Re: Magic at Work [4/?]
anonymous
May 27 2009, 04:48:24 UTC
A camera flashes in Arthur's face before he swats it away; “What the hell are you doing, you bloody ingrate!?” Arthur shouts, and Alfred smiles; “It's not everyday I see you like this! I want it for memories!” He picks up his camera and dashes down his vast halls, with Arthur on his tail.
“Get back here, gitface! And give me that camera!” Arthur demands, but Alfred does not slow. His light blue camera slides on the porcelain floor though, when Arthur abruptly tackles him instead, from behi - Oh God, Arthur's on top of him, his smaller legs unconsciously rubbing against Alfred's long ones.
“Now you will delete that picture, you got it?!” Arthur orders, but Alfred does not reply. His mind is focused on, damn it, he tries to keep himself for straining his pants again already.
He just can't help it though. Arthur's shrunken back to his 18-year old self, and... and, for the love of God, he is just so cute and adorable and it takes all of the American's will power to not pin him against the cold floor and remove his tie and -
“Alfred! Are you listening to me?!” Arthur shouts from behind him, and Alfred nods, before grasping his camera and deleting the photo. It wasn't very good anyway. He can catch him sleeping, he's sure of it. Alfred's endless energy was good when he needed to stay awake.
“Happy now?” Alfred asks, putting on his trademark pout that Arthur knows so well, from his childhood days. Arthur, smug, nods and stands; decides not to ask why Alfred even complied to his wishes so quickly anyway.
Maybe he's changing his tune. Arthur muses, hand cupping his chin as he thinks. He almost misses the flash in his face, the camera, and Alfred running down the hall, laughing to himself loudly; “You bloody git!” Arthur dispels the last thought as he chases Alfred.
The American is lucky; he slides into his room and slams the door, locks it and shoves a chair next to it, and sits on it; his smirk matches Arthur's from earlier.
“Alfred F. Jones! I demand you open this door now!” Arthur says, slams on the door with his feet and hands, and Alfred would be worried about his hardware if he wasn't so giddy.
“Doesn't work like that, kid!” To Alfred's expectations, the slamming gets even more aggressive when he emphasizes Arthur's young state.
Alfred smiles, pulls out his iPhone - “Guys, look forward to next week's World Meeting! I'm bringing in a big surprise - not hamburgers, shut up - so look forward to it!” He chuckles and sends it, while Arthur continues to beat the door, scowling. He could've torn it down if he were stronger, older like he used to be.
Phone pocketed and message sent to the world, Alfred tosses his digital camera in his heap of clothes; he doubts Arthur would bother, and opens the door.
Unsuspecting, Arthur was preparing for another kick to the door, but promptly falls forward while Alfred catches him smoothly, holds him up and lets him lay against his chest, which Arthur fell onto.
“Aww, I didn't know you felt that way, Arthur.” Alfred teases him, ignores the growing bulge in his pants again - fuck, he's got to do something about that later - and Arthur flushes red, all the way to his ears, like he always does. One thing about him that certainly hasn't changed.
“What are you saying, you git?! Let me go!” Arthur pushes against Alfred, who has his arms secured around him. Without warning, he tightens his grip and heaves up - Arthur's not touching the ground anymore, being held up by the American with his arms around him, near his elbows.
“A-Alfred?! What the hell are you - ” Alfred smirks, wider then before if possible, and lets one arm loose and slips it around, or rather, under Arthur's knees.
“Get back here, gitface! And give me that camera!” Arthur demands, but Alfred does not slow. His light blue camera slides on the porcelain floor though, when Arthur abruptly tackles him instead, from behi - Oh God, Arthur's on top of him, his smaller legs unconsciously rubbing against Alfred's long ones.
“Now you will delete that picture, you got it?!” Arthur orders, but Alfred does not reply. His mind is focused on, damn it, he tries to keep himself for straining his pants again already.
He just can't help it though. Arthur's shrunken back to his 18-year old self, and... and, for the love of God, he is just so cute and adorable and it takes all of the American's will power to not pin him against the cold floor and remove his tie and -
“Alfred! Are you listening to me?!” Arthur shouts from behind him, and Alfred nods, before grasping his camera and deleting the photo. It wasn't very good anyway. He can catch him sleeping, he's sure of it. Alfred's endless energy was good when he needed to stay awake.
“Happy now?” Alfred asks, putting on his trademark pout that Arthur knows so well, from his childhood days. Arthur, smug, nods and stands; decides not to ask why Alfred even complied to his wishes so quickly anyway.
Maybe he's changing his tune. Arthur muses, hand cupping his chin as he thinks. He almost misses the flash in his face, the camera, and Alfred running down the hall, laughing to himself loudly; “You bloody git!” Arthur dispels the last thought as he chases Alfred.
The American is lucky; he slides into his room and slams the door, locks it and shoves a chair next to it, and sits on it; his smirk matches Arthur's from earlier.
“Alfred F. Jones! I demand you open this door now!” Arthur says, slams on the door with his feet and hands, and Alfred would be worried about his hardware if he wasn't so giddy.
“Doesn't work like that, kid!” To Alfred's expectations, the slamming gets even more aggressive when he emphasizes Arthur's young state.
Alfred smiles, pulls out his iPhone - “Guys, look forward to next week's World Meeting! I'm bringing in a big surprise - not hamburgers, shut up - so look forward to it!” He chuckles and sends it, while Arthur continues to beat the door, scowling. He could've torn it down if he were stronger, older like he used to be.
Phone pocketed and message sent to the world, Alfred tosses his digital camera in his heap of clothes; he doubts Arthur would bother, and opens the door.
Unsuspecting, Arthur was preparing for another kick to the door, but promptly falls forward while Alfred catches him smoothly, holds him up and lets him lay against his chest, which Arthur fell onto.
“Aww, I didn't know you felt that way, Arthur.” Alfred teases him, ignores the growing bulge in his pants again - fuck, he's got to do something about that later - and Arthur flushes red, all the way to his ears, like he always does. One thing about him that certainly hasn't changed.
“What are you saying, you git?! Let me go!” Arthur pushes against Alfred, who has his arms secured around him. Without warning, he tightens his grip and heaves up - Arthur's not touching the ground anymore, being held up by the American with his arms around him, near his elbows.
“A-Alfred?! What the hell are you - ” Alfred smirks, wider then before if possible, and lets one arm loose and slips it around, or rather, under Arthur's knees.
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