Arthur like a love-truck moron for the past minute. He started to attention at the sound of the sandy-haired man’s voice. “Um. Oh, right!” Beaming, he pulled an indignant Matthew into a one-arm hug, ignoring the obvious look of distaste on the slimmer boy’s face. “As I was saying, I’m in my school’s football team, and we’ve been looking for some new players. I thought Matty might like to try out, so I was thinking about coming over to his place to teach him some of my awesome moves.”
Jones had to know Matthew had to kill him. Clearly, there was no way he was going to let the wannabe hero survive after this. Of that, there was no doubt.
Most likely stuck between feeling proud that his son was beginning to be more outgoing and distaste that of all sports it had to be American football, a game he considered to be played by Neanderthals, Arthur’s lips quirked up into what had to be the nicest smile Matthew had ever seen on his father’s face. Jones definitely thought so too, for he, once again, stared dazedly at the Brit's mouth.
It wouldn’t be too farfetched to say the football superstar was drooling.
Cursing his life, Matthew wished chaos to rain down upon the prick’s oversized head.
“That sounds delightful, Alfred. Will you be staying for dinner too?”
Stopping in the middle of his mental cursing, Matthew was struck by a sudden idea that was so genius and so simple, he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought about it at the beginning.
After all, there was no man in the world, dead or alive, who could stomach Arthur’s cooking.
At least not without suffering serious consequences.
---
Author!Anon is so sorry for the late update Dx I have summer Math camp right now, and four other fills I’m doing at the same time, plus some gift fics for a couple of friends. And the FIFA Cup always takes over my life every four years, so, yeah, so sorry again ; ;
High fives for the US making it into the 16, American anons? /shot
Re: I Like Because I Like [3d/?]
anonymous
June 25 2010, 05:35:29 UTC
World Cup (and any other football cup or whatever that it's related to football) takes over my life too, so I can understand xDD I actually think my grades will go down if I keep skipping class at uni to watch the games |D
And I'm not even American but damn I love the American team. Srsly, with Donovan, Howard and Dempsey, they can go far in this World Cup /football dork, please ignore.
Going to the fill... I looove it to bits! Oh Arthur, falling for Alfred's charm. You just can't say no to a southern accent. And Matt's point of view makes everything hilarious.
Re: I Like Because I Like [3d/?]
anonymous
June 25 2010, 08:52:58 UTC
Hi, it's a Brit!Anon here but I'm none the less happy about America making it out of the group with us!! *I just wish it wasn't us who have to play Germany ToT damn you!* Still, I'm not even a big football fan but I've been watching England's and America's games and screaming my throat raw...
Anyway as for the fill!Pleaaaase try to update soon. This is just getting more and more interesting, especially seeing how smoothly Arthur is just getting attracted to that one hot American :'D Blimey, the southern drawl, who could resist that?
Re: I Like Because I Like [3d/?]
anonymous
June 25 2010, 12:25:09 UTC
Arthur said, cheeks red with his anger. He was livid, emerald eyes blazing
...I can't blame Alfred, I'd jump that too <3
Ok, lol, poor Matt, but why doesn't he say anything? At least try to explain himself? Of course, Arthur won't believe him till it's too late, but still. Why remain silent?
Alfred staring entranced at Arthur made me chuckle and 'awwww'. He's cute! Even while laying the accent thick with southern feeling and honeyXD. So Arthur's big weakness is outlandish accents? I actually squeed when his cheeks turned a little pink =^_^=
I also loved that Francis still wants to cope a feel every now and thenXD
Re: I Like Because I Like [3d/?]
anonymous
July 2 2010, 16:02:34 UTC
While Arthur's cooking is considered by many to be on par with nuclear weapons, if he's wearing that apron I think Alfred will be sufficiently distracted. XD
Hello, I love you
anonymous
July 5 2010, 03:05:45 UTC
You are just so amazing. Everything you write is FANTASTIC and you're just amazing. Your humor and sardonic wit translates so well through this story and it makes me laugh my ass off EVERY. DANG. TIME. I feel bad for Canada... but in such a humorous way that it's awesome. Alfred being stricken with love is just friggin' perfect. Honestly, you're just amazing.
