I Like Because I Like [4a/?]
anonymous
July 6 2010, 03:48:49 UTC
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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.
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.
Re: I Like Because I Like [4d/?]
anonymous
July 6 2010, 13:35:36 UTC
One for Matty!!!!! And I adore the mama bear!Arthur<3333 Seriously I love you for this turn, showing Al no matter how friendly and shaggable Arthur may seem, he is still Matty's protective mum.
Things are getting complicated! And I'm hooked as ever, author!anon!
Re: I Like Because I Like [4d/?]
anonymous
July 6 2010, 14:43:01 UTC
Oh my. *clears throat* Oh my.
Holy mother god, THIIIIIIIISSS! AErjiwajrio!!!!
Have some incoherent babbling of love, dear author!non. You absolutely rock. I literally squealed when Arthur said "no one hurt his baby" and almost unleashed his rage on Alfred. Why such a mama!bear, Artie?!?! ILU so much anon.
Every single sentence of this fill had me grinning like an idiot, you have no idea.
I also vote yes for delicious smut, Francis included. *shot*
Re: I Like Because I Like [4d/?]
anonymous
July 7 2010, 10:44:51 UTC
Plus one vote for sexytimes AND France here, authornon!
And plus TWO votes for Mattie, despite me really liking the USUK. I just really enjoy the way you write Matt, the snark, the frustration, the hidden smirks, him winning for once. xD PLEASE tell me he makes things even more difficult in the future?
I Like Because I like [5a/?]
anonymous
July 22 2010, 04:53:04 UTC
Late!update is late ; ; Also: Lukas = Norway ; Mathias = Denmark
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Sonefex, Inc had been providing phone sex services for over ten years; it was an established company in the phone sex adult entertainment industry. They were a direct dial company, all of their operators were trained in self-promotion and given all the necessary training they needed to succeed at their job. The job required a certain degree of commitment and effort from the operator-sitting by the phone and waiting for it to ring was [not] how it worked. It could be a very profitable work-from-home opportunity for some, but it wasn’t a job for just anyone. If you were willing to put an effort by promoting the webpages the company made for you and made yourself available for calls on a constant basis, it could be a very rewarding job.
Lukas just wanted money; he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the rest.
When his roommate learned of Lukas’ job, he got him an old neon red Rotary phone as a joke. He’d made it so all of the Norwegians’ work-related calls came through the thing, a favor Lukas had paid him back in spades.
Mathias’ hair was blue for a month, much to the vain man’s horror.
In Lukas’ opinion, it was less than he deserved. The bubbly phone was atrocious, as was the damnable noise it made whenever it rang. He’d been woken in the dead of night many a times by the darn thing.
Tonight was no different.
-except that it was, because as luck would have it, he got one of [those] idiots again.
Despite what Spike Lee portrayed in Girl 6, most phone sex operators were not devastatingly beautiful women who sat around looking pretty in stylish cubicles. Roughly thirty percent of all female phone characters were voiced by men. Most of the people Lukas saw at the training sessions were average in appearance. And while this was not true for all phone sex companies, the one he worked for allowed him to work from the comfort of his own apartment. Lukas usually ‘chatted’ in one of Matthias’ ratty t-shirts and a pair of sweat pants.
One of the most frequently asked questions Lukas had been asked upon revealing his sordid career was if he got off a lot. While it was fun to see their expressions when he smirked and nodded his head yes, the truth was phone sex was largely tedious and repetitive. There was nothing erotic about some guy asking what you were wearing and subsequently breathing heavily as you made funny sounds and lied about how hot he made you. Even the rare phone sex operator who got aroused during work hours was unlikely to get off during a call. Lukas received an average of twenty calls a night. He doubted a person could masturbate that often, and if there was, Matthias was getting kicked out. There was only one thing the idiot blonde was good at, and if someone could do it better than him, then Lukas no longer had any need for him.
