Sun Beats - part 4 of 15
anonymous
October 10 2010, 05:50:58 UTC
But that just led him back to his predicament of “we don’t see each other the same way.” It was frustrating. Somehow, something totally obvious to Alfred wasn’t totally obvious to Arthur. Unless it was and Arthur was doing the whole “avoid it and it’ll go away” thing that he was wont to do from time to time. And through it all, it often left Alfred wondering just what, exactly, was so damn interesting about Arthur. But Arthur was hot-that was important. So maybe Alfred just had to get laid-heavens knew he hadn’t for a while-but, again, all he could think of was how much he’d really, really like to get laid by Arthur.
It was a never-ending cycle and it sucked. And not in the good way things could be sucking.
In any case, Alfred had invited Arthur to some of his houses before in the past, never with anything nefarious in mind. Just to hang out. Arthur didn’t always accept, but when he did, they tended to have a nice time, once Arthur got some alcohol in him. Whenever he didn’t, he tended to just stay in one of his moods and bitch about everything that moved-and usually everything having to do with Alfred and his country.
“All I want is a towel and some sunscreen,” Alfred said again. “Come on, Arthur. Don’t be such a jerk.”
Arthur crinkled up his nose in distaste.
“Please?” Alfred asked, seemed to remember a bit belatedly.
Instantly, Arthur looked a bit pacified, but for stubbornness sake, he seemed content to remain under the umbrella. He sniffed. Alfred tried to splash at him, but Arthur was too far away and his scowl darkened.
“If I get wet, that defeats the purpose of going into your house, doesn’t it?”
“I’d make you mop,” Alfred agreed.
Arthur rolled his eyes skyward, and licked the water he’d collected from the table and beer can off from his fingertips, and Alfred just stared long and hard at the image. Then Arthur sighed, passed his fingers through his hair, and stood up.
“Alright, alright,” he said at last. “I’ll get your blasted towel and your damned sunscreen.”
“And another beer?” Alfred asked hopefully, then remembered to add, “Please?”
“Fuck you,” Arthur said, decisively, as he walked away, even throwing a rude hand gesture over his shoulder which Alfred sagely decided to ignore.
With Arthur gone, Alfred breathed a long sigh, and felt himself relax. He flopped back onto his back, and nearly cracked his skull against the concrete for his troubles. He flopped out against the pool deck, sticking his feet back into the water after a bit of maneuvering, his eyes up at the sky. It was a clear, beautiful day. Hot, but not humid. Already the water on his chest had started to disappear with the evaporation, and Alfred felt uncomfortably hot-and told himself it was only because of the sun and not because of anything else.
Alfred closed his eyes, let himself sink into the ground, absorb the warmth of the sun above him. He’d always liked the sun-and Arthur had time and time again called him a ‘damned sunshine boy’, as if that was some kind of insult when, secretly, Alfred thought it was kind of cute that Arthur called him that. The summer months definitely sun-bleached his hair enough to make it shine pretty golden (something Arthur had also often remarked upon, usually when bitching in one of his moods).
His musing were interrupted quickly enough, however, when something blocked his sunlight. At first he thought maybe it was a cloud, but when he opened his eyes, Arthur was frowning down at him, and dropped a towel on his face.
Alfred grinned behind the fabric and sat up, shoving the towel over his head and scrubbing at his hair, trying to get as much water out as he can.
“Thanks!” he chirped, and when he poked his head out from behind the towel, for just a moment, he grinned at Arthur and stood up, taking the sunscreen Arthur held out to him.
“Hm,” Arthur said, and turned away, retreating to the safety of the umbrella and sitting down, two cans of beer in his hand. He set one down on the table beside Alfred’s vacant chair, and popped the cap for his own, taking a long draught from it.
It was a never-ending cycle and it sucked. And not in the good way things could be sucking.
In any case, Alfred had invited Arthur to some of his houses before in the past, never with anything nefarious in mind. Just to hang out. Arthur didn’t always accept, but when he did, they tended to have a nice time, once Arthur got some alcohol in him. Whenever he didn’t, he tended to just stay in one of his moods and bitch about everything that moved-and usually everything having to do with Alfred and his country.
“All I want is a towel and some sunscreen,” Alfred said again. “Come on, Arthur. Don’t be such a jerk.”
Arthur crinkled up his nose in distaste.
“Please?” Alfred asked, seemed to remember a bit belatedly.
Instantly, Arthur looked a bit pacified, but for stubbornness sake, he seemed content to remain under the umbrella. He sniffed. Alfred tried to splash at him, but Arthur was too far away and his scowl darkened.
“If I get wet, that defeats the purpose of going into your house, doesn’t it?”
“I’d make you mop,” Alfred agreed.
Arthur rolled his eyes skyward, and licked the water he’d collected from the table and beer can off from his fingertips, and Alfred just stared long and hard at the image. Then Arthur sighed, passed his fingers through his hair, and stood up.
“Alright, alright,” he said at last. “I’ll get your blasted towel and your damned sunscreen.”
“And another beer?” Alfred asked hopefully, then remembered to add, “Please?”
“Fuck you,” Arthur said, decisively, as he walked away, even throwing a rude hand gesture over his shoulder which Alfred sagely decided to ignore.
With Arthur gone, Alfred breathed a long sigh, and felt himself relax. He flopped back onto his back, and nearly cracked his skull against the concrete for his troubles. He flopped out against the pool deck, sticking his feet back into the water after a bit of maneuvering, his eyes up at the sky. It was a clear, beautiful day. Hot, but not humid. Already the water on his chest had started to disappear with the evaporation, and Alfred felt uncomfortably hot-and told himself it was only because of the sun and not because of anything else.
Alfred closed his eyes, let himself sink into the ground, absorb the warmth of the sun above him. He’d always liked the sun-and Arthur had time and time again called him a ‘damned sunshine boy’, as if that was some kind of insult when, secretly, Alfred thought it was kind of cute that Arthur called him that. The summer months definitely sun-bleached his hair enough to make it shine pretty golden (something Arthur had also often remarked upon, usually when bitching in one of his moods).
His musing were interrupted quickly enough, however, when something blocked his sunlight. At first he thought maybe it was a cloud, but when he opened his eyes, Arthur was frowning down at him, and dropped a towel on his face.
Alfred grinned behind the fabric and sat up, shoving the towel over his head and scrubbing at his hair, trying to get as much water out as he can.
“Thanks!” he chirped, and when he poked his head out from behind the towel, for just a moment, he grinned at Arthur and stood up, taking the sunscreen Arthur held out to him.
“Hm,” Arthur said, and turned away, retreating to the safety of the umbrella and sitting down, two cans of beer in his hand. He set one down on the table beside Alfred’s vacant chair, and popped the cap for his own, taking a long draught from it.
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