I Like Because I Like [4a/?]
anonymous
July 6 2010, 03:48:49 UTC
- -
England couldn’t remember the last time he made dinner for three.
Those seven years with Francis didn’t count. Francis preferred to spend his time in motels with young pretty boys and girls over eating dinner with his family. Every night it was just Matthew and him, and the third empty plate he brought out for the sake of his little boy.
Much to Arthur’s chagrin, Matthew loved Francis. His little boy couldn’t go a day without asking for the stupid bastard, cooing at Arthur for his papa and all Arthur could do was distract him until Francis came home. He wished he could say Francis was the worst parent in the world; but the truth was that Francis adored Matthew twice as much as he ever loved his many lovers.
Francis may not have spent much time with Matthew, but when he did, he spoiled the boy rotten. He’d gone so far as to teach Matthew French whenever Arthur was out shopping for groceries, a mistake Arthur would regret for the rest of his life. The mere sound of his boy speaking the foul language was enough to make him retch.
Although, there had been one time when Francis [did] eat dinner with them.
It was the last Christmas they spent together. Francis had gone all out, surprising Arthur with a tall Christmas tree all decked out in gold and a three-course meal to die for. The apartment had been transformed from a Barbie-like dream house to a warm, happy home. It had been a perfect night, the only night they spent together as a real family. Matthew had busied himself with the stacks of presents under the tree, and Francis had pulled Arthur down on the couch with him to watch old black-and-white movies. They’d cuddled together all night until Matthew fell asleep between his new toys; Arthur had put him to bed and watched him sleep, surprised when Francis did the same rather than go out to party with his many flowers.
Arthur had known of Francis many lovers barely a year after they got together. He’d stopped caring a long time ago, concerned only with keeping Matthew oblivious to his bastard father’s secret trysts. In Matthew’s eyes, they were a perfectly loving couple. Sometimes Arthur wished his son’s fantasy-dream could be his reality, but only sometimes.
By that time, Arthur was more than ready to leave Francis’ side.
Perhaps Francis had known Arthur was leaving him. Maybe that last Christmas together-where Francis had been loving and attentive to all of Arthur’s needs, where he’d called Arthur his favorite flower and actually stayed home all night, where Arthur woke up to the sight of Francis’ face, his arms around him and the familiar scent of his, and not some hussy’s, perfume-had been his way of asking for a second chance.
Perhaps, but Francis was definitely not Arthur’s prince charming. One perfect night could not make up for what Arthur considered to be the seven worst years of his life. Those were supposed to have been some of the best years of his life and Arthur had wasted them on a drunkard, cheating, worthless bastard. A French bastard at that. The only good thing that came out of their relationship was Matthew.
Really, it was no wonder Arthur did what he did.
One month later, Arthur maxed out all of Francis’ credits cards and after leaving the frog-drunk, disoriented and with nothing but his birthday suit and the taste of L'Oréal Endless Long Wearing Lip Color lipstick on his mouth in the Canadian wilderness-took Matthew with him and moved to the States.
He’d gotten a call two days later from a very angry, very humiliated and very confused Francis. Arthur had let him talk to Matthew for a couple of minutes before throwing the cell-phone into the nearest pond. Not even a day later, Francis bought a house in Arthur’s name in a peaceful little suburb outside of Chicago.
I Like Because I Like [4b/?]
anonymous
July 6 2010, 03:57:05 UTC
“So how did you and Matthew meet, Alfred?” he asked, throwing his favorite apron on. He had a little trouble tying the thing because of all the ruffles, but he’d rather call his demented parents than to throw the apron away. It had been a present from his little Matty after all; Arthur loved it, no matter how feminine and eye-blinding it was.