There were good clients, bad clients, and the regulars who spent outrageous amounts of money to chat with “Odette” on a solely friendly basis. These were typically lonely single guys, although some of the did claim to be unhappily married. They were invariably upset when they tried to pursue friendships of any sort of real life basis despite Lukas’ monotone explanations that providing a client with your real name, phone number or address were grounds for immediate dismissal.
Phone sex operators were paid for their time, and while they may lend a sympathetic ear (Lukas not being of them), the truth was when the phone call ended, so did any vestiges of friendship.
I Like Because I like [5b/?]
anonymous
July 22 2010, 04:57:47 UTC
In all honesty, Lukas believed that any man or woman who had to rely on the services of a phone sex operator to get off were idiots. But if they wanted to waste their money and pay for his rent, more power to them.
The boy who woke him up tonight was one of those idiots.
“-and I honestly like him. Like, like-like him,” he said again, distress in his voice. He sounded young; Lukas would put him at around eighteen years of age, maybe younger. The boy had a rich, attractive voice in all honesty: deep, but not too deep, nice and smooth and with just the right amount of an American accent to make him a hit with the European ladies. “I’ve liked girls before but there’s just something about him that just hits me deep, you know? Like those love songs in the radio.”
Lukas inspected his nails in the lamplight, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder. At his side, Matthias glared at him, a sulky pout on his lips. There were dark bags under his eyes, his usual pristine hair was a mess and there was a bit of drool on the corner of his mouth. He’d come home two hours ago and had to get up in three hours to go to his second job.
Lukas crossed his legs and took a sip of his water.
“-but then he kicked me out! Just like that; it was awful,” the boy groaned, and Lukas could just imagine him rubbing his temples in frustration. “And just when we were getting along too. He was so into me, you should have seen it. Cooking me dinner in that pretty little apron of his, and damn did his ass look good in those jeans.”
As far as stories went this was certainly the most interesting one he’d heard all month. Lukas got all kinds of weirdoes in his hotline, from perverts, old drunks, to Matthias’ boss; a love triangle between a father, a son, and the best friend was something new.
Not bad.
“I mean, it’s not fair,” the boy lamented, in quite possibly the best kicked-puppy voice Lukas had ever heard. Swatting Matthias’ hand out of the way, the Norwegian reclined on the mountain of pillows, fluffing them for good measure. This was getting interesting. “I thought Matty and I were friends, why would he make me look bad in front of Arthur?”
Lukas almost smiled. Matthias cocked an eyebrow at that, sleep deprivation forgotten at the sight of the small smirk on his partner’s lips.
Whenever Lukas smiled, Matthias knew well to duck, cover and hope to still have his cock between his legs the next morning. It was quite possibly the only part of him Lukas gave a damn about, but that didn’t mean anything on the grand scale of things.
“Not that I don’t understand, cus of course I do. I’m no idiot,” the boy huffed, sounding quite offended anyone would ever think of him as anything but a genius. Lukas cradled the phone between shoulder and ear to free his right hand to punch Matthias on the stomach when the blonde tried to grope him under his shirt. “Arthur is so cute. I’m sure Matty is used to seeing people ask his dad out, but I’m not like those jerks! I really do like Arthur. It’s not just a fling! Matty knows I’m good guy, I won’t just hit it and quit it.”
Fifty minutes and counting. Lukas had half a mind to go to sleep and throw the phone out the window.
I Like Because I like [5c/?]
anonymous
July 22 2010, 05:01:55 UTC
On the other hand, he’d probably made quite the sum with this boy.
And Lukas did like money.
“For fuck’s sake,” Matthias snapped, glaring heatedly at the antique phone. He looked murderous, eyes bloodshot and eyebrow twitching. “What does he think this is, an Anonymous 1-800 help line? It’s bad enough that I have to listen to you get it on with old perverts on a nightly basis, now I have to sit here and lose my precious beauty sleep because you’re giving love advice to some stupid teenager?”
Lukas barely spared him a glance. “Mm-hmm.”