He moved easily around his kitchen, happy to have company after so many years of it just being Matthew and him. Cupboards were opened and closed; the oven humming its approval. He placed a jug of ice-cold lemonade on the table, filling the American’s glass first.
Alfred smiled blindingly at him before answering, baby-blue eyes glinting cheerfully. “I’ve known Matty since middle school, Mr. Kirkland. We’re the best of buds!”
The boy’s smile was dazzling. Arthur was surprised Matthew hadn’t invited him over sooner if they had known each other for so long. His son had never brought anyone home; it was daunting actually. Arthur had been so worried. Matthew rarely socialized outside of his after-school activities.
Which was why Alfred was such a wonderful surprise. The boy was such a gentleman, so polite and charming. And in the football team to boot! Sure it was that primitive American sport, but it was better than nothing. What mattered was that it was a social sport, with other boys of Matthew’s age that his son could befriend.
Setting down a plate of food in front of the boy, Arthur smiled. “Well I hope you can come over and visit again, Alfred. Don’t be a stranger now.”
Behind him, Matthew viciously stabbed his dinner with a fork.
Alfred grinned, pearly white teeth showing. “Sure thing, Mr. Kirkland,” he said, forking a slab of meat before bringing it to his mouth. “I’d love to come visit Matty ag-”
Arthur didn’t hear Matthew’s muffled laughter over Alfred’s chocking, garbling words; he was too busy performing the Heimlich. If he had, he would have wondered about the smug grin on his son’s face. That, and how he discretely threw away his food into the nearest potted plant.
The shrub of roses wilted instantly.
“Alfred?” Gently patting the young man’s back once he’d stopped chocking, Arthur peered worriedly at him. Alfred looked a little green, which made Arthur’s concern escalate. “Alfred, are you okay?”
“I-I’m,” he stammered, swallowing thickly. He made a face, and Matthew took great pleasure in the fact that he looked seconds away from throwing up all over Arthur‘s favorite apron. “I’m good. I’m good. Just…ah, forgot to chew before swallowing?” he said with great effort, his Hollywood smile shaky.
Looking relieved, Arthur patted Alfred’s back affectingly. “Chew before you swallow next time, dear. Oh! The dessert is done.” A little chime had him rushing to the kitchen, pulling his mittens out of a drawer. With a last smile at the two boys-Alfred returned the smile with one of his own, waving at him; Matthew gripped his fork a little tighter, grinding his molars together-he disappeared into the kitchen.
Arthur couldn’t stop smiling; he was so glad Matthew was making new friends. All the boy did was lock himself in his room and listen to music and go on the computer. Outside of band and the local hockey team (the school didn’t have one, much to Arthur’s displeasure), Matthew rarely went out. Rather than go on dates with a nice, pretty girl on Friday nights, he stayed home to watch movies with him. Not that Arthur didn’t like spending time with his son. He did. But when Arthur had been Matthew’s age he’d gone out almost every night.
It was a little bit discouraging. More than that, Arthur was worried. It wasn’t healthy for a boy of Matthew’s age not to be out partying, or even curious about the opposite sex. Arthur cringed when he thought back on all the stupid things he’d done as a teenager, but he had to admit that he’d had a much better social life than his son. Matthew was already seventeen and Arthur had still not found a reason to give the boy The Talk.
I Like Because I Like [4c/?]
anonymous
July 6 2010, 04:04:20 UTC
So Arthur was putting his hopes on Alfred being the link to the outside world for the boy. Otherwise, he didn’t know what he was going to do. Alfred was obviously popular, charismatic and very engaging. He seemed like the perfect friend to break Matthew out of his shell.
Which meant as a father, it was Arthur’s job to make sure not to embarrass Matthew and ensure his friendship with Alfred.
Oh, Arthur could already see it: football games, cookouts, double-dates, it would be perfect.
“Boys, I hope you saved room for dessert," Arthur called cheerfully.
He returned with a steaming batch of cookies and a smile on his face to find Alfred and Matthew wrestling on the table, biting, scratching, punching at everything they could get their hands on. As he watched, frozen on the spot, Matthew sunk his teeth into Alfred’s bicep, which Alfred retaliated with an elbow to the gut.
Unable to look away, Arthur took in the sorry state of the dinner he’d worked so hard to make. His china was in pieces, his hand-made tablecloth soiled with lemonade and who knew what else. Even the glass-vase of roses, freshly cut roses from his own garden which he’d planted and groomed himself, lay broken.
The batch of cookies fell to the floor with a clatter, startling the two boys.
Shoulders shaking, Arthur pointed a finger at the pair of wide-eyed teenagers. His voice trembled with rage. “Matthew, go to your room. Alfred, get out.”
Alfred cursed under his breath, his bottom lip bleeding. Arthur barely spared him a glance lest he kicked him in the face himself. As it was, his hands were shaking with the urge to wring his pretty little neck.
No one hurt his baby. Absolutely no one. If anyone was going to mentally and physically scar his boy for life, it was going to be him.
Taking in the bruises on Matthew’s face, Arthur gritted his teeth.
And he’d thought Alfred was the perfect gentleman. Ha! It seemed that even after seventeen years Arthur could still be fooled by a handsome face, a charismatic smile, and a charming personality. He’d thought he’d gotten over that after dumping Francis on his sorry ass.
Matthew opened his mouth. “But-”
Arthur raised a hand to stop him. “No buts,” he said, his voice a lot calmer this time, though he was no less angry. Glancing at his ruined dinner, the dinner he’d worked so hard to make, the dinner he’d cooked to impress Alfred and-Arthur took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Go to your room, Matthew. No dinner tonight.”
Knowing the penalties of disobeying his father-and the ire his wrath could envoke-Matthew shut his mouth with an audible click and let go of Alfred’s collar. As if remembering where he was and exactly what he’d done, he winced when he stepped on the scattered rose petals. He bowed his head, guilt etched on his face along with something akin to shame.
Arthur said nothing. He tapped his foot, peeling off his mittens and slapping them on the table. Shame faced, Matthew slipped out of the kitchen.
I Like Because I Like [4d/?]
anonymous
July 6 2010, 04:09:46 UTC
If he’d actually looked at him, Arthur would have seen a triumphant smirk on his face. But he didn’t, so that was that.
“Mr. Kirkland I’m-” Alfred began, wiping his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand. He took a step back when Arthur advanced on him, his fingers twitching, a fork inches away from his hand. Gulping, Alfred held out a hand in front of himself in the event a plate might come flying his way. “That wasn’t what it looked like!”
“Oh I know what it looked like,” Arthur said, near hissing. He grabbed Alfred around his bicep and dragged him towards the door. The boy’s eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe Arthur was capable of such a feat. Typical jock; Arthur snorted. “I know exactly what it looked like. So if you would get out of my house and never show your face to me or my boy again, I would be very happy.”
“But Mr. Kirkland I-” Alfred tried again.
“No buts!” Ripping the door open, Arthur threw him out. The boy stumbled a bit, taken back by the other’s strength. “Be thankful I’m not calling your parents, brat, and that you are not my son or else you’d be in a world of pain.”
And right as Alfred stepped forward to no doubt try to explain himself, Arthur slammed the door shut on his face.
Good riddance.
---
And this is where the stalking/shadowing/dogging/romancing from Alfred starts :D Oh, Al, why so fail? And Matty, why the big mama complex? You need to learn to share your mum, kid, seriously xDDD
Sorry of the late update, beloved anons, and thanks so much for your awesome comments! I’ll try to update earlier next time, orz, orz. And OP, do you wants sexeh times? And idk if you want me to include France so…yeah. That...