Matthias looked seconds away from a having a hernia.
Oh, look, a bonus.
“I know!” the boy answered, most likely interpreting Lukas’ noncommittal sound as a positive response to whatever he’d just said. “Arthur was so sweet at the beginning, I thought he really liked me. And of course he would, I’m the most awesome guy I know, why wouldn’t he like me?”
Reaching the last straw, Matthias ripped the phone from Lukas’ hand and growled into the receiver, “Hey, genius, how about you try hooking up this Matty kid with a hot blonde? With him out of the way you can tap that sweet mom of his no problem. Tell me how it goes, kid, I’d love to hear all about it,” he said, dry sarcasm dripping from every word.
Lukas raised a slender eyebrow
“You think that’ll work?” The boy sounded hopeful, a dying man who’d just come upon an oasis in the middle of the dessert. “N-not that I’m not amazing enough to get Arty on my own, it’s just that I don’t want to wow him with my awesome moves is all,” he laughed awkwardly, most likely fiddling with his thumbs. “I wouldn’t want him to fall for me right away, right, where’s the fun in that?”
Matthias snorted. “Sure, kid. Go for it I say. From what I heard, this soccer mom sounds hot. I’d tap that too if I could. Tear into that ass all night, why not.”
Lukas rolled his eyes. Matthias was such a typical man sometimes. All balls and no brain.
Then again, that was the reason why he kept the idiot around. God knew Lukas could pay the rent by himself.
“Awesome.” There was a giant smile on the boy’s voice, cocky and eager all at once. He sounded like he was jumping up in excitement. “Man, I’m so glad I took Antonio’s advice. These help lines are totally sweet.”
Matthias stared at the phone for a full minute after the boy had hung up.
“Huh. Will you look at that, he really did think this was one of those 1-800 Anonymous help lines.” Scratching his head, the Dane laughed. “Kids these days, they really crack me up.”
Kicking him in the chin, Lukas crawled back under the covers. “Shut your mouth and go to sleep.”
All in a day’s work.
----
Short update because I am so busy I don’t even have time to think anymore Dx I promise a longer update this weekend, so, eh, please accept my most humble apologies for this crap!update ; ; Also, Denmark and Norway? Yes, they were necessary for the plot. Alfred’s fail will continue, so please do look forward to that.
If I made any mistakes, forgive me; it’s almost one in the morning here. Thank you for your lovely comments, beloved anons~!
-
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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Absolutely brilliant
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Things are getting complicated! And I'm hooked as ever, author!anon!
/f5f5f5f5f5f5
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/gets up to throw self on bed to relieve feelings
/READS
GLORIOUS, AUTHORNON. /loves forever
If you can, that would just be the sexy icing on top of this glorious fill! And France, hahaha, WHAT WILL ALFRED DO?
Arthur is deliciously selective-minded. So delicious. So dumb.
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Holy mother god, THIIIIIIIISSS! AErjiwajrio!!!!
Have some incoherent babbling of love, dear author!non. You absolutely rock. I literally squealed when Arthur said "no one hurt his baby" and almost unleashed his rage on Alfred. Why such a mama!bear, Artie?!?! ILU so much anon.
Every single sentence of this fill had me grinning like an idiot, you have no idea.
I also vote yes for delicious smut, Francis included. *shot*
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And plus TWO votes for Mattie, despite me really liking the USUK. I just really enjoy the way you write Matt, the snark, the frustration, the hidden smirks, him winning for once. xD PLEASE tell me he makes things even more difficult in the future?
PS: Loved the Mama Bear bits with Artie ♥
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Sonefex, Inc had been providing phone sex services for over ten years; it was an established company in the phone sex adult entertainment industry. They were a direct dial company, all of their operators were trained in self-promotion and given all the necessary training they needed to succeed at their job. The job required a certain degree of commitment and effort from the operator-sitting by the phone and waiting for it to ring was [not] how it worked. It could be a very profitable work-from-home opportunity for some, but it wasn’t a job for just anyone. If you were willing to put an effort by promoting the webpages the company made for you and made yourself available for calls on a constant basis, it could be a very rewarding job.