Re: I Like Because I Like [4d/?]
anonymous
July 6 2010, 04:21:34 UTC
Dude. DUDE. This was totally worth staying up late and refreshing compulsively for. This... this. You're a goddamn genius, honestly. HONESTLY MAN HONESTLY. I'm shivering and terrified in my basement after researching some horror films as I waited for you to update (why do I always do this to myself? ;A; *trembles*), but I got enough laughs from this to keep me happy before I have to make the mad dash upstairs to my bedroom lest the movie monsters get me... oh shiitake mushroom clouds I'm getting myself frightened now. TIME TO REREAD THIS A MILLION TIMES! :D
Re: I Like Because I Like [4d/?]
anonymous
July 6 2010, 12:20:54 UTC
Ohhh damn, Mattie you sly boy you. Your plan worked! YOU GOT RID OF ALFRED! For now. XDDD
Aye for the sexeh times. Yes a thousand ayes for that. And Francis too, just for the lulz and I just can imagine him noticing how Alfred is head over heels with Arthur without Arthur noticing. God, it's potentially hilarious just to think of it.
As much as I love USUK, I am rooting for Mattie, somehow. XDD I am a contradiction, I know.
Jones blinked, obviously confused. “Of course I meant football, Matty. What else would I be talking about?”
Matthew couldn’t hide his grin. If there was anything Arthur hated about Americans, it was their sports and their total disrespect for football, or in this country, soccer.
Arthur’s nose wrinkled in distaste; it was his brand new fondness of Jones that kept him from saying anything unsavory. “Oh. That’s, um, also nice,” he said with great effort, deflating like an air balloon. Clearing his throat, he added, “Go on, Alfred. You were saying?”
Jones had been staring at Arthur like a love-truck moron for the past minute. He started to attention at the sound of the sandy-haired man’s voice. “Um. Oh, right!” Beaming, he pulled an indignant Matthew into a one-arm hug, ignoring the obvious look of distaste on the slimmer boy’s face. “As I was saying, I’m in my school’s football team, and we’ve been looking for some new players. I thought Matty might like to try out, so I was thinking about coming over to his place to teach him some of my awesome moves.”
Jones had to know Matthew had to kill him. Clearly, there was no way he was going to let the wannabe hero survive after this. Of that, there was no doubt.
Most likely stuck between feeling proud that his son was beginning to be more outgoing and distaste that of all sports it had to be American football, a game he considered to be played by Neanderthals, Arthur’s lips quirked up into what had to be the nicest smile Matthew had ever seen on his father’s face. Jones definitely thought so too, for he, once again, stared dazedly at the Brit's mouth.
It wouldn’t be too farfetched to say the football superstar was drooling.
Cursing his life, Matthew wished chaos to rain down upon the prick’s oversized head.
“That sounds delightful, Alfred. Will you be staying for dinner too?”
Stopping in the middle of his mental cursing, Matthew was struck by a sudden idea that was so genius and so simple, he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought about it at the beginning.
After all, there was no man in the world, dead or alive, who could stomach Arthur’s cooking.
At least not without suffering serious consequences.
---
Author!Anon is so sorry for the late update Dx I have summer Math camp right now, and four other fills I’m doing at the same time, plus some gift fics for a couple of friends. And the FIFA Cup always takes over my life every four years, so, yeah, so sorry again ; ;
High fives for the US making it into the 16, American anons? /shot
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And I'm not even American but damn I love the American team. Srsly, with Donovan, Howard and Dempsey, they can go far in this World Cup /football dork, please ignore.
Going to the fill... I looove it to bits! Oh Arthur, falling for Alfred's charm. You just can't say no to a southern accent. And Matt's point of view makes everything hilarious.
Captcha: handwork the. Handwork what, Captcha? :>
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And take your time anon, no need to rush for us, we'll love you no matter what!
/superhighfive. Words cannot express my American FIFA joy.
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Oh, Arthur. THE TRAP IS CLOSING AROUND YOU. STOP BEING STUPIDLY AND UNEXPECTEDLY ATTRACTIVE.
/loves
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Still, I'm not even a big football fan but I've been watching England's and America's games and screaming my throat raw...