Lukas just wanted money; he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the rest.
When his roommate learned of Lukas’ job, he got him an old neon red Rotary phone as a joke. He’d made it so all of the Norwegians’ work-related calls came through the thing, a favor Lukas had paid him back in spades.
Mathias’ hair was blue for a month, much to the vain man’s horror.
In Lukas’ opinion, it was less than he deserved. The bubbly phone was atrocious, as was the damnable noise it made whenever it rang. He’d been woken in the dead of night many a times by the darn thing.
Tonight was no different.
-except that it was, because as luck would have it, he got one of [those] idiots again.
Despite what Spike Lee portrayed in Girl 6, most phone sex operators were not devastatingly beautiful women who sat around looking pretty in stylish cubicles. Roughly thirty percent of all female phone characters were voiced by men. Most of the people Lukas saw at the training sessions were average in appearance. And while this was not true for all phone sex companies, the one he worked for allowed him to work from the comfort of his own apartment. Lukas usually ‘chatted’ in one of Matthias’ ratty t-shirts and a pair of sweat pants.
One of the most frequently asked questions Lukas had been asked upon revealing his sordid career was if he got off a lot. While it was fun to see their expressions when he smirked and nodded his head yes, the truth was phone sex was largely tedious and repetitive. There was nothing erotic about some guy asking what you were wearing and subsequently breathing heavily as you made funny sounds and lied about how hot he made you. Even the rare phone sex operator who got aroused during work hours was unlikely to get off during a call. Lukas received an average of twenty calls a night. He doubted a person could masturbate that often, and if there was, Matthias was getting kicked out. There was only one thing the idiot blonde was good at, and if someone could do it better than him, then Lukas no longer had any need for him.
There were good clients, bad clients, and the regulars who spent outrageous amounts of money to chat with “Odette” on a solely friendly basis. These were typically lonely single guys, although some of the did claim to be unhappily married. They were invariably upset when they tried to pursue friendships of any sort of real life basis despite Lukas’ monotone explanations that providing a client with your real name, phone number or address were grounds for immediate dismissal.
Phone sex operators were paid for their time, and while they may lend a sympathetic ear (Lukas not being of them), the truth was when the phone call ended, so did any vestiges of friendship.
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The boy who woke him up tonight was one of those idiots.
“-and I honestly like him. Like, like-like him,” he said again, distress in his voice. He sounded young; Lukas would put him at around eighteen years of age, maybe younger. The boy had a rich, attractive voice in all honesty: deep, but not too deep, nice and smooth and with just the right amount of an American accent to make him a hit with the European ladies. “I’ve liked girls before but there’s just something about him that just hits me deep, you know? Like those love songs in the radio.”
Lukas inspected his nails in the lamplight, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder. At his side, Matthias glared at him, a sulky pout on his lips. There were dark bags under his eyes, his usual pristine hair was a mess and there was a bit of drool on the corner of his mouth. He’d come home two hours ago and had to get up in three hours to go to his second job.
Lukas crossed his legs and took a sip of his water.
“-but then he kicked me out! Just like that; it was awful,” the boy groaned, and Lukas could just imagine him rubbing his temples in frustration. “And just when we were getting along too. He was so into me, you should have seen it. Cooking me dinner in that pretty little apron of his, and damn did his ass look good in those jeans.”
As far as stories went this was certainly the most interesting one he’d heard all month. Lukas got all kinds of weirdoes in his hotline, from perverts, old drunks, to Matthias’ boss; a love triangle between a father, a son, and the best friend was something new.
Not bad.
“I mean, it’s not fair,” the boy lamented, in quite possibly the best kicked-puppy voice Lukas had ever heard. Swatting Matthias’ hand out of the way, the Norwegian reclined on the mountain of pillows, fluffing them for good measure. This was getting interesting. “I thought Matty and I were friends, why would he make me look bad in front of Arthur?”