Anyway as for the fill!Pleaaaase try to update soon. This is just getting more and more interesting, especially seeing how smoothly Arthur is just getting attracted to that one hot American :'D Blimey, the southern drawl, who could resist that?
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...I can't blame Alfred, I'd jump that too <3
Ok, lol, poor Matt, but why doesn't he say anything? At least try to explain himself? Of course, Arthur won't believe him till it's too late, but still. Why remain silent?
Alfred staring entranced at Arthur made me chuckle and 'awwww'. He's cute! Even while laying the accent thick with southern feeling and honeyXD. So Arthur's big weakness is outlandish accents? I actually squeed when his cheeks turned a little pink =^_^=
I also loved that Francis still wants to cope a feel every now and thenXD
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And wrathful!Matt + opportunistic!Al + oblivious!Art is the most fantastic combination ever.
...I have a feeling that Matt's predictions will fall flat. And I can't wait to see it happen!
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MARRY ME FOR THE EIGHTH TIME PLEASE ; ;
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-
England couldn’t remember the last time he made dinner for three.
Those seven years with Francis didn’t count. Francis preferred to spend his time in motels with young pretty boys and girls over eating dinner with his family. Every night it was just Matthew and him, and the third empty plate he brought out for the sake of his little boy.
Much to Arthur’s chagrin, Matthew loved Francis. His little boy couldn’t go a day without asking for the stupid bastard, cooing at Arthur for his papa and all Arthur could do was distract him until Francis came home. He wished he could say Francis was the worst parent in the world; but the truth was that Francis adored Matthew twice as much as he ever loved his many lovers.
Francis may not have spent much time with Matthew, but when he did, he spoiled the boy rotten. He’d gone so far as to teach Matthew French whenever Arthur was out shopping for groceries, a mistake Arthur would regret for the rest of his life. The mere sound of his boy speaking the foul language was enough to make him retch.
Although, there had been one time when Francis [did] eat dinner with them.
It was the last Christmas they spent together. Francis had gone all out, surprising Arthur with a tall Christmas tree all decked out in gold and a three-course meal to die for. The apartment had been transformed from a Barbie-like dream house to a warm, happy home. It had been a perfect night, the only night they spent together as a real family. Matthew had busied himself with the stacks of presents under the tree, and Francis had pulled Arthur down on the couch with him to watch old black-and-white movies. They’d cuddled together all night until Matthew fell asleep between his new toys; Arthur had put him to bed and watched him sleep, surprised when Francis did the same rather than go out to party with his many flowers.
Arthur had known of Francis many lovers barely a year after they got together. He’d stopped caring a long time ago, concerned only with keeping Matthew oblivious to his bastard father’s secret trysts. In Matthew’s eyes, they were a perfectly loving couple. Sometimes Arthur wished his son’s fantasy-dream could be his reality, but only sometimes.
By that time, Arthur was more than ready to leave Francis’ side.
Perhaps Francis had known Arthur was leaving him. Maybe that last Christmas together-where Francis had been loving and attentive to all of Arthur’s needs, where he’d called Arthur his favorite flower and actually stayed home all night, where Arthur woke up to the sight of Francis’ face, his arms around him and the familiar scent of his, and not some hussy’s, perfume-had been his way of asking for a second chance.
Perhaps, but Francis was definitely not Arthur’s prince charming. One perfect night could not make up for what Arthur considered to be the seven worst years of his life. Those were supposed to have been some of the best years of his life and Arthur had wasted them on a drunkard, cheating, worthless bastard. A French bastard at that. The only good thing that came out of their relationship was Matthew.
Really, it was no wonder Arthur did what he did.
One month later, Arthur maxed out all of Francis’ credits cards and after leaving the frog-drunk, disoriented and with nothing but his birthday suit and the taste of L'Oréal Endless Long Wearing Lip Color lipstick on his mouth in the Canadian wilderness-took Matthew with him and moved to the States.
He’d gotten a call two days later from a very angry, very humiliated and very confused Francis. Arthur had let him talk to Matthew for a couple of minutes before throwing the cell-phone into the nearest pond. Not even a day later, Francis bought a house in Arthur’s name in a peaceful little suburb outside of Chicago.
The memory brought a tiny smile to Arthur’s lips.
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He moved easily around his kitchen, happy to have company after so many years of it just being Matthew and him. Cupboards were opened and closed; the oven humming its approval. He placed a jug of ice-cold lemonade on the table, filling the American’s glass first.
Alfred smiled blindingly at him before answering, baby-blue eyes glinting cheerfully. “I’ve known Matty since middle school, Mr. Kirkland. We’re the best of buds!”
The boy’s smile was dazzling. Arthur was surprised Matthew hadn’t invited him over sooner if they had known each other for so long. His son had never brought anyone home; it was daunting actually. Arthur had been so worried. Matthew rarely socialized outside of his after-school activities.
Which was why Alfred was such a wonderful surprise. The boy was such a gentleman, so polite and charming. And in the football team to boot! Sure it was that primitive American sport, but it was better than nothing. What mattered was that it was a social sport, with other boys of Matthew’s age that his son could befriend.
Setting down a plate of food in front of the boy, Arthur smiled. “Well I hope you can come over and visit again, Alfred. Don’t be a stranger now.”
Behind him, Matthew viciously stabbed his dinner with a fork.
Alfred grinned, pearly white teeth showing. “Sure thing, Mr. Kirkland,” he said, forking a slab of meat before bringing it to his mouth. “I’d love to come visit Matty ag-”
Arthur didn’t hear Matthew’s muffled laughter over Alfred’s chocking, garbling words; he was too busy performing the Heimlich. If he had, he would have wondered about the smug grin on his son’s face. That, and how he discretely threw away his food into the nearest potted plant.
The shrub of roses wilted instantly.
“Alfred?” Gently patting the young man’s back once he’d stopped chocking, Arthur peered worriedly at him. Alfred looked a little green, which made Arthur’s concern escalate. “Alfred, are you okay?”
“I-I’m,” he stammered, swallowing thickly. He made a face, and Matthew took great pleasure in the fact that he looked seconds away from throwing up all over Arthur‘s favorite apron. “I’m good. I’m good. Just…ah, forgot to chew before swallowing?” he said with great effort, his Hollywood smile shaky.
Looking relieved, Arthur patted Alfred’s back affectingly. “Chew before you swallow next time, dear. Oh! The dessert is done.” A little chime had him rushing to the kitchen, pulling his mittens out of a drawer. With a last smile at the two boys-Alfred returned the smile with one of his own, waving at him; Matthew gripped his fork a little tighter, grinding his molars together-he disappeared into the kitchen.
Arthur couldn’t stop smiling; he was so glad Matthew was making new friends. All the boy did was lock himself in his room and listen to music and go on the computer. Outside of band and the local hockey team (the school didn’t have one, much to Arthur’s displeasure), Matthew rarely went out. Rather than go on dates with a nice, pretty girl on Friday nights, he stayed home to watch movies with him. Not that Arthur didn’t like spending time with his son. He did. But when Arthur had been Matthew’s age he’d gone out almost every night.
It was a little bit discouraging. More than that, Arthur was worried. It wasn’t healthy for a boy of Matthew’s age not to be out partying, or even curious about the opposite sex. Arthur cringed when he thought back on all the stupid things he’d done as a teenager, but he had to admit that he’d had a much better social life than his son. Matthew was already seventeen and Arthur had still not found a reason to give the boy The Talk.
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Which meant as a father, it was Arthur’s job to make sure not to embarrass Matthew and ensure his friendship with Alfred.
Oh, Arthur could already see it: football games, cookouts, double-dates, it would be perfect.
“Boys, I hope you saved room for dessert," Arthur called cheerfully.