Lukas almost smiled. Matthias cocked an eyebrow at that, sleep deprivation forgotten at the sight of the small smirk on his partner’s lips.
Whenever Lukas smiled, Matthias knew well to duck, cover and hope to still have his cock between his legs the next morning. It was quite possibly the only part of him Lukas gave a damn about, but that didn’t mean anything on the grand scale of things.
“Not that I don’t understand, cus of course I do. I’m no idiot,” the boy huffed, sounding quite offended anyone would ever think of him as anything but a genius. Lukas cradled the phone between shoulder and ear to free his right hand to punch Matthias on the stomach when the blonde tried to grope him under his shirt. “Arthur is so cute. I’m sure Matty is used to seeing people ask his dad out, but I’m not like those jerks! I really do like Arthur. It’s not just a fling! Matty knows I’m good guy, I won’t just hit it and quit it.”
Fifty minutes and counting. Lukas had half a mind to go to sleep and throw the phone out the window.
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And Lukas did like money.
“For fuck’s sake,” Matthias snapped, glaring heatedly at the antique phone. He looked murderous, eyes bloodshot and eyebrow twitching. “What does he think this is, an Anonymous 1-800 help line? It’s bad enough that I have to listen to you get it on with old perverts on a nightly basis, now I have to sit here and lose my precious beauty sleep because you’re giving love advice to some stupid teenager?”
Lukas barely spared him a glance. “Mm-hmm.”
Matthias looked seconds away from a having a hernia.
Oh, look, a bonus.
“I know!” the boy answered, most likely interpreting Lukas’ noncommittal sound as a positive response to whatever he’d just said. “Arthur was so sweet at the beginning, I thought he really liked me. And of course he would, I’m the most awesome guy I know, why wouldn’t he like me?”
Reaching the last straw, Matthias ripped the phone from Lukas’ hand and growled into the receiver, “Hey, genius, how about you try hooking up this Matty kid with a hot blonde? With him out of the way you can tap that sweet mom of his no problem. Tell me how it goes, kid, I’d love to hear all about it,” he said, dry sarcasm dripping from every word.
Lukas raised a slender eyebrow
“You think that’ll work?” The boy sounded hopeful, a dying man who’d just come upon an oasis in the middle of the dessert. “N-not that I’m not amazing enough to get Arty on my own, it’s just that I don’t want to wow him with my awesome moves is all,” he laughed awkwardly, most likely fiddling with his thumbs. “I wouldn’t want him to fall for me right away, right, where’s the fun in that?”
Matthias snorted. “Sure, kid. Go for it I say. From what I heard, this soccer mom sounds hot. I’d tap that too if I could. Tear into that ass all night, why not.”
Lukas rolled his eyes. Matthias was such a typical man sometimes. All balls and no brain.
Then again, that was the reason why he kept the idiot around. God knew Lukas could pay the rent by himself.
“Awesome.” There was a giant smile on the boy’s voice, cocky and eager all at once. He sounded like he was jumping up in excitement. “Man, I’m so glad I took Antonio’s advice. These help lines are totally sweet.”
Matthias stared at the phone for a full minute after the boy had hung up.
“Huh. Will you look at that, he really did think this was one of those 1-800 Anonymous help lines.” Scratching his head, the Dane laughed. “Kids these days, they really crack me up.”
Kicking him in the chin, Lukas crawled back under the covers. “Shut your mouth and go to sleep.”
All in a day’s work.
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Short update because I am so busy I don’t even have time to think anymore Dx I promise a longer update this weekend, so, eh, please accept my most humble apologies for this crap!update ; ; Also, Denmark and Norway? Yes, they were necessary for the plot. Alfred’s fail will continue, so please do look forward to that.
If I made any mistakes, forgive me; it’s almost one in the morning here. Thank you for your lovely comments, beloved anons~!
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