He returned with a steaming batch of cookies and a smile on his face to find Alfred and Matthew wrestling on the table, biting, scratching, punching at everything they could get their hands on. As he watched, frozen on the spot, Matthew sunk his teeth into Alfred’s bicep, which Alfred retaliated with an elbow to the gut.
Unable to look away, Arthur took in the sorry state of the dinner he’d worked so hard to make. His china was in pieces, his hand-made tablecloth soiled with lemonade and who knew what else. Even the glass-vase of roses, freshly cut roses from his own garden which he’d planted and groomed himself, lay broken.
The batch of cookies fell to the floor with a clatter, startling the two boys.
Shoulders shaking, Arthur pointed a finger at the pair of wide-eyed teenagers. His voice trembled with rage. “Matthew, go to your room. Alfred, get out.”
Alfred cursed under his breath, his bottom lip bleeding. Arthur barely spared him a glance lest he kicked him in the face himself. As it was, his hands were shaking with the urge to wring his pretty little neck.
No one hurt his baby. Absolutely no one. If anyone was going to mentally and physically scar his boy for life, it was going to be him.
Taking in the bruises on Matthew’s face, Arthur gritted his teeth.
And he’d thought Alfred was the perfect gentleman. Ha! It seemed that even after seventeen years Arthur could still be fooled by a handsome face, a charismatic smile, and a charming personality. He’d thought he’d gotten over that after dumping Francis on his sorry ass.
Matthew opened his mouth. “But-”
Arthur raised a hand to stop him. “No buts,” he said, his voice a lot calmer this time, though he was no less angry. Glancing at his ruined dinner, the dinner he’d worked so hard to make, the dinner he’d cooked to impress Alfred and-Arthur took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Go to your room, Matthew. No dinner tonight.”
Knowing the penalties of disobeying his father-and the ire his wrath could envoke-Matthew shut his mouth with an audible click and let go of Alfred’s collar. As if remembering where he was and exactly what he’d done, he winced when he stepped on the scattered rose petals. He bowed his head, guilt etched on his face along with something akin to shame.
Arthur said nothing. He tapped his foot, peeling off his mittens and slapping them on the table. Shame faced, Matthew slipped out of the kitchen.
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“Mr. Kirkland I’m-” Alfred began, wiping his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand. He took a step back when Arthur advanced on him, his fingers twitching, a fork inches away from his hand. Gulping, Alfred held out a hand in front of himself in the event a plate might come flying his way. “That wasn’t what it looked like!”
“Oh I know what it looked like,” Arthur said, near hissing. He grabbed Alfred around his bicep and dragged him towards the door. The boy’s eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe Arthur was capable of such a feat. Typical jock; Arthur snorted. “I know exactly what it looked like. So if you would get out of my house and never show your face to me or my boy again, I would be very happy.”
“But Mr. Kirkland I-” Alfred tried again.
“No buts!” Ripping the door open, Arthur threw him out. The boy stumbled a bit, taken back by the other’s strength. “Be thankful I’m not calling your parents, brat, and that you are not my son or else you’d be in a world of pain.”
And right as Alfred stepped forward to no doubt try to explain himself, Arthur slammed the door shut on his face.
Good riddance.
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And this is where the stalking/shadowing/dogging/romancing from Alfred starts :D Oh, Al, why so fail? And Matty, why the big mama complex? You need to learn to share your mum, kid, seriously xDDD
Sorry of the late update, beloved anons, and thanks so much for your awesome comments! I’ll try to update earlier next time, orz, orz. And OP, do you wants sexeh times? And idk if you want me to include France so…yeah. That...
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...
. . .
DOT DOT DOT
ELLIPSIS
I love you.
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Aye for the sexeh times. Yes a thousand ayes for that. And Francis too, just for the lulz and I just can imagine him noticing how Alfred is head over heels with Arthur without Arthur noticing. God, it's potentially hilarious just to think of it.
As much as I love USUK, I am rooting for Mattie, somehow. XDD I am a contradiction, I know.
Seriously, I love you.
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